![]() ![]() Onwuachi opens his memoir at the opening night of the National Museum of African American History and Culture, a museum linking the historical and the contemporary which in a way mirrors what he is doing at “Kith and Kin”. This review of “Per Se” reveals the brutal and highly subjective impact of a bad review. "Per Se" chef Eli Kaimeh's name is misspelled (incorrectly given as "Kamieh") It is an innovative path he is carving out for himself rather than one defined by the past and those he perceives as exclusionary. His interest in a history broader than his own personal experience bodes well for a more mature perspective on life. ![]() There Onwuachi fuses these hot flavors with the innovative techniques and imagination he honed at Tom Coliccio's “Craft,” Thomas Keller's “Per Se,” and “Eleven Madison Park.” One senses an expansion of vision and a more sustainable ambition in Kith and Kin. After the book was written, he was given free reign to create his own menus at “Kith and Kin” in the InterContinental Hotel in Washington D.C. These are the flavors he returns to after the debacle of Shaw Bijou. The spicy comfort foods of his youth are invoked again and again in his memoir: mirepoix of celery, bell pepper and onions, gumbo, Indian and Trinidadian curries, egusi stew, and jollof rice. His stepfather Winston was from Trinidad. His father and grandfather were from the Nigerian delta his mother's parents came from the bayou country of Lousiana and later moved to south Texas. When he speaks about his cultural roots, it is recital of geography rather than people. ![]() “For as long as I can remember, I've been able to move back and forth, uptown and downtown, between the black and white worlds and in between.I knew how to be black in Nigeria, black in Soho, black in Harlem and the Bronx.” (p.112) He expresses that restless search in his cooking. Throughout these pages one senses Onwuachi's struggle to establish his identity, an identity that comes from within and not shaped by the alienating circumstances of his life. His life could easily have gone in the direction of his best friend Jaquan who never left the projects. Onwuachi also speaks candidly about his gang affiliation in the Bronx and a lucrative career distributing marijuana and alcohol at the University of Bridgeport. He was then cuffed and arrested for some unpaid traffic tickets (tickets that might well have been accrued by his abusive father who had lent him the vehicle in lieu of any substantial contribution toward his tuition). He speaks of his own terror and the officer's attitude of resentful distrust. It was 2:00 AM when he was stopped by a traffic officer near his lodings at the Institute. As anyone in the industry knows, work hours can extend late into the night. This was at the height of Mayor Bloomberg's stop-and-frisk years, so it wasn't uncommon to be thrown against a wall and searched a few times a week.” (p.95) For me, the scariest incident occurred when he was working nights to pay his tuition to the Culinary Institute of America. Even when they weren't serving time, the guys from Webster were constantly hassled by cops. I was in fact the only one who hadn't seen the inside of a jail cell. Living in the neighborhood of the Webster Housing Projects of the Bronx, Onwuachi portrays a cycle of increasing resentment: “The guys at Webster had all been in and out of lockup. He suggests that some of that racism contributed to the rage and abusiveness of his own father. He contrasts the alienation he felt in the Bronx with his time in Nigeria. The Kwame story is one of fortitude in the face of that same racism. (His grandfather was a respected Igbo chief and accomplished academic who repatriated to Nigeria in 1973, despairing of the racial climate in America). ![]() When he was ten he was sent for two years to live with his grandfather in Nigeria. Onwuachi spent most of his formative years living in the Bronx. It is an unsettling view of the world seen through the lens of racism in America. However, Onwuachi's memoir is about much more than the elite world of haute cuisine. It was a brutal blow in a brutal industry driven by massive egos, ambition, relentless stress, and too often, a level of rage and abusiveness that would make Gordon Ramsay seem mellow by comparison. Chef Kwame Onwuachi wrote this memoir when he was 28 years old - shortly after his signature achievement, the Shaw Bijou, closed a mere three months after its opening. ![]()
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