Artichoke has shed its mezze and kebabs, with Chef Bjorn Shen rebooting his flagship into Artichoke Pizza Parlor — a raucous, maximalist shrine to pizza that’s equal parts nostalgia trip and fever dream.
For over a decade, Artichoke was the oddball Middle Eastern restaurant that gleefully resisted labels. “The least Middle Eastern Middle Eastern restaurant in town”, it proudly described itself.
Today, that chapter has closed.
Chef-owner Bjorn Shen has swapped out mezze and kebabs for mozzarella and marinara, recently reinventing his flagship as Artichoke Pizza Parlor — a mischievous, over-the-top take on pizza that could only have come from him. Anyone who follows the larger-than-life celebrity chef on social media will no doubt be familiar with the MasterChef Singapore judge’s penchant for pizza, seeing how he’s travelled all across the world scarfing down copious amounts of pie.
Opening a pizza parlour was a matter of time. That reinventing his prized flagship Artichoke into one was the only surprise.
Artichoke, the restaurant, still looks familiar; it is now updated as an 80s-90s American pizza parlour seen through a pop-culture funhouse lens. Flea-market china, Borat prints, Tiffany lamps, and tapestries from Step Brothers clutter a lived-in dining hall that is equal parts nostalgic and anarchic. Smalls, his micro dining concept, occupies one end of the space.
The menu, though? As expected, the pivot is not at all subtle.
Pizza, of course, is one of those things everyone thinks they know. It’s dough, tomato, cheese, and maybe pepperoni if you’re feeling reckless. Shen has no interest in playing by those rules. This is not the reverent Neapolitan sort with blistered crusts and buffalo mozzarella. This is pizza as Chef Bjorn’s fever dream, pizza as the adolescent fantasy of a chef who grew up on 80s pizza chains, then spent the next few decades trying to make sense of them.
He divides his pizza creations into three distinct styles — Slabs, Stacks, and Rounds — all anchored by an obsessively honed, high-hydration dough for shatteringly crisp crusts and light, airy interiors.
The Pepperoni Slab, spiked with pickled long peppers and chilli honey, is definitely a crowd-pleaser. But its plant-based twin, the Veggi-Roni, is set to be a sleeper hit. It sounds like punishment. It isn’t. This cheekily swaps salami for carrot jam and faux-pepperoni slices, offset by pistachio and feta, for a shockingly satisfying bite.
If the Slabs are Chef Bjorn’s riff on frico-style Sicilian pies, the Stacks are his invention entirely. Here’s where he decides restraint is for cowards, offering up double-decked, cheese-stuffed monsters that teeter on excess. Where toppings double as fillings.
The Green Supreme, for example, layers burrata, spinach, peas, zucchini, and mint with two pie bases for a massive bite, and likewise its carnivore sibling, the Meat Supreme. But the must-order here is the Dirty Duck, which draws on Chef Bjorn’s time in Bali with shredded bebek (duck), snake bean lawar, and spicy sambal matah.
But it’s the Rounds — puffy, fried-then-baked crusts — where Shen’s playful glee come to the fore. There’s Bacon Apple Pie, which marries pancetta, apple butter, rosemary, hazelnuts, and brie into a ludicrous sweet-savoury bomb that really shouldn’t work but does, while Tropic Thunder pits parma ham against jackfruit, chilli honey, and torch ginger for an Asian touch.
These are not pizzas you’ll find in Naples — nor should you want to.
Don’t sleep on the supporting cast, which are just as eccentric. The Beef Lasagna Nuggets with a marinara dip, in particular, are guilty fun, while on the other end is a kiwi and pecorini salad that’s as tasty as it is virtuous.
You’ll definitely want to leave room for his Super Crunchy Fried Chicken — served in two different styles, Szechuan spice or Lebanese garlic sauce and honey — that are a delicious reminder Chef Bjorn once ran a fried chicken joint and knows exactly how to fry chicken into submission.
The drinks list mirrors the food’s unserious seriousness: pickle lemonade, diner-style floats, cocktails laced with celery or jalapeño, and a concise selection of wines and beers. Desserts, too, lean maximalist — think Cinnamon Cherry Pie with almond frangipane and orange cream, or a Sundae loaded with banana bread, strawberry, passionfruit ice cream, and meringue that tastes like he simply upended a dessert display case into a bowl and handed you a spoon.
Is it too much? You bet. Does it always work? Of course not. But Chef Bjorn isn’t trying to refine pizza with Artichoke Pizza Parlor. He’s trying to weaponise it. This is food that barrels past culinary orthodoxy and lands somewhere between nostalgia and delirium. In closing Artichoke’s Middle Eastern chapter, he’s simply traded one made-up set of rules for another set of none.
The result? It is pizza as personality cult. This is utterly Chef Bjorn — a misfit, a renegade. If this is Artichoke selling out, at least now it’s a damn fun place to eat some great pizza.
Artichoke Pizza Parlor
Address 46 Kim Yam Rd, #01-02 New Bahru, Singapore 239351 (Google Maps link)
Opening Hours 5pm to 10pm on Tuesdays; 11am to 10pm Wednesdays to Sundays; closed on Mondays
Website www.artichoke.com.sg
Facebook artichokesg
Instagram @artichoke_sg
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