A supra is not a restaurant booking with more plates. It is a conversation with a place. When we plan one, we start with the host: who cooks, who tells the stories, which recipes belong to the family and which ingredients belong to this week.

Then we look at the shape of the day. A table after a vineyard walk feels different from a table after a city museum. A mountain dinner needs appetite; a Tbilisi cellar needs time. We keep the route loose enough for the meal to become what it wants to be.

The best supras are generous without being performative. There is wine, of course, but there is also a toast, a pause, a second helping placed in front of you before you ask. That is the Georgia we want travelers to meet.