Kin is not easy to find. I drove past it three times before I finally picked it out. The sign--already small because of the shortness of the restaurant's name--is hard to see. The chef-owner is name: Nhat (call him Nate) Nguyen. Also in the kitchen are Matt Engle, Matt Fraser, Nate Kruse and Jason Vu. The menu shows fine economy of names, needing only three first names for five people. The same compactness shows itself in every aspect of the place. When space is this tight, you loosen up wherever you can.
Chef Nate (Nhat) is full of enthusiasm, and talks about how he might expand in the future. His staff seems to be having a great time working there. Why would they not? The customers and employees are mostly on the young side. One of the waitresses is particularly engaging, with a short stature and a voice like that of a singing bird. You can practically see a trail of happiness follow her as she carries this delicious food to the diners.
Hieu Than made the rounds of the American and New Orleans food scenes, in both his formal and practical culinary career. The same can be said of most of the people he works with. They all seem to be on the cutting edge as far as technique goes.
Kin's building is tiny as restaurants go. Only twenty-something seats, half of them at counters. We were seated at the main counter, from which we could see the great outdoors every time one of the kitchen staff opened the back door. It was about ten percent of the way of being outside.
The seating is so tight that a reservation is essential. Trying to pull together four people is difficult. This is a place for dining a deux.
| Attitude | 2 |
|---|---|
| Environment | 0 |
| Hipness | 3 |
| Local Color | 0 |
| Service | 2 |
| Value | 0 |
| Wine | 0 |
