Winning Recipe: Top Chef Blends Culinary Skills with Business Acumen

  ULAANBAATAR, Mongolia – We all remember a despised supper dish that sat in front of us as youngsters, untouched. Our parents lurked nearby, threatening, “No dessert unless you finish your meal.”

  Decades later, imagine how I felt sitting in a private room at the five-star Mongolian’s Restaurant as a guest of the country’s top chef, Natsag Khanduren, staring at a traditional dish that appeared to be roasted vegetables but in fact was a mix of sheep liver, kidney, heart, spleen, lung and intestines.

  It’s healthy, Natsag told me, and, packed with protein, energizes you when your go-mode is sagging.

  I was worried about a different sort of go-mode.

  However, rules of the road dictate that it’s impolite to turn down any food when offered by a local host.  So, I dug in.

  Let’s call the plate an acquired taste. 

  It prepared me what was soon to come: sheep’s ear.

Road to Success

  Over the next three hours, we sampled one dish after another in a private dining room reserved by our host. Natsag took charge, directing our server and providing background on the food.

  A petite woman who declined to reveal her age, Natsag wore a flowered, high-collared blouse and arranged her thick, black hair into a substantial bun. She carried herself with the self-confidence you’d expect from someone who had founded the Mongolian Culinary Federation and is board president of the Mongolian Chefs Association. She also carries the moniker “master chef.”

  As we picked at an appetizer board that featured an assortment of cheeses, sausage, fruit, nuts, and a fried bread called boortsog, Natsag shared her life story.

  She had been raised by her grandmother, Miji. They lived as nomads in a ger, a Mongolian tent, in a small, remote village. Natsag’s mornings began with a traditional tea that included milk, millet and salt along with her grandmother’s cheese curds made from goat’s milk. Main meals featured a bone broth soup with lamb or beef bits and dumplings stuffed with meat. She cherished her grandmother’s pastries.

  “I still think about those special times with her all these years later, especially the breakfast and the milk tea she made,” Natsag said through an interpreter.

  Her five siblings and parents resided next door, where they raised livestock and ran the village’s food co-operative, common in then-socialist Mongolia.

  At 14, in the late 1960s, Natsag left the village to attend high school in Ulaanbaatar, the capital. Upon graduation she enrolled in the food-technology program at the National University of Mongolia, after which she joined the kitchen at a government-sponsored conference center, an unusually lofty position for a young chef. There she honed her culinary skills in Mongolian and various European cuisines serving local and visiting dignitaries.

In 1981, a 6-month luxury hotel stint in former East Germany expanded Natsag’s capabilities. When Mongolia shifted from a socialist state to a multi-party democracy in the early ‘90s, the conference center converted to a 5-star hotel. There, Natsag directed the kitchen, beginning her rise to the top of her profession.

  Around 80 percent of Mongolian chefs are women. They run their kitchens at home and dominate the country’s culinary classrooms.

  By contrast, chefs directing American restaurants are between 63 and 75 percent male.

Main Course

  The conversation returned to the meal at hand when the feature dish arrived: a beautiful roasted sheep shoulder, the coveted right side.

  “The head is the most important part of the animal for Mongolians,” Natsag said. “But the shoulder, especially the right side, is dedicated to our most important guests.”

  I couldn’t help but feel special.

  Several tasty-looking sides flanked the roast. Among them, beef dumplings, the country’s most popular dish, known as buuz, and khuushuur, a deep-fried pastry stuffed with minced meat. Not as appealing, the aforementioned sheep’s ear, called qulay.

  Natsag served us. I started with the meat, which was moist and flavorful. I asked about the spices. There were none.

  Through free-range grazing, Mongolian livestock consumes wild grasses, medicinal herbs and aromatic plants, Natsag explained. The result was a roast that tasted as though it had been marinated overnight or bathed in a spice rub.

  The dumplings and stuffed pastry also shined. Yes, I tasted the ear – nibbled is a better word. My review? Tolerable but not something I’d order.

  Like most cultures, certain Mongolian foods are served at specific times of the year to mark holidays and other occasions. Almost every food is connected to the nomadic way of life, embracing nature, promoting hospitality and, with meat and dairy at the core of each dish, providing the protein nomads require for their arduous lifestyle.

  The most fundamental tradition rested on my plate. The ear symbolizes the culture’s nose-to-tail philosophy of eating the entire animal. In a place where winter temperatures routinely reach -20F or more, stressing the importance of keeping pantries stocked, it’s unacceptable to waste even a sheep’s toe nail.

  Our meal completed, Natsag suggested a universal treat for dessert: ice cream. I passed, patting my bloated stomach. Graciously, she didn’t insist.

  Why, I asked, did you choose this restaurant?

  Proper Mongolian food has become increasingly hard to find in the city, where other ethnic cuisines have become popular, especially among young adults, Natsag explained.

  “Here, they cook traditional food, and they cook it right,” she said.

Branching Out

  Our conversation moved from food to family. Natsag met her husband of 39 years while working at the government conference center. Jargal, also a chef, held a similar position at the capital’s government palace.

  The couple had no children of their own but adopted Batgerel, the son of one of Natsag’s siblings. He lives in Japan where he runs a steel factory.

  Natsag left her hotel job in 1998 and to open Nukht Tour & Catering, which serves box lunches to tourists through local travel companies.

  At the same time, Natsag became more active in both the Mongolian Culinary Federation she founded and the country’s Chefs Association that she would later lead. Among the goals, she said, were to elevate the skills of member chefs, improve their wages, implement stricter standards for Mongolian kitchens, and promote Mongolian cuisine across Asia and Europe.

  She has found success both as an industry leader and businesswoman.

  Earlier this year five Mongolian chefs competed in an international cooking competition in Malaysia. They brought home 13 medals, a first.

  Meanwhile, in 2014, Nukht expanded into airline catering. Today, the company, with 120 employees, counts as clients all three Mongolian airlines; Aeroflot, Russia’s top carrier, and a Mongolian charter airline company.

  Coffee arrived. I did not decline. It was excellent.

  What’s next? I asked

  Natsag admitted to thinking about retirement. Her hope is her only grandchild, Grel, presently a college student in Japan, will take over the catering business. At the moment, the ascension plan is uncertain as Grel has shown little interest.

  “When he graduates, he can return here and see if he likes the business,” Natsag said.

  As for her, a trip to Chile in 2016 renewed her interest in travel, which she hopes to continue.

  Her husband retired in 2020. He’s not involved in her business and spends much of his free time backcountry hiking.

  Reflecting on their careers as chefs, Natsag said they worked long hours and did not have a lot of time together.

  Who cooked? I asked.

  “Whoever got home first,” she said.

  Favorite meal?

  “Noodle soup.”

  What! I thought. No sheep’s ear?

Editor’s note: Last in a series from a reporting trip to Mongolia July 27-August 2, 2025

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Reported and written by: George J. Tanber

Edited by: Michael Gordon

Photo editor: David Kozy