London has no shortage of incredible restaurants—that’s just a fact. But every now and then, you crave something outside the usual Michelin orbit, something that isn’t another three-course formal at a favourite fine-dining haunt. That’s where chef Max Posener and his pop-up Otaku, co-founded with friend and sommelier Oliver Baggot, step in. And to be clear, the level of cooking is still swoon-worthy. It just holds its own in very different ways.
First: it’s 18 courses. Yes, that sounds like a lot. I also wasn’t sure I’d make it through the full run when I arrived. But every serving is a bite-sized little number, easy to take in your stride, and you won’t leave feeling uncomfortably full. Second: Max’s last professional kitchen was the two-star Ynyshir, and although that influence shows in the Japanese leaning of the menu, this is not imitation. It has its own personality entirely. Max isn’t chasing the trends circling the fine-dining world; he’s cooking the food he loves to eat, just smartly elevated. Think a corn dog reimagined as a crisp langoustine bite topped with a langoustine-head ketchup, or a pad Thai–inspired prawn dish bursting with curried fragrance and caramelised peanuts—but without the noodles. How he manages to transport you to Thailand in one small bite is a mystery best left unexplained.
There’s also real technical talent woven throughout, often in unexpected places. A crumpet, for instance, arrives perfectly crisp on the outside, concealing an impossible level of buttery softness inside—the sort of thing even the most technical chefs avoid attempting. A scallop doused in beef fat is served with a deep-fried bun designed solely to soak up the drippings, leaving you immediately wishing for another. As much as the seafood courses hold their weight, the meat dishes are just as moreish. A beef shin that takes four days to prepare—starting with a brine and ending with a deeply rich finish—proves the level of commitment Max pours into his menu. And it shows.
Then comes the part that confirms he isn’t afraid to take risks. A chocolate course arrives with a cheeky salt-and-vinegar twist courtesy of crispy pork scratchings. Max fully admits you may love it or hate it (we loved it), but it’s a nod to his favourite childhood combination: chocolate milk and salt-and-vinegar crisps. It’s nostalgic, playful, slightly chaotic—and it works. Because food, at its best, is a vessel for emotion, memory, and conversation.
And that leads to the final point: Otaku isn’t a restaurant. It’s a supper club, and that intimacy is its magic. There are just ten of you, seated around a table overlooking the kitchen, inside Max’s dad’s home. The vibe is familial, casual, warm, and completely unpretentious. If you’re lucky, you might even catch a surprise mid-service jazz performance by Max’s brother, accompanied by singer Hope Storm—her voice as smooth as silk—turning an already special night into something truly unforgettable.
Max’s supper club is… well, exactly what London needs right now: a reminder that fine dining doesn’t have to take itself so seriously to be utterly brilliant.
To find out more about Otaku and book, click here or visit the Instagram page.