With his beard, backward ball cap and bar towel dangling from the waist tie of a fine-looking bib apron, Thomas Bowman could be expediting at a trendy San Francisco restaurant. But today, in an old industrial space at the edge of the city’s Mission District, he’s frying a small mass of terra-cotta-colored chicken in a nonstick pan. The mass is as unruly as loose oatmeal—a decidedly un-poultry-like texture. After a few dabs with a spatula, Bowman, a veteran of several Michelin-starred kitchens, tamps it back into shape.
“As...