In a Seoul courtroom, the boundary between culinary ambition and regulatory order was quietly redrawn. Evett, a two-Michelin-star restaurant in Gangnam, was fined for serving ant-topped desserts to thousands of diners over nearly four years — a practice unremarkable in much of the world, yet unlawful in South Korea, where only ten insect species carry official approval for human consumption. The case asks an old question in a new register: who decides what is safe to eat, and by whose authority does innovation become transgression?
Seoul's Michelin-starred Evett fined for serving unapproved ant desserts
A regulatory line crossed in pursuit of culinary innovation
Mark
So a Michelin-starred restaurant gets fined for putting ants on a dessert. That sounds almost absurd until you realize they were doing it for years without permission.
Mimi
Right. They imported dried ants from overseas and served them on a sorbet to thousands of customers over nearly four years. The court found heavy metals in the ants that exceeded safe levels, which made it a genuine health issue, not just a paperwork violation.
Luke
But here's what I want to know—how many people actually got sick? The source doesn't say anyone was harmed. The heavy metals were found in testing, but did that translate to actual harm?
Mimi
That's a fair question. The source doesn't report any illness complaints or health incidents. The violation was regulatory—they served an unapproved ingredient without getting ministry clearance. The heavy metals were a factor the judge cited, but you're right that we don't know if anyone was actually affected.
Mark
The restaurant's defense was basically that ants are legal in other countries. Does that argument hold any weight?
Mimi
It's understandable as a defense, and the judge seemed to acknowledge it—he noted that ants are used in restaurants across the US, Europe, and Australia. But South Korea has its own approved list of ten insect species, and ants aren't on it. The restaurant needed to get temporary approval from the ministry. They didn't.
Luke
And the numbers are contested. Prosecutors said 12,274 customers, but the restaurant's lawyers said only about 60 percent of customers accepted the topping when offered. That's a significant difference in how we understand the scope of the violation.
Mimi
Exactly. The court seemed to accept the lower figure, which is why the sentences came in lighter than prosecutors requested. The judge was balancing the seriousness of serving unapproved food against the fact that the restaurant admitted guilt and stopped doing it.
Mark
What about the chef, Joseph Lidgerwood? He's the face of the restaurant, but he wasn't charged.
Mimi
Because under South Korean law, the legal responsibility falls on whoever is registered as operating the business. That's Ginny Kim, Lidgerwood's wife. He's the public figure and founder, but she's the one with the legal liability.
Luke
So the structure of the business protected him from prosecution, even though this was presumably his culinary decision.
Mimi
That's the implication, yes. The law is clear about where responsibility lies, but it does mean the chef himself faces no consequences while his wife and the company do.
Le Pouls
- A prestigious restaurant quietly served ants to over 12,000 diners for nearly four years, unaware — or unbothered — that the ingredient was unapproved under South Korean food law.
- Authorities were tipped off not by illness or complaint, but by blog posts and social media mentions, revealing how digital visibility can become regulatory exposure.
- Heavy metals detected in the imported ants above permitted thresholds transformed what might have been a paperwork violation into a genuine public health concern in the court's eyes.
- Prosecutors pushed for prison time, but the court pulled back — weighing admitted guilt, a clean record, and the global normalcy of ant cuisine against the seriousness of the breach.
- The restaurant's founder, Australian chef Joseph Lidgerwood, walked free due to a legal technicality of registration, while his wife and chief executive bore the full weight of the charges.
In a Seoul courtroom, the boundary between culinary ambition and regulatory order was quietly redrawn. Evett, a two-Michelin-star restaurant in Gangnam, was fined for serving ant-topped desserts to thousands of diners over nearly four years — a practice unremarkable in much of the world, yet unlawful in South Korea, where only ten insect species carry official approval for human consumption. The case asks an old question in a new register: who decides what is safe to eat, and by whose authority does innovation become transgression?
A Seoul court has fined Evett, one of the city's most celebrated restaurants, and its chief executive for serving ant-topped desserts in violation of South Korean food safety law. The two-Michelin-star Gangnam establishment was fined 10 million won, while CEO Ginny Kim received a 15 million won penalty — lighter than the one-year prison term and 20 million won fine prosecutors had sought.
The restaurant began importing dried ants from the United States and Thailand in April 2021, serving them atop a sikhye sorbet until January 2025. Prosecutors estimated some 12,274 customers consumed the dish, though the defense argued only around 60 percent of diners actually accepted the ant topping when offered. Testing found heavy metals in the insects at levels exceeding permitted thresholds — a detail the judge cited as an aggravating factor, alongside the restaurant's use of the dish as a marketing centerpiece.
South Korean law permits only ten insect species as food ingredients, ants not among them. Any business wishing to use an unapproved species must seek temporary ministry approval — a step Evett never took. The investigation began after officials noticed the dishes being discussed on blogs and social media.
The court's relative leniency reflected several mitigating factors: the defendants admitted guilt, Kim had no prior food safety violations, the practice had already ceased, and the judge acknowledged that ant cuisine is commonplace in the United States, Europe, and Australia — suggesting the restaurant may have genuinely misjudged the legal landscape. Evett's founder, Australian chef Joseph Lidgerwood, was not charged; under South Korean law, liability falls on the registered business operator, a role held by Kim. Both the restaurant and Kim have seven days to appeal.
A Seoul court has handed down fines against Evett, one of the city's most prestigious restaurants, and its chief executive for a culinary transgression that crossed the line between innovation and regulatory violation. The two-Michelin-star establishment in the Gangnam district served a dessert topped with ants—an insect not approved for human consumption under South Korean food safety law—and paid the price when authorities caught up with the practice.
The operator of Evett was fined 10 million won, roughly £5,400, while chief executive Ginny Kim received a fine of 15 million won. Prosecutors had sought harsher penalties: a one-year prison term for Kim and a 20 million won fine for the company. Judge Lee Se-chang of Seoul's western district court acknowledged the seriousness of the violation, noting that the restaurant had served the ant-topped dishes for years, used them as a marketing tool, and that testing had revealed heavy metals in the insects at levels exceeding permitted thresholds.
The restaurant imported dried ants from the United States and Thailand by post beginning in April 2021, then served them atop a sorbet made with sikhye, a traditional sweet Korean rice drink, until January 2025. Prosecutors calculated that approximately 12,274 customers received the dessert over that span, consuming roughly 49,096 ants and generating about 120 million won in revenue from those dishes alone. The restaurant's legal team disputed those numbers in court, arguing that only about 60 percent of customers actually accepted the ant topping when offered, and that ants represented only a small portion of the restaurant's 15-course menu.
Under South Korean law, only ten insect species are approved as food ingredients—grasshoppers, mealworms, and silkworm pupae among them. Any business wishing to use an unapproved insect must obtain temporary approval from the ministry of food and drug safety. Evett never sought that permission. The ministry's investigation began after officials noticed mentions of the ant dishes circulating on blogs and social media. Violating the regulation carries a maximum penalty of five years in prison or a 50 million won fine, so the court's decision to impose lighter sentences reflected mitigating factors: the defendants admitted guilt, Kim had no prior criminal record related to food safety violations, the actual number of ants served appeared lower than prosecutors claimed, and the restaurant had already stopped using them.
Judge Lee also noted that ants are used as ingredients in restaurants across the United States, Europe, Denmark, the United Kingdom, and Australia—suggesting the restaurant may have genuinely believed the practice was permissible. Evett was founded by Australian chef Joseph Lidgerwood, who has appeared on the Netflix cooking competition Culinary Class Wars and serves as the restaurant's public face. He was not charged in the case. Under South Korean law, legal responsibility falls on the person registered as operating the business, which is why Kim, Lidgerwood's wife, became the defendant rather than the chef himself.
Insect-eating carries deep roots in South Korean food culture. Beondegi, steamed silkworm pupae, has been sold from street carts for decades and remains a nostalgic favorite among many Koreans. Yet the regulatory framework distinguishes sharply between approved and unapproved species, and Evett's decision to source and serve ants without authorization crossed that boundary. Both the restaurant and Kim have seven days to appeal the court's decision.
Citations marquantes
The offence was by no means light, citing the length of time the dishes had been sold, the restaurant's use of them to promote itself, and tests that found heavy metals above permitted levels in the ants.— Judge Lee Se-chang, Seoul's western district court
The restaurant appeared not to have realised ants were not permitted in South Korea, despite their use as an ingredient in the US and Europe.— Judge Lee Se-chang
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Crime & Justice