Many talented chefs and restaurateurs use Breadcrumb Point of Sale and we want to celebrate their unique stories. This month Francis Lam, editor at Clarkson Potter, judge on Top Chef Masters, and columnist for New York Times Magazine interviewed Chef Corey Lee, owner of three Michelin-starred restaurant Benu and Monsieur Benjamin and valued Breadcrumb Point of Sale customer.
Last month, at San Francisco’s three-Michelin-starred Benu, just before dessert, servers poured kombucha into ancient-seeming porcelain goblets—an old drink in an old cup. When we tipped it to our lips, a tiny bell hidden inside the cup’s base tinkled ever so softly. It was a small thing, but it delighted everyone at the table—none of us had ever experienced that before. Where is the line between tradition and innovation? For some restaurants, the difference isn’t always so clear.
To Benu’s chef, Corey Lee, “newness” is the central, defining element of his restaurant, but what does newness in cuisine mean? In some cases, it’s the use of new techniques and technologies to create dishes diners haven’t seen before. But tradition presented in a new context is also a kind of innovation, and Benu explores both of these meanings of “new.”
For his always-evolving menu, Chef Lee draws from his decades of experience in French and American kitchens, including four years as Chef de Cuisine at The French Laundry, his Korean heritage, travels to Japan, and a recent fascination with Cantonese cuisine. In his new cookbook, also called Benu, Chef Lee offers insight into his creative process, and he recently sat down to discuss how he creates from these different points of inspiration, the challenges of translating his vision for his team, and how to manage the intensity required to run a kitchen at the highest level.
Francis Lam: In the book, you write that you didn’t really know what “kind” of restaurant Benu would be when you opened. At the same time, you felt a certain frustration when people just wanted to hear some kind of easy buzzword—is it “Korean”? Is it “New American”? Five years later, how do you describe the restaurant’s style?
Corey Lee: A lot of it is more about the approach than the result. How we approach a new dish—or the operation of the restaurant—is what defines us, more than the actual result: what the guest sees. It’s a restaurant that explores, that is committed to making new things part of our day-to-day.
Because of that, we want the largest range of flavors, ingredients, and techniques we can have. In the restaurants where I used to work, that range didn’t include Eastern ingredients and techniques. And so when we started looking there, it felt like we opened this door—if you’re a painter, and you discover 30 new colors, you’re going to go wild with them, right? That’s the excitement I work with. It’s, “let’s see where this goes.”
Using a Western menu format to include some traditional Asian dishes: that feels new. Pairing these traditional dishes with both Californian and European wines: that creates new flavor combinations.
The faux shark fin soup we do is a good example. Traditionally, shark fin soup is served on special occasions, and is evocative of celebration. So you’re starting with something greater than the food itself—all those emotions. But all the techniques in the dish [to make a shark fin substitute with hydrocolloids] are very modern and Western. So you start with the idea from one place, use ideas from another place, and serve it with madeira to bring it together in a way that makes sense for us here in San Francisco.
FL: Something that’s striking about your cooking is the clear reference to Cantonese Chinese cuisine; it’s not something that a lot of Western chefs are into. How did you become interested in it, and do you have a method for learning about different cuisines? How do you do your research?
CL: I don’t think you would ask that question unless you were Cantonese.
FL: Ha, true!
CL: In a way, it was really about learning to be a San Francisco restaurant. There’s a huge Cantonese population in this city. When I started spending more time here, learning its history and demographics, I just started to learn more about this population’s history. Then I started meeting some people, and they introduced me to some of their friends from Hong Kong. And there’s this amazing food culture there.
It was really just going there and eating, not just in restaurants, but in people’s homes. I must have gone 14 times in four years—any time I have a break or a long weekend, I go. But I’ve done this before. When I was younger, it was France: I went every chance I got. Then Japan, six-seven times in two years. Now Hong Kong. I devour cookbooks, but in some cases there isn’t much written about a particular cuisine, so you really have to go live it. You can’t learn about the food culture just by eating in a couple of restaurants in a few days.
FL: And your family is Korean; is learning from other cultures harder or different from learning from your family’s culture?
CL: In some ways, learning from another culture can be much more structured. There’s a method there. You can look at it with fresh eyes. It can be almost academic, but if you’re born into a culture, it might be harder to draw a map for yourself.
My Korean influence is a much more personal thing. And how we interpret it isn’t necessarily literal. It’s more about capturing a mood. Our porcelain is made from Korean clay. It’s very heavy, coarse, humble, but it’s beautiful. But who looks at that and says, “Oh, it’s Korean?” That’s how I bring it into this restaurant.
I didn’t have a single Korean friend when I was young, but I was very proud of being Korean, and I wanted to show people our culture. I wanted to impress my friends with Tae Kwon Do. I still have that in me a little bit, but what is the point of your cooking? Is it educational? Is it to give people pleasure? There’s no easy answer; it has to be a balance. We have a long menu, so we can take some courses and do one or the other. We do want to share what I think are beautiful parts of my culture but I don’t feel obligated.
As I get older, and as this restaurant gets older, those lines get a little more blurry, and I distinguish less between “This is a very Hong Kong, Korean, European idea…”
FL: And you wouldn’t mind taking something and turning it into something unrecognizable from a Korean standpoint.
CL: I’ve had Korean guests eat the menu, say how some of the dishes remind them of their childhood in Korea, and then they’ll name some dishes that had nothing to do with Korea at all! So people will just associate. It’s very interesting having conversations with people where they say something is evocative of their childhood or their grandparents. That’s not a conversation I got to have in my career before Benu, and it gives greater meaning to what we’re doing.
FL: People feel Benu is very personal to you, but this also causes some of your chefs to take a step back creatively, like there’s no way for them to get into your vision. How do you engage these cooks? How do you help them become creative collaborators with you, and in a way that makes them feel like they are speaking fluent Benu?
CL: To be honest, it’s a constant challenge. A lot of it is just time, but sometimes we make assignments for people and force them to think. We might go to a cook who isn’t participating and tell them we need a dish from them with this ingredient. And often they fail. Well, “fail” as in it doesn’t get onto the menu, but going through the process is really important.
Brandon [Rodgers, Chef de Cuisine] is a good example of someone who had difficulty seeing his role at first. But he genuinely had excitement and curiosity. So I think it’s important to see that as the goal—to feel like the creative doors are opened to you, to feel inspired by these great cuisines, rather than “How do I make a fish dish that’s appropriate to this restaurant?”
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