Chef Jermain de Rozario at Windows on Aruba

It was the first Michelin star chef event in the Caribbean, an eight star spectacular. Big energy, big expectations, and the unmistakable sense that something important was happening for the island’s dining scene. Six years later, he is back in Aruba. And this time, the story feels different. Not louder. Not bigger. Just more grounded, more human, and somehow more satisfying.

Act I: The Workshop

Or why chefs should be human first

The weekend began not with a formal dinner, but with a workshop. About sixteen guests gathered at Windows for an intimate, relaxed session that felt more like a conversation than a class. Champagne flowed easily. The ocean sat quietly in the background. And Chef de Rozario walked everyone through the fundamentals of making the perfect nigiri.

Wagyu nigiri. Snapper nigiri. The correct angle of the knife. How to recognize quality fish. How to season the rice properly. How to mold that perfect oval shape using the palm of your hand. This was not a performance. It was generous, open, and genuinely fun.

De Rozario is one of those chefs who belongs on a stage, but never puts himself above the room. Seven years as a Michelin star holder brings authority, but what makes him memorable is his personality. He is witty, approachable, smiley, and clearly joyful. He explains without ego. He listens. He laughs. He signs chef hats. He takes group photos. He stays longer than he needs to. It was the ideal way to kick off a weekend of lunch and dinner. Before we tasted the food, we got to know the person behind it.

Act II: Friday Lunch

Indulgence without apology

The following day, I returned to Windows for lunch, and the atmosphere had shifted in the best way. It was December 21st, just days before Christmas, that soft moment in the calendar when everyone collectively agrees to slow down. The midday Aruban sun was warm and steady, and nothing felt more appropriate than starting with a glass of champagne. The lunch was well attended and surprisingly industry heavy. Restaurateurs, wine traders, hospitality professionals, and food lovers filled the room. It felt chic but relaxed, indulgent but unpretentious. A Friday afternoon lunch where nobody was rushing back to work. The menu served as a preview of Saturday night, and it unfolded with confidence. It began with a deconstructed sushi-inspired tuna dish. Sushi rice, cucumber, wasabi, soy sauce, and lightly seared tuna sashimi. Clean, bright, and perfectly seasoned. Paired with a fresh Chardonnay, it was the ideal opening bite.

Next came wagyu in two expressions. A wagyu tartare topped with roasted pine nuts, where the richness of the meat was lifted by the nutty crunch. Alongside it, wagyu nigiri served with leek, broccolini, maitake mushrooms, and a deeply savory broth. Familiar from the workshop, but now refined and composed.

Then came Rendang. Short rib beef, coconut cream, lemongrass, rice, soybean sprouts, chili oil, and lemon. Comforting, punchy, and deeply satisfying. One of those dishes that reminds you that lunch should nourish, not just impress.

Dessert closed the meal gently. Coconut ice cream, five-spice pineapple cake, crispy chocolate elements, and pickled pineapple. Light, balanced, and grounding. A humble and thoughtful way to finish.

Act III: Saturday Night

The room at full volume

Saturday night was the elevation of everything that came before. The restaurant was sold out and buzzing. For our island, it truly felt like everybody was there. What stood out most was the energy. The room was filled with young diners, fully engaged, curious, and excited. Proof that dining experiences are no longer reserved for an older, more formal crowd. This felt current. Alive.

The night opened with Wagyu Nigiri, already an undeniable hit from the workshop and lunch, then came an oyster topped with pine nuts, herbs, and a delicate layer of rendered wagyu fat. Creative, indulgent, and surprisingly harmonious.

The sushi-inspired tuna made another appearance, this time in a more generous portion. A sweet potato dish with mango and orange followed, creamy and bright. Then the wagyu tartare and nigiri returned once more, taken to yet another level with deeper flavor and polish.

Rendang took center stage as the main course. Coconut cream, fragrant rice, crisp soybean sprouts, and decadent short rib. A study in texture and restraint. Dessert echoed lunch with coconut ice cream, pickled pineapple, and five-spice cake. Familiar, comforting, and exactly right.

The night closed with a carajillo. Coffee, liqueur, warmth. The perfect final note. What Stayed With Me What stayed with me most, beyond the plates and the room and the energy, was the sense that this chapter is not about proving anything.

When you have done something once, at the highest level, that is already proof that you can do it again. And probably better. But maybe that is not the point anymore. Maybe Chef Jermain de Rozario is not looking for another star. He already earned one. He already held it. Maybe what he is looking for now is freedom. Freedom to cook without weight. Freedom to travel. Freedom to spend time with his family. Freedom to enjoy life and the culinary world on his own terms. Being at the top can bring recognition and success, but it also brings pressure. And sometimes the bravest move is deciding you no longer want to carry that.

This weekend in Aruba felt like that kind of moment. A chef cooking from instinct, not expectation. Feeding people with intention. Nourishing, not performing. I had a great time. Truly. Across three very different events, there was joy, generosity, and ease that cannot be staged. We wish him the best, whatever shape that takes. And if the future includes more nights like these, shared around a table, then we will gladly be there to taste it.