On Beast Pizza’s quiet defiance of fine dining conventions

By Kimberley Kwo, Photography by Alex Tsang

Nathan Middleton was slinging Pineapple Bun Nashville Hot Chicken burgers at Home of the Brave the first time I met him. It was an East Meets West collab dinner with our mutual friends, Alex Tsang (aka @hypebelly) and his wife Kelly Lee (aka @kellyforyou). Nate - broad and commanding in stature, heavily tattooed, and most recognizable by his ample ginger goatee - was front and center behind the open kitchen counter. He was under the glow of a spotlight that emphasized this striking presence of quiet gravitas. I was immediately intimidated.

A few months later, I had the opportunity to formally meet the Stratford native for an interview. We were working on a story on Chefs with Hart; an organization started by his childhood friend Daniel Bernier and his family. Daniel’s son, Hartley, has Hirschprung’s Disease and Chefs with Hart collaborates with chefs around Ontario to raise awareness and funds for SickKids, with Hart serving as an ambassador. Nate is the original chef who helped start it all and, to this day, continues to be actively involved by hosting events like Beast’s Pizza Parties for their benefit.

Now, after countless meals at my favourite seat by Beast Pizza’s kitchen counter, where we often chit chat as he works, I recently confessed my first impression to Nate. “Are you still intimidated?”, he asked. I laughed and I thought to myself how preposterous to have ever been. While he takes his cooking very seriously and his Whole Animal Dinners are worthy of the most prestigious accolades in the industry, he also has a childlike sense of humor that often results in pulling his team and diners alike into hijinks. I remember one particular dinner with friends, where he pulled me aside and gave me a chef's hat so that I could serve them the dessert course.

The reason I consider Nate a “pirate chef” has nothing to do with any resemblance to Redbeard or any negative connotations associated with the term. In fact, I would say he gives off more viking than he does pirate. He doesn’t rob people at sea or plagiarize or infringe upon copyright laws. Quite the opposite. It’s his defiance of fine dining conventions; the joyful and playful approach to creativity and eating. This stands in stark contrast to the stuffy arrogance of an elitist $600 Michelin-starred tasting menu that doesn’t let you forget it, and that no average person can afford. The focus on playfulness, the sheer joy of eating, the spirited hijinks all evoke memories of a place that coined the term “Restaurant Pirate” years ago. It’s a place I’ll forever cherish for all the right reasons: Quebec City’s L’Affaire Est Ketchup.

L’Affaire Est Ketchup is part of a restaurant group in Quebec City that includes Le Patente et Machin, le Kraken Cru, L’Albacore, and le Ket’chose. Restaurants that each proudly display the words “Restaurant Pirate” (pirate restaurant) under their names. In an article in Tastet, one of the founding misfits, Olivier Thibault-Allard explains that L’Affaire Est Ketchup was conceived at a time when the Quebec City food scene was nothing more than fine dining restaurants and tourist traps. They wanted to open a place “where you can eat well, drink well, without judgment, at a reasonable price, in an ambiance that’s always fun.” Eating at L’Affaire Est Ketchup is like eating in someone’s home in the best way. They start by walking over a weathered black board, guiding guests through their daily menu with the flair of a small play. The open kitchen is the smallest I’ve ever seen and appears to be powered by appliances that were passed down for generations. Some of the dishware spills onto the adjoining bar from lack of space; but somehow, it’s more charming than it is encumbering. Based on first impressions alone, there’s no doubt it’ll be a fun night. But the caliber of the food that comes out of that tiny kitchen is well beyond your wildest expectations. When we last dined at L’Affaire Est Ketchup, we took the last seating of the night and asked that they just feed us whatever they wish. In addition to surprising us with the most unusual shot of tequila and tomato juice with an octopus chaser, at the end of the meal, they invited us to post up at the bar and drink with the staff. We later learned from our hotel front desk that this was a regular occurrence.

“I just wanted to find something where I could see a light at the end of the tunnel, as far as being free and creative”

Despite having grown up in restaurants and hospitality, Nate didn’t know he wanted to be a chef until well into adulthood: “I initially went to school for painting, like fine arts,” he recounted. “Growing up, I worked in restaurants. I worked as a dishwasher, host, even a busboy. Every position…intermediate server. Everything. And cooking wasn't even on the radar.”

After his studies in fine arts, Nate still couldn’t quite figure out what he wanted to do with his life. He followed a girl to Montreal and got a telemarketing job; but with no plan or clear ambitions, he had trouble picturing his future. He couldn’t see past tomorrow, let alone next week or next year. Until one day, not even sure when or where, he overheard a conversation with someone going to chef school, and everything started to make sense.

This prompted him to enroll into George Brown’s Culinary Arts program in Toronto. Unlike many of his peers who’d worked in the kitchen prior to attending chef school, Nate dove in without any prior back-of-house experience. Dedicated to his newfound craft, he followed up his degree with the French Culinary postgraduate program. “I think if you decide that you're going to do something, then you have an edge on everybody that's still trying to decide if that's what they want to do. That's what I decided; I went into school knowing. So I didn't mess around. I didn't just get a job to have a job. I tried to work at places that I felt would help me get to the place that I wanted to be.”

Nate credits his former teacher Deborah Reid with the idea of caring about - and strategically selecting - where you work. She also helped him get his first cooking job with Jamie Kennedy. Beyond these two names, Nate makes little mention of any other chefs he’s worked with. I’d probed him about his experiences in various restaurants, attempting to build a mental timeline of the influences that shaped him into the chef he is today, and came out virtually empty. 

Nate’s philosophy on growth and development explains it all - he believes that the responsibility lies with the individual to evolve into the chef they aspire to become. “I see it all the time,” he says, “really young cooks that, out the gate, think they got it figured out. You’ve got to trust the process and go through it. And I mean, you can fake it till you make it for sure, but it's not the same as the journey. Cookbooks are a big one, cooking at home…it's hard. Especially the more you go back in years in this industry, the longer the shifts were. I used to work 14-, 15-hour days, you know. So I get it; people are exhausted after work, but if you can find the drive to cook at home... Because when you work in a kitchen, you're cooking the same menu, unless you're lucky to work in a place that's changing the menu all the time and you're part of that, but usually you're just cooking the exact same thing. Anyone that's working in a kitchen that thinks it's up to their chef to make sure the chef makes them who they are, they're only gonna grow so much. They gotta embrace it themselves. They gotta want it.”

“Because as much as everywhere that I worked, and every person that I knew, has impacted who I am, I don't really want to give too much credit to too many places. For me being who I am.”

It’s the people that Nate didn’t work with that influenced him the most:  those who pointed him down the paths he chose to take or even people he’s never known. For instance, Nate admits that while he collected cookbooks, he discovered with the help of Edulis’ Michael Caballo that he wasn’t choosing the right ones for himself. Caballo encouraged him to dig into the past, introducing him to books by Georges Blanc. Soon, Nate became enamored with chefs from generations ago, and devoured cookbooks by the Roux Brothers, Georges Blanc, Raymond Blanc, Troisgros, Pierre Koffmann, Charlie Trotter, and Alain Ducasse to name a few.

Technique is not what draws Nate to older books, but the history and thinking behind how chefs - for instance - chose their ingredients. “I think cookbooks now, they're so unique to the chef with their technique and how they do it that I wouldn't want to use it,” he explains. “I wouldn't want to feel like I'm copying someone that's right now, instead of riffing on the past.”

“There are current chefs that definitely influenced me,” Nate admits. “Because that Nashville hot chicken was Dave Santos, a rough version of his Nashville hot chicken recipe. And he’s a friend who I think is an amazing chef from New York. And even before I worked at Beast, Scott [Vivian] was an influence. They never made me feel like I was below them.”

“They made me feel like I was a part of this lifestyle and like I was one of them. That was very motivating.”

Nate is part of a very tight knit community of Toronto chefs who regularly meet and dine together, and occasionally cook together. Within the community, there exist a few chefs - pillars who serve as catalysts for bringing this community together. One of them is his business partner, Scott Vivian, OG founder of Beast. Nate sees Scott as a kind of mayor, always going out wanting to know everybody in the industry, keeping a pulse on what’s going on, supporting young cooks as they find their footing. Scott would visit Nate at Home of the Brave, often with the staff from Beast going over after Sunday brunch service.

In telling me how he met Dave Santos, he mentions Rossy Earle, another influential figure akin to a “mayor”. Every year, Rossy would organize a North American chef delegation to travel to her native Panama. There, they would collaborate with emerging Panamanian chefs to put on an expansive outdoor dinner event for 500 people. Nate explains that Panama City had a burgeoning food scene where up-and-coming chefs were eager to break the mold. As a port city, the region primarily exported their products, leaving them to rely on imported products for local consumption. With their fertile and sustainable agricultural landscape producing beautiful fruits and vegetables, and their access to excellent seafood, the Panamanian chefs wanted to show that they, too, could elevate Panama’s gastronomy on the global stage. Nate and Scott were part of the delegation and participated in the annual dinner for three years, until COVID put an end to this tradition. But the lasting impact remains; through these experiences, they’ve made friends for life.

It was in the early stages of the pandemic when Nate partnered with Scott to helm the kitchen at Beast. While some restaurants were shutting down, others were pivoting to stay afloat. Disagreeing with his previous employer’s response to the pandemic, Nate immediately walked over to Beast, where Scott had always kept the door open for him to join. The timing, while full of challenges, was perfect. Scott, wanting to start a family, would have less time to run the restaurant and needed a partner.

Beast had pivoted to operating as a bodega selling specialty dishes for takeout, beer and wine, and a variety of curated packaged goods. After a while, they decided to renovate. And when lockdown restrictions were partially lifted to permit small in-person gatherings, they cooked private Whole Animal Dinners in people’s homes.

When they announced that they were reopening as a pizzeria, I was admittedly a little skeptical. Pre-pandemic Beast was a special place for us; it’s where we met Alex and Kelly for the first time, it’s where we took visiting friends and family for memorable dinners, there were dishes we fell in love with and still remember to this day. I didn’t quite know what this meant and feared that it wouldn’t feel the same.

The decision to reopen as a pizzeria went beyond self-preservation. Pizzerias were untouchable during the pandemic and are essentially recession-proof. And no one knew how long lockdowns would last or if it could happen again. But, as Nate explained, there was more to it than that: pizza has always been part of their history. One of Scott’s first jobs out of junior high was working at a pizzeria. One of Nate’s earlier restaurant jobs was at a pizzeria fifteen years ago, making pizzas with Stew White, one of Beast’s current pizzaiolos. Before COVID, both Nate and Scott would partner with 416 Snackbar’s Dusty Gallagher to throw pizza parties to raise funds for Chefs with Hart. They would take over pizzerias around the city, invite another chef, and create a special menu in collaboration with the resident pizzaiolos. In the end, it was rather fitting that what followed Nate and Scott’s partnership was the decision to reinvent Beast as an expression of what has always existed in the fabric of their relationship. Another example of “riffing on the past.”

Finally, in April 2022, Beast reopened in full force. To my delight, they began taking reservations for their Whole Animal Dinners shortly thereafter. Beast’s Whole Animal Dinners are a bespoke 6-course meal inspired by an animal chosen by the diner. The use of various parts of the animal ranges based on the diner’s level of adventure. This is what drew me to Beast years ago - its embrace of nose to tail eating, a philosophy that I hold dear for many reasons - and it dawned on me that my initial skepticism was fueled by the idea of losing that part of their identity. But everything that made Beast special in my eyes was further amplified by this new iteration. If you’re old enough to have watched Cheers, “where everybody knows your name,” this is exactly what it feels like to step into Beast. Spencer is always the first to greet us and take us to our table, often taking great care of us for the evening. Brandon, stationed at the bar, will welcome us with a drink. His beverage pairings are always spot on, and accompanied by notes that offer a unique, yet relatable perspective. There have been a few new faces lately, but soon enough, we’ll know them too.

The newly-renovated kitchen now opens up to the dining room, where it’s hard to miss the camaraderie among the team. From the back-of-house extending all the way to the front-of-house, there’s a spirit of conviviality that is palpable the second you step into Beast Pizza. A testament to the culture that Nate and Scott have built, rooted in the sweet spot between being seriously good at what they do and not taking themselves too seriously.

I would argue that this culture is fiercely upheld by the team. There is an undeniable sense of ownership bestowed upon each team member, which I believe stems from the value placed on individual growth and creativity - a rarity in a world that glorifies the Executive Chef as an auteur. This has always been part of Beast’s identity, a clear extension of Scott Vivian’s inclination to mentoring young chefs, passed on to Nate.

“I think that the only thing that should be done in the kitchen that is my way is that they all respect each other. And that everyone has a sense of camaraderie, and that no one’s getting too carried away with being silly and stuff. But, they’ve all got to do their own thing. They’re all different in what they want.”

Nate goes on to explain each of his team member’s strengths, personality traits, and things they should work on for continuous growth, with incredible depth and impeccable detail. In summary:

Jr sous-chef Thanh is a first-generation Vietnamese immigrant who is still learning English, which her teammates have been helping her with. Punctual, efficient, precise, Thanh keeps an immaculate station. Under Nate, she is honing her French cooking skills and excelling at a rapid rate. Her next step involves self-discovery and developing her own style. 

While Pizzaiolo Jonah mostly slings pies next to Stew, he has developed a mastery for flavour composition, and often contributes a dish to Whole Animal Dinners. Furthering his advancement would mean focusing on technique and plating skills.

With his extensive career, Pizzaiolo Stew has become a master in pizza making, but as Japan’s shokunins are forever refining their chosen craft, Stew continues to push his creative boundaries. Every week, he releases a pizza special that not only induces salivation, but at times, has you posing existential questions about what pizza really is. This has prompted many to reconsider other dinner plans for this fleeting experience that may never come again.

Dough maker Val will experiment with different breads, and even Dishwasher Watson was recently taught how to make pasta. 

Nate compares Beast to a Montessori school for chefs. An environment made possible by the intimacy and operational efficiency of a 22-person dining room, with a manageable patio in warmer months. The result is a self-sufficient team that can admittedly run without Nate by design, allowing him to focus on his team’s continuous improvement, as well as his own personal growth in the Whole Animal Dinners.

“Doing the Whole Animal Dinners, we try not to repeat the dish. We might do variations of the dish. But try not to repeat the exact same, just try and keep growing, making the dish better. But here, doing that, doing the Whole Animal Dinner, I'm excelling at a rapid pace.”

Knowing how important Whole Animal Dinners are to Nate’s growth, inspiration, and self expression, we felt this story wouldn’t be complete without coming together for one with Alex and Kelly. We chose the Umami dinner, which I was told at the time was the most challenging one. The menu included:

• Oysters three ways: raw, battered and fried, and cooked floating in a consommé with salmon roe;

• BC shrimp in spaghetti with leek velouté and Kaluga caviar;

• Parsley flan with escargots cooked in garlic butter, red wine sauce, and chervil, accompanied by bread made with 4-day aged pizza dough;

• Elk tenderloin sous-vide in whisky barrel-aged soy sauce, cheong fun with crispy shallot, in a bordelaise sauce with veal bone marrow;

• Aged veal chop sous-vide in koji, elk jus, tapenade and roasted red pepper, xo sauce made with Jameson, accompanied by pomme purée made with elk jus;

• Dessert of smoked trout, savory whipped cream on a buckwheat pancake, covered in maple syrup.

Towards the fourth course or so, Nate mentioned that he was thinking of letting anyone who ended their Whole Animal Dinner with a pizza sign the wall. I reminded him that we had done just that about a year ago and intended to do it again. And so we did and became the first to commemorate our achievement.

Under anyone else, a casual pizza joint that lets you sign their wall with a Sharpie, but will also serve a polished 6-course meal, throw frequent pizza parties with such a random lineup of collabs - from an obscure skateboard and kitchen merch brand to Michelin-starred chefs - risks screaming identity crisis. A jack of all trades, but a master of none. But somehow, under Nate Middleton and Scott Vivian, it all makes perfect sense. In fact, it’s paradoxically what reinforces their identity.

“Scott's always really been like that. Beast has such a broad style. Just the fact that our thing is like, yeah, we're a pizzeria, we're not true to Italian. We’ve got fish sauce vinaigrette broccoli, you know, perilla seed is all over roast beets that we do. But it's not true to one style. It's true to just the fact that we offer Whole Animal Dinners. And we cook animals, so we don't have to stick to anything, which means we need to be super creative. So he's always had that. That philosophy has always been a part of what this space is. And whatever chefs were here before me, whatever they were, was what Beast was. But it's the ability to be fully creative. And like the amount of collaborations that happen with other chefs from other restaurants coming in here. It's it's long overdue since COVID.”

There’s something that Jay Z said in his Netflix interview with David Letterman that really struck a chord. He said: “The goal is to make forever music. For me, try[ing] to make music of the time, music of the moment…That works, people enjoy it, but the music that I listen to today, still is [...] the songs that were made fifty years ago. When creating you wanna try to make… The goal is to make something that’s going to last forever.” In other words, good music is just good music. This is how I feel about food; good food is just good food. Whether it comes from a streetside stall, or a highly decorated white table clothed establishment, it’s the stuff that eventually gets stripped down to a feeling. A fond memory of what the experience evoked in our thoughts and feelings, more than an accurate memory of every ingredient and flavour.

When speaking of restaurants there is this glorification of newness and an obsession with lists and awards. What we often find there are Instagrammable dishes of the moment made by Chefs that are busier grabbing the limelight and the Stars, than creating a safe space for others to shine, and for the industry to thrive as a collective. 

And then there’s Chefs Nate Middleton and Scott Vivian, and Beast Pizza. For 14 years, an unfortunately rare age for a restaurant, Beast has served its community while staying true to making forever food. True, when I come to Beast and I have a Whole Animal Dinner, I may never have the same meal again, not in the same way. But what I’ll have is a meal that made me feel at home, among friends, crafted with care, just for me.

Beast Pizza is what every restaurant should strive to be. And Chef Nate Middleton, a shining example of what every chef should aspire to. They’ve done more for other chefs, for the industry, for the community than anyone will ever know. 

A heartfelt thank you to friend and long-time collaborator Alex Tsang for providing the beautiful photography featured in this article.