ediblesf.com | 21 Christopher Renfro's defiant harvest Writer and Photos—Melody Saradpon Though Brioza and Krasinski jokingly refer to themselves as “old timers,” they are un-deniably part of the new guard, representing a shift away from the cult of the chef model toward something more sustainable and collaborative. Above: Chef Stuart Brioza and Nicole Krasinski. feels different “in a very mature way,” says Brioza. “It’s pretty empowering.” The Outstanding Restaurateur award celebrates not only chefs, but visionaries who are shaping the future of hospitality; those who showcase creativity in leadership and use their establishments to build community. This kind of recognition isn’t just about what’s on the plate—it’s an affirmation of the people, culture, and systems they’ve built around it. “We're not those scrappy young cooks anymore,” Brioza explains. Their view of what it means to be a chef has also shifted, from the longtime stereotype of the one tethered to the stove every night, to being architects of a culture where everyone can thrive. Brioza likens a chef’s career to a marathon. “You don’t sprint a marathon,” he says. “In your 20s, you’re sprinting every single day.” Krasinski adds, “When I look back on the years I did that, there's not a day that I regret doing that...but there is a point where it's okay in your career for that to [shift].” They have worked hard to establish a framework that supports the concept of evolution in their restaurants. “Heroism in restaurants is a romantic idea, but at the end of the day, it fizzles out because it’s too much on one person,” says Brioza. “I think the secret to our success is that everybody's supported, and nobody [has] to be a hero.” The transition from wide-eyed cooks to thoughtful leaders is also one that Brioza and Krasinski find joy in guiding. “After 35 years of cooking, it's fun to navigate those waters with our chefs and see them have those same successes that we had,” Brioza says, referring to those exciting moments of discovery and the process of rendering instincts into recipes. They have also noticed that younger chefs increasingly use personal storytelling to shape their culinary identities. “Something very unique to San Francisco is the diversity,” he explains. “What’s amazing is when you see people do a deep dive into their own heritage, but contemporize it through a lens of, perhaps, what they've learned in restaurants like ours.” State Bird has had a lasting impact on San Francisco’s dining scene in that sense, by proving that with enough heart and soul, anything is possible. Brioza also says that authenticity doesn't start at the beginning. “It's something you evolve into, and that's the journey that I think is really fascinating for young chefs.” The restaurants under Atomic offer a refreshing vision of what the industry could be. Though Brioza and Krasinski jokingly refer to themselves as “old timers,” they are undeniably part of the new guard, representing a shift away from the cult of the chef model toward something more sustainable and collaborative. And while they may not take themselves too seriously, they’re serious about building restaurants that feel like happy, lasting places for the people who power them. “We’ve worked really hard to create businesses that we can step to the side of a bit, where people love working,” Brioza explains. These are places where people want to stay, grow, and lead, and where community comes before ego. It’s simple, he says. “Happy cooks make happy food.”
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