Chef Sơn Is The Culinary Choreographer At DẠ夜 Dining

At Dạ夜 Dining, where performers command the stage, Chef Sơn has created a menu that shares the spotlight. His modern take on Sichuan cuisine in Ho Chi Minh City doesn’t just complement the theatrical elements – it competes with them.

And there’s a lasting impression that remains after the performances end and the applause fades. This is what makes Dạ夜 different: a restaurant where what’s on your plate is as captivating as what’s on stage.

“Beautiful. Bold. Fun. Delicious,” Chef Sơn decides. We’ve asked him to describe Dạ夜 Dining. And his response is as concise as his plating is precise. It’s this economy of expression that defines both the chef and his menu – a refreshing counterbalance to the theatrical exuberance that permeates the rest of this CENTEC Tower space.

Dạ夜 Dining: Transplanted From Sixties Hong Kong To The Pulsing Heart Of Modern-Day Saigon

The blue light washes over you like a dream. The narrow corridor leading to Dạ夜 Dining feels like stepping into a scene from Wong Kar-wai’s ‘In The Mood For Love’ – only transplanted from sixties Hong Kong to the pulsing heart of modern-day Saigon. It’s all a first act. Part of a carefully orchestrated sensory performance. A prelude to the revelations that await beyond.

The journey through Dạ夜 unfolds like a well-crafted movie sequence: the blue-drenched corridor gives way to a dream-like space that suddenly opens before you – hanging lanterns casting their moody glow over elegantly set tables.

Then come the performers. Their silhouettes appear first through curtains, creating anticipation for what’s to come. The final revelation arrives as dishes spread across the table – a visual feast that rivals the choreographed spectacle about to reveal itself on the intimate stage.

Striking A Balance Between Flavors And Performers

Most dining establishments with entertainment fall firmly into one of two categories: performance venues that reluctantly serve food, or restaurants that awkwardly host performances. The hierarchy is usually evident – one element clearly subordinate to the other, an innate imbalance tipped decidedly toward either spectacle or sustenance. Dạ夜 Dining, however, daringly treads the tightrope between the two, refusing to sacrifice one for the other.

Here, performances range from contemporary dance pieces – bodies moving in fluid synchronicity against minimalist backdrops or Saigon’s skyline presented in widescreen windows – to traditional mask-changing that’s pure theatrical magic. The latter, inspired by Sichuan Opera’s centuries-old art form, features performers flashing between vivid masks faster than you can blink, revealing new characters with nothing but a fan flip or head twist. The ancient technique meets contemporary staging in a performance that feels – like lots of things up here – both timeless and thoroughly modern.

An Instinctual Approach To Cuisine 

But the Sichuan influences run deeper than just the entertainment. The southwestern Chinese region’s cuisine is celebrated for its bold flavor profiles – particularly the distinctive ‘ma-la’ combination that pairs the numbing sensation of Sichuan peppercorns with the fiery assault of chili heat. While justifiably famous for its spiciness, authentic Sichuan cooking balances these sensations with complex layers of sweet, sour, salty, and bitter notes across diverse cooking techniques.

Chef Sơn’s approach to this cuisine is instinctual, rooted in a profound reverence for his ingredients and a single transformative culinary pilgrimage. “I’ve been to Chengdu once,” he reveals with characteristic understatement, “and the food there was amazing.” This brief visit clearly left an indelible mark, influencing his culinary direction ever since.

In a city flush with Chinese restaurants claiming various degrees of authenticity – from hole-in-the-wall establishments serving regional specialties to high-end banquet halls offering Cantonese classics – Dạ夜 doesn’t enter this particular conversation.

Modern, Maven-Like Culinary Magic 

This is something different: modern, maven-like culinary magic that applies the principles of good taste to create a fresh, contemporary rendition of Chinese cuisine that acknowledges tradition without being imprisoned by it.

“When it comes to authenticity,” the chef, who’s been honing his craft since 2015, explains, “I focus on honoring the spirit of the cuisine, but I also bring my own interpretation to the dishes, especially in the context of a modern restaurant setting.”
He pauses, considering his words carefully before adding: “To me, authenticity is about staying true to the core techniques and flavors, but the end result should still resonate with today’s diners.” It’s a philosophy that permeates every aspect of Dạ夜’s culinary program – respecting tradition while embracing innovation.

Watching the performers command the stage – bodies in motion, faces transforming behind masks – we wonder if there’s any competitiveness in the kitchen, any desire to outshine or even just keep up with the theatrical elements that make Dạ夜 so distinctive.

Chef Sơn Isn’t Alone On His Side Of The Stage

If there is any sense of friendly rivalry between the culinary and performance teams, Chef Sơn isn’t alone on his side of the stage. There’s sous chef Michael Luong. And behind the decadent bar – positioned like an orchestra pit in front of the stage – is Dat Nguyen, your favorite bartender’s favorite bartender. When he’s not slipped upstairs to HỢP合 to check on his iconoclastic tap cocktail program, Dat is content with crafting impeccable classics at Dạ夜 – ice-cold Dry Martinis and seductive Sazeracs, with the occasional dalliance with the venue’s theme.

His Asian-Fashioned blends whisky with white chocolate, dried longan syrup, and black tea aromatic bitters – a subtle nod to the East-meets-West ethos without sacrificing his spirit-forward inclinations. This balance mirrors Chef Sơn’s own approach to fusion – selective and purposeful rather than fusion for fusion’s sake.

And usually buzzing around the venue is Brand & Marketing Director of DẠ夜 Dining and HỢP合 Rooftop, Vicky Lam and Operations Manager Hieu, whose already storied career has taken him from Ănăn Saigon to 67 Pall Mall in Singapore, and back again to DẠ夜 (with many places in between).

Then The Dishes Arrive And Traditional Technique Supports Experimental Flavor Combinations

Then wok-seared duck breast arrives alongside Sichuan steamed fish – dishes in which traditional techniques support experimental flavor combinations. The abalone with foie gras exemplifies this approach, defying easy categorization without sacrificing the identity of either primary ingredient. The presentation is artistic without being pretentious, visually striking without sacrificing substance for style.

Chef Sơn dispels any notion that there’s any competition between plate and performance. “Both elements – the performance and the cuisine – should support one another without competing,” he explains, his hands gesturing to emphasize the point. “The visual elements in the dishes should feel natural and seamless, much like the performances in the space, creating a memorable experience that goes beyond just the food.”
Sometimes, the dishes and dance seem to fall perfectly in sync, creating moments of serendipitous harmony. Chef Sơn points to his crab noodle dish as a perfect example – “funky, mysterious, but classic” – possessing all the essential qualities that make the mask-change dance so hypnotic.

The Peking Duck Possesses That Lead-Character Energy

Despite the perfect partnership between culinary and performance elements, Dạ’s version of Peking duck undeniably possesses what could only be described as leading actor energy. This signature dish commands attention whenever it appears tableside, often causing diners to momentarily forget the performances happening around them.

The duck also reveals Chef Sơn’s preoccupations as a culinary artist – he sees cooking as a journey of self-improvement, constantly striving to refine his techniques and approaches. “I stay true to what I believe a roast duck should be,” he continues, “succulent, flavorful, and well-crafted.”

This dish is particularly time-consuming, requiring days of preparation from the initial aging process through to the final roasting. “But great things take time,” he contends, without a hint of apology for the labor-intensive process. “And by combining classic techniques with modern knowledge, I feel I’ve elevated the experience with our aged Peking duck. For me, we’ve found a whole new level of deliciousness.”

The duck arrives ceremoniously – crisp, lacquered skin glistening under the moody lighting, the meat beneath tender and succulent. It’s accompanied by the traditional accoutrements, but each has been given careful consideration and often subtle upgrades – house-made hoisin sauce with complex depth, pancakes with perfect elasticity, and garnishes cut with surgical precision. The presentation marries tradition with theatrical flair, much like the venue itself.

In the final act of dinner at Dạ夜, as performers take their last bow and the house lights begin their slow, cinematic fade, it becomes clear what Chef Sơn has accomplished. While most chefs in theatrical venues resign themselves to being the understudy, he’s crafted a culinary performance that’s confident enough to share the spotlight, without trying to outdo anyone.

Restaurant concepts can burn brightly but briefly here. But Chef Sơn has set his target on creating something more timeless: that when the spectacle ends and the curtain falls, it’s what remains on your plate – and lingers on your palate – that will bring you back for an encore. And if that encore happens to be his duck? As any good performer could advise, sometimes your signature move is the one spent the longest perfecting.

After all, in the ephemeral world of dining, Chef Sơn has created something that defies the usual narrative. Dạ夜 has got the culinary chops to back up its theatrical ambitions. And in a gentle plot twist that would make Wong Kar-wai proud, it turns out the real stars of this show aren’t wearing masks at all – one of them, at least, is wearing a chef’s jacket.