Between Passion and Survival: A Year of Hard Choices, Long Days and Real Learnings

As host we can't stop ourselves from being behind the kitchen counter, making sure everything is properly prepared.

2025 will go down as one of those years we never forget - not because it was easy, but precisely because it wasn’t. When I look back at the rhythms of the past twelve months - the early mornings in the kitchen, the long evenings juggling projects and partnerships, the moments that felt too heavy or too slow. Something quiet but profound stands out: we learned, we grew, and we found meaning in the small things.

This was the year we again felt how fragile small businesses can be, how finicky financial confidence really is, and how everything we build is connected to something bigger than just us. But through it all, Reverie remained - not untouched, not perfect but still breathing and in many ways stronger for what it taught us.

The economic reality: The landscape we faced

If you’ve been running something small and passionate like us, you’ve probably felt it: slower sales cycles, tense planning meetings, that long-term worry that comes with unpredictable consumer behaviour.

And you’re not imagining it.

Across Europe and many other parts of the world, small and medium-sized enterprises (especially the smallest ones) have been under sustained pressure. Regulatory complexity, late payments, and difficulty accessing finance were among the top concerns for SMEs in 2025, cited by dozens of business owners in a major European survey. Nearly 4 out of every 10 reported trouble with late payments and more than a quarter struggled to access finance to keep the business moving. (cf. Futurium)

In Germany alone, projected corporate insolvencies hit their highest level in over a decade, with nearly 24,000 companies expected to file for bankruptcy and micro-enterprises accounting for the vast majority of those cases. (cf. Reuters)

Closer to home, data from KfW shows that around 7% of all small and medium enterprises in Germany planned to close by the end of 2025 (cf. KfW), with micro-businesses especially at risk. 

And even in the UK, once-bustling town centres saw more than 3,000 high street stores disappear with thousands of jobs lost - a stark reminder of how volatile our economic environment has become. 

All of this isn’t just statistics. It’s the backdrop that shaped our year. It’s the reason we felt unsteady at times, the reason some months did feel wobbly, the reason we questioned decisions more than once, and the reason we had to be adaptable, intentional, and financially vigilant.

The personal cost: Late nights, full Plates and many hats

Our classic table for our culinary experience is always filled with shared knowledge and fresh ingredients.

If there’s one trope about running a creative small business, it’s that you wear many hats. But there are times when it feels like you’re wearing too many hats all at once - like slipping into your chef’s apron at midday right after answering client calls and then hopping into a late-night design sprint.

In 2025 those shifts became literal. I found myself - more often than I expected - starting the day with product design work, responding to project needs, diving into emails, sliding into our kitchen on a Friday afternoon to prep food for an event and still somehow juggling marketing, community support, and operations.

There were weeks where workdays stretched toward 18 hours. I was in the kitchen making sure every participant felt cared for. But I was also back in the design world part-time, contracting my product design skills to sustain financial stability.

Some days felt like we were trying to juggle four or five lives at once. And yes, there were moments where fatigue whispered: “This won’t last.” But there were also countless moments of joy - those quiet nods of appreciation from someone tasting our food, or a message about how connected they felt after a class.

I started referring to these stretches not as “chaos” but as deep practice - the kind that makes you question, refine, strengthen, and recommit.

Why slow, honest food matters - even when it might be a surprise for one or another

Authentic ingredients based from our family, ensuring that our students learn from the locals.

One of the unique aspects of Reverie is our food philosophy: Simple, real, without additives, MSG or shortcuts. That choice comes from a belief that nourishment is an experience, not just a flavour bump.

Some participants have been slightly puzzled when their first bite wasn’t as “intensely tasty” as something they might enjoy as they used to. Many venues use additives or fast techniques to amplify flavour quickly. We don’t. We prepare food the way I knew it as a child - basic, authentic, thoughtful, balanced and nourishing.

But the reaction we get after the first bite? Different.

Guests often say they feel connected to the ingredients, to the care that went into every dish, and to something familiar from their own family memories.

People have written:

• “I feel privileged tasting each ingredient from your family's home.”

• “It took me back to Sunday dinners with my own family.”

• “I didn’t expect it to taste this different - thank you for the authentic experience.”

It’s not about culinary perfection, it’s about experience, inclusion, and connection. These meals become moments where people slow down, savour, and pay attention - and in a world obsessed with speed, that is a gift.

The philosophy we carry from UX into life

Being a product designer taught me to look at systems, but especially at people : How they think, how they feel, what they need and what they don’t know yet they need. UX design is about understanding context and creating experiences that feel intuitive, comfortable, and meaningful.

In our classes, we took the same mindset. We looked beyond the dish itself to consider:

• How does the environment make someone feel welcome?

• What signals help guests relax and open up?

• What stories emerge when strangers share a meal?

• How does shared time build trust, curiosity, and belonging?

This echoes what thinkers in sociology and community studies have long observed about communal eating - that breaking bread together builds social bonds and social capital, strengthening resilience and community ties. (cf. Arxiv)

So when we joked about “UX in the kitchen,” we weren’t kidding. Every choice from the seating layout to the pacing of courses, and the warmth of lighting matters. Because we design more than food. We design experience.

Why communal spaces still matter

In a culture that often celebrates solitude and speed, communal spaces are an act of resistance. They are declarations that presence matters, that time shared is valuable and that connection is as important as consumption.

Philosophers, anthropologists, and thinkers from Lewis Mumford to Michael Pollan have pointed out that community - especially around food - is a foundational pillar of human life. When people cook and dine together, they aren’t just eating. They’re participating in culture, history, memory, and belonging.

That’s why our classes bring strangers together around a table. That’s why we host meals that feel like gatherings. That’s why someone’s nervous first arrival can turn into a heartfelt smile by the end of the evening.

The tough decisions: Why we had to change and what we’ve held on to

Let particpants leave the class with a mark.

As much as we wanted to keep our full event calendar and more flexible offerings, 2025 forced us to make a hard but honest choice:

We had to reduce the number of events we can host.

With rising costs, financial instability across markets and the reality that we needed reliable income, we decided we could no longer pour every hour of every day into Reverie without also caring for our personal sustainability. So, we returned to part-time product design work, expanding those hours enough to cover essentials, secure stability and give Reverie room to breathe without collapsing under pressure.

That means:

• We now host classes mainly Friday through Sunday.

• Some events we used to offer we can’t practically sustain - especially larger B2B collaborations.

• We are more reliant on the availability of our space than before.

And yes - if something gets canceled last minute, please know it genuinely hurts us too. We understand disappointment. We feel it alongside you. But these decisions come from a place of care, ensuring that what we do offer is thoughtful, meaningful, and sustainable.

In times like this, you realise that you don’t always get to have it all  but you can still choose quality, intention, and heart.

A message to fellow small business owners

To those reading this who are navigating your own challenges - whether you’re feeling the strain of unpredictable customers, rising costs, financial instability or the emotional weight that comes with it:

You are not alone.

Small businesses worldwide are reporting weak confidence in sales, challenges accessing capital and the hard reality that every euro matters more than ever. (cf. TheTimes)

But here’s the part I want to linger on:

You are building something real. Something that touches people’s lives. And that matters.

Not every day will feel light, and some days will honestly feel like carrying a weight you didn’t expect. But in those days, remember:

• You are creating connection.

• You are offering presence in a distracted world.

• You are building something no algorithm or big corporation can replicate.

  
  

And that is meaningful work.

Looking ahead: What we’re carrying with us

2025 challenged us deeply. It tested our finances. It pushed our schedules to the brink. It asked us to make decisions that didn’t always feel comfortable or easy.

But here’s what it left in its wake:

• Stronger community bonds.

• A deeper understanding of intention over scale.

• A clearer sense of why we do what we do beyond revenue.

• A renewed commitment to simple, nourishing experiences.

And most importantly:

A belief that authenticity - not perfection - creates connection.

So as we step into 2026, we aren’t retreating, we’re refining. We’re not shrinking, we’re focusing. And we’re not discouraged, we’re grateful.

To everyone who has sat at our table, shared a story, sent feedback (good and honest) or believed in what we were building:

Thank you.

Let’s keep learning. Let’s keep cooking. Let’s keep gathering: One meal, one moment, one connection at a time.