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A culinary adventure
Our meal began with three small appetizers that could be neatly lifted with just two fingers and slowly brought to the mouth. The first consisted of bluefin tuna belly, Japanese mackerel, and Ikura salmon roe. The second featured the richness of sea urchin, combined with seaweed brioche and Lardo cured pork fat – a traditional Italian delicacy made from the back or subcutaneous fat of pigs, salted, herbs, and spices, then aged for months. The third was salmon, dill, and French sour cream in a sauce, wrapped in a thin, spongy pastry similar to a crispy fried rice cracker. Next came a French-style puff pastry with aged Comté cheese.
The flavors of the dishes were a bit too strong for my personal taste. But when I reached the fifth course – a seafood mocktail with layers of king crab, sea cucumber jelly, cauliflower, and Oscietra caviar – I was truly amazed. It was then that I fully understood the spirit of the menu: the taste of the sea. The intensity of the dish came from its saltiness, but not the kind of saltiness from excessive salting; it was the saltiness of the sea itself. To fully appreciate this flavor, you have to immerse yourself in the water, then suddenly a wave washes over you, and you feel the salty taste of the seawater splashing in the air. And it's not just your taste buds; you can also sense the subtle saltiness in the sea breeze. Exactly!
Some chefs will choose to tell the story they want to tell through this sensory pathway.
This may or may not have been Chef Jonathan's intention. Typically, each menu is connected by a chain of flavors, creating a seamless experience for the diner. Some chefs choose to tell the story they want to tell through this chain of flavors. However, for others, beneath that layer of taste lies a story that only the diner can interpret through their experience at the table and their own memories. Jonathan belongs to the second type. Therefore, I will record his culinary ideas in my own personal way.
The next dish was presented simply but attractively on a white plate. The main ingredient – Heirloom tomatoes from a Da Lat vegetable garden – offered a deep sweet and sour flavor, combined with avocado and cool basil cream. It seemed as though the sea we were on was in the autumn season. The next two dishes reinforced this feeling with their light and refreshing flavors: steamed eggs with Jeju abalone and Dashi broth, and Japanese Amadai fish served with daikon radish and seaweed beurre blanc sauce.
Dishes made with Hanwoo beef tenderloin are like a refreshing change of pace after a beach trip.
The menu that day was mostly seafood, but unexpectedly included a dish made from Hanwoo beef tenderloin. It was like a detour after a beach trip. Instead of going straight back to the city, let's detour up the mountain a bit, enjoy the natural scenery a little longer before returning. That way, it would be more complete, without any regrets. The dish was interesting because it combined with an ingredient I had never heard of before: Jerusalem artichoke, a type of sunflower grown for its bulb. According to the literature, despite the misleading name, Jerusalem artichoke is not related to Jerusalem and is not a true artichoke. But undeniably, in terms of flavor, the Jerusalem artichoke bulb has a slightly sweet, crunchy taste reminiscent of artichoke.
The meal here could be described as satisfying, like returning from a true adventure, but the joy is extended by the desserts. A small glass with a layer of cool, crisp cucumber topped with mint shaved ice, fluffy lemon cream, and sprinkled with a little Japanese perilla leaf powder. A Vacherin' pastry – a classic French dessert made with meringue, berries, yuzu, and long pepper. And finally, some Madeleine shell-shaped pastries topped with powdered sugar and a touch of lemon sauce.
Creativity is about not repeating oneself.
Born into a Singaporean family with four generations dedicated to culinary arts, Jonathan found his passion early on in his grandmother's kitchen. His childhood, filled with the aroma of smoke and the sounds of knives and cutting boards, instilled in him patience, discipline, and a respect for even the smallest details. From this foundation, he entered the world of professional cooking, honing his skills at Michelin-starred restaurants in Europe such as Le Jardin des Sens, La Villa Augusta, and Raffles Grill. There, his patience and discipline were rigorously tested, allowing him to master French cooking techniques while simultaneously connecting with the flavors of Asia. Now, living in Vietnam, a country with a rich culinary tradition and abundant ingredients, Jonathan has the opportunity to further develop his strengths, creating a new, innovative style of modern cuisine.
As a chef of Singaporean origin, born into a family with four generations involved in culinary arts, Jonathan (left) quickly found his passion in his grandmother's kitchen.
For Chef Jonathan, it seems that creativity knows no repetition. He has a habit of noting the dishes his guests have enjoyed. If the same guest returns, he will prepare a completely different dish for them, unless they specifically request to eat a dish they once loved. Jonathan's culinary philosophy revolves around three elements: purpose, restraint, and respect for ingredients. Of these, ingredients are the guiding factor, and seasonality is the unchangeable principle. Through the flavors of his dishes, one can see that he does not let technique or ideas overshadow the quality of the ingredients. Each dish possesses a simple beauty, from its appearance to its taste. Even a 12-course menu served in the omakase fine-dining style, which is inherently complex, when distilled into simplicity, is, in my opinion, the pinnacle of sophistication.
For Chef Jonathan, it seems that creativity knows no repetition. He makes a habit of taking notes on the dishes that customers have enjoyed.
To achieve this, the chef must undoubtedly have a firm grasp of the most fundamental principles of cooking, along with a deep and broad understanding of ingredients to combine them harmoniously, creating novel flavors. Because in cuisine, not everything in a new dish has to be completely new. Sometimes, simply changing one or two ingredients, or slightly altering the cooking method or presentation, can make a difference.
After the meal, Chef Jonathan simply asked us if we enjoyed the food and which dish we liked best. Perhaps, for him, the chef's job is to put his whole heart and soul into each dish. The taste, he leaves to the diner. I think Jonathan's cooking is similar to how a novelist writes their work. The story may be old, but the way it's told always needs to be fresh, explored with a unique perspective and new material. Readers of novels or diners can find a connection with the story told in each "ingredient" and in the personal memories that the dish evokes.
