Zineb Hattab: "I don't want my business to rely on harming animals"

A Spanish woman in Switzerland is making headlines for all the right reasons. Born in Blanes (Girona) in 1989 to a Moroccan family, Zineb Hattab left her job as an engineer to pursue her dream of becoming a chef. Having worked in the kitchens of some of the world's most renowned chefs, she now runs a small gastronomic empire in Zurich, combining a gentle touch with firm principles. Her flagship restaurant, KLE, earned her the first Michelin star for a Spanish chef in a vegan restaurant, as well as a green star. It represents 'a more adult palate and continuous progress', resulting from all her travels and influences. Dar is a tribute to her roots and the Arabic and Iberian influences that shaped her childhood. "You can eat aharira soup or a bomba from Barceloneta, both with a twist." Cor Wine & Pintxos is the kind of wine and tapas bar she likes to visit when she returns to Barcelona to see her family. "If you want good crystal bread with tomato, a croquette and a vermouth, that's the place to go. It was born out of selfishness, because I wanted to have a place like this in Zurich.'

Hattab, who has just received the Mérit Culinaire Suisse award, is used to not quite fitting in, shunning labels with a culinary offering that is, yes, vegetarian, but above all free, humane, and respectful of the environment.

What remains of the young software engineer in the chef she is today?

‘I think it's a mindset that focuses less on problems and more on solutions. That, and being quite organised, has helped me a lot. In cooking, many things are done simply because that's how they've always been done, without questioning why. Initially, I just kept my head down and obeyed, but it was difficult because in engineering, if you don't understand the reason behind something, you can't solve the problem.

You started cooking for friends when you were a student. Isn't that the most rewarding form of hospitality?

I have always found being a hostess very satisfying. It connects you with people, and you receive immediate feedback. This is very different from my work as an engineer, where the results are long-term and less human-focused: you communicate more with machines. However, I think that cooking for the people you love is the most beautiful thing about gastronomy.

What made you decide to turn it into your profession?

Hosting at home got a little out of hand. I had lots of gadgets and books, and I spent all day thinking about menus for my guests. Little by little, it took up all my free time. However, I didn't get tired of it; on the contrary, it energised me. Working as an engineer wasn't bad — I had a comfortable life — but it was too stable.
I decided that if I wanted to pursue my passion, I had to do it now. I gave myself a year to try it, but my boss said, “When this fever passes, come back.” That was then, and here I am today.

Massimo Bottura, the Roca brothers, Josean Alija, Dan Barber, Enrique Olvera, Andreas Caminada... How did you manage to open all those doors?

I think my ignorance helped me a lot; I knew little about this world. I read something about Nerua that caught my attention. I watched some videos of Massimo Bottura and wrote to him, unaware of his stature in the world of gastronomy. It was that ignorance that gave me the courage to send such bold emails, saying that I had no experience but would give it my all. And it worked! The beginning was tough, but I'm very grateful to Josean Alija for not firing me after just two days.

Which of these figures has had the biggest impact on you?

All of them, in different ways. I was impressed by Alija's close relationship with the producers, and by the way he captured that bond on the plate so cleanly. With Massimo, it was the opposite: the colours, the madness, the music, the art... Working with him is very emotionally intense, and I learned to draw inspiration from other areas. Then there's Andreas Caminada, with whom I worked for a long time in Switzerland. He embodies organisation and perfectionism — he's never satisfied. Working with him helped me a lot to find my feet in this country.

I'm a woman of Moroccan origin with no experience in cooking. Have you ever felt discriminated against?

I've certainly been in uncomfortable situations, and when I complained, I was told, 'Just look at the chopping board and don't look for trouble'. I wouldn't tolerate that now. If I see an injustice, I can't stay silent. I've even played the role of police officer because of comments about how leggings look on a female chef or a waiter wearing a pearl necklace. It can be exhausting, but I won't allow microaggressions among colleagues. They don't realise that what they think is a joke can hurt. In my kitchen, talking to each other with respect is more important than making a perfect brunoise.

What changes did you want to make when you had your own team?

Having a family and working in the hospitality industry shouldn't be mutually exclusive. It's not as if, if you're not an owner by your thirties, you have to change jobs to adapt to school hours or miss important events in your life. I missed all my friends' weddings, and I regret it now. I don't want that to happen to my team. To me, sustainability isn't just about the dish: our lives must be sustainable too.

Was setting up a vegan restaurant a political decision?

It wasn't premeditated. I made the decision at the last minute. I needed a purpose that went beyond feeding people — something that would motivate me and create a bond with the team based on shared values. The funny thing is that I've eaten meat all my life. I've seen lambs being killed and I'm not squeamish about skinning a rabbit. However, today we are so far removed from nature that I don't want my business to depend on harming animals.

The guides have treated you very well. How much do you care about what the critics say?

Being in the Michelin or Gault & Millau guides wasn't one of my goals. I knew that specialising in vegetable-based cooking would limit my opportunities. I was therefore very surprised to receive an invitation to the Michelin gala, as I didn't really know what to expect. The star has opened doors for us and brought in customers. The restaurant has changed since then, but nothing we do is aimed at getting recognition. I've seen colleagues chase it, like actors choosing roles with an Oscar in mind. It's not that I don't value awards, but I prefer my career to evolve more organically.