“Selassie finds her approach overlapping more and more with architecture — grounded in respect for the land from which the produce originates.”
I. Steinbeisser x Chef Selassie Atadika
If you’re looking for ginger and smoked cream truffles infused with Ghanaian cocoa or sesame soup that tastes of Accra, Chef Selassie Adatika knows how. When Yale Hospitality invited her, she made vegan bobotie, a South African favourite, keeping the homesick student in mind. In embracing the continent’s cuisine, Selassie describes her philosophy, New African Cuisine, as an intersection of environment, economy, and sustainability.
Increasingly, Selassie finds her approach overlapping with architecture — grounded in respect for the land from which the produce originates. She says: ‘For me, it’s about reimagining how we eat and redesigning food systems… When we eat what grows locally, we honour the land and its seasons. When we support local producers, we strengthen local economies.’ Her work is grounded in traditional practices: ‘communal dining, plant-forward cooking, ancient grains, and wild or foraged ingredients.’
Slowing down
Culinary designers Martin Kullik and Jouw Wijnsma, the founders of Steinbeisser, curate nomadic gastronomic experiences that challenge our eating habits through tableware that forces diners to break conventions. ‘Eating tools have a major impact on the way we behave and interact with each other. We use tools that have been crafted to contribute to a more mindful experience,’ Martin explains. ‘By using pieces that are visually unique and slightly impractical, we tend to eat more slowly but the tools also help us overcome a certain social rigidity due to a range of etiquette rules.’ Attendees are often led to feed each other using extra-long spoons and bond over the challenge of eating with unusual utensils.
Each iteration alternates chefs, location, and artists who are commissioned to produce the tableware. But this collaboration with chefs Selassie Atadika and Elif Oskan in Dornach, Switzerland was particularly special: ‘The Goetheanum is the centre of the anthroposophical movement and also the homebase of the School of Spiritual Science,’ says Martin. The institution’s agricultural section celebrated its 100th anniversary of biodynamic farming in the same year as the culinary event. Explaining that Steinbeisser has worked with biodynamic farmers from their inception, Martin remarks that the celebration of this anniversary was particularly meaningful.
For Selassie, the Goetheanum’s offering brought a natural symbiosis of her Ghanaian heritage and biodynamic Swiss ingredients: ‘African cuisines have long relied on plant proteins like nuts, seeds, legumes, and pulses,’ she says. ‘I treated each ingredient with respect, pairing it with Ghanaian techniques and flavours like egusi (wild melon seeds), shito (a deeply spiced chili paste), and groundnuts. This allowed me to honour the terroir of the Goetheanum while carrying my own culinary heritage into the experience.’
Storm wood, flax, and fungi
While Steinbeisser’s early years saw conventional materials used for tableware, like ceramics, glass, and metal, they have renewed their commitment to more experimental, biodegradable substances such as storm wood, flax, fungi, seaweed, and even paper. In their 2024 iteration, one such item was a large-scale wooden dish, made for sharing and composed of storm wood sourced from trees that have been felled by a passing storm. By 2026, they expect to complete the transition to renewables — not only for the tableware but also for drinking vessels, which Martin says poses the biggest challenge.
For the chef that has to plate these experimental, and at times challenging, forms, it is a creation forged between edible and inanimate artistry. ‘Plating, for me, is storytelling,’ says Selassie. ‘With Steinbeisser’s experimental tableware, each plate became an extension of the narrative, a sculptural element that elevated how diners experienced the food.’ In designing the second course, Egusi Galette, Gari, Seasonal Salad, and Berry Vinaigrette, Selassie chose to match the coarse textures of the gari with a light-grain vessel. The course that followed contained a dish peeling and shedding like bark in the woods; the forest-like setting enclosed roasted mushrooms and a smooth groundnut sauce — forming a cohesive, earthy feel to the dish.
II. Frederik Labuschagne x Plant.
Frederik Labuschagne’s architecture-gastronomy crossover is somewhat like Chef Selassie’s in reverse: he’s a graduate from the University of Pretoria’s Architecture School turned plant-based chef since launching his restaurant, Plant., in Lucerne. ‘I approached this career change like any architectural project: methodically and with clear intentions. I wanted to be both the architect and the client of my own vision,’ Frederik says. ‘To build the necessary foundation, I gained hands-on experience working in a restaurant, which not only taught me the practical aspects of the industry but also gave me the confidence to launch my own venture.’
A feeling that lingers
Since moving to Switzerland with his family in 2018, Frederik re-ignited his lifelong passion for culinary traditions and techniques. A new start in a new country prompted the journey into untapped terrain. The connection between architecture and gastronomy was stunning: for Frederik, ‘both disciplines are fundamentally about creating experiences that engage multiple senses and emotions.’ While an architect curates the approach and movement through space, the chef is responsible for ‘a sensory journey from the first visual impression of a dish to the final lingering taste’. The same principles — balance, proportion, texture, colour — infiltrate both realms of curation.
His 22-seater, plant-based restaurant is an intimate experience that brings diners closer to understanding what they eat. It centres around his philosophy of ‘intentional consumption’ and questioning the status quo. The smaller scale allows the restaurant to remain authentically ‘sustainable’: reducing their ecological footprint, surrendering to the rhythm of seasonal produce, and sourcing local ingredients.
Images courtesy of Frederik Labuschagne
Umami
Hara Hachi Bu (腹八分目), which translates to eat until you’re 80% full, is an exercise of moderation. Japanese philosophies, particularly that of minimalism and mindfulness — ‘the idea that we should eat more focused, more deliberately’ — are embedded in Frederik’s approach. What he refers to as the ‘less but better principle’ can be seen throughout the restaurant: in their small menu and elimination of food waste. But Japanese influences extend beyond the conceptual: the Plant. team produce their very own miso, koji, umeboshi, and kimchi served during the dining experience or available to take home. Describing the fermentation process as an ‘alchemy’ to ‘develop deep umami flavours’, Frederik displays his research-led curiosity that drives his richly flavoured plant-based offering.
The architecture of community
Situated within a heritage-protected building, the restaurant’s bar and kitchen area demanded gruelling renovations that both complied with regulations and remained appropriate for modern dining. Now, its walls are a soothing green, and the low, warm glow emitted by the paper lanterns creates an intimate feel — intentionally chosen to push back against the grand volume induced by the high ceilings. In the evening, this ‘gentle illumination spills onto the street’ says Frederik whose architectural background equipped him with strategic spatial thinking needed to set up the space. Stainless steel is easy to clean and creates a neutral aesthetic against which the food remains the protagonist, while the solid wood furniture, minimal and enduring, manifests the architect’s faithfulness to longevity. On these seats, regular diners have become, in Frederik’s words, extended family.
