Hong Kong's 'Demon Chef' Gives Traditional Cantonese Food the Modernist Treatment

In Hong Kong, Alvin Leung is known as much for his eccentricity as he is for being the man who's constantly pushing culinary boundaries.

It's not just his rebellious flair that draws a following, although his infamous black-and-blue hair, matching blue-lenses, and a signature all-black getup certainly draws a certain appeal. The man known affectionately as the Demon Chef has carved out his own unique category of cuisine, where he has garnered a reputation for taking a scientific approach to old-school Cantonese dishes and adding a dash of playful storytelling.

Leung formulated his concept of "X-Treme Chinese" at his flagship restaurant, Bo Innovation which opened in 2003, and has earned three Michelin stars every year since 2014.

Leung, who grew up in Canada, says his international upbringing has played a part in his open-ended approach to Chinese cuisine.

"One good thing about being brought up with Chinese food from another country means that you're not a purist and you will accept deviation," explains Leung. "What I try to do is get in your head. Being extreme means you'll go to the limit."

Since his first foray into the restaurant industry, Leung has expanded his restaurant empire, opening several low-key eateries, including MIC Kitchen and new-to-town Bib n Hops, as well as another Bo Innovation branch in Shanghai.

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The Hong Kong location of Bo Innovation recently moved to a new address—now in Wan Chai on trendy Ship Street. In the new digs, Leung has gone all out in his dedication to Hong Kong's heritage. He has repositioned the restaurant with a new tagline—"A Hong Kong Story"—that reflects his mission to conjure memories of old Hong Kong and offer a more immersive experience. His food continues to evolve as well, with new recipes and set menus every season, new ways to play with presentations and take diners by surprise.

"People come with an expectation," he says. "It's very important to take them beyond that expectation."

On MasterChef Canada, which he hosted until 2016, Leung acts like just another hotheaded toque—taking his moniker, Demon Chef, quite seriously. But in person, he seems geeky and creative, a man of many idiosyncrasies. He skirts around a lineup of questions to instead quiz me about Chinese history or discuss politics, religion, and racism while casually lighting a Cuban cigar with a kitchen blowtorch.

Just after confessing that he's "playing me psychologically," Leung says that his high EQ—emotional intelligence—is what sets his food apart.

"We have seven primary needs—we all carry these sins and when you find something by yourself, that becomes an emotional experience for you," he says. I'm trying to let you find something and connect the dots. Certain dishes, when you comprehend the connection, you are being affected psychologically. That kind of achievement is worth more than any dinner in the world. That's worth more than caviar."

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At the recently relocated Bo Innovation, that emotional experience comes in the form of an 11- or 14-course dining experience, starting with a paper bag of savory onion "egg puffs"—a play on the sweet treats typically eaten on the streets of Hong Kong. Even the presentations reference Chinese traditions. Take "Child's Play" for example, a plate of bite-sized appetizers served on a colorful Go board—a strategic Chinese game, not unlike chess, that pretty much every kid in China plays growing up.

Up next is "Caviar"—a reimagining of the flaky taro puff that's normally served at dim sum. While Leung's version has a relatively conventional look, it's a hell of a lot less humble. Instead of a mashed-up root vegetable, the dainty dumpling comes stuffed with a quail egg, and is topped with a plop of caviar and curls of gold leaf.

"If you are going to deviate from something comfortable, you must break down the DNA of a one-headed monster," Leung says. "If you know what the DNA is and you know what part of that makes people recognize that this is Chinese food, then people will find comfort in trying a new version."

But unless you really know your Chinese culinary canon, Leung's approach is difficult to discern, partly due to his unconventional engineering background. The self-taught chef was born in London and raised in Canada, eventually moving back to Hong Kong where he worked as an engineer in his family's business for 20 years.

"For me, cooking is practical. That's the core of an engineer," he says. "Engineers are very practical designers and creative people. Every single thing I create has to have a purpose."

At the new Bo Innovation, Leung takes his design skills outside of the kitchen. There's a mural with hand-drawn motifs and Leung's personal memories, calligraphy by one of Hong Kong's last masters, and ceramic plates crafted by local artisans. But the piece de resistance is a geometric bronze sculpture hanging above the tables in the graphical outline of Lion Rock—a mountain in the New Territories, north of the city, that symbolizes the spirit and resilience of the Hong Kong people.

"We are trying to tell Hong Kong's story here," explains Leung. "I want people to learn about the energy of Hong Kong when they come to my restaurant. A lot of what you see, like the traditional windows that look like old shop houses, these are my childhood memories."

While the decor zeros in on specific Hong Kong historical references, the food takes a wider angle, celebrating Chinese food across several regions. To ensure diners, who might subscribe to time-honored traditions, aren't unseated by the newfangled concepts, Leung deconstructs traditional foods and picks reference points, preserving the essence but twisting the presentation or the accompanying flavors.

"Being Chinese, we have a huge library to work with," Leung explains. "Chinese cuisine has so much diversity, the area it covers is so great and so is the taste. You can break down the textures to soft, hard, crunchy, crispy. Every single one of my dishes has an origin that is Chinese."

One of Chef Leung's most famous dishes is a deconstructed xiaolongbao soup dumpling—usually a delicate hand-wrapped noodle shell with savory pork meatball and broth inside. To reimagine the traditional Shanghainese staple, Leung gave it the molecular spherification treatment.

He took the classic comfort food, reduced it into a concentrate, then suspended it in a sodium alginate and calcium solution to form a starchy sphere. The result? A globular disc that explodes with the essence of xioalongbao—namely pork and vinegar broth—in your mouth.

"You don't even have to cook it," Leung says. "That is now almost like my signature dish but I think it's quite primitive."

Leung sources most condiments from the city's best artisans—like a Japanese tomato that comes soaked in Pat Chun sweet vinegar and a "Mao Tai" drink made with Kweichow Moutai. He transforms the Chinese liquor that typically has an acquired taste into a frothy kumquat palette cleanser, served in a regal bowl with dragon handles.

"My approach goes way beyond simply ingredients and techniques," says Leung. "Every dish has to have a story. And at the end of the day you say 'Wow! I just experienced and learned something.'"