Chef Junsoo Bae on Fathers, Food, and the Seeds of Legacy at SSAL

When Junsoo Bae first declared at age 14 that he wanted to be a chef, his father immediately rebuked him, believing that a stable corporate job was a more secure and respectable career. As the youngest child and only son, there was a lot of pressure to live up to his parents’ expectations in a very traditional Korean family.

When a Korean Father Says No to a Culinary Dream

“My dad never called me Junsoo, just ‘son,’ and he wanted me to lead a life that he had planned,” Bae explains. “But I did not want that life. I wanted to go out, challenge myself, and either achieve or fail on my own.”

After being forced to study computer engineering in Busan, Junsoo left because his heart wasn’t in it, and the stubborn father-and-son duo reached an agreement—if Bae completed his mandatory two-year military service and still wished to become a chef, then his father would allow him.

“After military service, you are socially respected as a man in Korea,” Bae says. “So now he had to treat me as an adult.”

From Military Service to the CIA: A Chef’s Unlikely Journey

Bae’s dream of being a chef never wavered during his time in the military, and he wanted to go abroad for his culinary training. After finishing military service, the next step was taking the TOEFL English language proficiency test. He studied diligently for eight months, with 6 a.m. classes at the English academy, then supplemented that with Kaplan International English tutoring in Seattle, before being accepted into the Culinary Institute of America in Hyde Park, New York.

“While I was in school, my dad always asked me if there was anything I didn’t like,” Bae says. “He said it was OK to quit at any time and would try to lure me back home.” It wasn’t easy being on his own in a foreign country, and he recalls that there were some miserable times because he no longer wanted to rely on his father for financial support—but his passion for cooking only grew during his time in school. “The biggest point my father had was that within our family there’s nobody running a restaurant who can pass along heritage, technique, and knowledge. He said I would need to plant my own seed and be the first one.”

It has taken many years, but Bae’s father has slowly grown to accept his son’s career—and now he even plays a role in the restaurant each night, supplying the housemade toasted sesame oil that’s drizzled tableside for one of the first snacks at SSAL: currently, a wagyu or pickled shiitake mushroom tart with pine nuts.

A Father’s Garden, a Chef’s Kitchen: How Sesame Seeds Connect Generations

Back in Korea, Bae’s father tends a weekend garden. He once grew leafy greens and carrots, but now he devotes it entirely to heirloom Korean sesame seeds for his son’s restaurant. “Korean traditional sesame seeds are not that attractive,” Bae says. “They are chubby, flat, and smaller than the sesame seeds you get at the market. They are hard to grow, with low yields and less oil because they’re smaller. My dad has to bring at least 20 to 30 percent more sesame seeds by weight for the same amount of oil as regular sesame seeds—but the flavor is much stronger.” His father toasts the seeds and presses them at an oil press house, then sends them to his son in unmarked glass bottles. This quiet act of devotion reveals an unspoken fatherly love.

Even if his father doesn’t offer many words of affirmation, it’s clear Bae has made him proud. While working at Gramercy Tavern, Bae had the privilege of cooking for then-President Barack Obama. In the group photo, he stands right beside the president. Today, that photo is framed in his parents’ home—and it’s his father’s profile picture on messaging apps.

“He didn’t know what Michelin was, but he saw some of the media coverage, and my sister had to explain to him what it meant,” Bae says of earning a Michelin star. “Now he knows I’m not coming back.”

Now It’s His Turn: How Chef Junsoo Bae Is Raising His Son Differently

Bae admits he doesn’t have many childhood memories with his own father, who worked full-time. Now a parent himself, he’s approaching fatherhood differently with his three-year-old son, Ian. “Now that I’m a dad, I think that I would rather sacrifice more of my personal time and my job time to spend time with my son,” he says. “I bring Ian to the farmer’s market every week, and I try to cook his favorite dishes on Monday and Tuesday, my days off.” Last week, Bae made roasted duck with potatoes; a couple of weeks before that, Ian was carrying a live lobster from the market. “He loves caviar, oysters, clams, and eats everything. I have no problem bringing him to a fine dining restaurant right now, even though he’s only three.”

Ian has already dined at SSAL, and for his upcoming fourth birthday, Bae is considering taking him to The French Laundry, where his wife once worked. “I want to give him a new experience that he might remember for a long time,” he says. “I think even for a young kid, fine dining can be a good educational moment, as long as the parents set the expectation that they will be well behaved.” At SSAL, children are welcome—as long as they participate in the tasting menu without too many modifications.

It’s too soon to say whether young Ian will follow in his father’s footsteps, but for now, he serves as SSAL’s adorable official fruit taste tester. Fresh farmers market fruit, served on ice, is always part of the final dessert course at SSAL. Every week, Bae visits the San Francisco Ferry Plaza Farmers Market with his wife, son, and dog to pick up produce. “Ian’s favorite this last week was white peach from K&J Orchard,” Bae says. “He knows every single fruit, and all the varieties, because he goes every single week. At the farmers market, he knows everyone and they’re all peeling fruit for him. He just goes straight for the fruit to grab and eat.” Bae trusts his son’s palate when it comes to selecting fruit—but admits he could still use some training in self-restraint. “Sometimes, I turn around in the car and realize I need to go back to the market to pick up more fruit because Ian has eaten most of it already in the backseat.”

Three generations, once divided by expectations and misunderstandings, are now connected through flavor. Junsoo’s father tends the soil. Junsoo leads the kitchen. And Ian, sticky with fruit juice, is learning to taste the world with joy. The seeds have been planted.