Netflix’s ‘Culinary Class Wars’ has transformed South Korea’s fine dining scene

When South Korean chef Jun Lee opened his restaurant SOIGNÉ in Seoul 13 years ago, he often found himself explaining the fundamentals of fine dining to curious patrons. Customers would request à la carte items at his “modern Seoul cuisine” establishment, which exclusively offers tasting menus, or express impatience with the deliberately paced dining experience.

Today, the conversation has evolved dramatically. “Many people either didn’t know this culture existed or weren’t particularly interested,” said Lee, whose restaurant name means “well-made” in French. “But now they’re becoming interested, and when they come to dine, the questions they ask — the style of their questions — have more depth.”

This transformation in South Korea’s culinary landscape can be attributed in part to Netflix’s hit cooking competition series “Culinary Class Wars,” where Lee recently appeared in the second season. The unscripted show pits established “white spoon” chefs, including those with Michelin stars, against underdog “black spoon” challengers.

The program’s impact has been remarkable. Season two debuted at number one on Netflix’s Global Top 10 (Non-English TV) list in December and has maintained its position for five consecutive weeks, prompting Netflix to greenlight a third season.

Tei Yong, CEO of CATCHTABLE, South Korea’s leading restaurant reservation platform, expressed amazement at the show’s influence. “I never imagined a single TV show could generate this level of interest in gastronomy,” Yong told The Associated Press.

The numbers support his assessment. When the Seoul Metropolitan Government hosted a pop-up event featuring chefs from the series in November 2024, nearly 450,000 people competed for just 150 reservations – approximately 3,000 people vying for each available spot.

This surge wasn’t merely a temporary spike. According to Yong, the average booking and waitlist registrations for participating restaurants increased by approximately 303% in the five weeks following season two’s premiere compared to the previous five weeks.

Chef Kim Sung-woon of Table for Four in Seoul has witnessed this phenomenon firsthand, with reservations tripling since his appearance on the show. His staff now fields roughly 100 phone calls daily, creating operational challenges amid the newfound popularity.

“Customers ask for photos constantly now — I feel like a celebrity,” Kim said. “I’ve received more letters than at any time since my military service. Young fans, even children, write to me.”

Kim’s journey to culinary stardom was unconventional. Born and raised in Taean, a seaside town south of Seoul, he initially dreamed of becoming a baseball umpire before finding his way into the restaurant industry. Despite decades of culinary experience, he confessed to being awestruck when he arrived on the Netflix set and encountered legendary chefs he had long admired.

Lee has experienced similar changes to his public profile. He now regularly stops for photos with fans on the street and has received a significant increase in requests for international collaborations.

“Before the show, foreigners made up the majority of our reservations,” Lee noted. “Now South Korean customers book so quickly that foreign visitors often can’t get tables.”

The program has been particularly significant for chefs showcasing Korean cuisine through fine dining techniques – a category gaining increasing international recognition. For Lee, the cultural authenticity of Korean cuisine extends far beyond incorporating traditional ingredients.

“If you just put kimchi in a dish and say it’s inspired by Korean food, does that make it Korean?” he questioned. “Korean food culture isn’t about specific recipes — it’s the accumulated lifestyle habits people have created.”

While Korean barbecue and bibimbap have become familiar representations of Korean cuisine globally, chefs like Lee are working to present a more nuanced cultural identity. Though he draws on techniques learned in New York kitchens, including French and American influences, he explained, “Because I’m expressing them as a South Korean person living in Seoul, Korean elements naturally come through.”

This philosophy is evident in Lee’s signature dish, Hanwoo and Banchans – premium Korean beef served with an array of seasonal Korean condiments and vegetables. He deliberately maintains Korean terminology rather than translating concepts.

“Side dishes in English suggest something optional. But in Korean culture, without banchan, a meal feels incomplete. The number of banchan signals whether it’s an ordinary day or a special occasion — emotions shared by those who live this culture,” Lee explained.

The show’s success builds upon years of groundwork. Since the late 2000s, the South Korean government has actively promoted Korean cuisine globally, though entertainment content has proven especially effective in reaching younger audiences.

Jihyung Andrew Kim, a professor in culinary arts and food management at Hanyang Women’s University, observed that “The government made genuine efforts for a long time. But Netflix and cultural content — like BTS gaining international recognition — accelerated globalization of Korean food.”

Kim noted that fine dining interest has grown particularly among diners in their 20s and 30s, fueled by social media culture where dining experiences become shareable content.

Despite the enthusiasm, significant challenges persist. Chef Kim identified service staff shortages following the COVID-19 pandemic as a critical obstacle. “For fine dining to truly develop, we need service teams to grow alongside chefs,” he told the AP.

Lee acknowledged that Korean fine dining chefs now face intense competition in an increasingly vibrant market. “If the market hadn’t broadened through Netflix and shows like this, it would have been a much more difficult environment,” he concluded.