I always thought I was the type of person to work for myself. However, after two weeks of working with Executive Chef Tung Phan, I’d want him to be in charge, too.

After a hurricane swept through my small-ish town of Asheville, I wanted to make the most of my downtime. Plus, I get antsy just sitting around. By chance, I saw Camille’s take on a deconstructed Báhn Mì. So I contacted Chef Tung to see if I could spend a week or two at his restaurant, Camille. Known for its Vietnamese-French tasting menu, which earned it a Michelin star shortly after opening. This was food I wanted to cook.

From the beginning, I had a natural inclination to want to root for this relentlessly positive chef. They have sauces that I would bathe in. The compositions are clean. The proteins are dialed in. And their execution is tighter every day they are open. But what struck me most was that the culinary team did everything. I mean everything. They are the porters, the dishwashers, the food runners, the servers, the janitors, the prep team, and the cooks. A table needs to be turned? That’s a cook that just made and served your last course.

We all like to talk to the chef, and Camille gives you that chance at every course. It’s normal for diners to be removed from the kitchen. Here, they get temporarily bonded to the cook. Which gives diners a great experience. But it also means they have a very tight feedback loop to the kitchen. It’s hard to fake a reaction when a plate is first set down, and it’s even harder to fake the first bite.

All this can help them make guesses about what should be changed for their next course to better tailor an experience. This can be especially important for diners who may be having their first taste of Vietnamese cuisine. They can’t finish something? Maybe the next course is a bit smaller. Too spicy? Maybe tame the next course. They like extra sauce? The next course has more.

When the cooks are the ones seeing it, it has a direct and immediate effect. It gives them a wash of dopamine for a job well done. The saying “send my compliments to the chef” rarely gets sent to the chef. Even when it does, it’s not with the same delight. Also, it’s sans hand waving or gesturing to perfect details. But here, that initial praise and reaction is radiated directly at the person who made that dish. I can attest to the effect firsthand.

One night, Chef Tung gave me the opportunity to bring out a 14-day aged duck and persimmon display to a private dining room experience. Allowing the guests to preview the next course before it was carved. As soon as I walked in and tilted the display in their direction, their eyes went wide. I was greeted with a wave of “oohhhhss” we all hope our work gets. That’s a pretty rare experience for a chef to be the recipient of that type of response. Then, a quick bit of friendly banter before heading back to the kitchen. It was a nice momentary break from the line and a reminder to these cooks why they push for better.

But it doesn’t end there. I can’t think of another place I’ve been where the cooks not only know the names and seating positions of the diners but also know what they’re celebrating or why. This goes as far as some of the small details, like their last visit or where they’re flying in from. It’s not uncommon to hear these things in a pre-service meeting, but rarely do the cooks need to scribble notes and commit to memory before switching back to final prep before doors open.

In a way, what makes these places so special is their inability to be sustainable. It’s based on a primarily young workforce who can’t keep at it forever. These are people giving their lives dedicated to a single mission of giving you the best meal they know how. No brakes, all gas. I say this as a cook who has been run ragged at places. Is it the only way to be? Most definitely not, but you can’t argue it’s not special. It has an intoxicating energy you want to be part of.

This does come at a cost, though. It puts this small culinary team under immense pressure. Everything in the restaurant is done by this young culinary team (outside of the sommelier’s recommendations and answering the phone). Usually, after the last plates are walking for dessert, the savory team has already broken down the kitchen and is likely clocked out. Pastry is breaking down while prepping the last course to go out, and when it walks, they leave the kitchen shortly thereafter. This means cooks can head out while diners are still finishing. This leaves other service staff to wrap up a diner’s experience. Typically, dishwashers, sommeliers, and servers start later in the day to account for this, but here, the cooks are the servers and the dishwashers. This means 12+ hr days four days a week plus a shorter prep day to keep it all going.

Music is part of the momentum that keeps everyone moving. The backdrop of your work consists of the best playlist I’ve heard in a kitchen. This is especially true even during service. Chef Tung’s background as a B-boy seeps into the music. Pushing through service while listening to C.R.E.A.M. by Wu-Tang with diners in a polished, French-style service with Vietnamese food is something very different.

Is it worth it as a cook? Undoubtedly, it will make you a better, more informed cook. However, there is a cost there too. You have to spend a significant amount of time and energy on tasks unrelated to cooking. If you want to open and operate your own restaurant, this might give you the best possible training there is. There is a case to be made that Chef Tung isn’t training cooks as much as he is building future restauranteurs. I’d love to look ahead and see what some of the pupils of Camille are up to.

With these types of workdays, what keeps this small crew plucking away the long hours in a tiny hot kitchen? Chef Tung. It’s hard not to be swayed by him. His friendly, upbeat spirit, constant thanking of his staff, complimenting their work, and his unwavering belief that you can do better.

I was able to catch him on numerous occasions smiling at the team’s work, the dishes as he’s looking over them, and at the diners enjoying the evening. It’s common for him to shoot a happy smirk and a nod from across the kitchen. He’s quick to laugh, easy to talk to, and open to feedback. Outside of his skill as a chef, I think it’s his personality that’s going to allow him to chase that next Michelin star. It’s possibly a family trait, considering Camille’s GM, Trinh Phan, is the Chef’s sister and shares much of the same sensibilities.

It’s not just his easy nature that keeps the plates spinning. He’s not a lead-from-the-back type of chef. If you don’t see him in front, it’s because he’s on the line or crushing through prep. He pushes his staff, but there is nothing he’s not willing to match himself, and he does it with enthusiasm. And yes, all this does affect the team. It was super friendly with a young team that’s open to newcomers. Quick to thank each other and congratulate on small wins. It’s a team that reinforces building one another up, giving confidence and assurance.

Signs around the kitchen: “Every Second Counts,” “All In All The Time,” and “ Better Everyday ” are virtues to this team. A mistake is questioned with “Was it better than yesterday?” Yes. Then we are still ahead in the game.

Camille is building a team by growing it themselves, cook by cook. They’re picking up young, hungry cooks who are willing to start washing dishes; then, they can progress to line cooks. There’s a reason the dishwasher is the only one to get a real dinner. It’s a hard, sloppy, thankless job that keeps the restaurant moving. Here, the commis serve that function. They also polish the silverware and wine glasses, turn over tables for new guests, and help prep so they get to learn how things should be done when it’s their time. He wants them to care about all the details, not just protein temps.

With a mostly green team, they are quick to take on his view of how fine dining works. Typically, after making a component, you would bring it to your sous, exec sous, or whoever is above you. This is where this kitchen differs again. Yes, everyone brings things to Chef Tung for the final nod, but first, the cooks share with each other and ask for feedback. The edge these young cooks have is going to be immense. Dozens of times a day, you might be asked to try something from a peer and weigh in on its salinity, fat, acidity, and texture. This levels up the palates of everyone in the kitchen, not just the few in charge.

If you’ve spent any time in a competitive field, this might sound like the groundwork for constant criticism and one-upmanship. At Camille, these cooks use it as a means to lift each other up. They seem to always lead with what’s great about it first. It’s oddly anti-competitive. It’s the best version of kitchen teamwork I’ve seen. Everyone wants the dish to be better. When talking about dishes, everyone is throwing in ideas to make it better. Oh, and this doesn’t stop with the team. Working shoulder to shoulder with Chef Tung, he frequently handed me a spoon, asking me to taste his work, genuinely looking for improvements. What do you say when Michael Jordan asks you to critique his jump shot?

The hours might be bananas at times, but this vortex of collaboration inevitably sucks you in. While on the line during a busy night, the Chef de Partie and I were kicking around ideas and dishes. It is a very addictive cooks environment. Who doesn’t want to riff with other skilled folks? That alone is my idea of a good time.

As if that wasn’t enough to cement this tiny team together, they do frequent tastings together. They have one short prep day that they take advantage of. Derrick Goodman (Camille’s Beverage Director) insists on taking this team out to other places and getting them to try others’ food and see other experiences. Not that these culinarians need the encouragement. Depending on the night, the whole senior team might go, or maybe just one or two. They paid for me to eat at a nice place, gave me wine, and wanted to talk about it… yeah, no problem.

You ever had an area known and loved Michelin chef call ahead for you? Me neither until this night. We sat in the corner, ordered literally everything on the menu, laughed, and drank specialty wines that Derrick brought for us to try. The cooks from the restaurant we visited (Coro) came over to chat and plied us with all sorts of specialties and heavy doses of caviar on their banana dessert. Eventually, we left the restaurant as the other team as they were closing down. To top off the night, we got a chance to meet and thank the chef/owner of Coro, Tim Lovero, for hosting us. For this cook, it felt like a moment pulled from a movie.

Team: Chef Tung Phan, Chef de Partie Adam, Chef Mike, Chef Lucas, Commis Ryan, Commis Jean Marco, Commis Sebastian, Derrick Goodman Beverage Director, Trinh Phan GM

As much as Camille is a vision of Chef Tung’s view of Vietnamese food, it has a French backbone. You can see it during prep, throughout service, and on the menu. It’s all filtered through his training, experience, and, frankly, the French colonization of Vietnam as well. The kitchen says “Oui” not “Heard” or “Yes, Chef.” I caught myself saying “heard” way too many times (sorry again, Chef). Lots of classic French sauces with swapped-out aromatics and veg. Prep consists of different sauces, all reducing on a French top range. The chefs wear the classic French whites with long waist aprons. This is paired with that more refined experience you expect.

Layout: single half-size combi, one French top range, a salamander, and a small four burner range. It’s tight, it's tiny, and it’s constantly pumping out heat. It’s a sweating kitchen. Standing there with the French top and the salamander billowing out heat. I was sweat-slicked within the first 20 minutes. But there’s something oddly comforting about that, even though I loath hot weather.

The center of the restaurant is designed around an experience that Chef Tung wanted the diners to have. A beautiful chef’s counter that arcs around a workspace for the chefs, and three booths as well if you’re looking for a more private experience. Initially, these were kept separate. The chef’s counter used to be the more expensive of the two dining options. However, in an effort to make sure that everyone got a taste of that experience, which also keeps the restaurant looking full, the savory courses are now done at the counter. Guests are then moved to the private booths for the final sweet courses.

Some of these decisions are intended, and others are due to a new venture being scrappy enough to make it work. Chef Tung is pushing to put Vietnamese cuisine on the global stage in this 24-seat treasure. Camille quickly became an Orlando gem, then grabbed its first Michelin Star. It’s pushing to be the world’s first 2 star Michelin Vietnamese restaurant. Asian cuisine with French flair seems to make the most natural sense, but it just happens to be his culture and upbringing.

> Pros:> Maintain better cost for all seats, not just the chef’s counter, keep the restaurant full at all times, utilize all seating space, and give all guests the small chef’s counter experience.

> Cons:> The chefs need to clean and reset twice for every guest, and the guests need to move halfway through their meal to a different table.

I don’t know where this journey goes for Chef Tung and the Camille team. Some of the glimpses I could get, like seeing Chef Tung’s delight in sharing a letter from Thomas Keller congratulating him. Which, as a chef, has to be an absolutely surreal moment. A champagne saber that was gifted from Laguiole was etched with Camille’s name and logo. With each small win, it all makes it hard not to root for them.