Chef Edward Lee reflects on ‘Culinary Class Wars’, identity and his next chapter

Korean American chef Edward Lee’s claim to fame had as much to do with his story as his delicious dishes: A native New Yorker travels to Louisville, Ky. and upon first bites, one instantly falls in love with the greens and fried chicken.

Lee went all in with southern comfort foodincorporating Korean ingredients and flavors that helped put it on the map. His career took off and he continued to compete Top Chef and Iron Chef America, cook a state dinner at the White House and win a James Beard Award along the way.

Recently on the popular Netflix cooking competition Culinary class warsthe 52-year-old had a new story to tell about himself – one about belonging and the trial and error that comes with being part of two cultures. It was also the first time he shared his Korean name “Kyun” on TV.

“To be honest, I’ve struggled a lot with my Korean identity. Am I American? Or am I Korean?” Lee said slowly and carefully in Korean. (After the show aired, Lee PASSED that he hired a Korean tutor three weeks before recording.)

He shared some of his journey during the first mission of the semi-final round, where the contestants were tasked with presenting a life-defining dish. Lee served bibimbap – a traditional Korean rice bowl that deliciously mixes meat and vegetables. He compared it to how he came to embrace his Korean heritage and American upbringing.

“When I focus on cooking, those thoughts disappear. I can just relax and work hard to bring out one flavor. That’s the most important thing to me. That one flavor,” he said. “When you first look at bibimbap, it has a variety of ingredients and a lot of colors. But when you mix it, it creates one flavor.”

Lee finished second out of 100 talented chefs Culinary class wars. But the Netflix series has spurred a new culinary chapter for the seasoned chef. At Shia, his new restaurant in Washington, DC, Lee continues the conversation, explores what it means to be Korean American in real time, and documents his journey through each dish. He dives deep into Korean American cuisine, moving beyond traditional recipes and fusion concepts to create something uniquely his own. One dish that is sure to make an appearance is its iconic bibimbap.

“I want to continue to walk this path, whatever that means and whatever that looks like,” he told NPR.

Lee’s passion for cooking was born from watching his grandmother cook as a child. It didn’t hurt that Lee was from Brooklyn’s Canarsie neighborhood—a melting pot of cultures—where Pakistani, Jamaican, and Italian food were just around the corner. Lee got his first kitchen job at 16 and opened a small Korean restaurant in lower Manhattan after graduating from New York University. But after the events of 9/11, Lee felt he needed a change.

Then he remembered his visit to the Kentucky Derby a few months earlier and how his first bowl of greens felt like “home.” So in 2002, he moved to Louisville and began working at 610 Magnolia with former chef and owner Eddie Garber, who later handed over the restaurant to him. Lee continues to own the business today. He also opened several other restaurants over the years, including Whiskey Dry in Louisville and Succotash in Washington, DC.

Lee said there is a freedom in being a Korean American New Yorker cooking Southern cuisine. “Because I’m not 100% Southern, I’m not tasked with cooking proper Southern food like all Southerners have done for generations. to do whatever I want,” he said.

But over the years, there has also been a loneliness. “In some ways, sometimes I feel sad. I’m not 100% Korean, I’m not 100% American, I’m somewhere in between.”

Before Lee filmed Culinary class warsthe future restaurant was called “M. Frances” to pay homage to American food writer and one of Lee’s role models, MFK Fisher. At the time, Lee hadn’t decided on a specific menu yet, but he knew he wanted it to be mission-driven, focused on finding solutions to the culinary world’s gaps in sustainability and diversity.

Around the same time, Lee was reflecting more and more on Korean food. In 2023, he was chosen as a guest chef for State dinner at the White House during the visit of South Korean President Yoon Suk Yeol. That year, he also opened a traditional Korean barbecue restaurant in Louisville. “What is Korean food? And what is Korean identity?” Lee remembered asking himself.

These questions came even more into focus during the competition for the Netflix series. “I really liked some of the food we made on the show and wondered if there was a way to preserve some of the dishes,” he said.

Now called Shia, which takes inspiration from the Korean word for seed, Lee’s 22-seat Korean restaurant is all about reducing plastic. He has hired research assistants to track and analyze costs, and plans to share data with other restaurants, hoping to encourage them to adopt more sustainable practices. For now, this “experiment,” as Lee calls it, is only meant to last five years, when his restaurant’s lease is up.

“The goal has always been to inspire conversation, dialogue, stimulate creativity and inspire people to do similar things in their hometown,” he said.

Shia refrained from plastic wrap and containers and invested in materials such as eco-friendly garbage bags. Some ingredients, such as soy sauce, still arrive in plastic packaging – a challenge they are working on in the coming months. Shia also has an open kitchen layout to practice transparency with its patrons. Lee also plans to run a mentoring program for female chefs at the restaurant.

The day I met chef Edward Lee at Shia, his team was perfecting their recipe for an ice cream dessert that incorporates the roasted, slightly bitter notes of barley tea, known as boricha in Korean.

The drink is so common in the Korean community that it is often simply called “hot water” and is the first thing you are asked about when sitting in a Korean restaurant. Her transformation into an ice cream flavor wasn’t just a nod to him. Korean heritage — it was a way to evoke shared memories.

“I wanted to take that memory of boricha and make it different,” Lee said.

For me, as a child, I used to throw up whenever I accidentally sipped from my parents’ cup of warm barley tea. Years later, after moving away from home and going through my own Korean American identity crisis, I was served barley tea at a small Korean restaurant. The first taste brought an unexpected wave of homesickness that moved me to tears. Drinking didn’t solve all my problems, but for a brief moment, there was nowhere else I’d rather be.

Even after registration Culinary class warsLee said he’s still figuring out what it means to belong, but there’s one thing he’s more certain about than ever.

“I think the hope and the encouragement is that you belong somewhere, we all belong somewhere, even if we don’t feel like we have a true identity, there is a place where you belong,” he said.

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