The sui generis chef

Chef Kenjiro Hashida’s progressive culinary exposition is a poetic tapestry of wonderment and art

Hashida Singapore is a genius’s poem, a carefully and intricately woven work of art that traverses between the realms of knowledge, curiosity, boundless artistry, and sometimes even madness.

To be given the Kenjiro Hashida treatment is to be taken under the culinary poet’s spell and offered a peek into his eccentric, eloquent mind. Every minute detail at Hashida—from its hidden fortune “cookie” chopstick holders, down to a precisely measured 36.9-centimetre concrete slab—are imbued with a deeper meaning guided by one of chef Hashida’s (or Hatch, as he is known) firmly rooted personal philosophies. Such is the culinary genius that makes Hatch a sui generis chef, one whose continual pursuit is to handcraft dining experiences so exquisite they belong in a class of their own.

Born in 1979 to a master sushi chef, the Tokyo-native steers centuries of tradition forward with his own brand of ingenuity and innovation. Even at a tender age, Hatch displayed voracious culinary curiosity, mastering basic knife work at three and inventing his own cream cheese recipe by four. It is a culinary achievement so worthy of reprise that the chef continues to put forward a refined version of his original creation today.

At his hands, pungent, sharp, and salty blue cheese mingles with silky, briny chawanmushi, while eggplant elegantly dances next to lemon in a refreshing version of tiramisu.

From behind his sacred hiba wood counter, Hatch weaves culinary stanzas marked by creative display, interlacing them with verses entrenched in tradition, such as slabs of freshly carved otoro, as well as tachiuo (beltfish) and sea urchin personally handed to guests.

Guests are invited to embark on their pilgrimage down the sando (path leading to a shrine’s main hall) to gastronomical magnificence. But look a little harder and you’ll notice signs of Hatch’s inquisitive approach to his art and the universe, from his own painting of a mythical three-legged crow to a tiny astronaut peering down from a lunar-like nook in the ceiling.