As the weather warms, chef and artist Imogen Kwok invites her friends for dinner outside

Is there anything as enjoyable as convivial alfresco dining in the sun-filled seasons? As we look forward to months of outdoor feasting, Imogen Kwok shows us how it’s done. As equal parts chef and artist, Imogen creates multisensory installations that are as tasty as they are conceptually interesting. On a warm afternoon, Imogen hosts some art-world friends for an informal lunch – and we scored an invitation to join.

In between whipping up plates almost too pretty to eat, laying a perfectly dressed table and serving fruity cocktails, Imogen tells us why, for her, work, life, food and art all get cooked into one. Plus, she shares a recipe for her spin on beef tartare, which includes the delectable addition of nashi pear and pickled mustard seeds. Hungry for more? This story was first featured in Issue No.3 of The Modern House Magazine, so buy our magazine set for even more inspiration.

Imogen: “I try to use food as an artistic medium and try to elevate it. Food has changed so much – chefs are no longer in the background and cooking is really a respected craft now. I want to push it even further, from a craft to an art form.

“That comes from combining both my practical experience and my art history degree. I’ve worked in kitchens, and I’ve assisted and worked in food styling and photography.That’s the foundation I always come back to. At the same time, I studied art history at university and my world has always been art-oriented. People always ask, “How do you come up with that? How did you find this connection?” I would say it’s just the way I think; the way my brain works. If I see something, whether it be a texture, material or a concept, food is just the medium I’ve chosen as both self-expression and a means of communication. I see food as an art form.

“There is a lot of spontaneity and freedom in the way I work, but it’s also balanced with extreme precision and meticulous detail. You can only let go and have fun at the end if you have set yourself up well with prep.

“You have to ask yourself: does the technique work? Does it taste delicious? It must taste good, as well as being balanced in aesthetic and concept. It is a precise Venn diagram, trying to get everything to fall into the perfect place. When you get to that point, it’s really satisfying.

“Recently I worked on a project for Phillips auction house, where I translated works from their June London auction into recipes. For Andy Warhol, I really didn’t want to do soup. Instead, I did a tart featuring peach slices placed in a repetitive pattern. I wanted it to be about the mechanical nature of his work, and about serial repetition. That’s one of the ways I expose art through a culinary perspective.

“I’m drawn to John Pawson’s architecture and mid-century modern aesthetics. I also love designs that don’t feel or look too masculine. Personally, I love Charlotte Perriand and her show at the Design Museum. There is such a great balance of femininity, which was so strong compared with the masculine environment in which she was immersed. She is very precise, which I really admire and try to reproduce in my own works.

“I cook all the time for friends. These are all my longtime friends, some of whom I’ve known since I was at St Andrews. They are friends who have been really supportive since I moved to London from the US in 2019. We are eating today at my friend Nicole’s house in Chelsea; she has this lovely garden and she kindly let me host all our friends.

“Everyone here works in the arts – some at galleries like Gagosian, while some own their own galleries, such as Emalin. It is interesting understanding the art world from their perspectives, as it enriches my own creative process.

“When I’m hosting, I often prepare dishes in advance because I want to have fun at the party. Normally I make things that are braised for a while so they can be reheated easily, always with a fun garnish – that’s the drama factor. People love to see you getting in there and touching the food. My work is also very interactive, which is why I love people exchanging big sharing plates.

“It’s important for hosting to be considerate of everyone who is there. I try to remember who doesn’t drink alcohol, who has an allergy, or who really likes certain flavours that I can recreate again. Even though I treat my job as an art form, it has hospitality at its core. You really want to make people feel very welcome and happy.

“Today we have six people so I’m doing small plates. Normally, if it’s more than that, I love making fresh pasta and a beautiful ragu. It’s one of those dishes that seems simple – just pasta and a sauce, right? However, when you handmake everything and the sauce has been going for more than three hours, it is actually deceptively complex.

“Throughout lockdown I was lucky to live really close to friends, so we made a support bubble and we made a big deal out of having dinner together. Every night, we set the table, we took a few hours prepping, going to the butchers and coming up with different dishes because we had so much time.

“Our life slowed down and I loved that. It was the best time to get to know someone at their own house where you can see them relax completely, which is so different to the formality of being at a restaurant. It was an incredibly intimate experience where you felt like you could truly be vulnerable with each other.

“All of my in-person work was paused during lockdown, so I volunteered at a neighbourhood grassroots organisation that was started in response to the pandemic. Children were massively impacted by schools shutting and it meant many missed out on their only cooked meal of the day. I went every weekday, leading the team to deliver meals to children.

“At that time, the only thing I craved was Korean food. I was trained in classical French cuisine at The French Culinary Institute in New York City, so I don’t have a professional background in Asian cooking. But incorporating more Asian flavours into my cooking was so enjoyable and connected me to my family. My mum is Korean and grew up in Thailand, and my dad is Chinese, so I really grew up with a variety of east-Asian flavours. Cooking these cuisines requires such a different skillset to what I am trained in, so it was really great to try out new ways of working and cooking.

“I have early childhood memories of my grandfather cooking Korean barbecue. I grew up in Australia, where meals were all about being outside and eating together. Eating off the bone is something I really remember. That feeling of eating off the bone is very Chinese and something I’ve come to respect and love. It is not part of the Western culinary culture to crave that texture. It is a super-visceral experience, knowing how to eat a whole fish off the bone and spit bones in a polite way.

“I’m really precise about finding what dish, fabric or kind of wood we are using to present the food. It extends out to the shape of things. It all has to fit perfectly, but it’s quite instinctive.

“I find most of my favourite homeware brands through food and prop styling shoots. If it doesn’t feel good, it’s wrong. It’s about the art direction and creating a moment, an entire scene. The pieces we’re using today are all from home. The blue-and-white plates are mostly from a market in Amsterdam; some of them are from antique shops in New York. At home, I veer towards using thin-rimmed dishes, which are good for plating. I’ve had a really good relationship with Mud Australia.

“I think if you’re a home cook and you want to feel more comfortable, it’s not that difficult. It’s about knowing how to improvise, setting yourself up well in terms of tools and enjoying the process of prep. Take care with the mise-en-place, like peeling and chopping. Those are all the skills that got me into cooking. While I use food as an art form, it was amazing to be reminded while volunteering during lockdown that cooking is about making people feel loved and comforted. It reminded me where the joy comes from and why I love to cook.”

Imogen’s recipe for beef tartare with nashi pear and pickled mustard seeds

“This tartare recipe is a version of yukhoe, a Korean raw marinated beef dish. Over the past year I have been focusing more on Korean flavours and ingredients from my mother’s side. People are always very excited when I make tartare at home because it seems like such a restaurant dish. Truly, if you have a fantastic butcher and a sharp knife, it’s quite simple to make yourself.”

Serves four

For the tartare

450g high-quality, boneless beef tenderloin
1 shallot, peeled and finely minced
1-2 tsp fish sauce
1 tbsp sesame seed oil
1 tbsp runny honey
1 nashi pear, peeled and finely diced
1/2 tsp of gochugaru (Korean red pepper powder)

For the pickled mustard seeds

1/2 cup yellow mustard seeds
100ml rice wine vinegar
75ml mirin
75ml water
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
Micro perilla leaves for garnishing
Flaky sea salt for seasoning
Freshly ground white peppercorns for seasoning

First, pickle the yellow mustard seeds by combining them with the rice wine vinegar, mirin water, sugar and salt in a small pot. Set over low heat to bring to a simmer and cook for about 45 minutes, adding a splash of water every so often to keep the mixture from drying out as the liquid evaporates. Transfer the pickled mustard seeds to a small bowl and set aside to cool completely.

While the seeds are cooling, wrap the beef tightly in clingfilm and place in the freezer for 30 minutes (this will help you cut it easily). Fill a large bowl with ice, then nestle a smaller bowl inside – this is to keep your cut beef cold. Using a sharp knife, dice the chilled

beef into 1/4 inch pieces and place in the prepared bowl. Add the remaining tartare ingredients, plus the cooled pickled mustard seeds, mix well and adjust seasoning as necessary.

Place the finished tartare in a serving bowl, garnish with the perilla leaves, flaky sea salt and a crack of white peppercorns, then serve immediately.

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