Gunther’s has been a storied landmark for nearly 18 years, then and now a bastion for unfussy takes on haute French cuisine. But my fascination with its chef, Gunther Hubreschen, goes back further.

In 2002, Hubreschen cooked at Amuse Bouche, a restaurant I ‘discovered’ as a precocious 11-year old who practiced ‘adult speak’ by calling up restaurants around Singapore, asking about their menus, then making reservations based on how progressive and value-driven they were.

“Inventive and tasty,” I wrote in my diary, or so I recalled. I made it my mission to follow the Belgian-native, ex L’Arpege chef wherever he went. Which happened next be at Les Amis. There, he brought over his entire team, lightened the menu, and served quietly brilliant dishes: his now signature take on an apple tart (reminiscent of a flattened samosa the size of a kite), raw langoustine pounded thin, topped with chive and olive oil; grilled foie-gras crusted with almond; and his pastas, now mimicked to abandon. Lunch then was $48 and prioritized seasonal, prized ingredients, like Kyoho grapes, which he often used in savory dishes.

At his namesake restaurant, which Hubreschen opened in 2007, the stakes were higher. Which meant plenty of his dishes would reflect his breezy, ingredient-first style of cooking. Not long after the opening, I paid my pilgrimage to what was then a reasonably-priced menu ($38 then; also a breathtaking $38 now, in 2025), attracting everyone from gastro-tourists to property tycoons with their mistresses and expensive bottles of Bordeaux in tow. It was a riot.

Though the hype has died down, Gunthers’ hasn’t ceased to bask in the fanfare of that silver-tray, where semi-live crustaceans with their outstretched antennas, Hamaguri clams and Corsican smoked sausages beckon. A recent dinner here is emblematic of Gunther’s journey, and though you shouldn’t expect anything new, you’ll be treated to a legion of dishes — like the cold, truffled angel hair with caviar — that sparked a movement. Sometimes it pays (well) to remember where it all started. Less