The Social Outcast is a riot of fun when it comes to dining. With his impeccable barbecue skills and sense of humour, Aminurrashid Hasnordin, better known as Chef Mint, is the master of the kitchen here.
When he mentioned how people would pay more for aglio olio at an Italian restaurant than mee goreng at a Muslim restaurant, we all chuckled while nodding in agreement. Despite the fact that the ingredients used in the former are often less expensive, he pointed out cheekily.
Mint elevates Muslim-friendly dishes at The Social Outcast with his “woodfire experiential dining”. Come early, but don’t dig in too quickly. As I pushed past its doors, I entered a bright orange waiting room. Many people in the neighbourhood stop by for the burgers and bar bites by its sub-brand Mad Man & Co, and/or party essentials like Mexican hot sauces and premium meats and seafood.
However, I had to enter the dining area through a tiny door inspired by the nijiri guchi, or small entrance, in traditional Japanese tea houses to meet Mint. Needless to say, everybody bows to enter, no matter his or her social status —because of the door, of course.
There’s no menu, so don’t bother asking for one. My 10-course dinner featured dishes inspired by Mint’s travels. The Peruvian Chicken Soup with woodfire-grilled Hokkaido scallop and lamb was utterly delicious. It was punchy and flavourful, thanks to the richness of chicken collagen and the tang of juniper berries. There was no salt or MSG, he declared.
Another crowd rave was Khao Tom, a flavourful, comforting take on tom yum porridge, one of Mint’s favourite Thai dishes. I slurped up every spoonful, unable to resist the alluring fragrance of lemongrass, kaffir lime, and chillies.
With a smile, he said, “It feels like home—rooted in tradition, yet versatile enough to be transformed into something extraordinary. A true reminder that the simplest foods often carry the most profound flavours.”
Mint, who lectured for eight years at the SMRT Institute before quitting to start The Social Outcast, described it as “a place to feed not just your body, but also that beautiful, rebellious spark inside you that’s been waiting for permission to burn brightly.”
Hence its name, which harks back to Mint’s journey of self-acceptance and search for freedom. Grinning, he said: “The kitchen, chaotic as it may seem, offered me a kind of peace I’d never known—a soul-stirring madness, where I can craft my imagination onto a plate like a poet, singing without fear of being silenced.”
