In China, there is a traditional dish called ‘Buddha Jumps Over the Wall’ (佛跳牆), a name that, when translated literally, makes for an intriguing choice for a dish.” Interestingly, its ingredients have no religious connections. Instead, it features an array of luxurious components, including shark fin, matsutake mushrooms, sea cucumber, pork, bamboo shoots, abalone and more. The preparation method, however, is deceptively simple: all the ingredients are simmered together in a Shaoxing wine-infused broth until they meld into a tender, flavorful harmony.
Despite its simplicity, the result is extraordinary. The diverse ingredients create a unique, sophisticated flavor unlike any other dish, with an aroma so captivating that it’s said even a meditating Buddha would be tempted to scale a wall to taste it. The secret lies in the dish’s slow cooking process, where time and dedication transform disparate elements into a seamless whole. This essence of “Buddha Jumps Over the Wall” seems to reflect the life of chef Yeo Kyung-rae (Chinese name Lu Ching-lai).
Yeo’s journey has been one of profound paradoxes. He describes himself as both Chinese and Korean. He began cooking Chinese cuisine merely to make ends meet but now lives for it. He claims to be both introverted and extroverted—seemingly incompatible traits. Yet, over more than six decades, these contradictions have simmered together, shaping Yeo into the person he is today, much like the dish itself.
Now recognized as one of the world’s leading Chinese chefs, Yeo’s path was far from smooth. He lost his father at a young age and took up cooking to support his family. “It was a decision made for survival,” he recalls. Adapting wasn’t easy; Chinese restaurants at the time were dominated by Chinese nationals, and as the son of a Chinese father and a Korean mother, Yeo struggled with the language barrier. After grueling workdays, it was common for the young Yeo to find solace in the quiet of his modest accommodations.
What steadied him during this turbulent time were his mentors and colleagues. Watching his teachers transform ingredients into dishes that were closer to art than food ignited his passion. Cooking also became a way for him to navigate his identity, bridging the gap between his Chinese and Korean roots.
Accepting Chef as his “destiny,” Yeo committed himself to relentless self-improvement, not just in cooking but also in personal growth. To develop an extroverted persona, he practiced smiling and laughing loudly in public spaces to build confidence. These efforts paid off; a serendipitous entry into an international competition earned him a participation award, which spurred him to keep striving. Today, Yeo holds nearly 40 competition awards.
Now in the golden years of his professional journey, Yeo is dedicated to advancing Chinese culinary culture. He envisions a future where Korean chefs take the lead in a field historically dominated by Chinese nationals. Though the weight of this mission is heavy, Yeo finds fulfillment in the task. To him, it’s another precious ingredient that will enrich the flavor of his already remarkable life—a life as intricate and rewarding as “Buddha Jumps Over the Wall.”
― Can you briefly introduce yourself?
“I’m Yeo Kyung-rae, and I’ve been cooking Chinese cuisine for 50 years. Currently, I’m working at Hong Bo Gak, located inside the Novotel Ambassador in Gangnam, Seoul. I also serve as a consultant for the Chinese food brand Lee Kum Kee. Additionally, I hold various positions, such as Vice President of the World Chinese Cuisine Association and President of the Korean-Chinese Culinary Association. As for awards, I’ve received around 20 medals and, including trophies, close to 40 honors.”
― What inspired you to start cooking?
“It started by chance, but looking back, it feels like destiny. I lost my father at a young age, and my family struggled financially. After barely graduating from middle school, my mother told me we couldn’t afford further education and that I should learn something. That’s how I found myself at a Chinese restaurant.”
― Were there any challenges along the way?
“There were plenty. When I first started working at a Chinese restaurant in the 1970s, everyone there was either Chinese or of Chinese descent. My father, the only Chinese member of my family, passed away early, so I never had the chance to learn much from him. At the time, I wasn’t fluent in either Korean or Chinese. I also struggled with my identity, often wondering, ‘Who am I, really?’ That question haunted me for quite a while.”
― How did you overcome these challenges?
“I was fortunate to meet great mentors and colleagues. They taught me that cooking can transcend food to become an art form. I’ve had four mentors I truly respect, but at the moment I want to talk about Master Wu Hak-ji. He was strict when teaching but incredibly fast and efficient in the kitchen. While most chefs prepared one or two dishes at a time, he could manage up to seven. It amazed me. Although he was tough, he also gave me warm words of encouragement, which helped me during my toughest moments. Sadly, he, too, passed away early.”
― Were there other challenges you faced outside of work?
When I first entered the industry, it felt like I was stepping into a rough and challenging world fueled by prejudices about the restaurant world. But looking back, I realize I was naturally skilled at working with my hands. I was also good at drawing. As I mentioned, meeting great mentors motivated me to commit fully to my craft. Around 1985, I decided to change my personality. I used to be very timid and introverted, but I forced myself to practice laughing loudly in public places like subways and streets. People called me crazy, but those experiences built who I am today.”
― You’ve won numerous awards in international competitions. How did that journey begin?
”A senior colleague encouraged me to participate in an international competition in Taiwan. I think it was around 1999. Since it was my first time, I wasn’t well-prepared and didn’t perform particularly well—I think I just received a participation award. But it sparked my competitive spirit. Determined to do better, I worked hard and returned the following year, winning third place overall. Before that, I thought mastering technique was enough, but competing internationally broadened my perspective and ambitions. Since then, I’ve actively participated in overseas competitions. I learned a lot from those experiences, which is why I always encourage my juniors to gain as much experience as they can.”
― Your younger brother, Chef Yeo Kyung-ok, is also one of Korea’s top chefs. How would you describe each other?
”I like to say I’m better, but my brother will insist he is. (Laughs) Jokes aside, we motivate each other through friendly competition. One reason we grew so quickly was because we always had someone to share our challenges with. Having two minds tackling the same problems gave us an edge. My brother excels at creating innovative twists on traditional dishes—he’s incredibly sharp. On the other hand, I focus on staying true to authentic, traditional flavors.”
― What do you think is the greatest charm of Chinese cuisine?
”Its adaptability. Chinese cuisine has an exceptional ability to localize when introduced to new cultures. Look at Korea, for example. Everyone knows jjajangmyeon (Blackbean sauce noodle), but it’s nothing like the original Chinese dish—it’s something entirely new. The ability of Chinese cuisine to transform and give birth to new dishes is what makes it so special.”
― How would you describe the Chinese cuisine at Hong Bo Gak?
”It’s been adapted to suit Korean tastes. Take our signature dishes, Buddha Jumps Over the Wall and Moja Shrimp (large shrimp stuffed with smaller shrimp and fried together), for example. For Buddha Jumps Over the Wall, we’ve made the dish less thick and heavy, since overly rich flavors might not appeal to Korean diners. It’s seasoned more lightly, and diners can enhance it with condiments like doubanjiang (Spicy bean sauce) if they wish. We also personally serve and explain the dish at the table, believing that understanding its story makes it taste even better.”
― What was the first dish you ever made?
“Jjamppong (Chinese-style Korean spicy noodle soup). If I remember correctly, it wasn’t very good. (Laughs) I heard later that the restaurant manager gave some harsh feedback to the head chef. That motivated me, and I told myself to just wait ten days. Now, it’s one of the dishes I do best.”
― What makes dining at Hong Bo Gak special?
”If you’re unsure what to order, feel free to ask the staff or manager. It helps to share your budget as well. We can create a meal tailored to your preferences and budget. Here’s a tip: all chefs love having regular customers. It might feel awkward to ask for recommendations at first, but you’ll gain a lot by doing so. You might even discover the best ingredients available that day.”
― What is your philosophy when it comes to cooking?
”Dedication is everything. It’s invisible but tangible. For example, imagine peeling a lemon and taking a bite. Just thinking about it makes most people grimace at its sourness. Dedication works the same way—you can’t see it, but it’s something you can feel. When you cook with sincerity and dedication, it reaches the people who eat your food. That’s one of my core beliefs.”
― Any final words?
”If life as a chef is a journey from one to ten, I think I’ve reached about seven or eight. For the remaining steps, rather than seeking new challenges, I want to maintain what I’ve achieved. I’ve been honored with the title ‘Father of Chinese Cuisine in Korea,’ and I hope to conclude my journey in a way that lives up to that name. In the past, Korean Chinese cuisine was shaped by Chinese nationals or those of Chinese descent, but I believe Korean chefs will usher in a new era. I want to contribute to that future. Please continue to love Hong Bo Gak. I’m always grateful.”
