Interview by David Litwak

David Litwak: Neil, thanks for taking the time to chat with us today.

For some context, Neil is a chef who has activated at Maxwell several times with a very unique tablescape concept, where the food is served directly on the table itself. We’ve worked with him multiple times, and it’s always a really fun and memorable experience.

One of the great things about Maxwell is that we can host all kinds of creative, experiential activations—bringing in chefs to do novel things. And I think Neil truly embodies what "experiential" means in this space.

So Neil, I’d love it if you could explain in your own words the concept of Ayuni and how it got started.

Neil Strauber: Yeah, for sure. First of all, thank you for the introduction—it's been really amazing working with you all. I’ll also share what made the space itself so functional for what we do.

So, Ayuni—which means "my eyes" in Arabic—is a term of endearment. It’s a way of calling your loved ones—like saying “my dear” or “my love.” In Arabic, it’s a sign of respect. You're saying, essentially, "you are on the eyes," which means you're deeply cherished.

So Ayuni is a concept and a kind of study I started about four years ago. It began with cooking for friends, and when I moved to New York, I officially launched the brand—let’s say almost three years ago now.

Second, logistically, it’s simple and relaxed. There are no elaborate setups—no tall centerpieces, no formal place settings, no fine dining stiffness. It’s stripped down in the best way. There’s no need for servers—it’s more of a self-guided, warm, family-style experience where guests explore freely and comfortably.

And finally, there’s the environment—what the table itself creates and what it evokes in people in the moment. I like to describe it as a bit of organized chaos, especially when you have a big group. But that’s part of the beauty.

At one of our biggest events—actually, the biggest one we’ve done—we had 100 people at Maxwell Social. We set up one very long table, and it was amazing to see how people interacted.

Some of the events were Jewish-focused; others were not. But what I noticed, especially during the Jewish events, was the dynamic between the Israeli guests and the Jewish-American guests. You could immediately tell who was Israeli and who was Jewish-American.

The Israelis were jumping onto the table, showing that classic chutzpah—not in a rude way, but just more direct and energetic. Meanwhile, the Jewish-American guests tended to be more polite, hanging back, waiting for their turn to eat.

What I always explain is that this actually mirrors a bit of real life in Israel. If you grow up there, you learn that sometimes you have to be aggressive—otherwise, you simply won’t get your food. And that’s okay. It’s encouraged in this setting.

It brings us back to something primal—the original relationship between humans and food. At the end of the day, we’re all hunters and gatherers. That instinct, that energy, adds a playful and authentic dimension to the experience.

It’s something you don’t experience often—seeing people gathered on the table. Especially at networking events, I’ve found it breaks down barriers. It takes off the masks people usually wear.

Guests start to feel more like themselves—maybe even like kids again. And I think that’s the best environment for genuine interaction. No need to be overly elegant or formal. People can just be real.

So yeah—that's a little bit about the concept.

David Litwak: Ayuni has been around for four years now. How did it all get started? Were you working in kitchens before this? Did you have a day job and build this on the side? Is it now your full-time thing? I’m curious.

Neil Strauber: Yeah—my relationship with food started when I was about 11 years old.

Back in Israel, my stepdad worked in the administration side of fine dining—he was a buyer for several chef-driven restaurants. I used to get kicked out of school a lot—I was a bit of a troublemaker. After getting suspended, I couldn’t stay home alone, so I’d go with my stepdad to work.

That meant spending a lot of time in kitchens, hanging around with chefs. I just loved being there.

At 11 years old, I was already spending time in some of Israel’s top restaurants—places like Toto, Herbert Samuel, and Catit. I did all the prep work, the grunt work—whatever the chefs wanted to hand off. And I loved it.

I’d do whatever was needed—grill on the rooftop, peel potatoes, prep ingredients, clean up. I loved it. I loved the pace, the chaos, the rhythm of the kitchen.

But my main focus in life, even from a young age, was soccer. I played all my life and eventually moved to the States to play in college.

While I was in school, I kept strengthening my connection to food. I’d cook for friends, host dinners—just small gatherings meant to bring people together.

After I graduated, I had to figure out what was next. Soccer wasn’t going to be it anymore, and food was the natural next chapter.

At first, food was something that helped fill the void that soccer left behind. But now, it’s become so much more than that. I can honestly say I’ve found my real passion again.

I’ve come to terms with the fact that soccer had its place in my life, and now it’s food’s turn.

Since I didn’t have formal culinary training or traditional restaurant experience early on, I went on my own journey to find myself in this world.

For the past two years, I worked as head chef at the restaurant in what used to be the Selina Hotel in Chelsea—called Creatures. I gained incredible experience there, working with amazing people, all while continuing to do events around the city.

We’re still figuring out what that will look like—whether it’s a permanent space or a new way of presenting the concept. But the goal is to bring Ayuni to Miami in a meaningful way.

We actually already did a pop-up at the Miami Soho House, which was great. So yeah—that’s the journey so far. Ayuni is still growing, still building its community, and we’re always looking to expand into new flavors, new places, and reach more people around the world.

David Litwak: That’s amazing. I want to ask you more about your time in the Basque region—because I’m not sure if you know, but one of the original inspirations for Maxwell were txokos (pronounced "chokos"). They’re Basque eating clubs in San Sebastián—member-based communities where people cook for themselves and each other.

That idea helped shape what we wanted to build at Maxwell with our family dinners. I think that’s part of why your vibe resonates so much with us and our members.

So tell me more about your time in the Basque Country—I’m really curious.

Neil Strauber: First of all, yeah—as you said, the concept of having a member space where people come together and cook for themselves, with different people taking turns each week, is amazing in my eyes. It creates a true sense of community.

My experience in San Sebastián was incredible. Honestly, it was the best food month of my life. Every single corner of that city—every bite—was just flawless. You couldn’t go wrong, no matter where you went.

I spent a lot of time trying to analyze why. Why is it that good? Why does it feel so different from anywhere else?

The food is simple—sometimes even visually plain—but there’s a depth and precision to it. It comes from tradition, and from this relentless pursuit of the highest-quality ingredients. That’s where the magic is.

San Sebastián is considered one of the best culinary cities in the world—and I totally understand why. Japan probably has its own special place too (I haven’t been yet, but it’s on my list). But in San Sebastián, it’s this beautiful balance of preserving tradition while also allowing for innovation.

They never compromise on the quality of the ingredients. There’s a real belief that less is more. And while the dishes might appear simple, they’re anything but.

As a chef, going into all those pincho bars, tasting tapas, and trying to reverse-engineer what you’re eating—it’s humbling. You think, “Oh, this looks simple; I can probably make this at home.” But then, using the techniques I learned in school, I realized that even the smallest pincho often includes a stock that’s been simmering for three days.

So yes, it looks minimal—but the work and depth behind it are incredibly complex. It’s not simple at all. And that contradiction is what makes it so inspiring.

The level of community in the Basque region is really special—and the quality of ingredients is non-negotiable. You just can’t compromise on that.

Then there’s the other side of the region—Biarritz, just 30 minutes from San Sebastián across the French border. It’s essentially the same food, but with a different vibe and a bit more style. They put more emphasis on presentation, on ambiance.

I think there’s something beautiful in blending the two. From San Sebastián, I take the love for simple, good food. From Biarritz, I take the importance of creating a memorable vibe—making the experience feel stylish and special, without overcomplicating the food.

Because simplicity can be hard to appreciate sometimes. I lived in Spain for two years when I was 17, and I remember that at the time, as a teenager, I didn’t really understand the value of simple food. I thought it was plain—maybe even boring.

But as I grew up, I realized simplicity is what we actually strive for.

That was probably the biggest insight I had after finishing my time in San Sebastián: how hard it is to achieve true simplicity. It’s deceptively difficult. But when you get there, it’s incredibly rewarding.

And I’ve really loved letting it happen naturally. If a cool brand or interesting venue wants to collaborate, or a client wants to host something unique—we’ve said yes when it felt right. That freedom has made it very comfortable, because it attracts the kind of people who truly want to engage with what we’re building.

Looking ahead, though, I’m starting to lean toward having a physical space of my own.

I wouldn’t necessarily call it a restaurant—but a space where I can consistently offer the vibe and vision of Ayuni. A place where people can come experience something warm, laid back, and homey. It can’t feel too much like an “establishment.”

I’m still working out the concept in my head, but it’s definitely leaning toward a permanent location.

It’s actually quite similar to what you’ve created at Maxwell Social. It’s hard to define—it’s not just an event space. It’s part community, part home, part experience. That’s very much aligned with where I want Ayuni to go.

And I’m actually curious—from your side—when you started Maxwell, did you imagine it becoming what it is now? Or did it also grow in ways you didn’t fully expect?

David Litwak: Is it similar to what I thought it was going to be? Some parts, yes. But a lot of it has also followed its own natural course.

For example, we originally thought everyone would just pour their own drinks—now we have bartenders. We didn’t plan to be open on weekdays, and now we’re open Fridays for a specific hosted service day. We definitely didn’t intend to do food service, but now we’ve got a private chef making pancakes every Friday.

That said, we’ve still stayed true to the core of the vision. We didn’t start a restaurant. We’re not building a spa or a gym like some other membership clubs. We’ve stuck pretty closely to our guiding principle from day one.

That principle is simple: Does this serve the community, or not?

If launching something—say, a restaurant—means we’d have to scale our staff and then accept members we wouldn’t otherwise bring in just to cover payroll, then it’s not worth it. But if we launch a bar program and it pays for itself, and it gives members a reason to swing by for a cocktail they don’t want to make at home, then that’s a win.

We’ve been pretty ruthless about that North Star. Every time we consider something new, we ask: Is this additive to community? Or is it just vanity?