It’s fitting that the first course served at Bocadillo Market’s Spanish supper spotlights bread, since the communal dining experience — there is just one long table — is akin to breaking bread with new friends. Relocated to West Town last August, Bocadillo Market (1117 W. Grand Ave.) has remained a Spanish sandwich, pastry, and coffee shop by day. But on Friday and Saturday nights, the restaurant now hosts multicourse tapas-style dinners for up to 24 people.

“Bringing strangers, friends, and family together around food in an intimate setting starts conversations and allows us to connect in a disconnected world,” says chef James Martin, who, with his wife, Jessica Neal, opened Bocadillo Market in 2021 in Lincoln Park. (Martin was a semifinalist for the James Beard Award for best chef in the Great Lakes region in 2024.) Even before moving the restaurant, Martin launched the weekend suppers by holding pop-ups at Grand Cru, a wine shop that neighbors the new space. (The dinners are BYOB, so if you swing by Grand Cru ahead of time, the team there can help you pick the best pairings for each dinner.)

Once diners are seated in the cozy, minimalist space and Martin, who puts on the dinner with his sous chef and a front-of-the-house staffer, has greeted them, the meal gets rolling. The restaurant hasn’t done much promoting of the $135 suppers, so attendance depends on word of mouth. On my visit, there were three couples in attendance; one attendee had heard about the dinners from the staff after becoming a daytime regular; another, from a friend. All had some connection to the hospitality industry. (A number of Chicago chefs have attended.)

Martin is not of Spanish heritage but feels a deep love for the country. He sees similarities between Spanish cuisine and the food he ate growing up in South Carolina. Take his garlicky lima bean and sausage stew: It’s part ode to his mother and part reference to fabada Asturiana, the signature dish of northern Spain. Martin changes the menu seasonally, but dishes have included classics like patatas bravas, Spain’s favorite drinking snack, and golf-ball-size croquetas filled with roasted chicken and jamón. He also offers Spanish-inspired cheffy bites, like tuna crudo with citrus-harissa dressing nestled in the center of a large rice cracker.

The showstopper of our evening was the paella, served family-style. Eight head-on prawns, a dozen mussels, and chunks of roasted butternut squash sat atop the deeply flavorful Bomba rice. “That’s a hell of a paella,” commented one guest. Phones were whipped out to compare it with photos of versions previously tried in Spain. A rich chocolate olive oil cake dolloped with whipped cream ended the meal, although not the party: We lingered long after plates were cleared.

When Martin was a kid, his parents always made sure that friends and family were nearby, and at community gatherings, an abundance of food was always present. “Creating this was very easy,” he says of the dinners. “It’s what I know.”