第二の風 · Daini no Kaze · My Second Wind
My second wind is a rebirth — a first life spent in code, a second devoted to creating artistry, intimacy and unforgettable moments.
Read my story →Work
May 2026 – Present
One Bryant Park, New York City · Opening Team, Sushi Chef
Years after leaving Kosaka, Yoshihiko Kousaka-san called me to join his most ambitious project yet — a large restaurant bringing together top-tier chefs from various Japanese fine-dining backgrounds to execute multiple concepts, one of which includes a premium sushi omakase experience. For me, it was a full-circle moment: returning to New York, returning to Kousaka-san, not as a newbie apprentice, but this time as a real sushi chef.
The space. One Bryant Park.
Nov 2023 – May 2026
Washington, D.C. · Opening Team, Sushi Chef
Hired onto the opening team to help execute a unique vision: an omakase where personality and precision coexisted. The team we built was extraordinary, and the result spoke for itself — a Michelin Star in the first year of opening, and held for three consecutive years. The strongest culinary team I've ever been part of, and I'm proud to have been a founding member.
★ Michelin Star — 4 consecutive years
The standard we held, every night.
Feb 2023 – Nov 2023
Washington, D.C. · Sushi Chef / Kitchen Prep
Perry's was where I planted roots in DC — splitting time between both the sushi counter and kitchen prep team, I learned every corner of the restaurant kitchen simultaneously. Chef Masako Morishita ran the kitchen with such purpose and it was an honor to help her execute her vision in both the restaurant and the collaboration events she hosted. When she won the James Beard Award, I felt that win too. Chef Masako is the best mentor I've had, and still today, one of my closest friends.
James Beard Award–winning kitchen
With Chef Morishita, on and off the clock.
Nov 2021 – Jan 2023
Washington, D.C. · Founder
During the pandemic, restaurants were struggling and the private chef business was booming. I rode that wave — converting my studio apartment into an intimate omakase dining room. Running it solo meant owning every part of the experience: sourcing from distributors, booking clients, managing budgets, handling my own marketing. It was a crash course in running a restaurant, without the restaurant.
One of the big ones.
Feb 2018 – Jun 2019
New York City · Under Chef Yoshi Kousaka
My first professional kitchen — and my leap of faith out of software engineering. I arrived thinking I knew a thing or two about sushi. Kosaka quickly taught me otherwise. This was where I learned what professional standards actually feel like: the discipline, the patience, and the relentless attention to detail. The real education started here.
With Kousaka-san. Michelin ceremony, 2022.
Story
Growing up as a Taiwanese-American, sushi was always a source of happiness for me. My parents often took me to our local sushi restaurant whenever we had something to celebrate as a family, and those meals became some of my fondest childhood memories. We would order an unreasonable number of specialty rolls for the table, and I looked forward to those occasions so much that I would joke with my parents that one day I wanted to make bomb-ass sushi for a living.
Fast forward a few years: after studying computer science and graduating from Carnegie Mellon University in 2013, I spent the next seven years working as a software engineer at startups and large companies throughout Silicon Valley. It was a rewarding career, and I learned an incredible amount about problem solving, systems thinking, and building things from the ground up. Yet no matter how much I enjoyed technology, my fascination with sushi never really went away.
During those years, sushi remained a serious hobby. I spent countless hours recreating dishes from my favorite restaurants and experimenting in my own kitchen. But over time, I realized I was engaging with only the surface of the craft. I could make sushi rolls, but I knew very little about the history, traditions, and philosophy behind it. I didn't just want to learn how to make better sushi — I wanted to understand the mindset, discipline, and values that had been passed down through generations of sushi chefs.
In 2018, one of the companies I worked at was acquired, giving me the opportunity to take a sabbatical. Most people might use that time to travel the world or search for themselves. I decided to get a job at a restaurant. That's what brought me to New York — at the time, I felt the city's omakase scene was the most vibrant in the United States, the Silicon Valley of sushi. I went from restaurant to restaurant, knocking on doors and asking if anyone would be willing to take on an apprentice. Eventually, I found an opportunity under Chef Yoshi Kosaka at Sushi Kosaka, and I accepted without hesitation. I made sure to tell my parents AFTER accepting the job.
It was there that I learned what it truly meant to cook professionally. The work was demanding. I was often the first person in the restaurant, receiving fish deliveries in the morning, and one of the last to leave after closing at night. The hours were long, the standards were high, and there was nowhere to hide. Every detail mattered. It was one of the most challenging experiences of my life, but also one of the most important.
Then COVID changed everything. As the restaurant industry faced unprecedented uncertainty, I returned home to Maryland and went back to software engineering. At the time, it felt like the safer path.
But after a while, I found myself missing the kitchen. I missed the intensity of service, the constant pursuit of improvement, and the satisfaction of creating something tangible with my own hands. While many restaurants struggled during the pandemic, private dining and personal chef services experienced a surge in demand. I decided to take advantage of that opportunity and return to cooking.
What started as a temporary experiment quickly became a turning point. The more I cooked, the more certain I became that this was the path I wanted to pursue. For the first time, I stopped treating cooking as something I might do someday and decided to fully commit to being a chef.
It has been one of the best decisions I've ever made. There is something deeply rewarding about creating memorable experiences through food. Seeing guests return, celebrating milestones with friends and family, and knowing that something you've made has become part of those memories is a feeling that's difficult to describe.
Today, I feel more fulfilled and energized by my work than ever before. Hospitality is fundamentally human, and every service is an opportunity to connect with people in a meaningful way. As a former software engineer, I'm not ashamed to admit that part of me is relieved knowing AI probably isn't taking my job anytime soon.
The Table
Vision
The dining experiences I want to create are guided by the idea that guests should leave not only having enjoyed a meal, but having gained context, stories, and connections they can carry with them beyond the table. Each course becomes an opportunity to introduce meaning or start conversation — through ingredient origin, cultural context, or the story behind a traditional technique.
Food is also part of a much larger cultural ecosystem. Especially in Asian culture, the same philosophies that guide cuisine can be found across other crafts — from ceramics, tea ceremony, calligraphy, ikebana, tenugui, and other traditional crafts and forms of expression. My goal is to bring these disciplines into conversation, so food is not isolated, but part of a broader world of human expression.
Ultimately, I aim to create experiences that feel intentional and cohesive from start to finish. A meal should not exist as a sequence of disconnected dishes, but as a connected narrative shaped by ingredients, conversation, and collaboration with artists and makers. When done well, it becomes something guests can reflect on long after they leave — not just a meal, but a lasting connection to culture, people, and places.
One day, I hope to return to my nesting ground like a swallow after a long journey. In East Asian folklore, swallows symbolize return and good fortune — traveling far to learn, but always coming back home, carrying something earned from the journey.
That idea sits at the center of Daini no Kaze — my "second wind." It represents not only my second life as a chef, but the next phase of my work: bringing everything I've learned across kitchens and experiences into a more intentional expression of hospitality.
Over time, I aim to continue refining this approach — creating intimate dining experiences that deepen in meaning and connection as they evolve.
Contact
Whether it's a collaboration or just a conversation,
I'd love to hear from you.
