It’s a busy month for ESA. The restaurant, known for its thoughtful take on the ‘Jakartan palate’, recently expanded their offerings to include a lunch menu. Not long ago, they introduced their first artist residency with multidisciplinary artist Metta Setiandi. They also celebrated a defining milestone: their first anniversary.
For chef-owner Aditya Muskita, the rhythm of a busy kitchen is something he has grown quite accustomed to. In his childhood home, it was one of the rooms that were rarely empty; there was always something simmering or frying, someone chopping or stirring, with the lingering scent of spices clinging to the walls. “I’ve been spending my time in the kitchen since I was four. My father was Ambonese and my mother was half Arabic with Chinese heritage, so there was always something going on—especially on weekends, when family gatherings meant an entire day of cooking and eating. That was my first introduction to different kinds of cuisines and flavours.”
One of his earliest memories of food is sneaking into the kitchen as a young boy whenever their house helper, Emar, was preparing perkedel or potato fritters. He would swipe the soft, seasoned mash just before they hit the hot oil, savouring their buttery softness. “I loved mashed potatoes,” he admitted with a grin. “My mother would often involve us in the cooking process. We’d help prepare ingredients, learn to make puddings. Sometimes we’re too impatient, my brother and I would actually eat them while they’re still hot!”
“I’ve been spending my time in the kitchen since I was four.”
By high school, cooking extended beyond the simple task of smashing warm potatoes and stirring a pudding mixture—it also became a way to earn extra pocket money. Chef Aditya and his brother would spend early mornings before school and late nights after helping out in the kitchen and manning the cashier of their family-run dim sum restaurant chain, Oenpao. It was here that he first glimpsed the unglamorous, relentless pace of restaurant life—something he admitted he resented then, but would later come to embrace.
Despite his upbringing, becoming a chef wasn’t always Aditya’s first choice. “I had a lot of funky ambitions,” he admitted with a laugh. At 32, he looks back on a long list of alternative futures he considered—music, skateboarding, even medicine. “I broke my leg skating, and after spending a lot of time in the hospital, I actually considered becoming a doctor.” It was his mother who gently nudged him toward culinary school. “Although I’ve always enjoyed being in the kitchen, I never thought I could turn it into a career,” he shared. “She is the reason I cook.”
We sat just beside the open kitchen at ESA, where the kitchen team can be seen moving in quiet focus as they prepared to welcome guests for the lunch service and the private event they were hosting that evening. The crisp sound of blades of potatoes being peeled. The rhythmic chopping of vegetables. The occasional whirring of a blender. Amidst this familiar soundtrack, Chef Aditya recalls his early experiences as a young chef, first as a line cook in Todd English’s Olives in New York, and later as a saucier and chef de partie at Mozaic in Ubud, Bali. “Up until then, I was never exposed to Indonesian cooking at that level,” he shared. “That’s where I grew up as a chef, that’s why I’m always a bit hard on our sauciers here.”
One evening after service, Chef Aditya and Renaldo Deluna, then Mozaic’s sous-chef, were winding down playing pool at a nearby bar when Renaldo pointed across the room at a man with thick glasses. “That’s a legend right there,” he said. It was none other than Will Goldfarb, famously known as the ‘Prince of Pastry’.
There’s a deliberate, almost architectural quality to how Aditya constructs his dishes—an interplay of contrasts, textures and temperatures, where the unexpected often hides in plain sight.
At the time, Goldfarb was opening Room4Dessert (R4D) in Ubud, a dessert bar with a tasting menu—a visionary concept that, even a decade later, still remains unmatched in Indonesia. The restaurant would later gain global recognition through its appearance on Netflix’s Chef’s Table, but at the time, its very existence felt radical. “I was so surprised because I didn’t think that Indonesia would draw talents like Will back then, but there he was.” After over a year in Mozaic, Chef Aditya joined Goldfarb at Room4Dessert.
“That was probably the most important part of my career, working with Will. What he’s doing there is really remarkable—he taught us to pay attention to everything; music, lighting, the thinking process. Essentially, if I didn’t work with Will, I wouldn’t know how to open a restaurant.”
After nearly two years, Chef Aditya set his sights on working abroad. He sent an e-mail to Relæ, the now-closed award-winning restaurant in Copenhagen by Christian Puglisi. To his surprise, they responded 15 minutes later. And soon, he found himself in one of the most demanding kitchens he had ever stepped foot in. “It was incredibly eye-opening,” he admitted. “During my first week interning there, I wanted to quit. I realised then that I was nothing and had a lot to learn. As a young chef, I definitely came in with my ego. But the fact was that I was outpaced by everyone. Overcooked by everyone.”
The experience was humbling, but formative. It taught him the value of discipline, precision, and what it means to stay sharp in an increasingly high-pressure environment. He carried these lessons with him back to Bali, where he took on roles at Attarine and Potato Head before eventually returning to Jakarta during the pandemic. It was then that he launched his fine-dining pop-up, BETA—an intimate, experimental project that reignited his vision for what Indonesian flavours could be.
“Essentially, if I didn’t work with Will Goldfarb, I wouldn’t know how to open a restaurant.”
During this time, he reconnected with culinary author Kevindra Soemantri, who attended one of BETA’s dinners. “I’d always admired Kevindra’s work and research,” he recalled. Alongside Jessica Evelyn—his longtime friend and colleague from his days in Attarine, with whom he had often discussed the idea of starting a restaurant—they began shaping the idea that would become ESA. “There was a point where our biggest concern was that we couldn’t define what we’re doing. You need to label it. And we thought, why not base it on our palate?”
“We take inspiration from Jakarta—its flavours, influences, and history—creating not just dishes, but a new way to approach food in Indonesia. Our strength is introducing a sense of familiarity while creating something new and untraceable. To achieve that, we begin with a deep understanding of our heritage and ingredients, then we deconstruct them, break them apart and put them back together.”
Running ESA, however, demanded Aditya to step into an entirely new role—one that extended beyond the territory of a kitchen. He quickly came to understand that cooking was one thing, but leading a restaurant as a chef-owner was an entirely different challenge. “You quickly learn that you can’t do everything alone. You’ll burn out. I tried,” he laughed. “Delegation is important, but so is trust. I’ve learned to involve the team in the creative process, and always be open to any criticism and feedback. They need to have that sense of ownership.”
In ESA’s kitchen, Aditya channels the lessons from his past mentors. From Will Goldfarb, he learned to embrace the idea of mentorship, learning to “plant ideas” with his team and recognising that “cooking comes later”—that before any pan hits the fire or a menu is conceptualised, there must be a strong foundation of thought, process and elements that further frame the dining experience. Christian Puglisi, on the other hand, instilled in him a deep respect for ingredients, focusing on their purity and crafting dishes in a way that presents them in their best form.
“There was a point where our biggest concern [at ESA] was that we couldn’t define what we’re doing. You need to label it. And we thought, why not base it on our palate?”
“Aditya’s approach to creativity mirrors that of an artist—unconventional, boundary-pushing, and deeply personal.” shared Kevindra. “In Indonesia’s dining scene, this kind of approach is considered very bold, but necessary in shaping fresh and unforgettable culinary experiences.”
Their latest menu, Moments, is a reflection of this very spirit. Playing with the fluid nature of memory, a dish might begin with something recognisable: the comforting familiarity of a childhood snack awaiting us after school, flavours encountered during quintessential holidays to Anyer or Puncak with the family, or the dishes whose presence have been a fixture in family celebrations and festivities. “Aditya’s palate and techniques have matured over the years I’ve known him, but he always carries this sense of determination to create something unique that’s influenced by all of our upbringings,” Jessica added.
There’s a deliberate, almost architectural quality to how Aditya constructs his dishes—an interplay of contrasts, textures and temperatures, where the unexpected often hides in plain sight.
The Steak and Rice, for starters, draws from Chef Aditya’s household staple. The beef is cooked over charcoal, its smokiness sealed in as it rests in banana leaves. Javanese long pepper provides a gentle prick of heat, while the salted egg and black kluwak nut sauce—deep and earthy, reminiscent of rawon—anchors the dish.
“Today, we see a lot of chef-driven restaurants—which tap into different characters and personalities, and feel more representative of the culinary scene as a whole.”
If the Steak and Rice is grounded in nostalgia, then the dessert, Memories of Copenhagen explores food’s ability to transport diners beyond time and space. Inspired by Chef Aditya’s time in Copenhagen, it features Peruvian black mint sherbet, cool and herbaceous against the crispness of freeze-dried strawberries. A side of strawberry jelly and lychee water softens the texture, but it’s the freshly grated wasabi that transforms the flavour. Just as the palate braces for its expected heat, the wasabi instead plays a quieter role, subtly balancing the sweetness without leaving any bitter aftertaste, almost disguising any proof that it was ever there at all.
The conversation steered to how much has changed since Chef Aditya first embraced the title of chef. “Back then, there were a lot of big groups in the scene. Today, we see a lot of chef-driven restaurants—which tap into different characters and personalities, and feel more representative of the culinary scene as a whole.”
Yet even after all these years, Chef Aditya’s reason for cooking remains simple—the same one that has drawn him to the kitchen since he was four. “In the end, it’s about curiosity,” he said. “It’s the urge to take what’s familiar and transform it into something new. It’s also about channelling this feeling of dissatisfaction, and constantly asking myself: ‘what more can we explore?’”
