It’s not luck that built this place, it’s grit, and the people behind it
Tucked along a narrow street in George Town, Lucky Hole feels like the kind of place that didn’t happen overnight, it was built quietly, with care and conviction.
At the centre of it all is Chef Waymann Cheong, recipient of the Michelin Young Chef Award. His food doesn’t belong to any single cuisine. It’s not French, not Japanese, not Italian, not local. It’s a culmination of many influences, filtered through his own instincts. “I cook what feels right,” he says, and somehow, that approach has shaped a restaurant that feels deeply personal, yet effortlessly assured..
Before Lucky Hole, he spent years in Kuala Lumpur, learning the market, understanding what people actually crave, and figuring out how to balance creativity with comfort. When he returned to Penang, it wasn’t to replicate what he’d learned elsewhere, but to use that knowledge and build something new. Two years in, the restaurant still feels like it’s only at the beginning of a long story — one defined by patience, humility, and a kind of leadership that’s increasingly rare.
While this story focuses on what Cheong shared with us, he’s quick to remind that LUCKYHOLE isn’t about him alone. “It’s always the team,” he says.
In this kitchen, hierarchy takes a back seat to growth. Cheong’s team is made up mostly of chefs who weren’t formally trained, a deliberate choice. “When you start from scratch, there’s no ego, just curiosity,” he says. “That’s when real growth happens.” Watching them work, you see that respect runs both ways. Movements are fluid, communication is quiet — everyone knows what needs to be done without being told.
Every day before service, the team gathers for a family meal, their time to eat together. There’s no set budget and no unnecessary garnish, just two rules: respect the ingredients, and always serve a balance of vegetables, meat, and eggs. It’s a moment to learn, experiment, and share honest feedback.
“If you can’t cook a good meal for your team, you’re not ready to cook for your guests.”
It’s a small ritual that speaks volumes about the culture here — grounded, humble, and sincere. He prioritises it because, as he puts it, the team spends more time with each other than with their families. Making sure they share a balanced, enjoyable meal matters.
Some say that with the level of care poured into each dish, Lucky Hole could easily belong among fine dining spaces. But that’s never been the goal. The food is refined yet unpretentious, the prices fair, and the service unhurried. It’s the kind of place you actually want to linger — to eat, chat, and stay awhile. That balance between comfort and craft is what keeps people coming back.
Regulars often call ahead, giving Cheong a budget and little else. “Do whatever you want,” they tell him. A rare kind of trust that only comes from knowing you’ll be fed something genuine.
The name Lucky Hole might raise a few eyebrows, but it fits. Not because of chance, but because of what it took to get here. Luck might open doors, but perseverance keeps them open. What drives Cheong and his team isn’t luck at all, it’s purpose.
Lucky Hole is, in every sense, a reflection of that purpose. A place that grows, learns, and cooks with honesty. Proof that you don’t need to be classically trained to do something meaningful — just willing to work hard, stay curious, and care deeply.
ALL IMAGES COURTESY OF LUCKY HOLE
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