Regional Finalists 2024-25

In February 2023, just before opening my restaurant, we visited a bee farm in Koh Samui and saw unused beeswax being discarded. Inspired, I created a sustainable dish that minimizes waste. Using locally sourced fish, I perfected a beeswax cooking method for the fillet and transformed every part of the fish into unique components. This plate is a harmonious blend of Thai flavors, Italian influences, and global experiences.

Through this dish, I express Japan’s Satoyama culture, a way of life rooted in the coexistence of people and nature. Festivals, prayers for abundant harvests, care for the environments that provide food, and cooperation within rural communities are values deeply embedded in Japanese society. As a chef, I believe cuisine must begin with an awareness of the ecosystems that sustain our ingredients. Satoyama is a philosophy I wish to share with the world and a model for the future of cooking.

My favorite childhood dish is Assam Laksa. To me, the beauty of this dish is the combination of flaky fish melding together with the herbaceous, acidic, spicy, sweet umami broth with nuggets of larger sized fish meat. My version of Assam Laksa utilizes homemade traditional rempah enhanced with fish garum & fish-bone stock & laksa leaf oil with a mosaic made of Kingfish and Farce using the fish trimmings served with Ginger Flower Sorbet and Fish Skin-Yuba Tuile topped w Native Herbs and Salsa.

This dish is an homage to my personal culinary journey. Being of Chinese Filipino decent, this dish is a culmination of the influence other countries have had on Filipino cuisine. I want to use this opportunity to showcase a beautiful bird sourced locally from Ontario,while flaunting a contemporary version of a classic dish replacing the pork. I’d like to think of myself like this Sinigang dish, a pinnacle of different influences and techniques I've learned from the different Chefs in my career.

This dish, in a nutshell, represents who I am. Not only are all the main ingredients sourced from directly here in Canada, but also the techniques used I learned (and tweaked) from all the most important restaurants I have worked. It takes humble ingredients like duck and corn and elevates them to a new level of luxury. Lastly it attempts to blur the lines between savoury and sweet dishes with the use of popcorn and shortbread. Its an artful and fun representation of who I am as a chef.

Receiving whole deer every fortnight, I noticed that the unused offal was being wasted. So I decided to put them to good use in a dish to raise awareness of food waste. My aim is to promote responsible and sustainable cooking, reflecting my passion for gastronomy and my values of respect for natural resources.

With my dish I would like to express my passion for dance. Swan Lake is a Russian ballet set to the music of Tchaikovsky. I want to combine Russian cuisine with Russian ballet. At the same time, I want to infuse the mostly male-dominated Michelin-starred cuisine with femininity and lightness. Contrasts such as the light and dark of the white swans and the black swan compete with each other, both visually and in terms of taste.

In this dish I want to give a stage to an ingredient that I think is underestimated (the horse) and represent it as much as possible. I take the food of the horse, the so-called soft food and complement with it parts of the animal to present the whole. I want this animal to be culinary understood from beginning to end.

This dish expresses my journey from a humble Vietnamese kitchen to European fine dining. By uniting classic techniques with hometown flavors—like Sa Chau fish sauce, Xá Xíu, and pho aromatics—I tell a story of cultural harmony. The wheat tuile and smoky eggplant evoke my deep Vietnamese roots. It reflects my identity: a modern chef proudly carrying my heritage to the global stage, bridging two worlds through food.

As I grew up in Saint-Raphael, fish soup had an emblematic place in my family. My father, a fish lover, observed changes in the sea ecosystem: pollution, destruction of the biodiversity and diminution of the quantity of fish. We can’t keep our old habits by cooking without thinking about the consequences. I don’t want to forget the taste of Provence so I invented a new recipe that take into account these issues. More ethical ways can be taken to archive the emotional memory of taste.

My dish associates two opposed universe: the "meaty" one from the Chateauneuf farm beef and the iodized one from the cuttlefish and the herring eggs
These three product prepared in their entirety will along the preparation and then degustation respond and feature them self. They will reveal their complexity and the deepness of their taste but still with a strong readability.
A key quest to the essential in the idea that “less it’s more” in this special social and environmental context.

This dish is a memory of my childhood Sundays. I transformed breadcrumbs into 'pasta crumbs' to evoke the scarpetta I’d do in her Piennolo tomato and nepitella sauce. The pulled rabbit meatball, breaded in dried pasta powder, recalls how she would shred the finest meat over my pasta by hand. The dish is completed by the soffritto, the soul of Naples, and a herb-crusted rib that captures the true essence of the rabbit.

My dish is inspired by potaje de berros, a traditional Canary Islands watercress stew that embodies the region’s rural cuisine and collective memory. Using Tenerife kid goat and a zero-waste approach, I reinterpret its key ingredients—watercress, gofio, cheese, pickles and broth—through a contemporary lens. The dish celebrates place, seasonality and local producers, showing how humble cuisine can evolve into fine dining without losing its identity or authenticity.

I chose this dish because it reflects my roots and the story of a cuisine built on resourcefulness and memory. The sausage represents popular tradition, while galantine, born in France and once served at royal tables, brings technique and elegance. As a Madrid native working at El Bohío, I wanted to pay tribute to Madrid and Castilla-La Mancha through a dish full of identity and emotion.

The dish idea combines Spain and Italy's linguistic and cultural ties, rich in shared elements I value. I'll merge Spanish stewed tongue with Italian cold tongue, reflecting my veggie passion. Ingredients like salsify, watercress, wild plants, and roots will be preserved, enhancing the dish and fostering a connection with nature.

My dish begins with an anthropological reflection. We live in an age that accelerates and standardizes. Food often follows the same path, losing memory and connection to place. This dish does not look at the past with nostalgia, but interprets an almost vanished ecosystem—carp, rice fields, and farm animals—as a lens for the present and my interpretation of rural cuisine today. In a world that rushes, I choose to slow down.Time is essential to understanding a territory and the knowledge it hold.

My journey starts with sweetbread, a beloved traditional dish from my homeland, often used in my professional experience. The “in carpione” pumpkin is prepared like Lake Garda fish. The langoustine is leveraged in its entirety, as the head is filled by an orangette and sided by a coconut milk-based drink that enhances its minerality. I designed this 3D-printed compostable set, which evokes the sweetbread with its texture, to raise the commensal’s awareness on the consuming of raw material.

What makes a species local, indigenous, alien, invasive, naturalized, or imported to a specific ecology ?How do species, including humans, root in places they are not originally from? I reflect about an invasive specie, the blu crab that over-populates the Lagoon. Reminding us about the colonial history that brought corn from the Americas, I considered the meaning of becoming “naturalized” to local ecologies. I complete by using spontaneous plants that reconnects to the tidal of Venice, halophytes.

I see the future of gastronomy as the ability to transform memories into impact. Chefs have a responsibility to preserve identities, create value for producers and artisans, and build bridges between cultures. Memorias was born from my journey from Peru to Costa Rica. Through this dish, I honor my roots and give a voice to the hands behind every ingredient, demonstrating that true innovation is born of respect for origins and a commitment to future generations.

This dish embodies the richness of the Yucatán Peninsula. Through it, I want to portray the union between sea and land, and how that connection has shaped both my character and my approach as a chef. It brings together ingredients from the sea and from the backyards and ka’anches of local communities, highlighting the efforts of those who continue to cultivate the land and preserve its traditions. The concept behind the dish reflects my vision of how we can coexist with both the past and present of cuisine.

A fufu portrait is the story of the Riquelme’s, my family from my mother’s side. In all our gatherings we’ll come together around this delicious soup made from fish head, coconut milk, curry, and root vegetables. Why just the head? Because the rest of the fish we pickled it in our family’s escobish.
As a kid, it was beautiful to see all my aunts having fun around those pots trying to feed a battalion. For me fufu and escobish represent the strong bond between my kin and the roots of my people.

In Chinese culture, there is an old saying, "Eat what is in season," which means that the right time creates flavors, and if missed, one must wait patiently. Watching the ingredients in the liquid or the proliferation of fungi during the making of rice koji, I have been struck by the unique flavors these processes bring to food, reminding me of the preciousness of life. As a chef, I believe it is my duty to cherish this gift of life brought by time, allowing it to continue in a different form. I believe that this gift should not be used solely for profit, but should be shared with everyone, allowing them to experience its charm.

Inspired by the first book of traditional Chinese medicine, "Huangdi Neijing," which states that food is food when eaten on an empty stomach, but medicine when consumed by patients, I have chosen medicinal herbs such as Poria cocos, japonica rice, Gastrodia elata, and Phyllanthus emblica as the main ingredients, complemented by traditional handcrafted tea. This has led to the creation of a pure vegetarian dish, embodying the concept of food and medicine sharing the same origin.

This dish represents my fond memories and deep affection for the Jiangnan region.The fresh bamboo shoots on the mountains in spring, lotus leaves covers the ponds in summer, golden fields in autumn, and the aroma of cured meats in every courtyard in winter. These are my cherished memories, and I want to share this warmth and beauty through my food.

The Silent Flock – A Life Through Lamb explores the life cycle of a sheep as a reflection of Ireland’s journey across generations. Lamb, hogget and mutton represent youth, growth and maturity, mirroring my grandfather’s generation of necessity, my father’s generation of change, and my own generation of opportunity. Rooted in whole-animal cookery and the Irish landscape, it honors the past while looking confidently toward the future of Irish cuisine.

I am a chef driven by curiosity, and respect for ingredients. Today, I shape my identity through Nordic flavors and technical performance. In the future, I aim to become a chef who unites craftsmanship and sustainable, creates experiences that move people, and contributes to pushing gastronomy forward.

Chicken and buckwheat is one of the cheapest healthy meal options that is very common to cook among people in Estonia. However, the way it is cooked is usually very boring and not very pleasant to eat. With this dish, I tried to take these simple ingredients and create something new. I want to showcase that despite the importance of high quality ingredients, chefs are the ones who actually make the difference and create new dishes.

As an immigrant, moving from South Korea to growing up in Ireland, one of the challenges was the cuisine. I went from having rice with lots of different sides (banchan) such as kimchi, to having a meat and two vegetables. One of my earliest food memory is going to my friends house and trying bacon and cabbage. I remember the boiled salty pork and the sautéed cabbage with mustard and some steamed potatoes with butter on top. So I wanted to do a dish that combined the two different cultures.

Driven by the understanding that we are the kaitiaki of rivers and oceans, this plate challenges how we care for our resources. It confronts past mistakes like the devastating overfishing of whitebait, which was once used as common garden fertiliser. Jackson has chosen to use abundant Australian ingredients to recreate childhood memories responsibly. This dish utilises zero-waste techniques to blend childhood playfulness with a commitment to ecological preservation.

"My Mother's Tze Char" is a tribute to my late mother's dream of feeding the hungry. By transforming humble ingredients into a rich tapestry of flavours and textures, I hope to embody her generosity and commitment to making a difference. Each bite pays homage to memories of home-cooked meals shared with her and celebrates the fusion of my Singaporean, Teo Chew, Hokkien/Cantonese and Australian upbringing. This dish speaks to her belief in the power of food to nourish both body and soul.

My dish is my interpretation to the classic Borscht. I took my mother’s recipe and disassembled it and combined it with the local ingredients and flavor’s. The dish itself served on plates that passed in my family in inheritance.
My goal was to make a dish that combines two cultures, memories from my childhood and also has minimum waste. I tried to use all the parts of all the ingredients.

My dish is a tribute to the culinary traditions of eastern Poland. I sourced the sturgeon and caviar from the renowned Antonius brand in a neighboring village. The inspiration for the Masurian floral lace in my recipe comes from my grandmother, a talented embroiderer. My dish also features ferments, deeply rooted in Polish tradition. Accompanying beverage is enjoyed in my home on hot days. I aim to showcase the best of Polish cuisine: good products, respect for tradition, and an open-mindedness.

‘Aljotta’ is a traditional Maltese tomato-based fish broth soup. My dish comprises of homely traditional flavours, in part with a little twist and in the other a more technical and modern to it. The importance is ultimately the flavour of the original ‘Aljotta’; as to impart my childhood memory of my first fishing boat trip, which also was the first time eating the soup. It is also a small taste of Malta, our history and the deliciousness in the simplicity of our cooking.

I want to showcase everything i have learnt as a chef so far. I think doing a classical dish like this is unique and modern and really shows how different styles and cuisines have evolved. This really expresses how far food has come and how far i have come.

This dish is all about a recreation of a happy memory growing up and getting a nostalgic feeling. Cooking and food to me is all about a mixture of new discovery and connecting to a different place, a different time, a memory, a feeling. When I was growing up my mother would take me to my nanny's place and she would always be in the kitchen making something. Two standout dishes I remember always helping her with were her Veranicki's which are a Russian perogy and borscht. We would sit for hours chopping vegetables, stuffing veranickis, and spending time together at her table. The recipe for the dough is her fathers recipe and I wanted to do a bit of a modern take on the classic dough and by adding elements of borscht through dill, beetroots, and creme fraiche throughout the dish. The duck parts of the dish are a more recent memory of moving half way around the world to come work in London at The Ritz Hotel. One of the most memorable dish's that we serve at The Ritz is the Duck a la Presse. The theater and level of service makes this more than just a dish, but creates an everlasting memory to anyone who would order it. Even the people around would remember it, it's so special.

Rather than recreating tradition,I chose to reinterpret them through the experiences,techniques,that have shaped me as a chef.Culinary techniques create layers of flavor and texture that reflect both where I come from and I have evolved.At the heart of my cooking is respect for the product.Every ingredient has its own character.My role as a chef is understand it,treat it with care and reveal its full potential.My dish is an expression of my identity,my experiences, and the values that guid me.

Through this dish, I'd like to show that brazilian ingredients are unique and amazing just as much as from any other part of the world. Since starting my career outside of my country as a immigrant, I've received a lot of comments ''what is the food like in Brazil?'', and I can confirm that for being a ''3rd world country'', many times our food culture is left behind and not taken as seriously as other cultures. Our potential is huge and I'd like to show that to the world.

My childhood was based on different gastronomic backgrounds about sharing with family and friends around food, they know me as a seafood lover. The translation of “Plebe bichi” is “naked boy”, from the slang of the northwest coast of Mexico, referring to me as a little boy and how I came to the world (naked), and how all this journey that we call life starts giving you an identity. I adapted my grandma’s east-style tamal recipe to a northwest Mexican tamal from my mom's hometown as a gratitude.

For me, this dish embodies my journey as a chef and pays homage to my Appalachian heritage. Being raised in North Carolina, pork is our primary livestock. And these ingredients grow locally in the mountain town where I grew up. For me, bringing refined French techniques that I struggled to learn, to Rustic Appalachian cuisine showcases a new perspective on my home and my community. Highlighting the beautiful flavors of the ingredients and delivering me back to my Nana's house for Sunday supper

I created these dishes by reminiscing about the morning's picking. The first thing we did in the restaurant before setting off to pick mushrooms was to drink our coffee. I made my first plate with mushrooms, coffee and chocolate, with a few crisps to remind us of our foraging trip. My second plate is to take you with me on a foraging trip, to walk in the forest and find all the things you can find in the woods.

My goal was to work with amberjack in its entirety, creating a culinary journey dedicated to a single ingredient. Through ikejime, sukibiki, and maturation, I work the fish in its entirety to reveal its full potential. My approach enhances exceptional products through precision, respect, and innovation. I believe the future of our profession lies in a cuisine that is thoughtful, sustainable, and deeply connected to craftsmanship and flavor.

I am a chef inspired by memory, roots and the stories behind every ingredient. The flavors of this dish shaped my childhood and remind me of my grandmother, who taught me that food is a language of love. The turkey represents migration: native to Latin America, it crossed borders and found a place in other cultures without losing its essence. Whether classic or modern, there is only one kind of cuisine: good cuisine. Looking to the future, I want cuisine to be seen as a language that brings people together.