His journey—from training at the New England Culinary Institute to staging at Commander’s Palace, refining his craft at Atelier Crenn and L’Atelier Joel Robuchon, and ultimately creating a James Beard Award-winning restaurant—is nothing short of inspiring. He has not only redefined modern Senegalese cuisine but has also placed it firmly on the national stage, earning accolades from Bon Appétit, Eater, TIME100 Next, and beyond.

We had the privilege of talking with Chef Mbaye to discuss his path, his philosophy on food, and how he envisions the future of Senegalese cuisine in America. Our conversation covered everything from his formative years in Senegal and Harlem to the ethos behind Dakar NOLA and the impact of his James Beard Award win. Now, let’s dive into the conversation with the chef who is redefining modern West African cuisine in America.

Absolutely. Growing up in Senegal, food was a huge part of my childhood. I went to a boarding school, and as men, we did everything—we cooked, we cleaned. That experience really shaped my perspective early on. My mother also owned a Senegalese restaurant in Harlem in the late ‘80s, so I was exposed to the restaurant world from a young age.

In Senegal, food is not just about eating—it’s communal. We sit together, eat from the same plate, and share stories. That sense of togetherness is something I carry with me to this day.

I returned to the U.S. when I was about 14 or 15, and even though I was born in Harlem, I barely spoke English. After finishing high school, I worked in a few good restaurants, but I realized I wanted to take cooking more seriously. That led me to the New England Culinary Institute, which had a French-based culinary program that really intrigued me.

My older brother had also talked about NECI, and that put it on my radar. I was really curious about French techniques because, historically, Senegal was colonized by France, and I knew a lot of our cooking methods were influenced by French cuisine. I wanted to see that connection for myself.

Not really. The program was very French-driven, so I was learning classical techniques. But I was also really curious—I wanted to go beyond the familiar, to step outside my comfort zone. That’s what led me to pursue restaurants outside of my cultural background before fully embracing Senegalese cuisine.

After graduating, I worked at The Redding Room in New York and was supposed to do an internship in Paris, but financially, it didn’t work out. Instead, I went to Cleveland for six months. After that, I decided to visit home in Senegal since I hadn’t been back since I was a teenager.

On my flight back, I had a chance encounter with some people from New Orleans who were involved with the Giving Hope Foundation. They introduced me to Tory McPhail, the executive chef at Commander’s Palace, and that’s how I ended up in New Orleans.

It was an incredible experience. I learned everything from prepping Cajun and Creole dishes to understanding Southern hospitality and cooking at a high volume. We were serving hundreds of guests per night, so it was fast-paced. But most importantly, I started to see the connections between New Orleans and Senegalese cuisine—from gumbo to étouffée, the similarities were striking.

That was a big moment for me. It also taught me about discipline and consistency. At Commander’s, every plate had to be perfect, and that level of attention to detail has stayed with me.

I think West African cuisine is having a moment, but it’s still just the beginning. People are becoming more curious about food beyond the usual French, Italian, and Japanese influences. Senegalese food, in particular, has so many layers—there’s depth, spice, and history. I see it growing in popularity, especially as more chefs explore their roots and diners become more adventurous.

Yes, and I want to be part of that movement. There’s no reason why Senegalese cuisine can’t be represented at the highest levels of fine dining. You see it happening with Japanese, Korean, and Indian restaurants—West African food is next.

There aren’t a lot of chefs who look like me in the fine dining world, especially at the level of Michelin-starred restaurants. That comes with challenges—sometimes people don’t take you seriously, or they assume you only cook a certain type of food. I’ve had to work twice as hard to prove myself.

By staying focused on my craft. I let my food speak for itself. I also surround myself with people who believe in the vision—mentors, peers, my team. When you have confidence in what you’re doing, the noise doesn’t matter as much.

It’s tough. The restaurant industry isn’t built for balance, so you have to be intentional about it. I try to take time for myself, even if it’s just an hour to listen to music or go for a walk. I also make sure my team gets breaks—it’s important to take care of your people.

Traveling. Music. Learning from other chefs. I try to keep evolving, so I never feel stuck.

Pierre Thiam is a big one—he’s been bringing Senegalese cuisine to the world for years. Also, Tory McPhail at Commander’s Palace and Dominique Crenn—she taught me how to tell a story through food. But my biggest inspiration is my mother. She ran her own restaurant in Harlem, and I always admired her work ethic.

I want to be known as someone who helped put Senegalese cuisine on the global stage. I want young chefs to see me and realize they can embrace their roots and still be innovative.

I want to create opportunities for African chefs. Whether it’s through mentorship, training, or helping them open their own spots, I want to make sure that West African cuisine keeps growing.

Know your history. Learn about the flavors, the techniques, the traditions. And then, don’t be afraid to innovate. That’s how you create something lasting.

It’s an honor, but it’s also a responsibility. I’m not just cooking for myself—I’m carrying my culture with me. Every dish I put on the plate tells a story about where I come from, about the people and traditions that shaped me. And I want people to taste that. I want them to understand that Senegalese cuisine isn’t just flavorful—it’s historical, it’s emotional, it’s powerful.

All the time. But I welcome it. A lot of people don’t know about West African food beyond maybe jollof rice or peanut stew, so I see every meal as an opportunity. When someone tastes yassa or thieboudienne for the first time and is blown away, that’s a moment. And if they ask questions—where’s this from, what’s in it—I’m happy to explain. Food is a gateway to culture.

By understanding the roots. You can’t innovate if you don’t understand what you’re building from. I take traditional Senegalese dishes and then think about how I can elevate them—maybe it’s through presentation, maybe it’s technique. I want to respect the original dish, but I also want to push it into new territory. That’s how you keep a cuisine alive.

Thieboudienne, without a doubt. It’s our national dish—rice, fish, vegetables, all cooked in this rich tomato base. It’s bold, it’s satisfying, and it’s full of layers. Every family has their own version, and every bite tells you something different. If people try that one dish, I think they’ll start to understand the depth of our cuisine.

She taught me that food is love, and that hard work always matters. She ran her restaurant with so much pride, even when it was tough. She didn’t have investors or a fancy team—just grit, flavor, and faith. Watching her, I learned that authenticity connects with people. She didn’t change her recipes to please anyone. She cooked what she knew, and people came because it was real. I try to do the same thing.

I want to open a fine dining restaurant that showcases the full range of Senegalese cuisine—not just the hits, but the deep cuts, the regional dishes, the lost recipes. I want to build a space where our food is treated with the same reverence as any other globally celebrated cuisine. And I want to build a team of African chefs who believe in that vision.

That I helped redefine what African food could look like at the highest level. That I created space for the next generation of chefs to be bold, to be proud of where they come from, and to never feel like they have to choose between excellence and authenticity.

All photos courtesy of Dakar NOLA unless listed otherwise. Learn more about Chef Serigne Mbaye and Dakar NOLA by visiting their website.