Seoul · Korea → Canada
Warmth, family, and Korean comfort food shaped by memory.

At NUI in Mount Pleasant, warmth is built into everything — the food, the space, the service, even the name itself. “Nui” means older sister in Korean, but in a softer, more caring way — someone who looks after you like family. When chef Jay moved to Canada as a child, it was his older sister who helped their family navigate a new country and language. That feeling of care eventually became the foundation of the restaurant itself.

NUI was built almost entirely by family. The interiors were designed by Jay’s wife and sister-in-law, while the tables and much of the space were handcrafted by his brother-in-law, who works in industrial design and cabinetry. The restaurant feels refined and thoughtful, but never intimidating — warm in a way that feels deeply personal.

Their signature dish is gomtang: a clear Korean pork soup served with rice. Jay describes it as the “shio ramen” of gukbap (soup and rice) — lighter, cleaner, and more refined than the heavier versions he grew up eating. Comfort food that feels quiet and grounding.

What stayed with me most was hearing how much of Jay’s understanding of Korean food came not from Korea itself, but from family — from his mother and grandmother, both incredible home cooks. Like many immigrant stories, culture gets carried through food, memory, and everyday rituals.

Opening the restaurant has been all-consuming for their family. They spoke honestly about the strain it can put on relationships and time together, but also about the joy of seeing people connect with the food and slowly becoming part of the community around them.

Photographing NUI felt like photographing a family building something together with care, instinct, and long hours behind the scenes. A space shaped as much by relationships as by food.

Mumbai, India → France → Canada
French pastry shaped by memory, longing, and the flavours of home.

At Elaichi Patisserie, Vinaya folds Indian flavours into French pastry — cardamom, saffron, chai, pistachio. Familiar flavours carried into something new.

“Elaichi” means cardamom in Hindi — a spice she describes as the vanilla of Indian cooking. Tiny, but essential. Present in desserts, curries, chai, and everyday home cooking across India. When she began building the bakery, the name felt natural: a way of connecting the pastries she trained to make in France with the flavours she grew up with in Mumbai.

Before pastry, Vinaya worked in engineering and corporate management in Mumbai. But after years of long commutes and office work, she realized the kitchen was the only place she genuinely felt happy. She began taking pastry classes on weekends before eventually leaving her job entirely and moving to France to study pastry during the pandemic.

Later, she arrived in Canada on PR and eventually found her way to Vancouver, taking whatever opportunities she could find during COVID while trying to break into the pastry industry as a newcomer.

A lot of the bakery’s flavours were born during pregnancy. Stuck at home during COVID, far from India and unable to travel easily, she found herself craving the foods she missed growing up — especially street foods and savoury bakery snacks. So she started recreating them through pastry: masala brioche, samosa croissants, chai-spiced pastries, pistachio saffron cakes.

What stayed with me most was hearing how instinctively food carried her back home. The flavours weren’t created from a business plan first — they came from craving, nostalgia, memory, and the desire to hold onto something familiar while building a life somewhere completely new.

She spoke honestly about how exhausting it has been to build the business while raising a young daughter — early mornings, long market days, balancing childcare and production, figuring things out as immigrants without family nearby most of the year. But this year has also become a turning point: Elaichi has grown enough to hire help and become self-sustaining while she prepares for another baby.

There was something very moving about hearing her talk about that growth — not just as a business milestone, but as relief. The possibility of finally being able to pause for a moment and care for herself and her family while the business continues standing on its own.

Photographing Vinaya fel like witnessing someone slowly build a new version of home through food, memory, and persistence.