How an Orchestra Percussionist Runs a Fast-Casual Korean Chain

Get more recipes, food news, and stories at wttw.com/food or by signing up for our Deep Dish newsletter. 
Have a food story or recommendation? Email us at [email protected].

From his seat in the back of National Symphony Orchestra (NSO) at the Kennedy Center in Washington, D.C., principal percussionist Eric Shin, who is also the CEO and co-founder Korean fast-casual minichain SeoulSpice, has lately been drawing connections between a finely tuned orchestra and a full, humming restaurant. The D.C.-based chain recently expanded to Chicago, with locations in the Loop, River North, Wicker Park, and a forthcoming outpost at Willis Tower.

“When you’re sitting onstage, to see 100 people do something at such a high level is one of the most inspiring things for the soul,” says Shin, who had a stint with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra (CSO) as a young percussionist. “And if you think about restaurants, it’s kind of the same. You have this team of people, and when things are in tune and the rhythm is flowing, it’s unspoken; everyone knows what to do. Everyone flowing together is kind of like a symphony in itself.”

Musicians have long been drawn to hospitality; some notable examples include LCD Soundsystem front man James Murphy, who co-founded Michelin-starred wine bar The Four Horsemen in Brooklyn; rapper Ludacris, who opened Southern eatery Chicken and Beer; and former punk rock drummer Brooks Headley, who’s behind New York’s relentlessly popular vegetarian diner, Superiority Burger. 

For Shin, who performs three shows a week with 100 other musicians, the connection arises from being part of a collective that works in harmony: listening and responding together and taking small problems in stride. Operating at that level – whether in music or food – requires deep trust in one’s team that is built over time. As Shin juggles a musical career while building SeoulSpice into what he hopes will be a household name, he finds balance in taking on both at once. 

“It’s like the yin and yang for me for life,” he says. “I can’t have one without the other.” 

Music and food have been inexorably linked since Shin was a child. A second-generation Korean American whose parents immigrated from Seoul in the 1970s, Shin grew up in Atlanta. His parents, who ran an upscale Korean restaurant in the 1990s, were fascinated by American culture from the get-go. Shin recalls his dad’s impressive vinyl record collection and penchant for sporting bell bottoms and an afro. 

“There was a lot of soul and warmth in this exploration of American culture in the house that left me in a weird spot as a second-generation Korean American,” he says. 

Drawn to the heritage that was largely overshadowed in his parents' adopted home, Shin got his early Korean education through his family’s heirloom recipes, like his mom Yang Shin’s chili-flecked kimchi and the tender, garlicky beef bulgogi she learned to make from her father. 

After baseball and football practice – “Dad had me play all the sports growing up,” Shin laughs – he’d come home to an edible hug of eggy rice with sesame oil, soy, and scallion. On special days, a bubbling pot of galbi jjim, the festive, long-braised short rib dish, awaited. 

It was after high school that Shin went all in on drumming. He studied at the Cleveland Institute of Music then got a masters in percussion at The Juilliard School before landing a job with the Honolulu Symphony. He played with orchestras all over the country, including the Detroit Symphony, Los Angeles Philharmonic, Cleveland Orchestra, and the CSO before joining the NSO in 2012. During those years, he became a kind of Korean food tour guide, navigating his musician friends through language barriers and ginormous menus of traditional Korean joints in the days before the culture exploded stateside. 

“Everyone always loved the food, and that really just stuck with me,” he says. 

Friends in D.C. who loved Shin and his wife’s home cooking jokingly suggested that the couple start a restaurant. Shin was intrigued at the thought of bringing Korean home cooking to the ascendant fast-casual category with build-your-own rice bowls. 

“There was a renaissance going on in terms of fast-casual food with places like Sweetgreen, Cava, Five Guys, and others,” he says. “The format is really great: it’s simple and removes the intimidating factor of walking into a Korean restaurant and not knowing what to order.” 

Building a brand from cherished family recipes seemed daunting at first. Shin pulled from a lesson in positive thinking that he’d gleaned from learning traditional, polyrhythmic Afro-Cuban bata drumming, which features three hourglass-shaped drums. 

“One of the first things they teach you is that it’s so easy to be negative; to be positive takes so much intent,” he says. “As you’re learning the first types of tones from the drum, thinking positively is like a really important part of that. Think of the intent required.” 

Indeed, it takes a powerful kind of purpose to dedicate oneself to making everything down to the sriracha from scratch. With help from co-founder Yang “Mama” Shin, known to dispense guidance while perched on a milk crate at the original D.C. location, the team set to work scaling her kimchi, spicy pork, and gochujang for the masses. The restaurant debuted in 2016 with lines around the block, and has since expanded to eight locations in the D.C. area. 

After securing investment backing from Invus Group, which also backed Cava, SeoulSpice opened its first location in Chicago in March, 2025. The move represented a professional homecoming for Shin, who fell in love with the food scene in Chicago as a young percussionist. 

On a recent afternoon at SeoulSpice Wicker Park, I tucked into the riot of color and textures that is its signature Classic bowl – brimming with tender, savory-sweet petals of bulgogi, sesame-marinated kale slaw, scallions, sweet carrot slivers, and a jammy Korean "Drug" Egg – while K-pop pulsed on the speakers. 

I’d followed the recommendation of general manager Hector Mendoza, who built my bowl himself. When I asked to swap in purple rice for white, he replied with a laugh that almost everyone makes changes to the signature bowls and suggested I also add some of Mama Shin’s crunchy kimchi. (A photo of her hangs in this and every other SeoulSpice kitchen in lieu of her actual presence on a milk crate.)

While I ate, another SeoulSpice ensemble member, president and chief operating officer Audra Huelsman Zahn, who was visiting from D.C., stopped by my table. We chatted about how the purple rice was a nutrient-rich rice compromise for Mama Shin, who detests the overpowering flavor of brown rice – a detail I’d learned during my conversation with Shin. Suddenly, I recalled something else he told me near the end of our conversation. 

“It’s funny, when we talk about restaurants, we talk a lot about food, but really it’s the people who make the place, isn’t it?”