A Conversation with Chef Scott Clark on Michelin Stars, Sobriety, and Running the California Coast
Some people leave the spotlight on purpose. Scott Clark was Chef de Cuisine at Saison, one of America's most decorated restaurants, earning three Michelin stars on his watch. He could have stayed. He chose Half Moon Bay instead. A quieter coast. A luncheonette. His daughter, Frost. And a lot of miles on the trail.
We spent a day running with Scott, tracing the ridgelines and coastal paths he calls home, then followed him into Dad's Luncheonette, where the same precision that once drove a Michelin kitchen now shapes the most honest food on the California coast. Clark has built a life around doing things with intention, and whether it's the food on his menu, the miles under his feet, or the pages of his cookbook Coastal, it all comes from the same place. We sat down with him to talk about the journey, fatherhood, sobriety, and the Brooks x Nomadix collaboration he has been putting to the test on the trails.
Take us back to the beginning. How did you first fall in love with cooking and what led you to pursue it as a career?
It started with a girl, honestly. I had home ec with someone I had a huge crush on, and something just clicked. I was good at it and it felt natural. But what really set it ablaze was when my parents split up. My mom got a job at an upscale Italian restaurant and would bring me down into the kitchen. I'm wildly ADHD, and my brain fires in a million different directions, but in that kitchen, everything just calmed. It was hot, loud, chaotic, and they were speaking a different language in there. I needed to be part of that.
I went to university for creative writing for a while, but it wasn't working out and I eventually dropped out. My mom gave me an ultimatum: have a job by the time she got back from vacation. So I Googled "best restaurant in DC," walked in, lied about my experience, and got hired. They figured out pretty quickly that I had no idea what I was doing, but they kept me around. That was it. I jumped straight into fine dining, got bit by the bug, and never looked back.
You earned three Michelin stars at Saison in San Francisco. What was that environment like and how has it shaped your cooking style from fine dining to what you're putting on the plate at Dad's Luncheonette today?
Saison was a godsend. We cooked everything over fire with minimal processing, just really leaning on sourcing and community to drive the restaurant forward. Fine dining at the time had gone through this whole era of foams and gels and molecular gastronomy, and Saison was the antidote to all of that. The philosophy was simple: this is really good, don't mess it up, love it and treat it with respect.
What I took from it was that being simple and intentional is the answer. Don't stand in the way of things. Try to showcase something at its peak. That ethos lives on at Dad's. I live in a gorgeous area where I can get my hands on ingredients people dream about, and I'm not going to overcomplicate them.
You named the restaurant after being a dad. What inspired you to open it and what has fatherhood taught you about who you are as a person and chef?
My daughter Frost was born while I was still at Saison, and everyone stopped calling me Chef and started calling me Dad. Even before I had a kid, I was already stepping into that role. When she was born, I had this come-to-Jesus moment. I could see how sweet and precious life was, and I was spending every waking hour in service to other people. After a decade-plus in fine dining, I looked at who I was, where I was, and what I wanted, and those things didn't align.
Frost's mom found a listing for this little spot in Half Moon Bay. I quit my job and opened a restaurant a month later. Fatherhood taught me that when you treat people well, treat yourself well, and treat your ingredients well, good things happen. I want my daughter to know that hard work, perseverance, and a never-give-up attitude are the sauce. Not magic, not luck. Just a willingness to jump and put everything you have into something.
Getting sober is a major life shift. Did running come out of that journey and how have the two shaped each other?
Being in a restaurant meant being the guy who could work the hardest, drink the hardest, and show up the next day and do it all again. But the body keeps score, and the older I got, the worse I felt. When I got sober, I was suddenly flooded with the realization that I had been emotionally stunted. I hadn't dealt with how I felt or what had happened to me.
The only thing I could do was run toward something. Running became this practice you can never win. You can only get better at it. Just like fine dining, I dove straight into long-distance trail running. I ran to cry, honestly. I would run to the top of the tallest mountain just to have that release. If I could solve my body, my mind would be free.
Eventually I deleted Strava, threw away all my gels, and stripped it all back. I lost the obsession over metrics and found the spirit of the practice again: dig deep with as little as possible and get as much out of it as you can. Running has been the saving grace of my adult life.
Your cookbook Coastal feels like a real extension of who you are. What inspired you to write it and what do you want people to take away from it beyond just the recipes?
I went to school for creative writing before I dropped out. It was always in me. From a young age I believed I could do two things: become a known chef and become a published author. When the opportunity came up, there was no other option. I also wanted to show my dad that the money he spent on my education wasn't wasted, that I could accomplish something real with it. I just had a decade or two of side quests to take care of first.
The spirit of the book is the spirit of Dad's. It's the story of the coast and how to interact with this incredible landscape in a meaningful way. A serious, loving, playful approach to food and the world. How to get the most out of it without getting in your own way.
Do you find any overlap between how you approach running and cooking? Any shared mindset or discipline?
Simplicity is best. That's the through line. Do the thing with the least amount of intervention possible and maximize the outcome. I want both running and cooking peeled back and as raw as possible so I can get the most out of them.
Running isn't supposed to be fun all the time, and I think people forget that. It hurts, and good, that means we're onto something. You don't need to be comfortable the whole time. Dig deep, understand it for what it is. That translates to the kitchen too. I don't need to pile things on top of a great ingredient. A cherry is a cherry is a cherry. Let's make it burst. Running is running is running. Let's get down to business.
Brooks and Nomadix recently dropped a full collection together. What drew you to the collaboration as a whole, and what has your experience been wearing the Ghost Trail shoe specifically? What do you love about it on the trail?
What both the shoe and Nomadix encapsulate is the idea of own less, do more. Stop exaggerating the things that don't matter and focus on doing the one thing well. Nomadix is a cornerstone in what can be a really noisy market. It's a purpose-built product that's there so you can do the thing. It gives you what you need and gets out of the way, whether that's a towel or a bandana. And they're giving back in the process. That mission is completely apparent in the collaboration with Brooks.
The Ghost Trail is tough, wickedly light, and agile. It's with you in the hard moments. The grip holds on the gnarliest ascents and the fastest descents, and the cushion gives back with every step. When I'm working with a product, I'm asking: this run has the opportunity to suck, so how does it make the run suck just a little bit less? That's the Ghost Trail. It's a positive addition in every way.
What are you working toward right now, whether that's a race, a new menu, or something personal?
This is my no year. I've said yes to so many things and built this really gorgeous life, and now I need to practice what I preach. I'm reinvesting in my purpose, my happiness, my restaurant, and the things I always wanted. I have all of that now. It's time to sit in it and let it be.
I'm not chasing my next 50-miler or looking for a medal. What I want is to be along for the ride with my people and my daughter. If someone needs a pacer for the back half of a hundred-miler, I'm there. I want to teach, give back, and be a meaningful part of the community around me. Stop asking what's next and start asking if you need it or just want it. I have everything I need. Now it's time to get the most out of this life and have the most purposeful existence possible.
Watch the film below, made in partnership with Nomadix and Brooks to mark the launch of the Ghost Trail collaboration.
