Talk Of The Town

How affable chef Kelvin Cheung made Jun’s Dubai’s go-to restaurant

WORDS: JOHN THATCHER

Kelvin Cheung may well be one of the hottest chefs in Dubai right now, his restaurant, Jun’s, the recipient of considerable acclaim from the likes of Michelin and The World’s 50 Best, but you venture he would also sweep the board were there an awards ceremony for the city’s greatest raconteurs. Stories. He’s full of them. Which is probably no surprise, given that his career thus far has taken him across the globe, from Canada to the United States, Belgium to India, and, since 2021, the UAE. Yet had Cheung not met his wife, Andrea, during those travels, it seems likely that his stories (some of which are jaw-droppingly candid) would have remained untold. “She literally shoved me out of my comfort zone right into the spotlight. Her relationships were much stronger than mine in the media world and she helped build the side of the chef gig that I find the hardest — publicity. After years of practice, I am much more at ease in front of cameras, in interviews, and speaking to any kind of audience.”

Jun’s dishes have tales of their own. Cheung calls it “borderless cooking,” his eclectic, exciting menu comprised of flavours drawn from the countries he’s cooked in and memories were made. “A love letter to my upbringing, if you will,” he says, before running through some of the menu’s biggest hits. “The rainbow heirloom carrots is a true third-culture cooking dish that is inspired by a very American core childhood memory of mine, incorporating Asian flavours and essence,” says Cheung. “I grew up in a traditional Chinese household that generally had rice and noodles as part of their daily diet, but my mother fell in love with bagels topped with cream cheese and smoked salmon, which inspired me to recreate that same smoky flavour profile in a vegetarian form.” He’s done so by teaming charred baby carrots with smoked labneh and candied walnuts, served with house-baked sourdough.

“Growing up in Toronto, cream corn was one of my favourites. At Jun’s, I use it as a side to go with a fresh Hokkaido scallop that’s been seasoned with a little chilli crunch, paired with yuzu kosho, and set atop crispy sushi rice. I always tell guests to pick it up, swipe it through the corn, and eat it in one go.”

Inspired by Cheung’s time in India, where he helmed celebrity favourite Bastian in Mumbai, there’s lobster pani puri, a street snack he used to buy regularly from a vendor who lived opposite him in the city. Cheung’s elevated version packs incredible flavour.

Even desserts pay homage. “Below my father’s largest restaurant there was a skating rink, and for many days a week I would be banished there to stop disrupting his lunch service! While hanging out I befriended the coffee shop owners, and every trip to the counter resulted in a free hot chocolate with extra marshmallows.” The cuisine-bending result is baked Alaska tiramisu mochi, for which gluten-free sweet potato mochi is stuffed with toasted Japanese sesame, peanuts, and coconut, topped with espresso ice cream and brown butter semifreddo, and finished with burnt marshmallow and a shot of hot chocolate mocha. Divine. Just don’t count the calories. A third-generation chef, Cheung remembers helping the head baker at his father’s restaurant when he was no older than four, making almond cookies. “My family made sure we all supported the business, as they were busy working hard to build a new life for us in North America,” says Cheung. “I grew up always lending a hand, whether it be washing the dishes at the age of 12 or making fortune cookies with my elder brother.”

Also helping out was Cheung’s grandmother, who escaped poverty and back-breaking labour at a limestone quarry in mainland China when she married, eventually leaving Hong Kong, where she had opened successful, hole-in-the wall eateries, to help Cheung’s father in his first three restaurants in Toronto. “There is something magical in her hands, and at age 103 she still directs any kitchen she is in,” says Cheung proudly. However, despite the familial ties that weave through the restaurant industry, his father did not wish for the teenage Cheung to follow him into the kitchen. “The typical Asian parent's dream is to see their child become a doctor, lawyer, or engineer, so from a very young age I had it set in my head to achieve one of those three careers. Although I was basically raised in a kitchen, my father saw his children cooking as a contribution to the family business but never as a long-term career. I started in pre-medical at the University of Chicago, but quickly realised that my passion lies within feeding people, not fixing them.”

There then followed a difficult conversation, during which Cheung informed his father. “It was nervewracking, not pleasant. Eventually, he came around to the idea and sat me down to give me a look into what the life of a chef and restaurateur really looks like. He laid out the sacrifices of holidays, spoke about the pressure of keeping guests coming back, teams motivated, and vendors paid, and then helped me plan on the best way to approach my new career.”

As is its habit, history may well repeat itself. “Funnily enough, I can now understand my father’s wishes, because the one career I do not want for my son, Bodhi (age 4), is the restaurant business. There are so many sacrifices, physical demands, and a career in cooking does not lend itself well to work-life balance. I would never change it for myself, but I hope for bigger and better things for my own child.”

Few restaurants in Dubai are as big or better than Jun’s right now. Head there and Kelvin Cheung will revel in telling you all about it.

JOURNEYS BY JET