Acclaimed Ethiopian Swedish chef Marcus Samuelsson doesn’t talk about African cuisine as something that’s arriving. He talks about it as something that’s always been here — deeply rooted, spiritually grounded, and quietly confident, whether the rest of the world has been paying attention or not.
“We know our food is incredible,” Samuelsson tells CNN’s Larry Madowo. “It’s delicious. It’s connected to our spirituality. It’s connected to our history. So why should the standards have to come from outside?”
For the award-winning New York City-based chef, restaurateur, and author — who became the youngest chef to earn a three-star review from The New York Times, took first place on Bravo’s Top Chef Masters, cooked for presidents and world leaders, and authored several acclaimed cookbooks — that question sits at the heart of how African food has long been misunderstood, and why he believes its future lies not in Western approval, but in African ownership.
Africa doesn’t need to be translated
Samuelsson hopes to dismantle the idea that African cuisine is a single story and hopes to reframe how Africa is discussed in global food culture.
“Africa is a continent,” he says. “Senegalese food is different from Ethiopian food. Moroccan food is different from South African food. But sometimes when people talk about Africa, they talk about it like it’s one thing.”
That homogenization he explains, has delayed recognition of Africa’s culinary sophistication — not because it doesn’t exist, but because it hasn’t been framed on its own terms. “Fine dining in Africa is not new to us,” Samuelsson says. “It’s new to the world.”
African food traditions, he notes, are already built on everything fine dining claims to value: technique, storytelling, ritual, community, and terroir — the way geography, climate, and history shape the unique character of a dish. From centuries-old fermentation methods to complex spice blending, the depth and sophistication have always been there.
“Our food is connected to whether you’re coastal or landlocked, tribal or urban,” he says. “That’s a rich history. That’s enough to set our own guidelines.”
Building something that stays
Samuelsson’s belief in African culinary leadership is not abstract. It’s something he’s actively investing in — particularly in Ethiopia, where he recently opened a restaurant in Addis Ababa atop one of East Africa’s tallest buildings.
But the project isn’t about spectacle.
“If you look down from the restaurant, there’s a small school just a couple of blocks away,” he says. “Those students are cooking students who now work in the restaurant. It’s literally a pathway into hospitality.”
Too often, Samuelsson says, young Africans are told that success means leaving — for Europe or the United States. “We’re very often taught, ‘You’re talented, you should go to London, you should go to New York,’” he says. “My thing is, you should also be able to stay in your country and do very well.”
For Samuelsson, hospitality is not just about food — it’s about agriculture, tourism, education, and ownership. “If African nations truly see the value of hospitality, it changes everything,” he explains. “It strengthens the economy. It builds pride. It gives people a reason to invest at home.”
Food as identity
Born in Ethiopia and adopted by a Swedish family as a child, Samuelsson grew up navigating multiple cultures — often without access to his roots.
“When you’re adopted, you live your identity almost backwards,” he says. “Food and culture gave me that identity.”
That personal journey shaped not only how he cooks, but how he leads. Coming up in an industry where representation was scarce, Samuelsson learned early on that visibility matters.
“I never found cookbooks by people who looked like me,” he says. “So, I knew that if I ever had my own kitchen, I would hire women and people of color.”
As his career grew, that conviction became a responsibility. Early on, while training in New York’s tightly hierarchical restaurant kitchens, Samuelsson learned that a young chef’s role was simple: show up, follow orders, and earn your place — always answering, “Yes, chef,” the phrase that would later become the title of his autobiography.
“As a young chef, you show up and say ‘yes, chef,’” he explains. “As an owner, you choose who you hire, who you buy from, and who you bring into the space. That’s where change happens.”
Today, many chefs who trained under Samuelsson are opening their own restaurants — including across Africa. “That’s the highest pride for me,” he says.
Setting the standard from within
When Samuelsson talks about where African fine dining is headed, he often points to music as a blueprint. Afrobeats, Amapiano, and other global sounds built loyal audiences at home first.
“They didn’t look to the West to create their culture,” he says. “They just made sure it was dope, that it was incredible. And now they set the standard.”
Food, he believes, is on the same trajectory. “We have a billion people,” Samuelsson says. “Why should the standards have to come from outside?”
In his restaurants — from Harlem and Washington, DC, to Stockholm and Addis Ababa — that philosophy shows up everywhere, from menus that blend traditional dishes with modern technique to music that reflects local culture, and spaces designed to make people feel something.
“When you come into our restaurants, you should feel welcome,” he says. “You should recognize yourself — or discover something new.”
Redefining fine dining
For Samuelsson, fine dining is not about exclusivity — it’s about meaning.
“No one comes to our restaurants because they’re hungry,” he says. “They come for an experience.”
That experience, he insists, must start with respect. “I always ask myself; do I understand the cultural background of this dish?” he says. “If I don’t feel I fully understand it, I stay away from it.”
As African culture continues to shape global fashion, music, and art, Samuelsson is confident food is next.
“The future is in Africa,” he says. “And when it comes to fine dining, we don’t need approval. We already have everything we need.”
