Chef Edward Lee: ‘Win or lose, I’d stay true to where I am right now’
How his journey on Netflix's "Culinary Class Wars" became a delicious and tear-jerking story of identity and cultural heritage
Chef Edward Lee
Netflix
Words by Daniel Anderson
When it comes to South Korean shows on Netflix, we expect K-dramas to make us cry—not cooking competitions. But Culinary Class Wars delivered drama and emotion with a cast of chefs battling for epicurean supremacy. Chef Edward Lee, a 10-time James Beard Award nominee, joined the show’s first season, consisting of 100 chefs—divided into White Spoons and Black Spoons, or veterans and newcomers—vying for a ₩300 million prize (nearly $218,000). White Spoons, like Lee, boasted accolades such as celebrity chef status or Michelin stars, with some of the industry veterans even serving as mentors to the Black Spoons, a group of emerging talents who competed using nicknames rather than their own names. Under the watchful eyes of legends, chef and business tycoon Paik Jong-won and South Korea’s only Michelin three-star chef Anh Sung-jae, the contest quickly became a pressure cooker of skill and spirit.
Lee is no stranger to competition. He bested Iron Chef Jose Garces on Iron Chef America, competed on Top Chef, and won acclaim as the host of PBS’s Mind of a Chef. His achievements extend to the White House, where in 2023 he represented the United States at the state dinner honoring South Korean President Yoon Suk Yeol and President Joe Biden. He also helms several celebrated restaurants, including 610 Magnolia and Nami in Louisville, Kentucky, Succotash Prime in Washington, D.C. and Maryland, and his latest venture, SHIA, a fine-dining Korean tasting-menu restaurant that just opened in Washington, D.C.
On paper, Lee has achieved just about everything a chef could hope for in their career, yet Culinary Class Wars offered a fresh chapter—one that truly felt destined for him. The show tested not only his technical expertise, but also became a profound story of reconnection, as Lee immersed himself in Korean culture over several transformative months, discovering how much he still had to learn—and share—about his heritage as a Korean American chef.
Though Lee ultimately finished as the runner-up, he became the undeniable people’s champion, with many fans feeling he deserved to take home the top prize. His journey and resolve resonated deeply with viewers, who connected with his authenticity, dedication and humility. Amid a whirlwind of press interviews, variety show appearances, and the opening of SHIA, Lee made time to chat with JoySauce. Reflecting on his time on Culinary Class Wars, he shares insights on the camaraderie and challenges he faced and how this competition reshaped his sense of identity and purpose as a chef and cultural ambassador.
This interview has been edited for clarity and length.
Daniel Anderson: What was the initial offer to join Culinary Class Wars like? Did you have any hesitation, or was there something specific that made you say yes?
Edward Lee: They reached out to me by email, and at first, I was a little hesitant because, you know, I’m busy. But I knew that being a Korean-produced show about Korean chefs, filmed in Korea, it was going to be something special, and I wanted to be a part of that. I’ve been on this journey to reconnect with my Korean heritage, especially through food, and sometimes the stars just align, you know? The universe sends something your way, and it feels right. So, I decided, “Sure, let’s go for it.”
I did tell myself that if I was going to do this, I’d commit 100 percent. That meant not cooking anything I’d made before but focusing on creating new dishes that reflected the journey I’m on now. That was a promise I made to myself at the start: win or lose, I’d stay true to where I am right now. And I kept up my end of the bargain.
DA: Many viewers connected with your journey and the way you spoke about your heritage and identity on the show. Could you tell us more about your relationship with your Korean American heritage and food? Has it always been a big part of your life, or was it something you returned to later?
EL: Many Korean Americans share a similar identity experience: feeling American yet longing to understand our roots, even if we weren’t born in Korea. I’ve always felt a connection to Korea as a visitor, but I also don’t feel 100 percent Korean, despite my DNA. Growing up in Brooklyn, my parents prioritized assimilation, which meant living in an area with few Koreans. I didn’t have many Korean friends until high school, but my diverse neighborhood—filled with Jamaicans, Indians, Italians, and Jewish communities—significantly shaped my identity and culinary perspective. As I got older, I found myself reflecting on those foundational flavors. Regardless of whether I was cooking traditional Korean food, I grew up eating the essential dishes that every Korean household makes, and those flavors were always inside me. Although I trained in French and Southern cuisines, I didn’t explore my Korean heritage until later in my career. I eventually felt compelled to experiment, discovering how Korean flavors could enhance other cuisines, like incorporating gochujang in fried chicken or kimchi in collards.
Becoming a father deepened my reflections on my past and future. I wanted to pass down something meaningful to my daughter, which led to rediscovering my heritage and having important conversations with my mother. Nearly two years ago, I opened Nami, a Korean barbecue restaurant in Louisville, reconnecting with essential Korean dishes and deepening my understanding of Korean cuisine. This now has led to the opening of my new restaurant in D.C. called SHIA, representing the next phase of my exploration of heritage. This exploration began in childhood and has evolved through various stages of my professional life.
DA: You mentioned that you’ve traveled to Korea before. What was that like?
EL: I did live in Korea for nearly a year after college. That was a really formative time for me, although I wasn’t a chef yet—I was teaching English and just spending time there, like many Korean Americans did back then. It was a valuable experience, even though I wasn’t yet in the culinary world. But I’ve always had an interest in food, so I absorbed a lot from that time.
DA: And can you talk about the immersive experience of Culinary Class Wars? You shared a heartfelt Instagram post about practicing dishes in your hotel room while watching K-dramas.
EL: The experience changed everything for me. It shifted how I view Korea, how Koreans view me. Korea always felt like an important part of my heritage, but now it genuinely feels like a second home, which I never expected. I’ve always been proud to be Korean, but this has deepened that pride and love for the country. Being welcomed there has been incredible, and it’s made me rethink what I want to do with my life, especially with food. Many chefs at my age, in their early 50s, they're done reinventing themselves. They kind of are who they are. I feel like I was given this gift where I have a very rare opportunity at my age to kind of figure out a whole new path for food and cooking. I'm just, I'm energized.
DA: It was heartwarming to see how welcoming everyone was on the show, especially compared to some of the cooking competitions in the U.S. Could you share more about the camaraderie on set and the support from others, especially as you navigated language challenges?
EL: There were some intense moments—after all, it’s a competition, so you had to be in survival mode at times. But everyone was really welcoming and made sure I felt comfortable. Sure, I was jet-lagged and didn't have all my usual ingredients, but those were minor things. The language barrier was the toughest part. Sometimes, I felt more nervous about speaking Korean than cooking, which I’ve done my whole life. Speaking Korean, especially on TV, felt very vulnerable for me. The producers told me I could speak in English, but I wanted to honor Korea and show respect by speaking Korean as best as I could, even if I didn’t get it perfectly. Over time, I noticed my Korean improving—it’s like the language was dormant, but it’s there because my parents always spoke it when I was growing up. I also spent a year in Korea when I was 22 and could get by conversationally, so it’s part of me. Now, I’m back home watching Korean dramas and studying the language, wanting to keep up with it so I don’t lose that connection.
DA: And do you have any favorite K-dramas or K-pop songs now that you spent this time in Korea?
EL: I’ve been watching a lot of Korean food documentaries on Netflix. There’s Korea No. 1, which is fantastic, and a whole series on jajangmyeon and noodles, like Jjajangmyeon Rhapsody. You can really go down a rabbit hole with Korean food content—it’s awesome.
DA: How would you say the judging on Culinary Class Wars was, compared to the American shows that you've been on?
EL: Interesting, I hadn’t thought about it like that. I think it’s comparable—they judge you on flavor, technique, mistakes, and presentation, the usual criteria. Culturally, though, American TV might feel harsher, while in Korea, they’re less direct. They’ll be polite and say everything was great but might still give a low score.
Culinary Class Wars (L to R) Paik Jong-won, Anh Sung-jae in Culinary Class Wars
Netflix
DA: What production differences did you notice between this show and your time on Top Chef or Iron Chef?
EL: This was on a whole different level. Top Chef might have 20 chefs, but here we started with 100—everything was multiplied. There were so many cameras, I lost count, and the crew and set size were massive, unlike anything I’ve ever seen. The scale was outrageous. The efficiency was incredible too; despite the logistical challenges, especially with so many chefs in the beginning, they switched sets and moved things around like clockwork. The production team was unbelievably efficient. The days were long, and you really lost track of time—especially during the restaurant war, which was a brutal 24-hour challenge. Most of the time, you're in the studio without windows or daylight, so you don’t notice how much time has passed. You're focused on figuring out your challenge and cooking while also feeling nervous about elimination. Before you know it, it's the middle of the night.
DA: Is there a technique, dish, or chef you’ve learned from or something you’ve seen that you want to try?
EL: I learn from every chef I meet. Being a good chef means observing and absorbing from others, whether they're experts in Chinese, Japanese, or Italian cuisine. If I can pick up just one or two techniques from them, it enhances my own skills. I enjoy working with a variety of chefs to broaden my horizons. On set, though, it was challenging to focus on others while managing my own tasks. In the later rounds, I got to know the other chefs better, and while we didn’t taste each other’s food much, I appreciated the experience. We often discuss the idea of doing a collaborative dinner in the future, which would allow us to cook together not as competitors but as colleagues, and I believe both the public and we would enjoy that opportunity.
DA: Many viewers considered the tofu challenge one of the most unique and challenging parts of the show. I've seen online comments suggesting that you were the fan favorite and that many believe you should have won. Some feel the tofu challenge would have made a better finale than the actual one, especially given your inventive head-to-head with chef Triple Star. What are your thoughts on that challenge? And would you change anything about your final cook against Napoli Matfia?
EL: I don't think about what I could have done differently. I was really proud of the dishes I made and if I had to do it all over again, I would do the same dish for the finals that I did, because it was a really important dish for me. It encapsulated my whole journey there. While I wanted to win, sharing my story and message on the show felt like a win in itself. I appreciate the supportive messages about how I should have won, but I focus on the experience rather than the outcome. As for the tofu challenge, it was incredibly demanding; I had to create six or seven different tofu dishes in one sitting. It pushed me into a zone where muscle memory took over, and I just kept cooking. Despite the exhaustion, both physically and mentally, it was also the most fun, as it was pure cooking without any team dynamics to manage. It was an unforgettable experience.
DA: It really feels like this time on Culinary Class Wars, and even your experience cooking the state dinner at the White House, felt integral in your story as a Korean American chef.
EL: I think there’s definitely a distinction between Korean culture and what we’re creating as second-generation Koreans in America. Unlike our parents, who are very Korean, even after living here for over 40 years, we’re defining a unique Korean American culture. I mean that would be a lifelong dream or mission, to be able to connect the dots between this thing that's really distinctly Korean American that we all experience, that we all share and we all struggle with, and to somehow connect the dots back to Korea and what's going on there. That would be a dream come true to be able to honor my heritage, my background, the ancestors, the place where I come from, but also to be able to say, hey, we've built this entire life and culture in America that both celebrates Korea, but is unique to Korea.
You see this in the arts, literature, food, and business; Korean Americans are creating a vibrant culture here. I’ve always thought that whatever success I’ve had in America is cool, but I’ve wished I could go back to Korea and show them what I’m doing. Having the opportunity to do that has been amazing.
DA: A friend wanted to know, would you ever consider opening a restaurant in Korea?
EL: At the moment, my answer is no. I think opening a restaurant in Korea would have to be something really personal, and I’m not ready to be there full-time. It wouldn’t be right to open a restaurant if I couldn’t be present; that would disappoint both me and the customers. I’ve received offers, but I’d rather decline them for now. If I get the opportunity to be in Korea for an extended period, I would consider it, but I want to ensure I can deliver a full experience. I don’t want to just dial it in and run a restaurant remotely from America.
DA: And if Culinary Class Wars asked you to return as a judge, would you? Are there any Korean American chefs you would love to see on season two?
EL: If they ask me, I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it. As for the others, I believe they should all go. We should send everyone over to redeem me!
Culinary Class Wars White Spoons vs. Black Spoons
Netflix
Published on November 7, 2024
Words by Daniel Anderson
Daniel Anderson is a disabled Chinese American adoptee based in Seattle. His freelance writing specialties include K-pop, entertainment, and food. He believes that any restaurant can be a buffet, and the key to success is to take a nap each day. Follow his adventures on Instagram @danzstan.