Recognition, Responsibility, and the Quiet Work of Memory

Recognition as Responsibility

When the TIME Earth Award announcement went public, the congratulations poured in. Friends, mentors, guests, former colleagues—I was deeply touched by every message.

But after the wave of celebration passed, I felt something quieter settle in.

Responsibility.

Because recognition—at least the kind that matters—isn’t just about being seen.
It’s about what you do next.

The Work of Remembering

Over the past decade, I’ve chosen a path that felt both deeply ancestral and wildly unconventional.

In the world’s eyes, I became a chef.
But for me, that title has always felt too small.

What I really do is remember.
I remember ingredients that were nearly forgotten.
I remember culinary wisdom pushed aside in the rush toward industrial food systems.
I remember the rhythm of community, the architecture of a shared table, the way flavor can hold memory in its bones.

I didn’t set out to romanticize the past.
I wanted to reclaim the future.

Cooking as Resistance

There’s a quiet resistance in cooking like this.
In sourcing from smallholder farmers.
In serving a plant-forward menu where every ingredient has a name and a story.
In taking your time in a world obsessed with speed.

That’s the kind of work that doesn’t always show up in headlines.
It lives in kitchens with no electricity. In community gardens on borrowed land. In recipes passed down without measurements.

But that’s where systems change begins.

Not in policy alone, but in practice.
Not in abstraction, but in the everyday.

When Memory Becomes Systems Change

So when TIME included me among this year’s Earth Award honorees, I knew what it meant.

It meant that the quiet work was being heard.

That African foodways—so often erased or exoticized—were finally being acknowledged as central to the global conversation on sustainability, equity, and the future of food.

It meant that memory matters.
That taste can be testimony.
That a kitchen can be a form of activism.

This Award Is a Beginning, Not a Finish

If you’ve followed my journey, you know I often say: “Food is not just climate. It is culture, it is justice, it is identity.”

That’s not a slogan. It’s my life’s work.
And I carry that with me, even more so now.

Because the real work isn’t done.
It’s just beginning.

Thank you for walking this road with me—through the long nights, the wild pivots, and the moments of deep joy. This award is for all of us building new tables, reclaiming old seeds, and honoring the wisdom that was never truly lost.

I’m not just cooking. I’m remembering forward.

➡ For reflections on African foodways, sustainability, and the future of flavor, explore the full archive.