Itamar Srulovich and Sarit Packer took up pottery in lockdown and now teach their passion at their recently opened Studio space
August 5, 2025 15:37When their eateries were temporarily closed in the Covid lockdown, Honey & Co restaurateurs Itamar Srulovich and Sarit Packer took up pottery. In the absence of chopping the fresh and colourful aubergines, tomatoes and pickles of their Middle Eastern-inspired cuisine for their guests, the couple sat for hours, deep in the moment and covered in clay, gradually improving their craft with each attempt. It was, in their own words, a “lockdown hobby that became a full-blown obsession”.
“It gave us purpose and peace, something tactile to hold onto when everything else was up in the air,” the London-based Israeli duo say. “Cooking and pottery both carry this kind of therapy, but pottery was new, so it sparked that little fire of creativity. It brought us back to the joy of making and learning something just for the love of it.”
They are now hoping to ignite that fire for their customers. Earlier this year, these chefs and writers of four cookbooks started The Joy Season – their first programme of in-person events – in the events space at the back of their deli-shop Honey & Co Studio, opposite their flagship restaurant on Lamb’s Conduit Street. There, customers can learn from creatives teaching their passions and crafts, from kimchi making, lino printing and life-drawing workshops, to a sound bath, writing classes and book talks.
And pinch-pot making, which I’m here to experience with Sarit and Itamar themselves as they share their love of ceramics. A drink is provided on arrival, but so engrossed am I in this hands-on class that there are soon fragments of clay floating around in my wine. It’s pure mindfulness in action.
Sarit and Itamar call the quietude of working with clay and the rhythm of the wheel (which we do not experience in this back-to-basics workshop) “just magic”.
“There’s something deeply grounding about shaping something with your hands, especially when everything else feels uncertain,” they say. “For us it has become a gentle meditation in our week, a pause from the chaos. When your hands are covered in clay, you can’t check your phone or do anything other than focus on the piece in front of you.”
They are warm and witty teachers. During a lesson in which we are encouraged to sketch our designs before setting to work on moulding our clay, Sarit demonstrates making a pot resembling one of Jewish cuisine’s favourite ingredients – a pomegranate. Who knew that it could be so challenging to stop the opening at the top of my pot from widening way beyond my intent?
“That’s because you didn’t sketch it out first,” Itamar scolds gently. When I next look up, he’s fashioned a sweet little jug which he then slices in half to show the thickness for which we should be aiming.
There are two types of clay, one more malleable than the other, and various tools with which to work, and guests can make as many pots or bud vases as they wish during the hour-and-a-half-long session.
For additional inspiration – if somewhat out of reach to newbies such as myself – there is a table full of exquisite, glazed bowls and dishes that the couple themselves crafted. It’s hard to believe that back in 2020 they were sitting down as we are today, attempting to press clay into something resembling works of art or useful accessories rather than the types of endearing pots that return with children from nursery.
Now, their dishes can be found across their three London restaurants; food is served on their very own handmade crockery. It took a long time for Sarit and Itamar to reach this level of skill; the first few hundred pieces that emerged from their kiln they dubbed their “wonky pots” – a teapot that didn’t pour, a cup without a handle. As their pieces improved, they started to bring examples to work before coming up with different designs for each restaurant.
“There’s this lovely synergy when the food and the plate both tell a story,” they say. “It makes the table feel more personal, more intimate, like you’re coming into our home. Guests notice the little details, sometimes they sneak them into their handbags, and that brings a quiet kind of joy to us.”
They also draw similarities between their work as chefs and their ceramics. Both start with raw materials and become “something beautiful with care and time”, they say.
“There’s heat, precision, patience and always that bit of unpredictability, like a loaf that rises differently each day or a glaze that changes in the kiln. It’s about feeding people, in a way, whether it’s food or feeling or beauty.”
Their wish to start the classes was as an extension of what they do now: to bring more joy to their guests than the three opportunities in the day – breakfast, lunch and dinner – they have had since they opened their first restaurant Honey & Co in the capital in 2012.
“We wanted to look beyond that, to bring more joy. A lot of it comes down to trying new things, having fun, meeting people, maybe picking up a hobby that becomes an obsession along the way.”
It only made sense to bring ceramics to the studio, and watch others enjoy their first experience in moulding clay just as they do. “It’s our joy after all,” they say. “Seeing someone pick up a lump of clay for the first time, all nervous, then slowly melt into the situation – it’s beautiful. There’s laughter, mess and pride when they lift their first little wonky pot. It feels like feeding people’s spirits in a different way.”