The world of colors and light is truly fascinating. When different colors overlap, the resulting shade darkens. But when different lights mix, they create an even brighter hue. Sometimes, the outcome is entirely unexpected—seemingly incompatible colors merge to form an entirely new and surprising palette. The possibilities are endless. For example, when yellow meets teal, a warm shade of green emerges. Even when a color appears singular, subtle variations exist, revealing infinite nuances.
Food follows a similar logic. The interplay of ingredients from land, sea, and air mirrors the fusion of colors and light. Even the balance of saltiness and sweetness can be the fine line between satisfaction and disappointment. Unexpected pairings often unveil new dimensions of taste, just as light and color can create unforeseen beauty. Perhaps this is one reason why cooking is often regarded as an art form—because both disciplines rely on the harmony of elements to produce something extraordinary.
One chef who embraces this philosophy wholeheartedly is Suh Hyun-min, the creative force behind the two-Michelin-starred “Allen”. He believes fine dining shares much in common with contemporary art. To inspire—or even challenge—an audience, one must be willing to break conventions. The same applies to food: unorthodox combinations can expand the imagination. However, the essence of flavor must remain intact. That is why one of his unwavering principles is the uncompromising quality of ingredients.
Artists are often portrayed as solitary figures, immersed in their own worlds. Suh himself identifies as an ‘outsider.’ Born in South Korea but having spent nearly two decades in the United States, he has often felt a sense of displacement—neither fully belonging in one place nor the other. Yet, just as colors and light blend to create something new, Suh embraced his journey, using his diverse experiences to craft a culinary identity uniquely his own.
This philosophy is vividly expressed in the refined small bites at Allen—each no larger than a single mouthful, yet layered with complexity and depth. Just as an artist blends colors to compose a masterpiece, Suh meticulously builds flavors, constructing intricate taste experiences.
Take, for instance, his slow-cooked trout tart. A delicate balance of textures unfolds in each bite—the crisp outer shell contrasts beautifully with the soft, silky trout inside. The natural richness of the fish, heightened by a touch of soy sauce, evokes the luxurious depth of premium tuna akami. A final flourish of fennel and chives lingers on the palate, leaving an aromatic finish.
Another fascinating bite features oysters paired with chestnut crumble and barbecue sauce. The briny essence of oysters remains pure and intact, while the chestnut crumble introduces a gentle sweetness and an enjoyable crunch. The barbecue sauce adds smoky warmth and subtle heat, resulting in a flavor profile that feels both familiar and intriguingly foreign.
Suh’s duck liver dish, inspired by foie gras, is another remarkable example of his creative approach. The lush, creamy intensity of the liver is softened by the delicate sweetness of jujube, while the addition of apple lends a fresh, jam-like brightness. Beneath it all, a crisp biscuit provides a contrasting texture, offering a subtle nuttiness that brings harmony to the dish.
Then there’s his gougère filled with Gruyère, Reggiano, and anchovies. The interplay of bold cheese flavors and the briny depth of the sea creates a profound umami experience—one that seems destined to be accompanied by a sip of wine.
Suh is determined to carve out his own path, just as every artist embodies their individuality. This is precisely why he named his restaurant after himself—to express his personal journey and vision through food. His admiration for artists like Andy Warhol and Jean-Michel Basquiat speaks volumes about his aspirations. Their works are instantly recognizable, a testament to their unmistakable artistic identity. For Suh, the same principle applies to cuisine. His ultimate goal? To craft dishes so distinctive that, with just a single bite, diners will know exactly who created them.
― Please introduce yourself briefly.
“I’m Suh Hyun-min of Allen. I studied Hospitality Management at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas. I built my career in places like Las Vegas and California, and worked as a sous chef at the three-Michelin-starred Eleven Madison Park in New York. After returning to Seoul, I founded L’Impression, and now, I run Allen as its owner-chef.”
― What kind of restaurant is Allen?
“Allen primarily offers seasonal cuisine. I named it after my English name, so my personal touch is deeply embedded in everything—from the food and service to the way we engage with guests. You’ll find elements of French techniques, Japanese influences, and Korean flavors, all reflecting the diverse experiences I’ve gained from different kitchens.”
― Could you elaborate on that?
“My life has been a continuous journey of diversity. I spent over 17 years in the United States, and it wasn’t always easy. When I first moved there, I felt like an ‘outsider.’ But after returning to S. Korea years later, I experienced a similar feeling. One of my strengths is the knowledge I gained from working in some of the world’s greatest restaurants, like Eleven Madison Park. Personally, I think cooking has a lot in common with contemporary art. Through food, I aim to express myself—just like Andy Warhol or Basquiat did. Of course, I still value the classics, but pushing creative boundaries is just as important.”
― How would you describe yourself?
“Honestly, I don’t consider myself as an outgoing person. That’s why I communicate through food. I also pay great attention to detail. You can sense that precision in my dishes. For instance, sourness isn’t just one-dimensional. It can hit you immediately, emerge midway through a bite, or linger subtly after swallowing. I try to account for all these nuances. I understand the weight of the phrase, ‘The devil is in the detail.’”
― After returning to Korea, L’Impression quickly earned two Michelin stars, and Allen has achieved the same. What’s the secret behind this success?
“Meeting the right team members played a huge role. A restaurant runs on a well-structured system. You need someone dedicated to washing plates all day, someone for ingredient prep, and of course, the chefs who cook. Every role is equally crucial. As a chef who has worked in Michelin-starred restaurants for years, I had a certain instinct—I could tell if a place had the potential to earn stars. But I never imagined we’d receive two stars right from the start. I took it as a sign to push myself even further.”
― What led you to leave L’Impression and start Allen?
“At Impression, due to various interests and constraints, I couldn’t fully showcase my personal style of cooking. The focus was on fermentation and aging, and since it was part of a larger company, I had to align with their direction. I felt like my true identity wasn’t fully reflected in the food. Having spent so many years abroad, I naturally leaned toward global influences in my cooking. So when I tried creating Korean-inspired dishes, some of my peers found them unfamiliar. That’s one of the reasons I opened Allen. Allen is open-minded—just like my life has been. Maybe it’s because of my international background, but about one-third of my team members here are foreigners. (laughs)”
― You’ve worked in one-star, two-star, and three-star restaurants. What do you think sets them apart?
“A one-star rating is like a medal of recognition for a chef’s hard work. From two stars onward, it becomes a badge of honor that signifies global recognition. The difference between two and three stars is paper-thin, but the weight of that distinction is immense. It comes down to the subtlest criteria—culinary excellence, service, hospitality—but the impact of those small differences is monumental. I believe that while personal effort can take you to two stars, something beyond individual ability is required for three stars. Looking back at the three-star chefs I’ve worked with, I see a common trait—they were all people who stayed true to their own paths, no matter what.”
― On the kitchen’s whiteboard, there’s a quote from Andy Warhol: ‘Don’t think about making art, just get it done.’ Why did you put that there?
“I wrote it to inspire my team. As I mentioned before, I admire artists like Warhol. I also love reading books, and whenever I come across a motivating passage, I like to share it.If you want to go higher, you first need the desire to climb.”
― If you were to compare your life to a dish, what would it be?
“Lobster. Just like how lobsters aren’t native to S. Korea, I’ve often felt like an outsider. But at the same time, lobster pairs beautifully with Korean ingredients. I once cooked it with eggplant and anchovy broth, and the combination worked wonderfully. It reminds me of how I blend both my international and Korean influences.
Lobster is also notoriously tricky to handle—maybe that reflects my somewhat picky nature. (laughs) But within that complexity, there’s a distinct taste and charm. Ultimately, I want to create honest food. I want to use the best ingredients and cook with integrity. If the quality drops even slightly, I don’t want to serve it. A single lapse in judgment can lead to complacency.”
― What is your ultimate goal?
“I want to achieve three Michelin stars, but that isn’t my final destination. My desire for three stars is more about keeping myself disciplined. Lately, I’ve been thinking more about the people I work with. Running a restaurant has introduced me to incredible colleagues—people I want to walk this journey with for a long time. My goal is to continue moving forward together. I also hope that Allen, like a masterful painting, will be remembered as an unforgettable work of art.”
