Holy Shitake: A Wok Star is Born isn’t just a solo show. It’s a love letter, a cultural reckoning, and a culinary journey rolled into one. Celebrity chef Katie Chin blends humor and heartbreak as she recounts her path from a shy Midwestern kid to torchbearer of her mother Leeann Chin’s Chinese restaurant legacy. Performed at University of Southern California, the show peels back layers of family, food, and identity. In an interview with U.S.-China Today, Chin talked about the creative process of the show, the legacy she’s honoring, the obstacles she faces as an Asian American and what it means to find your voice on stage and at home.
How did the idea for “Holy Shiitake! A Wokstar Is Born!” come about?
Honestly, I had no roadmap at all. I just had a strong urge to tell my mother’s story, even when she was still alive. I started by taking a writing class, where I’d perform 10-minute segments based on stories about her and about us. After she passed away 15 years ago, I had all my material saved in a canvas bag, but it was too painful to revisit at the time.
Still, something kept pulling me toward the idea of turning it into a stage show. I just felt the theater would be the best medium to convey the emotion. Maybe it’s because I’m a natural performer at heart, and I knew I could bring her spirit to life on stage in a way that a book or blog couldn’t.
Can you walk us through the production of the show?
When COVID hit, I finally told myself, “If not now, when?” So I enrolled in a master class on developing a solo show. Within six weeks, I had written a very long first draft. A couple of friends then helped pitch the piece to Theater Mu, an AAPI theater in Minneapolis, where I was born and raised. They invited me to do a staged reading about two years ago, and although it wasn’t a full performance, it was the first time I shared the script publicly.
Back in L.A., I decided to perform it once just for friends who couldn’t attend the Minneapolis reading. I didn’t know what I was doing, but I knew I had to try. Later, as I began working with a team on potentially adapting it into a television series, one of the women suggested I work with a director. That opened up a whole new world for me.
This journey is proof that it’s never too late to try something new. I’m 60 now. I started this process at 58, with no prior experience. And yet, here I am.
Yes, once I decided to move forward, I began working with a dramaturg, which I learned is someone who helps adapt written work for the stage. I also started collaborating with a director, Fran de Leon, a talented Filipino American artist who was instrumental in shaping the show. She taught me so much, especially about theatrical storytelling. One of her biggest lessons was not to instruct the audience on how to feel—just let the story do that naturally.
The process really took off when I approached the Whitefire Theatre early last year. I initially just wanted to rent the space to perform the piece once. But when I shared my story with them, they said, “Why don’t you open our SoloFest?” I was completely caught off guard.
Is there a particular part of the process that you find most challenging?
Definitely the most challenging part was having to learn an entirely new set of skills in such a short amount of time. I had no background in theater. So, I had to figure out how to memorize a 50-page script, understand blocking, work with a director, and sync my movements with lighting, music, and sound cues. Everything you saw on stage was precisely timed and choreographed, even down to when the roasted duck sound plays with the bicycle pump!
It really forced me to rewire my brain, especially coming from a corporate and entrepreneurial background where presentations are rehearsed but in a very different, linear way. Theater is much more physical and emotional. You’re not just presenting a story—you’re embodying it. That shift in mindset was one of the hardest but also most rewarding parts of the journey.
The whole experience reinforced something I’ve come to believe deeply: when there’s a will, there’s a way.
How did your previous experience in marketing shape the way you approached producing and hosting a cooking show?
I think my experience being on television actually helped me more in preparing for the stage show than my corporate marketing background did. In corporate America, you’re trained to give polished presentations, but it’s a different kind of performance. TV taught me how to be present and connect with an audience in a more personal, spontaneous way.
But honestly, it wasn’t always easy. Growing up Asian American in Minneapolis, I was incredibly shy. There were so few Asians around, and I really struggled with confidence. So when I entered the entertainment world, I had to push myself to be more extroverted. The turning point was when my mom pushed me to get out there, and because I’m Asian and didn’t want to disappoint her, I felt like I had to do a good job. So I forced myself to start talking to people, even if I was totally mortified at first.
All of that helped when it came to hosting and performing. But still, I’m not a trained actor, and my director would constantly tell me, “Stop pretending to be what you think an actor should be. Just be you!” And that was tough too, because being authentic on stage is a whole other skill. But I’m learning!
What have been some of the biggest challenges you’ve faced on your journey as a chef and creator?
One of the biggest challenges for me as both a chef and creator is definitely managing my time, especially as an entrepreneur. It’s incredibly hard to plan everything out because opportunities often come up last-minute, and I feel like I can’t say no. For example, just this past week was completely insane. I had my stage show, which had been scheduled months in advance, but then I got hired to cater for 300 people at City Hall the day before. And on top of that, I was honored at City Hall the same day as my show! I was totally exhausted. But in a weird way, that actually helped calm my nerves. I was too tired to be anxious!
That said, I’ve learned how important self-care is. You can’t be creative when you’re burned out or stressed all the time. During COVID, when everything slowed down, I finally had the mental space to write the show. That quiet time was crucial for my creativity, and I try to remind myself of that whenever things get chaotic.
Chef Katie Chin receives USC-themed gifts from Glenn Osaki, Senior Advisor to the President for International Communications and Marketing, following her performance at USC (Courtesy of Siyi Chen).
Have you received any audience feedback that stuck with you or even influenced the direction of the show going forward?
I’ve received so many touching comments from the audience that really stayed with me. Some people come up to me and say, “I just want to go hug my mom after watching your show,” and that always gets me. Others say things like, “This made me want to be a better person,” or “I feel so proud to be Asian.”
Those kinds of responses mean everything to me. They remind me why I created this show in the first place. It’s not just a personal story. It’s something that clearly resonates with others on a deep emotional level. And that gives me the motivation to keep going, to keep refining the show, and to continue sharing my mom’s legacy with even more heart.
Are there specific cultural values or expectations that you think are especially difficult for Asian Americans to reconcile or embody?
One of the biggest challenges for Asian Americans, especially if you’re first or second generation, is the constant balancing act between two cultures. There’s this expectation that outside the home, you assimilate, succeed, and blend in. But inside the home, you’re expected to uphold very traditional Asian values, often without question. You’re basically straddling two very different worlds.
That tension is something I try to explore in my show. Like the time I told my mom, “You can’t show a chicken head on TV!” She was so mad. But then another time, when I was promoting our Food Network special (this was before social media), I had postcards printed to spread the word. She pulled me aside and said, “Chinese people don’t go around saying, ‘Look at me.’” I remember feeling so ashamed.
It was this deep conflict: I was taught to work hard and succeed but also to stay humble, not boast. And yet, in a field like marketing and entertainment, self-promotion is essential. It’s how you survive. So reconciling those two opposing values, modesty versus visibility, has always been hard. I think that kind of cultural clash is something a lot of Asian Americans deal with, and it’s not always talked about. That’s why it’s so important for me to share these moments on stage because I know I’m not alone in feeling this way.
Over the years, how have you seen Chinese food culture evolve in America—in terms of how it’s perceived, who’s cooking it, or how it’s being represented in the media?
It’s been incredible to watch how Chinese food culture has evolved in America over the years. When my mother first opened her restaurant in the Midwest, people didn’t even know what to make of Cantonese food. They were asking for butter and dinner rolls! That’s just what they were used to. She really paved the way by introducing authentic Chinese cuisine to a part of the country that had very little exposure to it.
Now, thanks to platforms like Food Network, YouTube, and even TikTok, people are so much more informed and adventurous. There’s been a huge cultural shift. For my kids, being Asian and multicultural is something they’re proud of. They actually want to bring so-called “weird” things (e.g., BBQ pork bun) in their lunchboxes. That’s a big change from when I was growing up and felt like I had to hide that part of myself.
Living in a diverse place like Los Angeles definitely helps, but even in less cosmopolitan areas like the Midwest, you’re starting to see more Asian dishes on mainstream menus, even if they’re not always super authentic. Grocery stores carry ingredients like Thai basil, and thanks to Amazon and other online retailers, it’s easier than ever to find Asian products. Back when my mom was cooking, she couldn’t even find ginger in the store and she had to grow it herself.
Of course, there’s still a lot of work to do. Chinese food is beloved but that hasn’t always translated into acceptance of Chinese people, especially with the rise in anti-Asian hate. That’s why I believe food and cooking are so powerful. They can be a gateway to cultural understanding and a starting point for connection, especially for kids. It’s one way I hope to bring people together through sharing a meal and telling a story.
Featured Photo: Chef Katie Chin prepares dumplings onstage during her solo show at USC (Courtesy of Siyi Chen)
