13 minute read
Every Kitchen Tells a Story
The personal and the profound mix in Kwame Onwuachi’s “My America.”
BY QUINTON SKINNER
CLAY WILLIAMS PHOTOS T here’s a particular flavor that speaks to each of us. It could be our grandmother’s signature dish or the distinctive spices in a favorite family meal, and although it’s different for every individual, what it evokes is the same: a story of family, togetherness, heritage, and culture. It’s into this space that chef Kwame Onwuachi is operating with his new cookbook, “My America: Recipes from a Young Black Chef.”
“Everyone’s experience of America is a little bit different, you know?” Onwuachi says. “This is my version of America.”
That version is as eclectic as Onwuachi’s background. He grew up in the Bronx and spent a couple years with family in Nigeria when he was a child. He lived in Baton Rouge for a time before returning to New York to launch his culinary career. Along the way, his vision of cooking encompassed the heritage of his relatives spanning from the Caribbean to Africa to the American South and back.
“Every dish has a story, it has a soul,” Onwuachi explains. “You’re cooking it to share an experience, a snapshot in time with someone. I wanted to put my ancestors on my back and tell their story for this book. It’s really the story of the people who came before me, which made me who I am.”
The book is divided into regions as well as genres (greens, seafood, poultry, desserts), and recipes are accompanied by personal and historical context. Onwuachi’s jerk chicken recipe, for instance, comes with a memory of fleeting good times amid an oftentempestuous relationship with his father. His shado beni chutney recipe tells a more universal diasporic story of how indentured servitude spread millions of Indians—and their cooking flavors—throughout the British Empire.
“I think you can’t know where you’re going unless you know where you came from,” Onwuachi adds. “This book is tapping into why I am the way I am, why I eat what I eat, and how this is my benchmark for good cuisine.”
As a cookbook, “My America” contains a wealth of mouthwatering, easy-tounderstand recipes, from hearty jambalaya (see the recipe on page 54) and a savory red bean sofrito to a Jamaican-style burger. It kicks off with an invaluable section focused on the pantry, which provides recipes for a variety of spice mixes to assemble and keep for various dishes. Onwuachi also soulfully reflects on how these concoctions are a product of the historical Black experience, from cayenne hot sauce serving as a health tonic to keep slaves healthy enough to work, or how berbere spice made its way along the silk road from Ethiopia to China.
“Black culture is a culture of resilience and tenacity,” Onwuachi says. “Take the culture of the Caribbean, with indentured Indian servants—that’s a story of tenacity. It’s also ultimately a story about freedom. It’s in the food, and it’s also in the fabric of who people are.”
The Journey of a Young Chef
Onwuachi came from a financially challenged background in the Bronx and had enough of a proclivity for getting in trouble that he was sent to live with his paternal grandfather in Nigeria at 10 years old to, in his own words, “learn respect.” The experience also exposed him to novel flavors and ingredients in this new culture. He was later expelled from the University of Bridgeport, and he ended up working as a chef on an oil cleanup boat in the Gulf of Mexico. He went on to create a catering business in New York, launched in part with the profits from selling candy on the subway.
He was drawn to the world of fine dining and learned about the French tradition of cooking at the Culinary Institute of America (he remembers “the technique, the sauces, the ingredients, the language, the white hats, the clean toque, the Oui, chef”). He worked in the well-regarded Manhattan restaurants Per Se and Eleven Madison Park, and then competed on Bravo TV’s “Top Chef” in 2015, where his culinary chops and charismatic presence raised his profile.
In a meteoric rise, while he was still in his 20s, Onwuachi accepted an offer to create a tasting-menu restaurant in Washington, D.C., which opened in the fall of 2016. The restaurant, the Shaw Bijou, didn’t make it to three months. Onwuachi describes that time as being “gutted personally, my life upended, but I was gutted emotionally, too.” He had launched his kitchen in D.C. as an extension of himself, each dish a story reflecting his own personal journey. When the public didn’t respond to that vision by making it a success, he internalized it as a personal rejection.
But it was by no means the end of Onwuachi’s story. He realized that his next step was to honor his own story by broadening it to what he called “my kith, my kin.” For his next menu, he called on recipes from his mother and maternal grandmother, dishes from his Trinidadian grandfather Papa Winston, and curries and stews from his Jamaican grandma, Gloria. He spent countless hours on the phone with relatives, weaving together the tapestry of his family heritage through the complicated sensory stories of food.
Jambalaya
MAKES 6 TO 8 SERVINGS | ORIGIN: AMERICAN SOUTH
I grew up eating Nigerian Jollof Rice, a recipe from my father’s side of the family, and Creole jambalaya, one from my mother’s. So for me the two were always interconnected. Both are one-pot rice-based dishes, colored and flavored by the addition of tomatoes and brought to life with a similar spice profile. Jambalaya, however, hails from Louisiana, where many Africans worked the rice fields the two continents shared. They brought with them not just the knowledge of how to grow but also how to prepare rice. Once in Louisiana, proto-jollof incorporated whatever proteins were available: andouille sausage, abundant shrimp from coastal waters, and chicken, another economical choice. Also added were influences from the Spanish settlers who yearned for the paella of their home, and the French, the masters of roux. Now jambalaya sits at the heart of Creole cuisine. … Meaty, filling, comforting, jambalaya reminds me of both my childhood and my ancestral home.
1½ cups jasmine rice 2 tablespoons grapeseed oil, plus more as needed ¾ pound andouille sausage, sliced into ¼-inch-thick coins 1 pound boneless, skinless chicken thighs, cut into 1-inch cubes 1½ teaspoons kosher salt, plus more to taste 2 tablespoons House Spice, plus more to taste (see recipe below) 1 pound large (16-20 size) shrimp, tail on, peeled, and deveined 5 garlic cloves, minced 1 medium yellow onion, diced 1 red bell pepper, diced
2 stalks celery, diced 1 (14-ounce) can crushed tomatoes 4 fresh thyme sprigs 2 teaspoons dried oregano 3 fresh bay leaves 2 tablespoons Louisiana-style hot sauce (see Editor’s Note) 2 teaspoons Worcestershire sauce 1¼ cups chicken stock (see Editor’s Note) 1¼ cups shrimp stock (see Editor’s Note) 2 tablespoons roughly chopped fresh parsley 4 tablespoons sliced green onion
1. Rinse the rice in cool water until the water runs clear, then set aside. 2. In a large Dutch oven, heat 2 tablespoons oil over medium-high heat until shimmering. Add the sausage and brown on all sides, 2 minutes per side, then remove to a plate and reserve for later. 3. While the sausage browns, season the chicken on all sides with salt and house spice. Once you’ve removed the sausage, add the chicken to the pot and sear until deep golden brown on both sides, 4 minutes per side. Remove to a plate and reserve for later. 4. While the chicken browns, season the shrimp all over with salt and house spice. Once you’ve removed the chicken, add another tablespoon of oil if the pot seems dry, then add the shrimp. Sear the shrimp until deep golden brown on both sides, 1 to 2 minutes per side. Remove to a plate and reserve for later. 5. Heat the oven to 350°F. Decrease the heat on the stove to medium. Add another tablespoon of oil if the pot seems dry, then add the garlic. Sauté until fragrant, 2 to 3 minutes, then add the onions, bell peppers, and celery. Sauté until tender, 8 to 10 minutes, then add the crushed tomatoes, oregano, bay leaves, thyme, hot sauce, Worcestershire sauce, and 2 tablespoons house spice. Return the andouille and chicken to the pot and simmer gently, stirring occasionally, for 20 minutes. 6. Add the rice and stir frequently for 5 minutes, until toasty. Add the chicken and shrimp stocks and 1 teaspoon salt, then increase heat to high and bring the mixture to a boil, stirring frequently. Once boiling, remove from the heat, cover tightly, and place in the oven for 18 minutes. 7. Remove the jambalaya from the oven and let rest, covered, for 5 minutes, then uncover and fluff gently with a fork and fold in the shrimp. Let it sit uncovered for 5 minutes more before folding in the parsley and green onions. Taste and adjust seasoning with salt, house spice, and hot sauce.
Editor’s Note:
For the Louisiana-style hot sauce, chicken stock, and shrimp stock, Onwuachi makes his own from scratch for this recipe. You can substitute store-bought. For shrimp stock, you could use seafood stock. These recipes are available in the book.
House Spice
MAKES 3 CUPS | ORIGIN: AMERICAN SOUTH
Nearly every kitchen I’ve been to in that stretch of Louisiana and Texas known as the Creole Coast has, somewhere in it, a jar of house spice. … This version is based on my mom’s but kicked up a notch with Worcestershire powder for a touch of acidity and umami.
½ cup + 2 tablespoons kosher salt ¾ cup + 1 tablespoon freshly ground black pepper ½ cup + 1 tablespoon + 2 teaspoons granulated garlic ¼ cup + 3 tablespoons + 1½ teaspoons granulated onion ½ cup Worcestershire powder 5 tablespoons + 2 teaspoons cayenne 5 tablespoons + 2 teaspoons sweet paprika
Combine all the ingredients in a large bowl and whisk well to combine. [This will keep in an airtight container in a cool, dark place up to four months.]
JAMBALAYA
FROM TOP TO BOTTOM, HOUSE SPICE, CURRY POWDER, JERK POWDER, SUYA, BERBERE
“I began to see how interconnected these diasporic cuisines are,” Onwuachi writes in “My America.” “They are not islands but part of the same river. I saw diasporic cuisine as a writhing, thriving, living thing. I saw jollof and jambalaya as two traditions that fed Africans in vastly different circumstances. I heard the echoes of the one-pot stews of Nigeria in the one-pot stews of the American South. I saw the twined influences of East Indians and West Africans in the Indies.”
He explored these connections at Kith and Kin, a successful restaurant also in Washington, D.C. He had evolved from a version of the high-end culinary school world to a synchronous amalgam of the personal and the universal: the flavors and stories of untold millions who have been forgotten, their memory imprinted in flavors, sights, and smells.
Having Fun While He’s Here
Onwuachi divides his time today between New York and Los Angeles, and his 35th birthday is still a few years away. While he’s focused on promoting “My America,” he anticipates a return to the professional kitchen sooner than later.
“I’m a restaurant guy. Definitely,” he says. “I love telling a story and creating an experience for people. The quality of the food is a prerequisite, of course, but it’s also important to create a place where people can think and celebrate—whether it’s a different culture or their own culture. That’s so important, and it’s why I do what I do.”
This 2019 James Beard Rising Star Chef Award winner is also interested in pursuing acting, and his opportunities include a small role in the film adaptation of his 2019 memoir, “Notes from a Young Black Chef.” It’s slated to be released this fall, and Onwuachi is
RECIPES FROM “MY AMERICA: RECIPES FROM A YOUNG BLACK CHEF” BY KWAME ONWUACHI WITH JOSHUA DAVID STEIN. COPYRIGHT © 2022 BY KWAME ONWUACHI. EXCERPTED BY PERMISSION OF ALFRED A. KNOPF, A DIVISION OF PENGUIN RANDOM HOUSE LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. NO PART OF THIS EXCERPT MAY BE REPRODUCED OR REPRINTED WITHOUT PERMISSION IN WRITING FROM THE PUBLISHER.
—KWAME ONWUACHI
palpably excited by the prospect of reaching an even wider audience with his story—and to get in front of the camera himself.
“I acted in school theater when I was growing up,” he says. “I was in all the plays. I always played the lead, and I took it very, very seriously. It’s always been a passion for me.”
For now, he’s happiest to be telling stories in the pages of his cookbook, which he calls a “love letter to those who made it here, made me here . . . ‘My America’ is for my mom and her people, my dad and his. It’s a land that belongs to you and yours and to me and mine.”
Indeed, Onwuachi’s book is so inviting, so authentic in both the complexity and simplicity of its stories and connections, that it finds the beating heart of the commonality that unites all of us alongside the particulars of our backgrounds and our heritage.
“We’re more similar than we are different,” Onwuachi says. “And you can show that with food. You can cross an ocean on a single plate. Most nations have their rice dishes, most countries like to grill meat, everyone has their stews. So, we’re all similar in that way. At the end of the day, we need to come together with that—and not judge each other so much.”
Onwuachi’s next steps seem wide open, and for someone who’s enjoyed success and endured failure, he’s moving ever toward what seems authentic and enlivening. And he’s learned about what he wants to avoid: being pinned down to a single role or a fixed image of what he can become.
“I want to stay multidimensional,” he says. “I don’t believe in putting myself in a box just because some people want you to be there. If they label you as something, that doesn’t mean you have to stay in that lane. That’s why I created my own nail polish, and I have a spice line, and I have an apron line. It’s all because I just want to be a citizen of the world. And because I want to have fun while I’m here.” n
