Is This Sesame Tofu Soup Worth $250,000? Culinary Class Wars Winner’s Secret Recipe

In January 2026, millions of viewers worldwide watched Chef Choi Kang-rok present an unexpected dish in the finale of Netflix’s Culinary Class Wars Season 2. Known throughout the competition as the “Braise Man” and “Serial Braiser,” everyone anticipated he would showcase the braised dishes that had defined his career. Instead, he surprised the judges—and himself—with a simple bowl of sesame tofu soup.

That choice earned him a unanimous victory from judges Paik Jong-won and Ahn Sung-jae, along with the ₩300 million prize (approximately $203,000 USD). More importantly, it gave the culinary world one of its most emotionally resonant moments: a middle-aged chef rejecting the persona that had made him famous to cook something honest, something that reminded him why he started cooking in the first place.

“I was the Braise Man, the Serial Braiser, Mr. Braise,” Choi explained during the finale. “But I wasn’t actually good at braising. I just pretended to be. Braising is something I do for others. So I didn’t want to do it for myself.”

The dish he created—handmade sesame tofu floating in an elegant broth made from roasted chicken bones, dried bonito flakes, kelp, and mushrooms—represented his return to fundamentals. This wasn’t flash or technique for its own sake. It was a chef cooking from his heart, creating what Judge Ahn Sung-jae called “a really honest dish.”

Now, you can recreate this championship-winning creation in your own kitchen. This guide walks you through every element that made Choi’s sesame tofu soup worthy of Korean television’s most prestigious cooking crown.

Table of Contents

• The Story Behind the Dish: Why Sesame Tofu Meant Everything
• Understanding Kkae-Dubu: Korean Sesame Tofu Tradition
• The Essential Role of Kudzu Starch
• Building the Championship Broth
• Korean Ingredient Deep Dive: Key Components Explained
• Mastering the Technique: What Sets This Recipe Apart
• Common Mistakes and How to Avoid Them
• FAQ: Your Sesame Tofu Questions Answered
• Serving and Pairing Suggestions
• Conclusion

The Story Behind the Dish: Why Sesame Tofu Meant Everything

Chef Choi Kang-rok’s journey to the Culinary Class Wars championship was anything but straightforward. A graduate of Japan’s prestigious Tsuji Culinary Institute, Choi first gained national recognition by winning MasterChef Korea Season 2 in 2013. He appeared in Culinary Class Wars Season 1 as a White Spoon chef but was eliminated in the third round. When he returned for Season 2 as a “Hidden White Spoon,” he carried the weight of unfinished business.

Throughout the season, Choi’s braised dishes earned him legendary status among viewers. But in the finale, with the theme “A Dish For Myself,” he made a choice that revealed his true culinary philosophy.

“Every dish carries meaning for the chef who makes it,” Choi told press after his victory. “What sesame tofu meant to me was a reminder not to become complacent. From time to time, there are dishes that make me think, ‘I used to be really good at making this.’ Sesame tofu is one of those dishes for me. I used to make it with ease, but as I’ve gotten older, I’ve found myself making it less often. My arms hurt, and it’s physically demanding.”

His sesame tofu soup—featuring handmade kkae-dubu, an udon-style broth made from roasted chicken bones, dried bonito, kelp, green onions, and shiitake and pine mushrooms, garnished with snap peas, daikon, and uni wrapped in pumpkin leaves—wasn’t just technically accomplished. It was a statement about authenticity, vulnerability, and the courage to show who you really are rather than who the world expects you to be.

Understanding Kkae-Dubu: Korean Sesame Tofu Tradition

Despite its name, sesame tofu contains no soybeans whatsoever. The word “tofu” here refers to texture rather than ingredients—that familiar, silken block that yields to your spoon. Traditional sesame tofu achieves this remarkable consistency through the interaction of ground sesame paste and kudzu starch, heated and stirred until the mixture transforms from liquid to a glossy, pudding-like mass.

In Korea, kkae-dubu (깨두부) has roots stretching back centuries, particularly in temple cuisine where Buddhist monks created protein-rich vegetarian dishes that satisfied both body and spirit. The Japanese version, goma dofu, developed along similar lines in Shingon Buddhist temples, particularly around Mount Koya. Both traditions share the philosophy of minimal ingredients prepared with maximum attention.

Chef Choi’s training at a Buddhist temple early in his career deeply influenced his approach to this dish. The technique requires patience and physical endurance—the mixture must be stirred vigorously for ten to fifteen minutes to achieve the characteristic smooth texture. Traditional practitioners viewed this labor as spiritual practice, the rhythmic stirring becoming a form of moving meditation.

After Culinary Class Wars, interest in sesame tofu has exploded across Korea and internationally. The dish represents something increasingly rare in modern cuisine: a preparation that cannot be rushed, automated, or faked. You must earn that silken texture through effort.

The Essential Role of Kudzu Starch

Kudzu Starch (칡 전분 / Kuzu)

Korean: Chilk jeonbun (칡전분) Japanese: Kuzuko (葛粉) Pronunciation: “koo-zoo”

Kudzu starch is the unsung hero of this dish, providing the distinctive set texture that defines authentic sesame tofu. Unlike cornstarch or potato starch, which produce cloudier results with a slightly artificial mouthfeel, kudzu creates something magical—a translucent, almost gelatinous consistency that’s simultaneously firm and yielding.

Flavor Profile and Contribution: Kudzu adds no flavor of its own, which is precisely its virtue. It allows the deep, roasted nuttiness of sesame paste to dominate while contributing a subtle sheen and a unique texture that’s difficult to replicate. When properly prepared, the resulting sesame tofu holds its shape when sliced yet melts effortlessly on the tongue.

Sourcing and Quality: Authentic kudzu starch comes from the roots of the kudzu plant, which has been used in traditional Asian medicine for thousands of years. The highest quality versions, like Yoshino kuzu from Japan, are processed using centuries-old techniques that involve washing and filtering the root starch in cold mountain water. Look for packages labeled “100% pure kuzu” rather than blends that may contain potato starch. Eden Foods and Mitoku are reliable brands available at natural food stores and Japanese markets.

Storage: Keep kudzu starch in a cool, dry place away from moisture. Once opened, transfer to an airtight container. Quality kudzu maintains its properties for years when stored properly.

Substitution Notes: If kudzu proves impossible to find, tapioca starch offers the closest approximation, though the texture will be slightly less refined. Cornstarch works in emergencies but produces a noticeably different mouthfeel. For the authentic experience that won Chef Choi his championship, sourcing real kudzu is worth the effort. According to research on traditional Asian starches, kudzu is prized for both culinary and medicinal properties.

Building the Championship Broth

Chef Choi’s winning broth distinguished itself through layers of umami built from multiple sources. His approach combined Japanese dashi techniques with Korean sensibilities, creating something neither fully Japanese nor Korean but distinctly his own.

The foundation began with roasted chicken bones—an unconventional choice that added body and richness without competing with the sesame tofu’s delicate flavor. To this he added dried bonito flakes (katsuobushi), kelp (dashima/kombu), green onions, and a combination of shiitake and pine mushrooms.

This multi-layered approach creates what food scientists call umami synergy: glutamates from the kelp, inosinic acid from the bonito, and guanylic acid from the mushrooms combine to create perceived savory depth that multiplies exponentially. The result is a broth that tastes far more complex than any single ingredient could achieve.

For home cooks, this means understanding that each component serves a specific purpose. The kombu provides the glutamate foundation. The bonito adds the characteristic clean, oceanic note. The mushrooms contribute earthiness and additional umami. And the chicken bones give the broth substance without heaviness.

Korean cuisine has its own tradition of stock-making called yuksu, often built on dried kelp (dashima) and dried anchovies. For Korean soups and stews, this anchovy-kelp combination provides the savory foundation that defines countless dishes. Chef Choi’s approach honored both traditions while creating something personal.

Korean Ingredient Deep Dive: Key Components Explained

White Sesame Paste (흰깨 페이스트)

Korean: Heuin-kkae paste Japanese: Shiro nerigoma (白練りゴマ) Pronunciation: “neh-ree-goh-mah”

Flavor Profile: White sesame paste delivers the soul of this dish—deep, roasted nuttiness with subtle sweetness and a creamy, unctuous quality that coats the palate. When incorporated into kudzu starch and heated, it creates the characteristic aroma that announces this dish before you’ve taken your first bite.

Quality Matters: Not all sesame pastes are created equal. Japanese nerigoma, specifically designed for goma dofu, is ground to an exceptionally fine consistency that produces the smoothest results. Middle Eastern tahini works as a substitute but often has a slightly grainier texture. Chinese sesame paste, while delicious, is typically made from toasted seeds with a more intense, darker flavor that changes the dish’s character.

Cultural Context: In Korean cuisine, sesame appears everywhere—as a finishing oil, as toasted seeds sprinkled over banchan, and as a fundamental flavoring in marinades and dressings. Black sesame, with its hull intact, offers a more intense, slightly bitter profile often featured in Korean desserts and sweets like the filling for songpyeon rice cakes. The white sesame used here provides a cleaner, more refined canvas appropriate for this elegant preparation.

Kombu (Dried Kelp)

Korean: Dashima (다시마) Japanese: Konbu (昆布) Pronunciation: “dah-shee-mah” (Korean)

Contribution to the Dish: Kombu provides the glutamic acid backbone of your broth. The white powdery substance visible on quality kombu is mannitol—a natural sugar alcohol that enhances sweetness and umami. Never wash this off; simply wipe gently with a damp cloth to remove any debris.

Sourcing: Korean dashima and Japanese kombu both work beautifully here. Hidaka kombu offers a good balance of flavor and value, while Rishiri or Ma-kombu represent premium options for special occasions. For deeper understanding of Korean seaweed varieties, explore how different types serve different culinary purposes.

Katsuobushi (Dried Bonito Flakes)

Japanese: Katsuobushi (鰹節) Pronunciation: “kah-tsoo-oh-boo-shee”

What It Is: Katsuobushi consists of skipjack tuna that has been simmered, smoked, dried, and often fermented—a process that can take up to six months. The resulting blocks, hard as wood, are shaved into delicate flakes that release their flavor instantly when exposed to hot water.

Why It Matters: The inosinic acid in bonito flakes works synergistically with kombu’s glutamates to create umami depth that neither could achieve alone. Chef Choi’s use of bonito alongside chicken bones created a more complex, layered broth than traditional dashi alone.

The Unique Garnishes: Uni and Pumpkin Leaf

One element that surprised judges in Chef Choi’s finale dish was uni (sea urchin) wrapped in hobakip (pumpkin leaf). This unexpected combination showcased his willingness to take risks even in the championship round—a choice that could have backfired but instead demonstrated confidence in his palate.

The briny sweetness of uni against the vegetal, slightly bitter pumpkin leaf created a contrast that complemented the nutty sesame tofu and clean broth. It was a reminder that even traditional dishes can accommodate innovation when approached with understanding and respect.

Mastering the Technique: What Sets This Recipe Apart

Creating sesame tofu at home falls into the “advanced” category not because of complicated equipment or exotic techniques, but because success demands attention, patience, and physical effort. The transformation from liquid slurry to silken block happens through continuous stirring—there are no shortcuts.

The Critical Stirring Phase: When you combine kudzu starch, sesame paste, and water over heat, the mixture will remain thin and liquid for several minutes. Suddenly, it begins to thicken. This is your moment of truth. From this point forward, you must stir constantly and vigorously, scraping the bottom and sides of the pot, for another ten to fifteen minutes.

Chef Choi acknowledged this challenge in his post-victory interview: “As I’ve gotten older, I’ve found myself making it less often. My arms hurt, and it’s physically demanding.” The fact that he chose this labor-intensive dish for the finale—knowing the physical toll it would take—made his victory all the more meaningful.

Temperature Control: Medium heat works best—high heat causes the bottom to scorch before the mixture thickens properly, while low heat extends the cooking time unnecessarily. Adjust as needed based on your stovetop, but aim for steady, controlled cooking.

Setting and Unmolding: Once cooked, the sesame tofu mixture transfers to a moistened container where it sets as it cools. Wet the container thoroughly first—this creates a barrier that allows clean release later. Cover the surface directly with plastic wrap to prevent a skin from forming. The tofu needs at least two hours of refrigeration to set properly.

Common Mistakes and How to Avoid Them

Stopping the stirring too early: The most common failure point. When the mixture first thickens, many cooks assume it’s done. In reality, you’re only halfway there. Continue stirring for at least five to ten more minutes after initial thickening.

Using the wrong sesame paste: Tahini labeled “raw” or untoasted produces bland results. You want deeply roasted sesame paste with a rich brown color and intense aroma.

Improper kudzu dissolution: Kudzu starch must dissolve completely in cold liquid before heating. Any lumps remaining at this stage will plague your finished product.

Overheating the dashi: If you’re making dashi from scratch, never boil the kombu—it releases bitter compounds that cloud the broth. Remove the kelp just before the water reaches a full boil.

Cutting the tofu too soon: Wait until it’s thoroughly chilled and firm for clean edges.

FAQ: Your Sesame Tofu Questions Answered

What makes this recipe authentically Korean?

Authenticity in this dish comes from the shared Buddhist temple cooking traditions of Korea and Japan, and from Chef Choi Kang-rok’s personal interpretation that won Culinary Class Wars. Korean kkae-dubu emphasizes the same techniques as Japanese goma dofu—the patient grinding of sesame, the careful heating with kudzu starch. What makes Choi’s version distinctly his own is the combination of Japanese dashi techniques with Korean sensibilities and his willingness to incorporate unexpected elements like uni and pumpkin leaf.

The philosophy behind the cooking—finding spiritual nourishment through careful preparation of simple ingredients—runs deep in Korean temple cuisine, which developed sophisticated vegetarian techniques over centuries. For more on Korea’s remarkable fermented food traditions, explore how fermentation defines Korean cooking.

What if I can’t find kudzu starch?

Kudzu starch creates the distinctive silken-yet-firm texture that defines authentic sesame tofu, but substitutes exist if you absolutely cannot source it. Tapioca starch comes closest, producing a softer set with a slightly more springy quality—use the same quantity as kudzu. Potato starch works but creates a denser, less refined texture. Cornstarch should be a last resort.

For best results, order kudzu online from retailers like Amazon, natural food stores, or Japanese grocery websites. Japanese markets typically stock it in the cooking ingredients section, often labeled as “kuzuko.” The investment in authentic kudzu transforms the dish from merely good to championship-worthy.

How do I know when this dish is properly cooked?

Visual and textural cues tell you when both components are ready. For the sesame tofu, look for a glossy, pudding-like consistency that pulls away from the sides of the pot cleanly. When you drag your spatula across the bottom, the trail should hold for a moment before slowly filling in. The color should be creamy beige with no white streaks indicating undissolved kudzu.

For the broth, proper preparation yields a clear, golden liquid with a subtle seafood aroma and no cloudiness. When you combine the two, the sesame tofu should hold its shape when placed in the broth while appearing to float gently.

What should I serve with this dish?

In traditional Korean meal composition, this elegant sesame tofu soup would appear as part of a multi-course dining experience rather than standing alone. Chef Choi served his winning dish with a bottle of soju—a humble touch that reinforced the theme of cooking “for myself.”

Consider serving as an opening course before heartier dishes. Pair with simple steamed rice and a selection of delicate banchan that won’t compete—perhaps a gentle spinach namul or lightly dressed seasoned vegetables. Korean gim (roasted seaweed) provides textural contrast without overwhelming the subtle flavors.

Serving and Pairing Suggestions

The presentation of sesame tofu soup deserves the same attention as its preparation. Chef Choi’s championship version placed the sesame tofu in a shallow bowl surrounded by clear broth, garnished with snap peas, daikon, and the memorable uni-wrapped pumpkin leaf.

For Korean-style service, consider garnishing with a tiny mound of julienned ginger, a few drops of perilla oil, or a scattering of toasted sesame seeds. A small amount of quality Korean soy sauce—specifically guk-ganjang for its lighter color—can be offered for individual seasoning at the table.

Temperature matters significantly. The sesame tofu should be served chilled or at room temperature, while the broth can be served warm. During hot summer months, a completely cold presentation offers refreshing elegance. In winter, warm broth surrounding cool tofu creates pleasant temperature contrast.