Taking Action: The Making of Chef Martel

Fresh off earning both the 2026 Rising Star Award from StarChefs and a RAMMY Award, Chef Martel Stone isn’t slowing down. If anything, he’s just getting started.

As the Chef de Cuisine of Dōgon in Washington, D.C., Martel is helping lead one of the country’s most talked-about restaurants alongside Chef Kwame Onwuachi. But awards only tell part of the story.

Behind the accolades is a chef from North Philly whose foundation was shaped by the military, years of sacrifice, countless failures, and an unwavering curiosity to keep learning.

During our conversation, we talked about the moments that rarely make the headlines: living out of his car while chasing opportunity, learning leadership through failure. We talked about the mentors who challenged him along the way. The responsibility of cooking food rooted in the African diaspora. Balancing ambition with marriage, building a strong team, and why, after everything he's accomplished, he still believes maintaining a sense of curiosity is a chef's greatest thing.

One idea kept resurfacing throughout our conversation: memory.

"We spend so much time talking about the flavors you can taste on your tongue," Martel told me. "But I think memory is also a seasoning."

It's a philosophy that runs through everything he creates. The fried chicken his mom made. His grandmother's rice and eggs. The pancakes he makes for his daughter that remind him of his Aunt Nor.

For Martel, food isn't just about technique or execution anymore. Every dish has to carry a story. It has to carry a piece of someone, someplace, or a memory.

Because once food has an emotional foundation, you cook differently.

Our conversation stretched far beyond recipes and Dōgon the restaurant. We talked about leadership, accountability, and the uncomfortable reality that growth almost always demands failure first.

One sentence, in particular, stayed with me long after we finished talking.

"Everything isn't your fault... but it's still your responsibility."

That mindset seems to define the way Martel approaches both kitchens and life—not through excuses or circumstance, but through ownership. Through consistency. Through showing up every day with the intention of becoming a little better than yesterday.

North Philly gave him resilience. The Navy gave him discipline. Washington, D.C., gave him a platform and community. The choices he made along the way transformed opportunity into purpose.

Washington, D.C., has long been shaped by people who understood that lasting impact is built over time. Centuries ago, Benjamin Banneker wrote, "Presumption should never make us neglect that which appears easy to us, nor despair make us lose courage at the sight of difficulties." His words feel just as relevant today. Don't let success make you overlook the fundamentals, and don't let hardship convince you to quit. The smallest disciplines often become the strongest foundations, while the greatest obstacles have a way of revealing who we're becoming.

Listening to Martel reflect on his own journey, that same philosophy surfaced again and again.

Failure isn't the opposite of growth. It's part of the process.

Stay curious.

Stay accountable.

Keep showing up.

That's what Trailblazers is about.

Not simply celebrating success, but understanding the decisions, failures, philosophies, and people that shape it.

Because opportunities don't define a person's story.

What they choose to do with them does.

Welcome to episode two of The Trailblazer Series.

G: What was it like growing up in Philadelphia? What were you like before the culinary journey began, and before you entered the world of professional cooking?

Martel: Oh, I really enjoyed Philly. Like a lot of people, you have your rough times in your childhood, and you have your rough times around the city. North Philly isn't the most pleasant place to grow up with the crime and everything that comes with it. It's easy to get involved in things you probably shouldn't.

But we had family around—both immediate and extended. I'm one of six kids, and I'm the second oldest. I have an older sister, so growing up, my life was pretty relaxed. I didn't really have many responsibilities outside of the normal shit. My older sister was really the one who took care of us and looked out for everybody.

Before cooking, I was just... silly. A lot sillier than I am now. I mostly just went with the flow. I didn't really look forward to doing much of anything, and I didn't really look forward to becoming much of anything either. I just enjoyed existing. It was like that for a really long time.

No doubt,  What role did food play in your life growing up? Was it always a central part of your life, or did you kind of stumble upon it later on?

Martel: Yeah, I came into it later on. We had some good dishes growing up. My mother would make different chicken dishes, and my grandmother and great-grandmother were always baking and making different baked goods.

But food was really just something we did to survive in a lot of ways. I learned the skill of going into the kitchen, seeing a bunch of random stuff lying around, and figuring out what I could make with it. That was kind of my superpower as a kid.

Later on, though, food became much more important to me as my career started to grow.

Yeah, creativity. Having to make it all work shapes the way you think and gives you an edge in the kitchen. When you come from very little, you learn how to be resourceful. You figure out how to make something great with whatever you have. I understand that.

When did you first realize you wanted to become a chef?

Martel: My career started in Hampton Roads, Virginia. I was working in Norfolk at this small wine bar called Press 626. The kitchen could only fit about three people, but I remember walking in and meeting this chef. He was a younger Black guy, and he was really going for it.

He also loved battle rap like I did, so we connected through that. I watched him lead the kitchen, even though it was small. I watched him push boundaries and constantly try to be creative.

For me, that was the first time I saw someone who looked like me doing it. You see chefs on TV doing incredible things and running amazing restaurants, but it doesn't always feel tangible. They're just people on a screen who are successful.

This was different. He showed me how to build a dish, how to taste new things, and how to think about food. More importantly, he spoke to me on my level. That's when I realized, yeah... I want to do this.

That's really dope. Ok so you once shared that tasting a French omelette while you were serving in the Navy changed the course of your life. Take me back to that moment. What was it about that omelette that struck you? [Laughs]

Martel: [Laughs.] My wife hates this story. She really does.

I was nearing the end of my time in the Navy, and I had to decide whether I was going to reenlist or not. Around that time, I met this woman who had been a chef before she joined the Navy. We dated for a little while—nothing too serious.

One day she got hungry, walked into the kitchen, and made a French omelette. I still remember it like it was yesterday. She came back with a Coke, the omelette, and these square bagels. It was the oddest combination.

Before that, all I really knew were diner omelettes—stuffed with peppers, cheese, ham, and usually browned on the outside. But this one was completely different. It was this beautiful shade of yellow, and she brushed the top with a little butter so it glistened. She finished it with flaky salt.

When I cut into it, it was still a little soft and moist on the inside. Growing up in a Black household, when you cook eggs, you cook them all the way through. We don't do runny eggs. [Laughs.] So this was something completely different.

I took a bite, and I'd never tasted anything that required that much technique and care. I'd also never tasted eggs like that before. From that moment, it was off to the races.

A day or two later, I asked her, "Man, that was incredible. Can you show me how to make that?"

Honestly... I was trying to use it on other people. [Laughs.] I was thinking, "Imagine when I meet another girl and start cooking for her. If I pull out this omelette, I'm gonna look like a G out here.

[Laughs.]

Man, it's crazy how moments like that can completely shape your trajectory though. When you're introduced to a new technique or a different way of looking at food, there's almost always a memorable story behind it. That's a funny one. I like that story. [Laughs.]

Martel: [Laughs.] Yeah, yeah. My wife just calls her "the egg girl." We don't talk about the egg.

Fair enough, [Laughs.] When you left the Navy and stepped into your first professional kitchen, what surprised you most about restaurant life?

Martel: I think the biggest surprise was how similar it was to the military.

The brigade system in a professional kitchen is almost identical to the military structure. You have the commanding officer, the executive chef. You have the XO, the sous chef. It all made sense to me immediately.

I understood "Yes, Chef," the same way I understood "Yes, sir," "No, sir," or "Yes, ma'am," "No, ma'am."

Because of that, I thrived right away. I also came from an environment where working long hours was just part of the job. That's what I was used to in the military, so the hours in the kitchen didn't bother me. They were just part of it.

What surprised me the most wasn't the work itself—it was how easily I was able to transition into that world.

Totally. I can see that. Early on, what were some of the biggest challenges of shifting into a completely different industry—a completely different lane, so to speak?

Martel: I think the biggest challenge for me was the lifestyle change.

The military gives you freedom and downtime, but it also demands a certain level of structure in your day-to-day life. The kitchen is different. It demands structure while you're inside those four walls, but everything outside of that—or even adjacent to it—is kind of a free-for-all.

I fell into that lifestyle. I fell into the industry, and I fell into a lot of the negative tropes that come with working in restaurants.

That was probably the hardest part for me: finding my way back to that structure so I could really thrive.

Yeah, it's really easy to slip into the industry's way of life. I definitely understand that. When was the moment you realized, "Ok, I want to fully commit to this?" Was it right after you left the Navy, or did that realization come later?

Martel: Oh, it was much later.

I realized it around 2016. I was back at the wine bar, Press 626, where I'd started. The chef had left, and even though I wasn't really qualified, I was the most senior person there. So I became the de facto chef.

Without the pay, of course. [Laughs.] That's a story as old as the restaurant industry— all the responsibility, none of the pay.

But it gave me a chance to do what I wanted to do. I remember putting together these secret tasting menu dishes after the owner would leave. People started coming into the restaurant specifically for my food.

That was the moment I thought, "Ok... I can do this shit."

I didn't have all the knowledge yet, and I definitely didn't have all the skills. But I knew it was something worth chasing, and that realization really pushed me in this direction.

That's actually really dope. So would you say that was the moment you really started to feel confident in your abilities as a chef?

Martel: Oh, yeah yeah yeah. Yeah.

I look back at those plates now and cringe. [Laughs.] But back then? You couldn't tell me shit about my  plates. Right? I thought they were the best thing out here.

I totally feel that.

Martel: Oh, yeah.

If you could go back and speak to your younger self at the beginning of your culinary journey, what would you say?

Martel: Yes,

The first thing I'd tell myself is: learn. Learn the numbers, and learn how to run a business.

You can be the best chef in the world. You can make the best French omelette anyone has ever tasted. But if you can't make money, there's really no point.

Oh ok I like that, that’s great advice.

Moving into the second part of the interview. This section is all about mentorship, growth, and the major turning points throughout your career.

Jumping into it, were there any people who served as important mentors early in your career?

Martel: Yeah. Down in Hampton Roads, there was David Hannah. He was one of my earliest mentors after I decided I wanted to pursue cooking.

My biggest influence, though, was Chef Jarrod Himes. He also worked in Hampton Roads and gave me my first job. I was completely untested and untrained.

He fired me four times. [Laughs.]

But he showed me what this industry really was. He was a great chef, but he was also a great leader. More importantly, he understood the darker side of the restaurant industry and how to navigate it—the temptations, the lifestyle, and everything that comes with it.

For the first time, I saw someone who was a complete person. Flaws and all. It made me realize that no matter where I was in my journey, there was always room to grow. There was always room to become great, even with all your own bullshit.

No doubt. That’s really dope, man.

Are there any lessons from those mentors that have really stayed with you? Whether it's about cooking, leadership, life, or just the culture of working in a professional kitchen?

Martel: Yeah. Jarrod used to say the same thing to me all the time.

I'd start talking about something I wanted to do, asking questions, or throwing out ideas, and he'd look at me and say, "Martel, shut up first."

I remember it used to piss me off because I'd think, "What do you mean, shut up? I'm trying to give you this idea."

But what he really meant was, listen. It just came out as, "Shut up first."

That was probably one of the biggest lessons he ever taught me: listen first. Even to this day, it's one of the lessons that sticks with me the most.

Yeah, yeah. I can relate to that. In the beginning of the journey, you have all this energy and confidence that naturally comes with being young and ambitious. But when you learn to listen more than you speak—you end up learning so much more. Great lesson.

Your early career included time at the Founders Inn and Spa with Chef Jarrod Himes. What did that experience teach you during those formative years?

And how long were you there?

Martel: I was at the Founders Inn for about two years, and to this day, I consider that my first real kitchen job.

I'd worked at a few places before that, but it was mostly short-order cooking. The Founders Inn was the first place where I had to think of myself as something more than just a cook who happened to be around.

I was surrounded by chefs who were incredibly competitive. Mary Prater, in particular, was amazing. She kept her head down and worked, and every single day during service she pushed me—not just with the quality of her work, but with the speed and intensity she brought to the kitchen.

She was probably one of my biggest influences during my time at the Founders Inn and Spa. Being around chefs like her showed me that there were levels to this. It wasn't just about being able to put some shit together—it was about discipline, consistency, and constantly pushing yourself to get better.

Right, It sounds like you learned a lot during your time there. Getting your first sous chef role at Press 626 was a major milestone too—one that a lot of cooks work years to achieve. How did stepping into that position change the way you saw your future in this industry?

Martel: Becoming a sous chef taught me two things.

First, it showed me that I was capable of more—that I could achieve more in this industry.

But it also taught me that I wasn't ready for leadership. I wasn't ready to be a sous chef yet.

The role required me to be two things at the same time, and I wasn't good at either one. I wasn't a great cook yet, and I definitely wasn't a great sous chef. [Laughs.] I was trying to figure it all out.

At the same time, though, it forced me to grow. It forced me to stretch.

That became a recurring theme throughout my career. Every time I was confronted with a new challenge or a bigger responsibility, I had to stretch as far as I needed to in order to survive, thrive, and grow into the role. Then I'd move on to the next challenge... and the whole process would start all over again.

Mmmm, definitely. I feel like that experience is very relatable. In 2016, you crossed paths with Chef Kwame Onwuachi at Union Market. How did that meeting ultimately lead to you joining the team at Kith and Kin?

Martel: Yeah. So, it was 2016, and I came up to Washington, D.C., for my birthday. It was my first time visiting the city. I was there with my girlfriend at the time and a few friends.

We walked into Union Market, and I remember looking across the room. At that point, I was really the only one in my group who was following the culinary world like that.

Then I saw Kwame sitting in the corner outside his stall, which was called Gorsha. 

Have you ever seen those old romantic comedies where two people are standing completely still, but everyone else around them is moving fast-forward? That's exactly what it felt like.

For sure. [Laughs.]

Martel: [Laughs.] That's exactly what it felt like.

I remember walking over and immediately putting my foot in my mouth. He had just finished his shift, and his stall had already closed for the day. I started telling him how much I admired what he was doing.

What really gets me excited, is seeing that my goals are tangible. Up until then, chefs like Kwame almost felt larger than life. But now he was standing right in front of me. It made everything feel real. It made me feel like progress was actually possible.

We exchanged contact information, and a couple of weeks later he called me and said, "Yo, I'm opening something. How fast can you get to D.C.?"

At the time, I was living in Philadelphia. I remember jumping up, getting dressed, and thinking, "I can be there in a couple of hours." I drove straight to D.C. to meet him.

For me, that was my opportunity. It was my chance to prove that all the sacrifices I'd made up to that point had been worth it. More than that, it was my chance to find out if I could really do this.

Working for Kwame—and working in a restaurant of that caliber—felt like making it to the big leagues. That's where I needed to be.

Absolutely. I totally get that. So, you moved to Washington, D.C., in 2017 and started as a bread assistant. What do you remember most about those early days—both in the kitchen and in the city itself? What was that transition like?

Martel: Oh, it felt like the city was wide open at that point.

I remember my first chance to really explore was in the evenings because I was working mornings. At the time, I was living in my car. I lived in my car for the first three months while I was working at Kith and Kin, so I had nothing but time on my hands.

I'd just wander around the city. I'd spend time in the 8th Street area, which was a little rougher back then. It's changed a lot since.

That was also the first time I'd ever seen speakeasies and craft cocktail bars. It was my first time seeing restaurants with lounges and clubs downstairs. Then I'd go deeper into the city and find these huge clubs and dance halls that stretched across multiple levels.

Coming from Hampton Roads, Virginia—which felt much more divided in a lot of ways—D.C. was different. Everything felt connected. People from all walks of life seemed to exist and move through the city together.

The energy was incredible. It felt like a city that was completely alive with culture.

Yeah that sounds like a vibe.

Martel: [Laughs.] Oh, it was. It really was.

And I fell into it. I fell into it bad.

[Laughs.] That's funny. I bet you got a lot of stories.

What was it like working under a chef whose standard of excellence demanded real sacrifice? And how did that experience shape you—not just as a chef, but as a person?

Martel: That's a question. [Laughs.]

I'd say, more than anything, it's rewarding.

It forces you to constantly push yourself, even when nobody's watching. It also changes the way you think about integrity. It stops being just about what you would do in a situation and becomes something much bigger. It becomes part of everything you do.

For me, it also came with a certain amount of pressure.

When you're working under a chef whose name is on the wall—the name people are coming in for—there's an expectation attached to it. Diners today are a lot more savvy. They understand that the chef whose name is on the restaurant isn't always the person in the kitchen every single day.

So when things are going well, there's a certain amount of pride that comes with it. There's joy, both internally and from the guests.

But when things aren't right, that same name becomes a reminder. People expect a certain standard, and when you don't meet it, you're forced to ask yourself, "This isn't the level we're supposed to be operating at."

If I had to describe the experience, I'd say it's challenging, incredibly rewarding, and, for the most part... It's fun.

For sure. Building off that, what's it been like working so closely alongside Chef Kwame? What have you learned from that experience?

Martel: I think, for me, it's been illuminating.

It's also been challenging because it constantly forces you to ask yourself, "Is this really what I want? Is this the kind of chef I want to become? Is this the path I want to go down?"

Kwame's star is so big that there are so many things orbiting around it. There are opportunities—not just in restaurants, but across the entire industry—that I never even knew existed.

That can be a little daunting at times because, eventually, you have to choose a direction. You have to decide what you're going to be great at before you can chase everything else.

So if I had to describe what it's been like, I'd say it's been incredibly rewarding.

You once mentioned standing on the sidelines, watching a chef you worked for be recognized as a StarChefs honoree. What was that moment like for you, and what did it mean to you at the time?

Martel: It meant everything.

Once again, it made the dream feel tangible.

This was about nine or ten years ago, and I remember watching him receive the StarChefs honor. Seeing him do the photo shoot, get recognized, receive the jacket, the apron—it all made me stop and think, "Okay... this is actually possible."

For the first time, it felt real. It wasn't just something other people achieved. It was something I could work toward too.

Then, fast forward nine years later, and I was being honored by StarChefs myself.

That was a full-circle moment. Like I said in one of my IG posts , it was incredibly surreal to go from standing on the sidelines watching it happen... to eventually being the one receiving that same recognition.

Congratulations, by the way, man. That's huge. 

When you reflect on that full-circle journey, what emotions come up for you? You've come a long way. You said it took nine years to earn your StarChefs recognition. Looking back on that journey now, how does it make you feel?

Martel: I feel a great sense of pride because you realize, "Yo... I really did that."

It's not just ancient history anymore. I can still remember exactly where I was when I first learned about StarChefs and what it represented. Looking back now, I take a lot of pride in knowing I stayed the course.

At the same time, it also makes me a little sad because of the sacrifices.

You think about everything you had to give up. Everything you missed. All the moments you couldn't be a part of because you were chasing this one goal.

I've described my career a lot like raising a child. When they're young, it's a whole lot of hard work, sleepless nights, and trying to keep everything together... all for those few moments where you stop and say, "Wow."

That's what StarChefs was for me. It was one of those "wow" moments.

But it's also exciting as hell because now I've stepped into a different space. There's another level to reach. There's still more to accomplish.

And that's incredibly attractive to me.

100%. I Feel that. That's a great answer. So, let's move into the third part of the interview. This section is all about finding your voice, your craft, and your creativity.

When did you first begin to feel like your cooking truly reflected your own voice and perspective?

Martel: Toward the end of the pandemic, I took an executive chef position at The Gathering Spot, which was opening a location in Washington, D.C.

Mitchell McCraw is probably one of the most important people in my career and one of the biggest reasons for my success. Once again, someone gave me an opportunity when I was still relatively untested and unproven. He saw something in me, and I'll always appreciate him for that.

When I got to The Gathering Spot, it was a clean slate.

Granted, I still had what I'd call the shadow of Kwame over me—not in a negative way—but people knew me because I had been part of the Kith and Kin project.

For the first time, though, I had the freedom to do whatever I wanted.

I intentionally took my food in a completely different direction because I wanted to separate myself from what Kwame was doing. I wanted to build my own reputation and stand on my own two feet.

That's what The Gathering Spot gave me. It gave me space. It gave me a budget. It gave me a platform.

More importantly, it gave me an opportunity to connect with the Black community in D.C., and they've supported me throughout every project I've worked on. The Gathering Spot was really the first place where I experienced that kind of connection.

I found my voice through trial and error. Through curiosity. Through building a great team.

Over time, I realized I wanted to create food that felt like home—food that made me take a bite and say, "Man... I really fuck with this."[Laughs.]

That's actually the test I use in the kitchen. Either I fuck with it or I don't. Everything else just means there's more work to do.

The Gathering Spot gave me the opportunity to keep refining that voice until it finally felt like my own.

Right, how do you personally approach creativity when you're developing new dishes?

Martel: Oh, yeah. We were actually talking about this last night after service. A few of the cooks and I were hanging out at this spot in D.C. called Copycat, and we got into a conversation about how I create dishes.

Honestly, I see the plate before I even know what's going to be on it.

For example, we had a dish called Tuna Shito on the menu that we just took off. The vision started with this beautifully cured piece of tuna surrounded by a bunch of different colors.

At that point, I didn't know what those colors were going to be. I didn't know what the sauce would be or what the garnishes would look like. I just saw the finished plate.

It's kind of like one of those color-by-number books. You already have the outline—you just have to fill in the blanks.

I knew the centerpiece was going to be tuna. I knew I loved the combination of tuna and the color yellow. Then I started asking myself, "How do I get there?"

From there, it's all about building, tasting, and adjusting. Maybe I don't use turmeric. Maybe I use ginger instead. Maybe I go in a completely different direction.

For me, creativity is a lot of curiosity.

But more than anything, it's about filling in the colors.

I really like that answer. It really shows your creative side. So how do you balance tradition and innovation when you're working within diasporic cuisines?

Martel: [Laughs.] Yeah… that's a funny question.

When I first started working with Kwame, it was the first time I'd ever worked with a cuisine that carried such deeply rooted traditions.

When you're cooking in French restaurants, there's a lot more room for interpretation. You can move things around and make them your own. But with Caribbean and West African cuisines, there's a real expectation of tradition. There's an expectation of authenticity.

And I had no personal foundation in either one.

What helped me was learning to be completely transparent and to approach the food from a place of curiosity.

I'm not first-generation West African or Caribbean. I didn't grow up cooking this food. But I have a deep respect for it, a deep love for it, and I genuinely admire it.

So I approach it as a curious chef.

In the same way guests come into the restaurant curious about the food, I'm asking many of those same questions myself. We're learning together.

When people offer criticism, I take it seriously, but I also understand that part of any cuisine's evolution comes from outside perspectives. Sometimes it takes someone without the same traditional background—or the same pressure to preserve every convention—to explore what the food can become while still respecting where it came from.

For me, it's about stretching those boundaries just a little, without losing sight of the culture that inspired them.

Yeah that's extremely valid, that's a really great point.

Martel: Chef Kwame says all the time, "If a dish has a story, it has a soul."

I didn't really understand that early in my career—even when I first started working with him. Back then, I was cooking for flavor, technique, and ego.

But once I started pulling back and creating dishes that reminded me of something, everything changed.

For example, I have a rice and eggs dish inspired by my grandmother. We didn't always have a lot growing up, but in the mornings she'd take leftover rice and eggs, cook them together, steam them, and that would be breakfast. I loved it.

Years later, I created a dish based on that memory.

Yeah absolutely, beautifully said. Beautifully said.

Running a kitchen can feel chaotic, but when everything is in sync, it can also feel incredibly connected. Looking back on your career, is there a moment that stands out—maybe you jumped on the line, looked across the kitchen, and thought, "Wow... this is beautiful." Everyone was locked in, cooking together, and everything just clicked.

Do any moments like that come to mind?

Martel: Yeah. I actually have two that come to mind. One is from years ago, and the other is more recent at Dogon.

The first one happened back at Kith and Kin. Because we were inside a hotel, we had an unusually high number of call-outs one day.

The only people left in the kitchen were Chef Kwame Onwuachi, Eric Adjepong—who was the sous chef at the time—and me. Eric now owns Elmina here in D.C. He's also been on Top Chef and now hosts Wildcard Kitchen along with several other Food Network shows. But back then, he was one of the sous chefs at Kith and Kin.

So all these people called out, and the 3 of us basically had to run the entire restaurant.

It was unbelievably busy.

I've never had more fun working a service in my life.

On one hand, I'm standing next to Kwame Onwuachi. On the other, I'm cooking alongside Eric Adjepong, who was this incredibly talented, up-and-coming chef. We're all locked in, banging out plates and getting food to the pass.

Things took a little longer than usual, but we got it done.

When service finally ended, we all just collapsed onto the kitchen floor. Nobody said a word. We just sat there.

I think we all realized we'd just done something that wasn't normal.

Somehow, in the middle of all that chaos, we had fun doing it.

And afterward, the question wasn't, "How did we survive?" The question was, "What does that say about us?" 

That's incredible. I can only imagine what that service felt like.

Martel: Then, more recently, it happened at Dogon.

Last Saturday was our first full Saturday service with a completely staffed line. We had two cooks on cold, two cooks on hot—every station was covered. There were no holes to fill and nothing we had to compensate for.

I just stood back and watched the kitchen click like a symphony.

My expediting was crisp. The team was cooking at a really high level, and everyone was helping each other without being asked. Everything was flowing.

For a moment, I had that same feeling I talked about before—like one of those old '90s romantic comedies where you're standing completely still while the entire world moves around you.

I just stood there watching the kitchen, the dining room, and the team all moving together.

It was one of those moments where you stop and realize, "This is exactly what we've been working toward."

 Everything just clicked on full tilt.

I've never been more proud in my life.

Standing there and watching that kitchen operate at such a high level—watching everyone trust each other, support each other, and execute together—I realized we had built something special.

Those are the two moments that stand out the most to me. They're the most memorable experiences I've ever had in a professional kitchen.

Those both sound like wholesome moments. You can't put a price on moments like that. They're priceless.

Ok, we’re about to enter the fourth part of the interview. This section is all about the food.

Walk me through a few of the dishes that are currently on the Dogon menu and the inspiration behind them. Let's start with the Jerk Habanero-Braised Oxtail Patties with tamarind-habanero glaze, dill, fennel, and cilantro. What inspired this dish, and how do all of those flavors come together?

Martel: The inspiration really came from Chef Kwame's braised oxtail dish.

Traditionally, when you're cooking oxtails, you season them with a jerk marinade, put them in the pot, and let them slowly braise for hours.

Kwame's version is different. There's so much technique involved. It's about a three-day process from start to finish to create the final dish.

Along the way, though, you're left with all these incredible byproducts—small pieces of oxtail meat, leftover braising liquid, and rich oxtail jus.

That's where the idea for the oxtail patty came from.

The concept itself isn't revolutionary, but taking all of that time, technique, and flavor and wrapping it inside a patty just felt natural.

When we were in LA doing R&D, we'd already made bean patties and goat patties for Tatiana. We wanted Dogon to have a patty that felt unique, and oxtail was the perfect way to do it.

We stuffed the filling, experimented with frying it, experimented with baking it, and once we figured out the technique, everything else became what I talked about earlier—filling in the colors.

The tamarind brings acidity. The cilantro adds that aromatic quality that's so reminiscent of Caribbean cuisine.

For us, every great Caribbean restaurant should have a patty on the menu.

This is simply our contribution to that legacy

Man, hearing you explain this... It sounds amazing. Oxtail patty sounds fire. I already know those flavors have to be incredible. Can't wait to try it.

Martel: No doubt. For sure. Pull up.

Moving on to the next dish—you guys have a branzino with mussels, curry shrimp dashi sauce, shito crisp, and cilantro. This dish brings together several different cultural influences. How did this one come together for you guys?

Martel: This is probably my favorite dish on the menu.

The inspiration actually came from a trip to the Cayman Islands. Kwame was there for Cayman Cookout, and the team was with him—Kamat Newman, who was the former CDC at Tatiana and is now Kwame's Culinary Director, along with Oz, his wife, Kwame's mother, and a few other people.

One night, we all went to this small shack restaurant for dinner and ordered a steamed snapper. The fish was wrapped and stuffed with callaloo, pumpkin, and this incredibly savory curry sauce. It wasn't the traditional sweet-and-spicy curry. It leaned much more into savory flavors.

I remember all of us taking a bite, looking around at each other, and almost simultaneously thinking, "We're going to have to revisit this someday."

Later, when we were in Los Angeles doing R&D for Dogon, Kwame started bringing that memory back to life.

We had branzino, sea bass, and a few other fish to work with. He started dicing greens, folding them into a farce, stuffing the fish, wrapping it, and cooking it sous vide. Then he started building the sauce with dashi.

I'll give Seth all the credit in the world for this part. The idea of using a shrimp-head dashi as the base of the curry sauce to create that depth of savory umami...

That was one of those moments where I looked at him and thought, "All right... maybe you really are a genius." [Laughs.] I had to concede it at that point.

He reduced everything down with coconut milk, and the moment we tasted it, it transported us right back to that little shack in the Cayman Islands.

We all looked at each other and had the exact same reaction we'd had on that first bite.

That dish made the menu.

Since then, it's evolved into the broiled version we serve today because we wanted the crispy skin, and it also lets the shito sit on top without the fish feeling too heavy.

It's still my favorite dish on the menu.

Ironically, it's also become our best-selling dish since the restaurant opened—which is saying something, because the oxtails are a huge hit.

Oh, most definitely. Damn it sounds like you guys had fun building that one out. 

Shrimp dashi... Dashi in general adds such an incredible layer of flavor. Some dishes just need that extra depth of umami, I love that he went with a shrimp-head dashi. That's dope.

The Maryland Jumbo Lump Crab. Can you walk me through that dish a little bit? Where did the inspiration for it come from?

Martel: That dish started during R&D in Los Angeles, too.

The original idea was to serve the crab on a crumpet or an English muffin. Since we were opening in D.C., with Maryland right next door, Kwame wanted to feature local jumbo lump crab.

One thing I think he did really well with Dogon was strip some of the ideas down from Tatiana and make them a little more straightforward while still adding thoughtful garnishes that complemented the dish.

Originally, the plan was an English muffin topped with crab and an herby green sauce.

But as we kept working through it, we realized it probably wasn't practical to make English muffins from scratch every single day at the scale we'd be serving.

That's when I had the idea to make a ho* cake.

I make pancakes for my daughter all the time—she loves them—so I started thinking about that recipe and how we could adapt it. We added plantain to bring a natural sweetness and developed it almost like you would a sourdough starter, letting the batter build flavor over time.

Once we got the crispy edges just right, we plated the dish.

I remember looking around the room and seeing everybody's reaction. You know how chefs communicate with those little head nods? Then Kwame took the first bite and said, "Yeah... that's it."

From there, the dish became what we now call the Ho* Crab.

It also turned into one of those running kitchen jokes. Every time the dish was called during service, somebody would laugh. Even now, when it's time to fire the Ho* Cakes, I'll call it out and the whole kitchen joins in.

[Laughs.] It probably sounds a little questionable when I say it out loud now... but in the kitchen, it's one of those things that just became part of the team's personality.

100%. That's mad funny. It sounds like you guys have good chemistry in the kitchen.

The Wagyu Short Ribs. You guys are using niter kibbeh, whipped ricotta, tamarind, and a few other components. Can you walk me through that dish and explain how all of those flavors come together?

Martel: Yeah, for sure.

Tatiana has its soy-pastrami short rib, so I wanted Dogon to have its own signature short rib dish.

The original idea was actually pretty simple: steak and toast. That was the concept we kept coming back to, and everything else grew from there.

I also wanted to build the dish around a byproduct that carried a ton of flavor.

We make a niter kibbeh oil that we use to season a lot of our marinades and different components throughout the kitchen. It's incredibly aromatic and packed with flavor, so I wanted to find another way to showcase it.

That became one of the foundations of the dish and helped shape everything that came after.

Martel: The thing about making niter kibbeh oil is that you're left with all of these incredible spices after they've finished infusing the butter.

You've got black cardamom, coriander, black pepper, cumin—so many spices that are still packed with flavor. We make huge six-quart batches of the oil, so there was always a lot of that spice mixture left over.

I remember thinking, "There's no way we're throwing this away."

So we dehydrated it, ground it into a powder, and smelled it. The aroma was unbelievable.

I looked at everyone and said, "Yo... we've got to do something with this."

That's when I started thinking about tibs.

Tibs is an Ethiopian dish built around niter kibbeh, peppers, onions, and sautéed meat. It's spicy, it's savory, it's slightly sweet—it has all these different layers of flavor.

That became the foundation.

So now we had steak and toast... but through the lens of tibs.

We marinated the short rib, braised it, sliced it, and built an awaze sauce. That sauce also incorporates elements of Nigerian red stew, creating the connection between East and West Africa.

The tamarind brought the acidity that tied everything together.

Then we thought about the toast.

We all grew up eating Texas toast—the kind that came wrapped in aluminum foil inside the plastic bag. So we decided to make our own version.

In the end, the dish brought all of those ideas together. We honored the inspiration of tibs, built around the awaze, stayed true to the original steak and toast concept, and turned it into something that felt uniquely our own.

Super fire. Were you guys using berbere in the awaze?

Martel: Oh, yeah. We use a lot of it. Actually, a lot.

We also have quite a few Ethiopian people working in the restaurant.

There's one woman, Lishan. When we were talking about the dish, she overheard me. She's the sweetest person. She walked over and said, "Chef, I'd like to bring you some tibs. I make tibs."

I said, "Okay, cool."

The next day she came in with this tupperware full of tibs. I figured I'd just save it and eat it later.

But she just stood there looking at me, kind of shaking her head like, "No... eat it now."[Laughs.]

So I opened it up, took a bite...

It was delicious.

Spicy as hell—don't get me wrong—but absolutely delicious.

She's the sweetest older woman. She has three kids, cooks all the time, and just has this incredibly calm presence.

Did she bring injera too?

Martel: Yeah, she brought injera. She had it all rolled up.

I asked her, "Wait... you're making injera?"

She laughed and said, "No, no, no." She picks it up from a local spot.

Oh, okay, okay [Laughs.] I got excited. I was thinking, "Man... we're really about to do this."

[laughs] That dish sounds incredible. I love how yall connected over food. Berbere and niter kibbeh are amazing. I cook with them both pretty regularly.

All right, let's move into the fifth part of the interview. This section is all about business, leadership, and finding balance.

When did you first step into a true leadership role in a professional kitchen? And what was that experience like for you?

Martel: My first leadership role was at Kith and Kin.

But the first time I actually felt like a leader was at The Gathering Spot.

That was the first place where I had the opportunity to build a team from the ground up. I got to organize events, shape the culture, and really create something with the people around me.

One moment, in particular, stands out.

We were doing a tasting event—ironically, it's also where I met my wife for the first time. I'll send you the video after we get off here.

We were serving a crab gravy dish with black radish, braised cabbage, trout roe, crispy garlic—what we called "crispy bits"—and this rich Dungeness crab gravy, served with biscuits.

As we were plating the courses, I stepped back and just watched everyone naturally fill in the gaps. People knew where they needed to be. They helped each other without being asked.

I remember thinking, "Damn... this is what a football coach must feel like."

At that moment, there was nothing left for me to do except trust the team.

That was the first time I truly felt like a leader.

It was also the first time I had to hire people, discipline people, coach people, and mentor people. Honestly, I wasn't even comfortable calling myself a mentor because I still felt like I needed mentorship myself.

I was still really green in that position.

But looking back now, that's the moment I realized I had stepped into leadership.

Man, that sounds like an incredible feeling. It also sounds like your time at The Gathering Spot gave you some unforgettable experiences and really helped shape you as a leader.

What's one of the hardest leadership lesson you've had to learn so far?

Martel: Empathy, probably.

Learning how to balance empathy with accountability has been one of the hardest leadership lessons for me.

I'm naturally a very empathetic person. I don't know if it's because I'm a Cancer. I don't know if it's because I grew up with five brothers and sisters. It's just who I am.

Because of that, I was always trying to create soft landing spots for people while I was growing as a leader.

And honestly... This probably applies to parenting, too. [Laughs.]

You're trying so hard to become the chef you would've wanted to work for.

But eventually, you realize you're not leading a kitchen full of people who are exactly like you.

Everyone responds differently. Everyone needs something different. And no matter how empathetic or understanding you are, none of it matters if that person doesn't want to grow.

That was a hard lesson for me.

I had to learn when to pull back on empathy and trust the system instead.

The standards are the standards. The kitchen rules are the kitchen rules.

At a certain point, you have to let the chips fall where they may.

Man... everything you just said..I'm a Cancer too,  I don't know it might be a Cancer thing—shout out to all the Cancers. [Laughs.]

But seriously, building while being naturally empathetic is hard. You're always trying to create soft landing spots for people, and sometimes that's not the most effective way to lead. That's why having a system and a standard is so important.

When you're bringing new cooks onto your team, what qualities are you looking for? What makes someone stand out to you during the hiring process?

Martel: The first thing I look for is curiosity.

I think curiosity is probably the most important quality a cook can have because it's what allows you to keep growing.

I also look for a sense of humor.

Being able to laugh and find some levity in high-pressure situations is important because those situations are constant in this industry. A little humor brings a sense of calm to the entire kitchen.

I also want someone who wants to raise the tide.

A lot of cooks look at me and see the awards or the accomplishments, and they think, "That's the benchmark."

But it isn't.

The benchmark is what you do every single day. It's the habits you build, the discipline you practice, and the person you're becoming. That's far more important than how you act once success finally arrives.

That's something I preach to my team all the time.

So when I'm hiring, I'm looking for people who are curious, who can laugh, who want to make everyone around them better...

And people who have integrity.

Love that answer. Love that answer, Chef.

How important is it for you to shape the culture in your kitchen? And what kind of environment are you trying to create for your team every day?

Oof...

It's probably the most important thing.

It took me a long time to realize that people were actually looking up to me. It also took me a long time to see myself as more than just a cook.

You know how you'll watch someone accept an award, and they'll say, "I'm just a kid from Detroit," or, "I'm just a kid from L.A."?

I understood that feeling.

For a long time, I saw myself as just another cook who happened to work there.

But the reality is, if you want to move people forward, you have to fully step into the leader you've become.

You have to accept that role for yourself before anyone else will.

That was probably the biggest lesson I had to learn.

Once I embraced that, I understood that shaping the culture wasn't just part of my job—it was my responsibility.

Definitely, that's a great answer man.

You know, being a chef is incredibly demanding. How do you balance your career with marriage and having a personal life? What does that balance look like for you?

Martel: Honestly, I just figured it out over the last couple of years.

And, unfortunately, I learned it the hard way.

When I met my wife, we were both trying to figure out where our careers were headed. She was working toward tenure as a professor, and I was trying to establish myself as an executive chef. We were both chasing big goals at the same time.

For a long time, my version of balance was, "Let me grind for this stretch, and then I'll make time for you afterward."

That doesn't work.

My wife had to put her foot in my ass. [Laughs.] She finally told me, "We have to spend time building this relationship. I need you to be present."

She was right.

Even now, if I have to work on a Monday, I'll do a half day. She'll come to the restaurant, sit in the kitchen, and write while I'm working.

She recently finished her book and is now on her book tour, but while she was writing it, she spent so much of that time right there with me.

That taught me something really important.

Finding someone who's willing to adjust with you and genuinely wants to be part of the journey—not compete with it—is incredibly valuable.

But ultimately, balance is a choice.

You have to choose to put your family first. You have to choose to make time for your life outside of work and trust that the work you've already put in will pay off.

Just not at the expense of the rest of your life.

Damn, that's honest, and it's very real. Well said.

It sounds like it's been a challenge, but it also seems like you're being intentional about making it work. Congratulations to your wife on the new book, by the way. What's the name of it?

Martel: Corrections at Work.

Corrections at Work?

Martel: Yeah.

That sounds like an interesting read. I'll definitely have to check it out.

Martel: Yeah, I'm incredibly proud of her.

The project actually started as her dissertation, and over time it evolved into this book.

Watching the way people have responded to it has been amazing. I genuinely think it's going to change the way people think about the criminal justice system, and more specifically, the way they think about corrections.

A lot of people hear the word corrections and immediately associate it with the individual.

Her argument is that it's much bigger than that.

It's not just about the individual—it's about the barrel. The entire system has problems, and the people within it are often just trying to survive inside that system.

It's a completely different way of looking at corrections.

I'm really proud of her.

. Man, I can't wait to check it out. Congratulations again to her—that's an incredible accomplishment. It sounds like she's doing some really meaningful work.

As both a chef and a leader, what habits or practices help you stay mentally sharp, adaptable, and continue growing?

Martel: Yeah.

The first thing I'd say is: cut back on your drinking.

I think people would be surprised by how much more productive they can be when alcohol isn't at the center of their day-to-day life.

Another thing I had to learn was to write things down.

For a long time, I trusted my memory. I thought I could remember everything and always produce at a high level. Eventually, I realized that writing things down made me far more organized and consistent.

The other big one is delegation.

Honestly, if you ever talk to Kwame, he'd probably tell you that's been one of his biggest frustrations with me. [Laughs.]

My mindset has always been, "I'll just do it myself." I trust my own execution, and for a long time it was hard for me to trust other people the same way.

But you can't grow like that.

You can't expand. You can't take on bigger opportunities if you're trying to carry everything yourself.

At some point, you have to delegate and allow other people to grow, too.

Just like someone gave you the opportunity to stretch, learn, and become better, you have to give that same opportunity to the people around you.

That's how teams grow.

Really well said. I love that response.

Being a chef can be mentally demanding, especially in an industry that's constantly moving. What keeps you grounded, focused, and motivated through all of that pressure?

Martel: It probably sounds really simple...

But honestly, it's joking with each other.

Kind of joining on each other, in the kitchen—and outside the kitchen.

That keeps things light.

More importantly, it creates a sense of humanity. It gives everyone an opportunity to connect beyond work.

You'd be surprised how much you can learn about someone just by joking around with them, making observations, and letting them do the same with you.

That's how relationships are built.

You stop being just coworkers. You become teammates. You become comrades.

And while you're laughing together, you're also growing together.

Wow... well said, absolutely.

How important is it for you to inspire and mentor the next generation of cooks? And what kind of impact do you hope to leave on the people who come through your kitchen?

Martel: I think it's probably the second most important thing in my career now.

It wasn't always that way.

For a long time, my focus was on myself—what I needed to do, what I needed to accomplish, and how I needed to grow.

But over time, my perspective changed.

I started thinking about a career like a tree.

Every branch represents another person you've impacted.

Then you have to ask yourself a question:

What kind of tree do you want to be?

Do you want to be a small tree in a park... or do you want to be this massive tree with branches stretching in every direction, reaching and influencing as many people as possible?

Because everything you put into those people eventually becomes the industry you're going to work in.

The cooks you're mentoring today will become tomorrow's sous chefs, executive chefs, and leaders.

Before long, they'll be your peers.

So whatever you put out into the world...

That's what you'll eventually get back.

Totally. I believe that as well. I think creating that kind of standard gives people something to build from—a foundation for how to approach challenges, work with others, and carry themselves as professionals.

 Chef. Let's move into the next part of the interview. This section is all about identity, community, and culture.

Earlier, you talked about growing up in Philadelphia. Looking back now, how has that city continued to shape who you are—not just as a chef, but as a person and as a leader?

Martel: I think growing up in Philadelphia teaches you a certain kind of mental toughness.

Whether it's what was happening around the city or just the temperament of Philadelphians, there's a directness to the way people communicate. A lot of people compare Philly to New York, but I think it's different.

People in Philly are very matter-of-fact. That's how they talk. That's how they approach life. And honestly, that's how they show love.

That shaped me.

It influenced the way I lead cooks and the way I show up every day.

More than anything, it taught me the value of consistency.

Growing up, you knew who people were. Whether it was the guy up the block, Mr. James on 18th Street, or Miss Crystal over in West Philly, they showed up as the same person every single day.

There was no pretending.

That consistency became part of the culture.

And I think that's something I carried with me. I try to show up the same way every day because, at the end of the day... I'm from Philly. That's just the temperament.

Fasho. Fasho I totally feel that.

What has it been like building your career in Washington, D.C.? And how has the city influenced you, both personally and professionally?

Martel: D.C. has been great to me.

It's given me a platform to grow.

It's also given me a real sense of community.

One of the things I love most about D.C. is that it's such a transient city. Because people come from everywhere, I've never really felt like an outsider.

I've always felt like there were people I could relate to.

At the end of the day, everybody's coming from somewhere.

Whether it's across the bridge in Virginia, up I-95 from Maryland, or somewhere completely different, people bring their own stories and experiences with them.

I think that's one of the things that makes D.C. such a special place.

Valid.

As an African-American chef, what has your experience been like building community throughout the culinary world? And how has that experience shaped your perspective over the years?

Martel: I think it's been great.

I think people would be surprised by just how large and connected the Black culinary community has become.

It's very different from what it was even a few years ago.

There are so many marquee events and gatherings that bring Black chefs and hospitality professionals together, and because of that, the sense of community has grown tremendously.

Years ago, it sometimes felt like there was a Highlander mentality—like there could only be one person at the top or only a handful of seats at the table.

I don't think that's the case anymore.

Today, there are so many different ways to build a successful career, and because of that, there's far less of the backbiting or the feeling that someone else has to lose for you to win.

People genuinely want to see each other succeed.

There are collectives of Black hospitality professionals all over the country, and they're connecting more openly, collaborating more often, and supporting one another in ways that feel authentic.

That's a big shift from the past, when it often felt like everyone was fighting for the same spot.

No doubt. That is big, I totally agree with that as well. It's crazy how quickly that shift happened. Honestly, I think technology—and especially the internet—has made it so much easier for people to connect, build community, and support each other across the world.

With that said, have there been any challenges or surprises that have come with that identity throughout your career? Or has your experience in the industry felt fairly natural?

Martel: I'd say the biggest challenge is the responsibility that comes with being a Black chef cooking food connected to the African diaspora.

There's a much stronger emphasis on tradition and authenticity than you often see in other cuisines.

Whether you're talking about soul food, Caribbean cuisine, West African food, or East African food, people usually have a deeply personal frame of reference.

They'll say, "That's not mac and cheese." Or, "That's not how my family made collard greens."

The same thing happens across diasporic cuisines.

People carry those memories with them, and those memories become the standard they're comparing your food against.

That creates an interesting challenge.

You want to honor those traditions because, for better or worse, these are my people. You want to earn that acceptance and show respect for the cultures that shaped the food.

At the same time, there's this huge culinary world out there.

You want to explore it. You want to experiment. You want to see what else is possible.

So the question becomes:

How do you stay grounded in who you are and where you come from... while also looking into the stars?

That's probably the biggest challenge I've had to navigate.

No doubt. I definitely understand where you're coming from, and I can relate to that.

With that in mind, how important is it for you to create opportunities and representation for others within the spaces you work in?

Martel: It's incredibly important.

Going back to the tree analogy, there aren't many things in my career that matter more than finding ways to create opportunities for other people.

Whether it's helping someone grow into leadership or simply pushing a cook to become more than they thought they could be—that's become one of the most rewarding parts of what I do.

I have a cook named Bevon Wilcox who's been with me through three restaurants: Kith and Kin, The Gathering Spot, and now Dogon.

Watching his growth over the years has been incredible.

I've watched him become more confident, develop into a leader, and start influencing the people around him.

Honestly, I think he's ready for a leadership opportunity.

Being able to step back and witness someone's growth over that kind of time—that's rewarding in itself.

There's an exchange that happens.

They gain experience, confidence, and opportunities...

And I get the privilege of watching them become the next generation of leaders.

It's a great feeling watching people grow—especially the ones who have been moving around with you throughout the journey.

Kind of shifting gears with a more personal question... Were there any family members who influenced your relationship with food or cooking while you were growing up? Is there anyone who immediately comes to mind?

Martel: Oh, absolutely.

When I look back now, I realize it wasn't just one person—it was different family members who each left me with a specific memory tied to a dish.

My Aunt Nor, who I spent a lot of time with when I was a kid, is probably the reason I love pancakes so much. I've spent years developing my own pancake recipes, and when I think about where that started, it goes back to her.

Then there's my mom and her fried chicken.

Fried chicken was a treat in our house. No matter what was going on around the city, she'd pull out that cast-iron skillet, fry the chicken, and finish it with this mixture of honey and barbecue sauce that created the most beautiful glaze.

Years later, when I developed the Wa'Bosh Wings at The Gathering Spot, I didn't even realize I was drawing from that memory.

Looking back, that's exactly where it came from.

And then there's dessert.

My great-grandmother and my Aunt Jen used to make these little mini cheesecakes and send them around to the family. That memory eventually became the foundation for the cheesecake dessert I make today.

It's funny...

When you're a kid, you don't realize those moments are shaping you.

Even when I first started cooking, I wasn't consciously thinking about them.

But looking back now, I realize those family memories became the foundation for so much of the food I create today.

Love that. I really love that answer.

Outside of being a chef, are you creative in other ways too? Whether it's music, art, writing, photography, or anything else—are there any creative outlets that inspire you outside of the kitchen?

Martel: Not as much as I'd like to.

I try, though. I really do.

For a while, writing was a creative outlet for me, but over time that naturally evolved into recipe writing.

Outside of that, I'm still trying to find ways to expand creatively.

One thing I've always admired is chefs who can literally sketch a dish before they ever make it.

Nyesha Arrington is a great example.

She can picture a dish in her mind, draw the entire thing out, and then bring it to life.

I'm like, "Man... all these artsy-ass chefs."[Laughs.]

She's one of the coaches on Next Level Chef, and her restaurant, Native, was incredible. Her food has always been amazing.

Outside of Kwame, she's probably the chef I look up to the most.

That's really dope. Being able to sketch a dish and then bring it to life is such a unique creative skill/ flex. I have a lot of respect for that.

We're going to move into the next part of the interview. This section is all about failure, mindset, and resilience.

Looking back on your journey, what was one of the toughest moments you've faced—one that forced you to shift your mindset and ultimately changed the way you approach your career and your life? What did that experience look like for you?

Martel: That's a really good question.

At Kith and Kin, I got what I consider my first real sous chef position under Kwame.

At one point, he left for a trip to Africa while he was filming, and for the first time I was responsible for running the kitchen.

I remember thinking, "This is it. This is my opportunity."

But when he came back...

The kitchen was still operating, but we were barely holding it together.

Everything was disorganized. My delegation was terrible. I didn't really have control of the operation.

It was honestly a mess.

When Kwame walked back into the kitchen, he immediately started pointing out everything that needed to be corrected.

At the time, it was incredibly demoralizing.

I was already beating myself up because I knew things hadn't gone well, and hearing that criticism only compounded those feelings.

But looking back, it was exactly what I needed.

He didn't sugarcoat anything.

He basically told me, "This isn't good. All of this needs to change."

At first, it felt like a complete failure.

But what he really gave me was perspective.

He showed me the floor.

He gave me a realistic understanding of where I actually was as a leader—and, more importantly, a clear direction for where I needed to go next.

Looking back, it was one of the hardest moments of my career...

But it was also one of the most important.

That's a powerful story. What stands out to me the most is the accountability. Not everyone can look in the mirror, honestly assess where they fell short, and take ownership of it. I really respect that.

That actually leads perfectly into my next question. What has failure taught you that success simply can't?

Martel: Failure taught me something I say all the time:

Everything isn't your fault... But it's still your responsibility.

Once you start looking at life that way, you stop taking everything so personally.

You don't get too high when things are going well, and you don't get too low when things fall apart.

You understand that, like people say, this too shall pass—the good, the bad, and everything in between.

Not everything is your fault.

But it is still your responsibility.

Very valid. I really like that perspective.

So, on a personal level, how do you process failure? How do you digest it?

Martel: Quickly.

One of the biggest lessons I took from the military was simple:

Don't take things personally.

Failure is usually far more visible than success, whether it's something big or something small.

Once I understood that, I learned how to compartmentalize failure.

I also learned what it means to fail forward.

As long as you take the lesson with you and keep moving, that's progress.

Failure isn't the opposite of growth.

It's part of the process.

Honestly, I think people who claim they never fail are either delusional... or they're probably pretty scary to be around. [Laughs.]

I need things not to work.

I need them to fail from time to time because that's how I know the lessons are real.

Then, when success finally comes, I know it's built on something solid—not luck, not timing, and not some random break.

It's built on work.

Man, I couldn't agree more with that answer. Failure is necessary for success. 

Martel: 100% One analogy I use with my cooks all the time is this:

Failures are the bricks you use to build your success.

That's a really important one to remember, I like that.

Looking back now, what's a mistake you're actually grateful you made? One that didn't feel good at the time, but ultimately helped shape the person you've become today?

Martel: That's a good question.

One mistake I'm actually grateful for was how I showed up as a leader early in my career.

When I first started leading people, I wanted to be authentic. I wanted to be the kind of chef I would've loved working for when I was younger.

And I still think authenticity matters.

But what I learned is that consistency matters even more.

Whatever kind of leader you're going to be, you have to show up that way every single day.

If you're going to be the strict chef, be that consistently.

If you're going to be the encouraging chef, be that consistently.

Early on, I was probably too understanding. I always wanted to help. I wanted everyone to like working with me.

The problem is, once you establish that dynamic, it's hard to pull it back when the situation calls for something different.

That lesson backfired on me early in my career.

Looking back, though, I'm grateful for it because it taught me that leadership isn't just about good intentions.

It's about showing up consistently, day after day.

Totally. I can tell that's coming from real experience. I really respect that perspective because it's honest and relatable.

When things get heavy—whether it's in the kitchen or in life—what keeps you moving forward?

Martel: Hmm...

If I'm being honest...

It's home.

Once I met my wife and made the decision that I wanted to build a life with her, home became the place that made everything else seem a little less heavy.

No matter how good or bad a service was, no matter what happened at work, home became the place that reminded me everything was going to be okay.

One of the things TaLisa does really well is encourage me while still allowing me to go through the process.

She doesn't try to fix everything.

She gives me the space to fail, process it, and rebuild.

There's very little judgment.

Very little harsh criticism.

She simply creates a space where I can be myself and figure things out.

I think that's what carries me through.

Whether it's a great service or a terrible one, knowing I get to go home to that... that's what keeps me moving forward.

That's beautiful, bro. I really appreciate you sharing that.

When life gets difficult, is there a mantra or philosophy you come back to that helps guide you through those moments?

Martel: Oh, yeah. One hundred percent.

Every single time, I come back to the same philosophy:

It's not your fault... but it's still your responsibility.

No matter how difficult things get, that's the mindset I return to.

Not everything is your fault.

But it's still your responsibility to respond, adapt, and move forward.

That's a really good one. I think a lot of people are going to remember that.

Do you think obsession is necessary for greatness?

Martel: I don't know if I'd say obsession...

I think it's more about having a little bit of delusion.

I think you have to be just delusional enough to believe you can accomplish something that most people would probably tell you isn't possible.

Obsession, on the other hand, can sometimes prevent you from seeing things as they really are.

It can create a kind of confirmation bias that causes chefs to become more overzealous and more intense than they need to be.

You can see examples of that throughout the industry. For instance what's happening at Noma.

But you also have to ask yourself:

What did that obsession cost?

Definitely, that's a really interesting perspective.

What has being a chef taught you about patience? What's one lesson that has really stayed with you?

Martel: I think being a chef has taught me that patience isn't always the greatest virtue.

When you're trying to build a kitchen and push people in the right direction, patience is necessary.

But I also think there comes a point where you have to draw a line.

Part of leadership is knowing where that line is.

Every situation is different, and finding that balance is up to you.

You have to give people room to grow, make mistakes, and learn.

But you also have to recognize when patience stops helping and accountability needs to take over.

Learning where that line is has probably been one of the biggest lessons for me as a leader.

Yeah, I can definitely relate to that. That's a really great perspective, Chef.

All right, we've made it to the final part of the interview. First off, thank you again for your time and for being so open throughout this conversation. I really appreciate it. It has truly been resourceful.

This last section is all about what's next.

Looking back on your journey, how do you define success today compared to when you first started cooking?

Martel: Oohf...

When I first started cooking, success was rooted in opportunity.

It was about what I could achieve, where I could go, and what doors my work might open for me.

Looking back, there was a lot of me in that definition of success.

Today, it's different.

Now, success is rooted in the amount of balance I can create in my life while still feeding my ambition.

Being able to step away from the restaurant...

Being able to spend time with the people I love...

Being able to have a life outside of cooking...

To me, that's success.

I still want to achieve great things.

But I don't want those achievements to come at the expense of everything else.

I think that's probably the biggest shift in how I define success today.

Mmm... Another great answer.

As your career continues to grow and more recognition comes your way, what keeps you grounded in the middle of all that momentum?

Martel: I think what keeps me grounded is being around people who don't take all of it too seriously.

Maybe it's a Philly thing, but where I'm from, people will joke on you the moment something good happens.

If you're excited about something, your brothers or your cousins will be like, "Yo, look at him... he's happy as hell." [Laughs.]

They're celebrating you...

But they're also reminding you not to take yourself too seriously.

I think that's stayed with me.

I still joke on myself.

The cooks joke on me.

And I encourage that because it creates real human moments.

Yes, I'm Chef Martel.

I've been on TV, in magazines, won awards—all of that.

But if I walk into the kitchen and I didn't comb my beard out and I'm looking crazy and somebody has a joke...

What am I supposed to say? [Laughs.]

I'm not above that.

I'm responsible for setting the standard, but I'm not above being part of the team.

At the end of the day, I'm still just another human being.

I think allowing yourself to stay human is what keeps you grounded.

Extremely valid. [Laughs.] That's hilarious —but that’s real. I really respect that.

So, what's next for you? Are there any new projects, ideas, or horizons you're excited about right now? What are you looking forward to most?

Martel: Yeah, there are really two things I'm excited about right now.

The first is at the restaurant.

We're launching Series, a more intimate chef's table experience inside Dogon.

For a long time, I created experiences alongside Kwame, but this is an opportunity for me to build something that's truly my own.

It's a chance to create the kind of dining experience I want to create and share a different voice—one that's still within these four walls, but offers a different perspective from Chef's.

That's probably what excites me the most right now.

The second is much more personal.

I just want to collaborate.

I've been reaching out to chefs around the country whose work I really admire because I want to cook alongside them.

I want to be that wide-eyed cook again.

I want to be inspired by someone else's creativity instead of always being focused on my own.

That's what I'm chasing right now.

Finding new ways to learn, create, and keep growing.

It's funny—once you reach a certain level of experience, you realize how important collaboration really is. It stops being about proving yourself and becomes about learning from others, creating with other people, and pushing each other forward.

I think collaboration is important. I really respect that perspective.

If you could recommend any books or films that have genuinely shaped your mindset and the way you approach your craft, what would they be?

Martel: Ooh... okay, books.

My absolute favorite—and probably the one that had the biggest impact on me—is Bar Tartine: Techniques & Recipes by Cortney Burns and Nicolaus Balla.

They had a restaurant in San Francisco called Bar Tartine, and what fascinated me was that they made everything from scratch.

The dairy.

The cheeses.

The cured meats.

The ferments.

Pretty much every component was made in-house.

Reading that book completely changed the way I thought about food.

More than anything, it showed me what was possible.

It expanded my imagination as a chef and challenged me to think beyond what I thought I was capable of creating.

That book genuinely changed my life.

 Movie-wise...

I'd probably say Burnt with Bradley Cooper. Shout out to the Philly native.

That was probably one of the first times I got to watch a movie where a chef was going through some of the same things I was seeing around the industry.

Watching his fight with addiction, watching his obsession with food and his desire to keep moving forward—I could recognize a lot of those things.

Even within myself.

And then watching him fight his way back—both through rebuilding his relationships and figuring out how to rebuild after destroying so much—that really stuck with me.

We don't always think about that part of the industry.

Early in our careers, we're just living it. We're working, grinding, trying to make it.

You don't always realize how much damage you might be causing along the way until years later, when you have to double back and people start telling you, "Man, I remember when..."

I think that's why Burnt is probably the movie that has stayed with me the most.

Word. No doubt. That's really cool i’ve actually never seen that one.

I'm curious—when did you realize the importance of reading cookbooks? Was there a specific moment or a phase in your career where you thought, "Ok, I really need to start studying these"?

Martel: Oh, yeah. Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Back when I was living in Hampton Roads, there was this small restaurant called St. Germain. It's closed now, but I remember wanting to work there so badly.

The chef was this eccentric, hard-rock, middle-aged white guy who was doing modernist cooking and globally inspired cuisine.

I was fascinated by it.

I remember working terrible hours, getting off at like 4 a.m., making charcuterie, hog head cheese, and all kinds of stuff.

But what I remember most was that upstairs, inside the fermentation room, he had this whole row of cookbooks.

Whenever I had a chance, I'd go up there and just start reading.

Well... skimming, really.

I still had to check on Kevin and check on everything else, but I'd skim through those books.

It was like opening a textbook and realizing there were all these words you didn't understand.

I didn't know what half of it meant.

But I knew those books were the foundation of this restaurant that I was so curious about and so inspired by.

That's when it clicked for me.

I thought, "If I want to do what he's doing, I need to do what he's doing."

So... minus the coke... [Laughs.]

I took the books, the techniques, and the mindset.

That's when I realized how important cookbooks really were.

They weren't just recipes.

They were showing me what was possible.

For sure. I can relate to that.

I think every chef—especially if you didn't go to culinary school or have that traditional background—has a moment where a mentor or another chef/person tells you, "You should start reading cookbooks."

That's when you realize that cookbooks aren't just collections of recipes. They're tools for learning, expanding your perspective, and seeing what's possible.

Like you said earlier, curiosity is everything. Reading, taking notes, and constantly learning are what help you grow. I really respect that answer, Chef.

When someone experiences your food for the very first time, what do you hope that first bite says about you?

Martel: That's a good one. That's a brilliant question.

I would hope that the first bite says...

This person is creating food that's thinking about the conversation afterward.

I want people to take that first bite and become curious.

Curiosity is a huge theme in my cooking.

I want you to take that first bite and think,

"Damn... what else has he got?"

"What else is he thinking about?"

"What else is he dreaming up?"

"What else is on this plate?"

That's probably what I want people to leave with more than anything.

Curiosity.

I want people to walk away wanting to know more.

That's a great answer, we're going to wrap up the interview with one of my favorite questions. I love asking this because it's always interesting to look back years later and see how the answer holds up.

As you look toward what's next in your life and your culinary career, if you had to give the next chapter of your life a title... what would it be?

Martel: Hmm...

I think I'd call the next chapter of my life...

Taking Action.

I think a lot of my career, even while accomplishing things and being recognized, it came from being in the right place at the right time.

I talk about that a lot.

I didn't know I was going to move to D.C. and meet Kwame.

I didn't know I was going to come out of the pandemic and meet Mitch.

I didn't know I was going to run into Gerard outside of the Christian Broadcasting Network.

I couldn't have planned any of those moments.

I just opened myself up to the opportunities and made sure I was prepared when they arrived.

But this next chapter is different.

I don't want to wait for opportunities to come to me.

I want to go after the things I really want.

I want to make deliberate decisions.

Intentional decisions.

The kind of decisions that allow me to look back years from now and say,

"Yeah... I became the person I wanted to be."

"I became the chef I wanted to be... because I made myself that."