All photos by Brei Olivier
Inside the seven-hundred-square-foot Kin—which sits across from a charmless, gaping drainage canal in a not bad, but decidedly dicey, New Orleans neighborhood—there’s just one long table with ten chairs. An ink-blue ceiling adds dimension; the subtle pearl finish on the silver-hued walls gleaming in the sunlight or glowing behind a flickering candle. While there’s no liquor license, the rest of the seating is at two bars, one seating twelve, the other four. Those who might grumble about inconvenience or size tend to cease, mid-sentence, when the food arrives.
The bread is housemade, served with black garlic and tarragon butter one night, carrot purée another, rich pork rillettes the next—the menu as a whole is ever-changing. An eclectic selection of six or seven ramen options—most based on either viscous tonkotsu (pork bone) or lighter tonkatsu (pork cutlet) broth—are offered along with haute cuisine small plates. Umami-rich braised short ribs are served with cucumber salad, kimchi vinaigrette, and berry crème fraîche. Boudin is made with wild rice, wrapped in wonton skin, fried, and served with a Tabasco-tinged mango purée. A seared duck leg was recently paired with gnudi, crafted from creamy cotija, and served with pico, squash, corn, and adobo sauce. The five-spice duck confit is usually on the menu, recently with a kaleidoscope of stir-fried baby vegetables and fragrant rice atop a bed of cashew purée. One memorable ramen paired the chewy noodles in a play on crawfish bisque—tails, crispy stuffed heads, a crawfish cake, and smoky tomato broth with dashi. Dessert may be yuzu and mango curd with a heavenly coconut sorbet, a honey nut crumble, or a pear cake with poached pears, chocolate, and honey-goat-cheese ice cream.
At Kin, an Asian influence is the only constant, however faint, in a sea of flavors and techniques that encompasses French, Italian, and Louisiana heritage cuisines. “We’re multicultural, not fusion,” said owner Hieu Than, who refuses the title “Chef,” preferring to focus on the team as a whole. The raw culinary talent under this small roof and a willingness to take chances, sometimes really out there chances, are enough to ruin the more adventurous among us for other places.
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“Both of my parents worked, and I grew up eating fast food,” Than said, of his New Orleans childhood. “I had never been in a fine restaurant before.” In his mid-20s, Than’s then-girlfriend, Mei Duong, brought him along to a friend’s birthday dinner at the renowned Gautreau’s. “I was fascinated when someone pointed out the chef, Sue Zemanick, as she crossed the dining room. She was not what I expected. The experience changed my life.”
Than’s grandparents, Vietnamese immigrants, owned Manchu Food Store in the city’s Seventh Ward, turning out fried chicken wings and fried rice from behind bulletproof glass. “For [my family], food is only for sustenance. I remember eating stuffed bitter melon when I was younger because it was growing in the backyard and it was free. Imagine my surprise when I encountered children at school who threw away their vegetables!”
The bitter melon would come to define him, its leaf the only adornment to Kin’s otherwise spartan logo.
Than recalls ordering duck confit at Gautreau’s. “It was the polar opposite of stuffed bitter melon,” he said. “In that meal, I realized how far away access to quality food was to most people. I realized that quality is equally as important as sustenance. I was both joyous and saddened. I was happy that delicious food existed and sad to not be able to have it every day.
“So how to turn humble ingredients into exquisite dishes? Education, I figured. I told my folks I’m going to throw away all of their time and money and pursue something that will probably make me a poor and broken person. It was tough for them. But it was the one and only thing I had ever been passionate about.”
He trained at New York’s French Culinary Institute (now the International Culinary Center) before interning at Corton and Craftbar. “I had visions of fame and grandeur, foie gras and liquid nitrogen,” Than said. But priorities changed when he volunteered for God’s Love We Deliver, an organization sustained by donations and volunteer labor and making thoughtfully prepared, gourmet-quality meals for people in need. “I forgot the delusions of life as a chef. I started seeing every cook, every chef as people instead of culinary machines, laboring under the yoke of creative passion as well as financial burden.”
Than returned to New Orleans to work under his mentor, Zemanick, at Gautreau’s, while he planned a restaurant of his own. He deliberately sought a hardscrabble neighborhood within which to fulfill his dream of creating spectacular, yet affordable, food in lockstep with opportunities for people.
Kin opened eighteen months ago, first as a fine-dining restaurant open only at night and by reservation. The eclectic selection of ramen was later offered for lunch only. Now, the same menu of ramen and small plates is offered for both meals. Mei, now Than’s wife, is the general manager.
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“In our tiny kitchen, we have had the opportunity to learn and teach one another,” Than said. “The fact that one of our dishwashers, who joined us a year ago, is now my left hand man, is testament to this. He lives two blocks from Kin, has children, and a list of things that would make him a statistic. He can cook like the better of us, and he has earned our respect as a peer. He may not know what soigné is, but he can dish it out every minute of every shift. This is the bitter melon. It grows in drought.”
Than operates Kin like an experiment in democracy. “We have never made a schedule for anyone in the kitchen.” Yet the staff works, always, in harmony. “It always feels like hollandaise,” Than said. Blended. “We have very few guidelines and even less protocol. Everyone exists within a self-imposed merit system. There is no ladder to climb; what is the point if there are only six steps to the top? So we frown upon anything that does not promote the collective.”
Than is looking for a second location to move the ramen operation so the business will continue to grow and give back. He will then return the tiny yellow building back to its original fine-dining format.
It saddens Than that some people have reservations about Kin’s unconventional location: “We don’t have a website, nor a business card; no wines to match our food. But the amount of support, the sheer volume of open-minded diners, the consistent growth … has been an absolute blessing. Grass roots and started on a shoe-string, burning on all cylinders—there are no grand goals here. We simply wish to bring life to a place that needs it and give chances to people who deserve them. If we fall tomorrow, at least one person will be able to find a better job because he now possess the knowledge and skills that makes him of value to his employer. That is the framework of Kin—the same opportunities given to me.”
Kin 4600 Washington Avenue New Orleans, La. (504) 304-8557
Kin’s Facebook page is updated daily with beautifully illustrative photographs of the day’s offerings.
