In his blog, the chef from Fa Zu Jie tells us how he decided to focus on this particular cuisine in his private kitchen

In my previous blog entry, I charted my path from advertising creative to aspiring restaurateur. But how exactly did I decide what to cook? Well, this was in no small part thanks to my friend Amanda, a former architect who quit her job and got a grand diploma at Le Cordon Bleu.

“What do you want to do?” Amanda asked me over lunch at a small Japanese restaurant in Causeway Bay.

“I want to open my own restaurant, selling the food I create.” I said with naivety. I handed her the sketches of my dish, still untested.

“Do you want to become a chef in hotels or famous restaurants after you have got that diploma?”

“No. I want to sell my own creations,” I replied, stubborn as ever.

“I guess you should.” She nodded after few slices of hamachi.

“Should go to study?” I asked. I was enjoying my salmon kamameshi. 

“No. Open your own restaurant.” Amanda said it with her calm voice, convincingly. “I can see some innovative dishes here, and I can see your passion. I suggest you test them all.

“Think about it, Paul. I don’t think you want to be away from your family and daughter for almost a year. Also, with the amount of money you are going to spend on school and living overseas, you could set up something in Hong Kong.” Her proposition made me feel guilty as I was not as considerate.

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After that lunch, I felt my confidence grow and I spent the next half year experimenting with dishes at home; exploring the wet markets in Hong Kong; researching my family’s roots; and finally, I found my path. Haute Shanghainese cuisine. That was my cuisine.

In advertising, the first thing you learn is positioning. Find a unique attribute that differs from your competition. Being Shanghainese, I grew up with Shanghainese flavours introduced by my parents, uncles and aunties. I have memories of eating at both good and bad Shanghainese restaurants. I can easily tell you whether a dish is authentic or not, whether it’s over-seasoned or cooked to perfection, whether it’s made with love or made with trash. But I can’t do the same with any other cuisine. With this analysis, I was pretty sure Shanghainese food should form the foundation of my cooking. But the challenge was how I could make it different.

So I began to dig deeper on the history and the development of Shanghainese cuisine. I found out that, unlike French, Italian or Spanish, or even other Chinese styles of cooking such as like Cantonese or northern cuisine, Shanghainese food has not gone through any major transformation and is still quite loyal to its traditional version. That means what my great-grandfather ate about hundred years ago is very similar to what my daughter is eating now. In scientific terms, you might call Shanghainese cuisine an inert cuisine. So, if I were to impress my customers with Shanghainese food, then I must do it differently. With a minimal amount of training on Italian and French cooking, I tried to introduce some western cooking techniques or ingredients into traditional dishes.

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Drunken French quail, now a signature dish, was my first successful attempt. I used French quail instead of chicken, and I paired the tender meat with crunchy wax apple, wolfberry, al dente Sanuki udon, and served it in an enhanced version of drunken broth. You can taste the spirit of a traditional drunken chicken, but with a totally new interpretation.  This was then followed by many other successful and failed creations.

With the support of my two partners, Chris and Joseph, I finally created this culinary stage for myself. With the open kitchen setting, I have met some very interesting people, heard some great dining_stories and conversations. The dining scene I see every night from the kitchen, is very much like a drama to me. In my blog here, I would like to share these memorable dining dramas with you.