The three jobs nobody wants
Every group that eats together regularly dies of the same three chores. None of them is cooking.
A supper club almost never falls apart over the food. People like cooking. Somebody will always volunteer to cook. What kills a group is the administration around the cooking, and it is always the same three jobs.
One: working out who is coming
A thread with fourteen people in it is not a headcount. Two say yes, one says maybe, one replies to a message from four days ago, and three never answer at all. Whoever is cooking has to guess, and guessing wrong in either direction is miserable: too little food, or a fridge full of leftovers and a bill for twenty when eleven turned up.
The fix is boring. A date, a number of seats, and a list of who has actually claimed one. Not a poll. Not a thread. A list.
Two: the money
Splitting a bill after the fact is the single most reliable way to make a friendly evening slightly unpleasant. Somebody has to add up receipts, work out that two people did not drink, chase four transfers, and then decide whether it is worth chasing the fifth. It usually is not, so the host quietly eats the difference, and does that four or five times before deciding they are done hosting.
A running balance solves this by removing the moment of asking. The cost of a seat is known before anyone sits down, it comes off a balance, and the balance is topped up whenever. Nobody is ever asked for money at a table.
Three: remembering
Who has a nut allergy. Who brought the good bread last time. Who has offered to cook twice and been passed over twice. Whether the thing on Thursday was any good. All of this lives in one person's head, which means the group can only be as large as that person's memory and only lasts as long as their patience.
Write it down once, in the place where the evening is already being organised, and the group stops depending on a single person's recall.
What is left
Take those three away and hosting is a genuinely nice thing to do. You pick a date, you decide what to cook, and people turn up. That is the whole job, and it is the job people actually wanted in the first place.