Marcus Samuelsson has just been handed a plate of spaghetti, and as befits a celebrity chef and many-starred restaurateur, his enthusiasm is palpable. “This is beautiful, gorgeous, well-prepared,” he says, snapping a picture of the rustic Sardinian specialty with its fine shavings of salted and air-dried tuna roe, garnished with a sprig of basil and a lemon wedge. We’re at an Italian place called Settepani on Lenox Avenue in Harlem on a sunny September afternoon discussing the joys of food and more particularly, Samuelsson’s much anticipated Harlem restaurant, Red Rooster, just a few blocks from here. As Samuelsson imagines it, his restaurant will takes its inspiration from the streets and Harlem’s present and the past. “What interests me is the history of Harlem, where it came from and where it is going, and the people who live there,” Samuelsson explains, detailing a menu that includes fried chicken marinated in a coconut milk lemongrass marinade, or perhaps a riff on meatballs with apple and parsnip mash.
That we are discussing smoked collard greens and tobacco-infused bourbon while dining al fresco on spaghetti alla Bottarga says much about where culinary Harlem is today. Restaurants are, of course, part of a neighborhood’s DNA, and they can mingle with and alter that DNA in a viral way, leaving behind traces of earlier civilizations and providing a composite picture of contemporary life. In that sense, cultural anthropologists might want to study the short stretch on Lenox just north of 125th street, where they will find the famed Sylvia’s, offering traditional soul food and southern cooking just a block north of Red Rooster’s site, which is next door to Chez Lucienne, a white-tiled French boîte that opened last year, and a Starbucks anchoring the corner. Over on Frederick Douglass Boulevard, a new cluster of bars and restaurants with names like Nectar, Chocolat and Bier International sound more suited to the trendier realms of Tribeca or SoHo but in fact are evidence of Harlem’s culinary blossoming over the past few years, one that coincides with an influx of more ethnically diverse – and higher income – residents. In 2006 a New York Times story lamented that, “aside from some renowned soul food, Harlem is relatively underserved in terms of restaurants.” Today, you can find a halal food cart parked outside a mosque, near the chicken wings takeout place, and a nearby restaurant called Five and Diamond that serves pork loin with white asparagus, ramps and pickled blueberries.
Into this mix comes Samuelsson, who at 39 is not only a culinary personality with national media credentials – he was a recent winner on television’s “Top Chef Masters” — but one of few people of color to achieve fame in the kitchen. In a foodie world dominated by Rocco, Jamie, Lidia, Rachel, Gordon and Nigella, Samuelsson’s now well-known bio tracks a unique transcontinental path: he was born in Ethiopia, where he was orphaned at age 3, raised by Swedish parents in Gothenburg, and now lives in a duplex brownstone on a quiet Harlem street. His culinary skills, refined in Sweden, Switzerland and France, reached their peak at Aquavit, New York’s elite food canteen for Swedish food fans, where he was appointed executive chef in 1995 at age 24, and won a coveted 3-star review in 2001 from New York Times critic William Grimes. He applauded Samuelsson for being “restlessly inventive,” referring to a sorbet made from raspberry and bell pepper and his “pellucid arctic char” served with nettle risotto. In 2008 he opened a pan-African restaurant called Merkato 55, which received qualified praise – “bold but uneven,” noted Times critic Frank Bruni – and later closed.
Like other star chefs, Samuelsson has entrepreneurial activities outside the kitchen: he heads a hospitality management and food media company, runs restaurants in New York, Chicago, East Hampton and Stockholm, writes cookbooks and endorses products, in addition to TV appearances and VIP cooking demonstrations for Master Card holders. All of which has brought recognition, which was on display as we strolled along the broad sidewalk on Lenox, past churches and funeral homes, where he was greeted warmly with handshakes and cheek kisses by numerous passersby. Dressed in sneakers and a purple sweater, Samuelsson, who is lithe and fine-boned and seems to have an endless supply of energy, is spotted by one woman who approaches and hands him a list of wines she would like him to buy. Samuelsson enjoys the good will, and hopes to channel that into Red Rooster, an ambitious $2 million project to create a restaurant that is many things at once — an engine of local economic growth and a jobs generator, a place to hang out as well as a community hub where you can grab a blackened catfish sandwich, learn to cook or make a fool of yourself at an open mike performance space in the basement.
Restaurants have notoriously high failure rates, especially in New York City, with its carping critics and bitchy food bloggers and fluctuating benchmarks of cool. Setting up shop in Harlem has its own complexities compared to, say, the more anodyne and already bistro-filled Chelsea. That’s what Leah Abraham, co-owner of Settepani with her husband, Nino Settepani, recalls when they opened a decade ago. “There was this feeling that people were asking, who are you and what are you doing here?” she says. “Some questioned the fact that I owned the restaurant. They thought I was a front for someone else,” says Abraham, who, like Samuelsson, was born in Ethiopia. That has slowly changed as the operation advanced from a bakery to a full-fledged eatery, and the initial skepticism softened to what she describes as acceptance and appreciation. “Once people got past the fear of walking in the door, and realized they could afford it, they started coming in all the time,” she says, describing Settepani as a neighborhood place that attracts local residents and tourists, and some adventurous Manhattanites from other neighborhoods.
Who those “locals” are, of course, is always shifting, as neighborhoods grow and attract different populations. Many soul food–style restaurants, once the mainstay of Harlem dining, have closed as tastes have changed and new residents of all races with more disposable income arrived.
And restaurateurs responded. “The market was underserved and it felt like a good time because there had been a lot of development,” explains Matthew Tivy, a co-founder and partner at Chez Lucienne. “We hoped to attract a mixed crowd, people who have bought in and those who have lived here for a long time,” he adds. That was clearly on display at Chez Lucienne on a recent Friday evening, as a packed and boisterous crowd dined on coq au vin and steak au poivre, served by staff with Caribbean and French West African accents, while a salsa band plays out front.
Still, some adjustments were needed to improve the bottom line: to lower costs, Tivy dropped the dainty amuse-bouche and the free after-dinner madeleines. Prices were reduced to keep most entrées below $20, about $5 less than at his other restaurant, Café du Soleil, on the Upper West Side.
Howard Dodson, director of the Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture, says the new restaurants and clientele reflect a broader shift in economic class that is taking place in Harlem. “What is changing is that many people have more money, both black and white,” he says. “There is a changing demographic and a racial dynamic but also changing income levels,” Dodson adds. “Young professionals are coming in.”
Samuelsson has become involved in Harlem by degrees, but he says he always envisioned coming here and using the craft of cooking to become involved with the community. So far he has designed a low-priced line of napkins, dish towels and pot holders for the newly opened Target store in East Harlem – itself a symbol of Harlem’s economic evolution – and has held cooking classes for kids at the local YMCA and at his home where the students reprised the menu he cooked at the White House for the Obama’s first state dinner. The name Red Rooster refers to a now shuttered Harlem hangout on 138th street, where everybody from the neighborhood including “politicians and guys who ran numbers,” would hang out, Samuelsson says.
For food, he’ll aim for as much locavore sourcing as is possible, which is tough given the nascent state of local farmers’ markets. Recipes will be based on what residents might be eating at home – with some improvisation, of course – as well as the area’s fast-disappearing diners. Samuelsson imagines dishes such as extra spicy Jamaican beef patties with a hardboiled egg or red snapper with sour tomato broth and sesame glaze, which was popular at the original Red Rooster, older Harlemites have told him. The menu reflects Samuelsson’s innovative touch, his corralling of ideas and spices and aromas from anywhere that can be adapted to concepts from right around the corner. And through that, he believes, a narrative emerges. What he’s striving for today, though, isn’t a nostalgic rehash or a Harlem theme park, but something quintessentially American, a cuisine infused with a mashed-up diversity that collapses notions of high and low food. “American food is like American politics,” Samuelsson, who is a naturalized American, likes to say, “There are many, many conversations going on at the same time.”
A typical day at Red Rooster would have patrons walking in off the street for a quick muffin or cornbread and coffee at a bakery counter in the 3,400-square-foot upper level. Lunch in café-style seating might include sandwich with lamb and pickliz, a spicy Haitian vinegar. An open kitchen in the back (where Samuelsson says he will be stationed, although the executive chef is Andrea Berquist) faces the more formal dining area with about 100 seats and caters to dinner patrons and cooking classes, while at night the large basement becomes an entertainment space. Prices will range from $4 for an appetizer to around $25 for a main dish. For the interior design, Stephen Burks, an African American designer based in Brooklyn, channeled Harlem’s architectural history – the brick Brownstone buildings and woodwork – with penny tiles and hand-painted tables, and woods in various shades of brown and amber with hints of red, or as Samuelsson puts it, “the colors of Harlem.”
The notion of a restaurant as agent of social change is gaining ground. Sure, you can chow down on arugula with a renowned pedigree, the theory goes, but you can also do good by eating well. In that sense, “the restaurant becomes the marquee that can support other initiatives to improve people’s lives,” says Michel Nischan, owner of the Dressing Room restaurant in Westport, Conn., who is also chief executive of Wholesome Wave, a nonprofit that promotes good food initiatives. A restaurant that celebrates good food affords not only a nice meal for patrons but can also benefit a wider constellation — from farmers and growers (or whoever is harvesting the heirloom squash from the rooftop garden) to local residents. A restaurant can become part of a symbiotic relationship that advocates say has the potential to redefine how and what we eat and where our food comes from.
That idea has particular resonance in Harlem, which suffers from epidemic levels of obesity and diabetes and a continuing shortage of accessible and affordable healthy food, despite recent improvements and government and private initiatives. Niscahn, who considers Samuelsson a friend, says he’s the right person to address these issues because he “intimately understands the disparity between those who have food choices and those who don’t.”
Samuelsson picks up on that theme when he talks about serving food that is “less precious, more for the people,” and by that he means a certain quality and authenticity and not only for those ready to pay $200 a head for dinner. “If I have a taco on the street, I want it to be a damned good taco, an inspired taco, even if it’s from a truck,” he says. That extends to how he wants to spread the word about healthy food to kids. And from there, he points to the potential economic benefits down the road, as a new generation of cooks and servers and bartenders start great culinary careers of their own, opening and owning restaurants, in much the same way that Aquavit put Sweden on the gourmet map and instilled pride in up and coming Swedish chefs. “When you create a great place and a community place, it will mean something to work in Harlem, like performing at the Apollo.”
Restaurants help shape the identity of a neighborhood. They are venues for social interaction. Ideally, they become destinations and link local residents and outsiders who might never have ventured to Harlem before. Dodson, from the Schomburg Center, recalls that, “there weren’t many real attractions for going out to dine outside of soul food and ethnic restaurants.” Keeping those eateries alive is important, Dodson acknowledges, but “we should be also be open to exploring cuisines and everything else.”
Of course, restaurants can’t by themselves transform neighborhoods. After a decade, the block on Lenox where Settepani is located still shares space with derelict buildings with boarded-up doors and windows, a lack of development that Abraham, the owner, describes as “very slow and disappointing. It’s a shame.” But even small changes can offer alternatives and be a catalyst. Last year, for example, a new place called Il Caffe Latte opened across the street, with brick walls and a tin ceiling, and a comfortably homey atmosphere for lunch, excellent coffee and pastries.
For Samuelsson, it doesn’t matter who is running these restaurants. When asked if he believes that race or racial politics play any role in the resurgence of restaurants in Harlem, the public reception or their ability to have an impact, he says “Harlem will change because of the will and commitment of many people from all races. It’s about being open minded to what is possible, and I welcome anyone to join me.”
A few weeks before the opening, workmen are putting the finishing touches on Red Rooster. A bar and open kitchen are taking shape and walls are going up on the downstairs space where the Speak Easy will be. Samuelsson charges through the dust and debris, and proudly shows off blueprints and renderings, noting how the lamps will feature the colors of West Africa. Back on the street in the brilliant sunlight, Samuelsson stands in front of his restaurant in the making, admiring his handiwork and what he sees as the boundless opportunities all around him. “I want to bring people here to taste us, to test new boundaries and try new things,” he says. “That’s not just American, it’s ultra-American.”
