Christian Hunter Talks Inspiration and Honor.
EC: Tell me a little about yourself - Introduce yourself to Memphis.
CH: I’m Christian Hunter, a chef driven by storytelling through food. My approach is deeply rooted in honoring ingredients, the people who grow them, and the cultures that shape how we eat. I grew up in Kentucky, where food was both sustenance and connection—something that brought people together even when there wasn’t much to go around. That sense of resourcefulness and purpose still guides me. Before we sit down for dinner, I want folks to know that what’s on the plate reflects experience—mine, the farmers’, the traditions that came before.
EC: What’s your philosophy on food and dining? What story are you trying to tell with your work?
CH: Food should be intentional. It should be personal. I’m drawn to dishes that carry history, that make you pause and think about where they came from—whether it’s a technique passed down for generations or an ingredient that tells the story of a place. Dining should feel effortless, but behind that ease, there’s a depth of thought and care. I want my food to connect people to something bigger than just a meal—to memories, to culture, to what’s been lost and what’s worth preserving. Service is the beginning and ending of the dining journey and paramount to how we approach food.
EC: How does your background continue to influence your approach to food?
CH: I grew up in a big family in Lexington, Kentucky, raised by a single mother. Money was tight, but food was always a priority. I didn’t realize it at the time, but that shaped how I cook today—making the most out of every ingredient, pulling from different influences, respecting the process. Later, traveling and working in different kitchens expanded my perspective. Cooking in New England taught me restraint and precision. Time in the South reminded me of the power of comfort and nostalgia. Being a chef is about constantly layering those experiences, refining them into something that feels honest and uniquely yours.
EC: Let’s talk about your restaurant, Atelier, and any ongoing projects you’re working on.
CH: Atelier was an incredible space for exploration—an intimate setting where we could push boundaries while keeping hospitality at the forefront. That experience, along with my work at Community Table, really solidified my approach to seasonal cooking and technique-driven cuisine. Right now, my focus is on my upcoming events and consulting, where I’m shaping a Midwestern brasserie concept that pulls from the region’s bounty in a way that feels fresh, modern, and deeply personal. I’m also developing my cookbook, Refectory, which highlights endangered ingredients and micro-seasonality in a way that’s fun and accessible.
EC: What sources do you use for continued inspiration?
CH: Inspiration comes in waves. Sometimes it’s a conversation with a farmer about what’s coming out of the ground at that moment or a dish my siblings remember eating when we were kids. Sometimes it’s traveling and tasting something completely unexpected. Often, it’s revisiting old cookbooks or food histories and seeing how techniques and ideas evolve over time. I’m grateful to also live in a city with so many rich cultures I’m able to learn from. I pull from music, art, history and even architecture—anything that plays with structure, balance, and emotion the way food does.
EC: Tell me about how you’ve approached this menu for the Etowah Dinner Series? Are you particularly excited about a specific dish/concept/idea?
CH: For the Etowah Dinner Series, I wanted to cook in a way that feels both grounded and ambitious. The menu leans into Southern and Midwestern ingredients but treats them with a light, modern hand. I’m excited about a dish we’re doing with peas (I know peas, right. LOL.)Iit speaks to the season but is executed in a way that’s unexpected. There’s also a play on food from my own youth, which is a nod to the simple, nostalgic flavors of my childhood but presented in a way that feels refined.
EC: Tell me about a significant food memory of yours – a moment when it clicked that this stuff was special.
CH: One that always comes back to me is my first time tasting real hot water cornbread—not the boxed mix, but something made from freshly milled corn, cooked in a cast-iron skillet until the edges caramelized. It was at a family gathering, and I remember watching my PaPa make it with such care, no measuring, just instinct and bacon fat! When I tasted it, it was a revelation— toasted corn aromas, deeply flavorful, subtly sweet, completely different from what I’d had before. That moment taught me that the simplest ingredients, treated with respect, can be the most profound.