"SIB"

Being human is all about context. The depth of our individual humanity can only be judged in comparison with that of others.For every adjective that can be used to describe any one of us there arises a necessary comparison.How tall? How industrious how compassionate? The answer to any one of these questions necessitates a look both inward and outward.

This definition by context fuels our internal talk shapes our relationships and drives the competition for the resources we hold so dear.My life has been uniquely fashioned by this context by comparison.As the oldest of four boys my trajectory since leaving my parents and siblings has seemed like a constant recreation of the structure that I came from,a mostly subconscious search for relationships and social constructs that allow me to repeat what feels most familiar.My earliest beliefs about myself, my very perception of self was formed by direct comparison to my brothers:

How funny am I?

How athletic?

How artistic?

The qualities that thrilled me in my youth continue to be the ones I find most desirable.Creativity is king.Probably won’t be in your company if you can’t have a laugh.While any dreams of professional sports stardom have been shelved many moons ago,the grace under pressure,the capability to adjust when faced with unforeseen obstacles and the spirit of respectful competitiveness are all qualities I learned the value of in my earliest years and continue to seek in the people i take inspiration from.

Like many of people of I call friends,I can’t remember the “when” of meeting the subject of this profile.The “where” however, is seared into my brain like a deeply aromatic portion of carnitas sizzling on the plancha of the restaurant where we first met,Gran Electrica in Brooklyn’s Dumbo neighborhood.

My earliest memories of interacting with him are forever marked by the the nature of that challenging environment.Sitting at the bottom of a hill near downtown Brooklyn’s bustling tourist trap waterfront,the restaurants reassuring facade conceals it beastly summertime nature.With two major subway lines on either side of it and bevy of tourist attractions at its rear,any shift worked during the months of June through August can be a uniquely humbling experience.

There are as with any restaurant are all the obstacles one might expect.Demanding clientele and the requisite buzz around the picturesque back garden adds rocket fuel to this already volatile mixture.I've witnessed Sunday brunches crush well meaning co workers,bright and capable,reduced to a puddle of haplessness by a less than pleasant 8 top of tourists,3 of whom were children intent on redecorating with the salsa and chips their withered parents ordered to keep the wolves at bay.I've walked away from many of those shifts shellshocked,asking the big life questions:

What does it all mean?

What am I doing here?

How could I forget “no pepita seeds” on that VIP guac order?

Such was the nature of a busy pre pandemic service.

Into this culinary fray stepped Sibnavus Cheeseman.Having spent quite a bit of time up to that point working in restaurants,I had developed a veteran's ” wait and see” attitude when encountering newcomers.The nature of the environment often weeds the incapable out fairly early,so wise money would place its bet on the question mark and not getting attached to any one too early.They may not be there next shift after all.

There was a marked difference in this one,I remember thinking to myself.I was a runner at the time and my experience with chefs and line cooks had been a mixed bag.For every welcoming face and reassuring sense of humor there had been the down right nasties,the control hungry power trippers,the talented but scatter brained.Assessing a cook or chefs personality is almost mandatory as a runner.Most kitchens are their own mini fiefdoms within the kingdom of the restaurant,and the runner is essentially the chefs soldier and emissary.The runner is usually the first non cook to see the chefs work,to hear and see the inner workings of the back of the house that leads to the edible treasure on your plate. In addition the runner is entrusted to deliver their vision,their handiwork,to eager customers in timely fashion so that the food can be enjoyed as the chef envisioned it.

Understandably this relationship is quite a unique one and pivotal with regard to the flow of service and customer experience.The introduction of a new personality into this equation naturally puts the incumbent runner on edge and the questions abound:

What’s this guy like?

Is he he cool and for how long?

My mind naturally tried to match what personality traits I could detect to a previously encountered archetype.

There wasn’t a mold for this chef. First there was the obvious anomaly of being a black American chef in a regional Mexican kitchen.Watching him navigate this potentially fractious divide was a lesson in diplomacy and cooperative thinking.The line cooks that came to be his brigade were reliable vets,natives of the country the kitchens output represented and seasoned bullshit detectors.They could do more with a sautee pan or hovering over a comal in an hours service than most of us did all shift, all in dutifully stoic fashion,only the slightest look or fleeting expression betraying their awareness if something was off.I watched as the slightly raised eyebrows gradually became nods of trust.I witnessed Sib advocacy for his line transform the relationship between his cooks and the front of the house.They were now artisans to be respected perhaps even revered.Gone were the days of carelessly making mistakes and fitfully demanding that the hidden minions clean up the mess.This wasn’t some us against them nonsense either.This was delicate considered and fostered a genuine mutual respect.

I also watched as his culinary outlook transformed the food.This wasn’t a mere spruce up job either.Fan favorites and “go to” staples were completely revisited and enlivened by the creative energy of the imaginative mind behind the changes.new chefs make changes often that’s to be expected.Too often this is done in a “bull in a china shop" fashion,classic combos and treasured favorites being tossed aside for ill advised mash ups.This wasn’t that at all.Instead of merely leaving his mark,Sib used his Jamaican heritage and his childhood experiences on his fathers farm as bridge to the Mexican culinary tradition instead of a stamp,finding natural common ground in shared techniques traditions and flavors with additions that reflected his unique outlook.Watching this process engendered in me a new found respect for reinvention and interpretation.It wasn’t enough to tell you what was good in some pedantic over bearing fashion,He showed you why it was good and always had been,in a a way that made you feel like you were discovering something truly valuable for the first time.

Having paid my dues in the runner realm I decided to make the natural progression to server,about halfway timeline wise into sibs tenure as head chef.This position came with more responsibility increased customer interaction and more money:all exciting positives.Still a nagging worry loomed.

I had spent most of my time in the industry as a runner and I reveled in the unique view point it provided.Being the by product of parents from different cultures,a self proclaimed mutt,i relished the “between 2 worlds” element of the position.I coveted that ability to maneuver through the flirtatious glitz of the front of the house then balance all that pomp and circumstance with the near military precision and accountability of the kitchen,not to mention the biting prickly sense of humor.I didn’t want to be alienated from that world after putting so much time and effort into earning my place in it.I knew full well of the somewhat ambivalent nature of the server/kitchen relationship,often at odds for one reason or another sometimes bordering on the adversarial.

How would the cooks who had come to rely on me view this latest move? Would I become persona non grata? An unfortunate them on the other side of the vs.?

Sib couldn’t have been more supportive.My visits to the kitchen now became a respite from the pressing pace of service,a chance to share an uplifting bit of humor or catch up on the days events. Above all it was a chance to see the food,see his vision from a slightly different point of view.Understanding my increased need for knowledge,he became my secret weapon when flustered by an inquisitive diner's spray of questions, casting off jewels of culinary understanding that made one leave the kitchen and return to the floor with a sense of duty and empowerment.More than anything it was his willingness to share what he knew that impressed upon me the necessarily cyclical nature of “each one teach one”,an oft quoted but routinely unfulfilled adage.We are all strengthened, both individually and as a collective by this back and forth exchange,a truth that one can quickly lose sight of in the me against the world rat race that New York life can be.

As our friendship grew,I was fortunate enough to see other facets of Sib's creative ability.We had always talked at length post service about music, art and fashion but now I got to see these thoughts take physical form.I fondly recall being invited to a pop up shop/art event for On The Lam ,a streetwear label founded by Sib and his partner Lilli.This experience along with other get togethers hosted by the couple reminded me of the power of community and connection ,particularly as it relates to fueling the engine of creation.The people I met at these events ran the gamut of creative disciplines:musicians,designers,photographers and filmmakers,creators of all kinds.Skillful,involved and hopeful.Disparate in outlook and output but unified in their beleif in the enduring positive power and necessity of artistry.We do things,namely create not simply because we can but because we must.I would leave these events with the proverbial battery in my back.eager to make something worthy to be shared with the people I had just met.

The impact of these experiences on my own creativity can not be overstated.But there were yet further lessons to learn,further inspiration and rejuvenating energy to absorb.In the wake of the pandemic,most everyone I knew was scrambling and in a panic,everything was a shambles.Normally stalwart reliables were all in caught in the throes of their own confusion and rising uncertainty,all doom,gloom and embittered displacement.Even the seemingly unshakable creatives were threatening to abandon their posts,forsaking the thrill of venturing forward for the purported safety of the murky alternative.

In my conversations with Sib during this time none of this flimsy self pity was evident.If anything the unfortunate curveball we’d all been thrown was in his view a chance for an already necessary reinvention.Rather than a time to retreat it was a moment to take ownership to become a more fully realized version of the the people we’d always proclaimed we were.

I watched with pride as he regrouped,partnering with a few like minded friends on an elevated interpretation of the New York deli sandwich classic, the chop cheese.This Waygu chop cheese,the "Swaygu" and the pop up restaurant that sells it,Shmackwich have collaborated with foodie favorites Roberta’s Pizza and Von's bar among others and are fast developing a cult like following on social media.Yet again a display of personal expression through reinvention as well as entrepreneurship with impact.I'm honored to call to call Sibnavus Cheeseman a friend and an inspiration,and eager to see which of his imaginative ideas takes shape next.