Like a rags to riches tale, San Francisco’s Saison restaurant began as modestly as it gets. In 2009, it began as a pop-up after hours in a Mission District cafe before its ensuing runaway success led to its relocation to a custom build-out brick building in SoMa, where it has held court with two coveted Michelin stars since 2019.

Its executive chef, Richard Lee, had even more humble beginnings in San Francisco. The youngest child of Chinese immigrant parents — a seamstress mother and security guard father — he grew up in a household where going to McDonald’s was a considered a treat, one that the family could rarely afford.

Since coming to Saison in 2019 as chef de cuisine, he and the restaurant have proved a synergistic fit. In 2023, Lee, who previously worked for six years at Michelin three-starred Eleven Madison Park in New York City, was elevated to executive chef of this ground-breaking restaurant credited with popularizing and evolving live-fire hearth cooking. Weeks ago, he was made a co-owner, too, a sign of just how much confidence and trust the rest of the ownership team has in him.

Dine at Saison, and it’s easy to understand why.

On a recent Friday night when I dined, every table in the lounge and dining room was filled. A few tables were celebrating birthdays, too.

The tasting menu is $368 per person, and can be enjoyed in the dining room or the bar/lounge. The wine pairing is an additional $198 for the nightly one; $298 for the reserve one. Tuesday through Thursday, a shorter $238 tasting menu is also available in the lounge.

The place you really want to be, though, is the dining room because it fronts the completely open kitchen, with its brigade of chefs and cooks hovering intently over pans and composing intricate dishes. With a chorus of “Yes, Chef!” uttered in unison every few minutes, it’s like a live theater production — only with much more tantalizing aromas.

Lean back against the pillows on the banquets, situated near a tank with live Dungeness crab and even an eel, to take it all in. It’s a worthy show — one juxtaposed with tunes from Journey, Foreigner, and Quiet Riot playing in the background.

Menus arrive only after the meal ends. So, everything is a surprise when it’s set in front of you.

A warm broth is often poured to welcome guests at many restaurants. But on this particularly unseasonably scorching San Francisco night, it was thankfully a chilled tea instead. A blend of steeped ginger and eucalyptus, it had a nice prickle on the throat, a camphor-like vigor, and a touch of sweetness from fermented honey.

The tasting menu is about 10 courses, though, Lee added a couple extra on the house. It begins with a series of beautiful canapes brought out all at once to transform the tabletop into a playland. There are airy meringue shells that boast an irresistible sweet-salty combination, thanks to the contrast of smoked sturgeon, kohlrabi and golden osetra caviar. It’s a big taste in a tiny package.

There are delicate seaweed tart shells filled with meaty bluefin tuna with a floral burst of heat from Half Moon Bay Wasabi that’s been fermented. It’s like premium sushi meets fine pastry. Sweet barbecue Vidalia onion goes fanciful in a cookie sandwich shaped just like an onion with roots and shoots. Think charred onion dip with soy-accented dried pork belly for good measure. Lastly, there are the tiniest stroopwafel cones filled with what looks like soft serve but is actually a swirl of creamy duck liver with a touch of quince.

Smoked caviar follows, its black quenelle in stark contrast to the ivory beech mushrooms alongside. There’s a warm salsify custard underneath it all, its velvety texture adding to the luxuriousness of the buttery, smoky tasting pearls of caviar.

Next comes Dungeness crab three ways: First, a light, crisp salad with claw meat, and hearts of palm in a blood orange vinaigrette. Second, meat from the body accented with spring garlic and perilla with in a tart-like cup with a foamy top. And third, a broth made with the shells, and flavored with black cardamom that gets poured into a cup that’s been spritzed with Pernod to give it a subtle star anise-like warmth. It reminded me a little of pho broth, well, if the pho were made with crab instead of beef. I’m just saying a handful of noodles would be wonderfully right at home in it.

A whole Mt. Lassen trout was presented that had been aged 8 to 10 days to concentrate its flavor and firm its flesh. After it was whisked away, the plated version arrived, and what a sight it proved. Its flesh was grilled, rendering it smoky tasting, and with a supple texture almost as if it were raw yet it was fully cooked. The skin had been cooked separately, its fat rendered as it grilled over the embers, leaving it with the crackling crunch of the best Peking duck skin. What a marvel. Flesh and skin were separated by a layer of diced chrysanthemum greens and orange trout roe.

Before the next course came out, we were handed bibs, albeit in the form of nice linen napkins affixed with chains to go over our heads — that left me wondering what in the world could be coming out. Turned out a couple of fresh spot prawns had been fished out of the tank, then grilled over the embers, before getting brushed with house-made fermented chili sauce. Yes, it was messy. But so worth it. The spot prawn was as dreamy sweet and succulent as lobster. Not aggressively spicy, the chili sauce instead added a fermented umami note.

Chef Lee came by the table to present the next course of abalone, explaining that it’s one of his favorite foods from childhood. You can sense the reverence he has for it as he tenderizes it with a mallet, then grills it, before garnishing it with wood ear mushrooms and a drizzle of sauce made from the abalone’s liver. If you closed your eyes while chewing, you’d almost think you were eating a shiitake mushroom — slippery, tender yet firm, and with a juiciness to it. The wood ear echoed that slick texture but added crunchiness beside equally crisp ice plants. The kitchen is masterful with sauces; none are overly rich or heavy yet carry great depth often with an Asian soy note.

Iwa 5 premium sake was paired with this course and served in a most dramatic way — in a large glass dispenser with a core of ice that keeps the sake chilled without diluting it. Apparently Saison co-founder and beverage director Mark Bright came across these dispensers in Japan and had to have them. It’s definitely a conversation starter. (See video.)

Before the final savory courses arrived, an intermezzo of pickled cabbage, apple, and ginger was served to wake things up with a clean crunch of bracing acidity.

With the palate reset, it was time for Guinea hen, so juicy and smoky, plated with celery root, and garnished with shaved black truffles before being finished with a broth made from the hen’s bones.

It was delicious, but of course, being the carb fanatic that I am, I couldn’t help but zero in on the dazzling black truffle brioche served with it. Imagine a buttery, shatteringly crisp croissant — but filled with a deep, earthy, truffle paste. If they ever open a bakery to sell these, I would get in line for them in a heartbeat.

An antelope loin from the rib cage was presented at the table, its bones neatly frenched, and its meat aged for 18 days to leave it a deep red. In the finished dish, some of the cap had been turned into pastrami to top grits so creamy that it almost seemed whipped. The slab of loin was rosy, beef-like yet less robust, with a milder, almost sweeter taste. There was also a morsel of the tender heart, slightly denser like steak, but still with a naturally sweet flavor.

From there, it was on to dessert, starting with a rose-shaped rice mousse with yuzu curd, grapefruit, and a yuzu-makrut lime consomme. It was shades of a Southeast Asian creamsicle.

A Marcona almond ice cream followed with an etched white chocolate cap and tonka bean cream. It was delicate and refined, with the clean taste of sweet almonds throughout.

Mignardises included: golden financiers garnished with a cross-section of pecan (imagine cutting those); Champagne-elderflower macarons; tart blood orange-Earl Grey pate de fruit; and 70 percent chocolates flavored with espresso and filled with sticky vanilla caramel.

As a parting gift, you receive the menus, in wax-sealed envelopes, along with small jars of barbecued sel gris to top savory dishes at home and embered caramel to satisfy your sweet tooth in a most gourmet way.

Saison and Lee both faced scrappy climbs to get to where they are now. But they exemplify just how talent and determination can pave the way right to the top.

More: My Story in the Nob Hill Gazette on Chef Richard Lee