Hami's Miz
Persian food, slow-cooked. Stories, jokes, and probably some dancing by the end. The kind of evening that runs late — and that's how it should be.
What is Hami's Miz?
Miz is the Persian word for table.
It's where everything happens — where food is shared, where stories get told, where strangers stop being strangers somewhere between the second course and the chai.
This isn't a restaurant. It isn't a pop-up. It's a private table in Berkshire, where Hami cooks for six guests at a time. Same table, different journey each evening.
One chef. Six seats. No more, no less.
A Caspian Summer Table
Four courses inspired by the green hills and rice fields of northern Iran. Charcoal smoke, sour fruit, fresh herbs, slow-grilled lamb. The full menu reveals on the night.
Join the Table
Welcome drink, four courses, Persian tea, sweets. You'll be at the table with five others — by the end, they won't feel like strangers.
Book the Whole Table
The whole table is yours. No strangers, just your people. Birthdays, milestones, surprises, friend groups.
Bring fewer if you like — it's your night.
Three carefully chosen pairings to walk you through the evening. Add wine pairing →
How the evening goes
Arrive from 6:30pm. The slow cooking has been on since yesterday, so the air is already doing half the welcoming.
A welcome drink in your hand, six seats around the oak table, a sofreh laid the way Maman would lay it — bread, herbs, walnuts, the things every Persian table starts with.
Then four courses. Some plated, some shared from the centre. Each one carries a story — where it's from, who taught me, why it matters. I'll tell you. You'll eat. We'll talk.
By the time the chai comes out, no one is in a hurry to leave. That's the whole idea.
Three hours, give or take. These things tend to run long.
Where the food comes from
Maman never bought food from a supermarket if she could help it. She had her butcher and her bakery — but most of all, she had the bazaar (the market). She'd go in the morning, pick what was freshest that day, and the menu would build itself from there.
I cook the same way.
Lamb and chicken come free-range from local farms. Vegetables and herbs are organic, sourced direct from growers I trust. Saffron comes from Iran — proper grade, deep red, not the orange dust that sits in jars.
When you cook with ingredients that have been loved — the onion someone took care of, the chicken that lived a real life — the food tastes different. You can feel it.
Nothing on your plate at the Miz comes from a supermarket aisle. That's not a marketing line. It's the only way I cook.
Before you book
Three hours, often more. Don't book a Miz seat if you've got somewhere to be at 9:30pm.
There's never a Miz without serious veggie courses. If you have allergies, dietary needs, or strong feelings about coriander (we know who you are) — just tell me when you book.
You don't need to "save room" for anything. Eat. That's the whole point.
You'll be at the table with five strangers who, by the end, won't feel like strangers anymore. That's most of the magic.
Some people pick it up in five minutes. Some take three glasses of wine. Both are fine.
More nights at the Miz
Be the first to know when new dates open. One quiet email when there's something to tell you. No spam, no taarof.
Things you might be wondering
Six seats. That's the whole thing.
If one of them feels like yours — book it.
If all six feel like yours — book the whole table.