CHICAGO
How Oumar Diouf Went from Soccer Pitch to Chicago Rising Chef
Written by Eric Barton | June 28, 2025
AUTHOR BIO: Eric Barton is editor of The Adventurist and a freelance journalist who has reviewed restaurants for more than two decades. Email him here.
There aren’t many Senegalese chefs running major American kitchens, and fewer still who’ve also played professional soccer, studied law, and cooked at the Olympics. But Oumar Diouf has never taken the easy route. The new chef de cuisine at About Last Knife (ALK), the restaurant inside Arlo Chicago, brings with him a cross-continental résumé and a style that makes even a grain bowl feel like it has a backstory.
His appointment is more than a résumé bullet—it’s a small but meaningful shift in what American hotel dining can be. Diouf grew up in Meckhe, Senegal, learning to cook from his mother. He spent nearly two decades in Argentina and Brazil, managing a kitchen during the Rio Olympics and connecting the dots between African and South American flavors. Now in Chicago, he’s revamping ALK with dishes like jollof rice and herb-roasted chicken, Brazilian picadinho with duchess potatoes, and an Afro-Brazilian fritter that might be the best explanation of cultural fusion I’ve ever heard.
What follows is our discussion about the road that brought him to Chicago and how he sees his background influencing his cooking today.
Oumar Diouf
You’ve said your first lessons in the kitchen came from your mother back in Meckhe, Senegal. What are some of the dishes or smells from her kitchen that still stay with you today?
Yes, my mother’s kitchen in Meckhe was my first classroom. One scent that always takes me back is Thieboudienne—similar to jollof rice, infused with fermented conch and paired with fish and vegetables. I also remember the sound of onions sizzling in oil when she made Yassa, with caramelized onions, mustard, lemon, and garlic. That kitchen was where I first understood food as memory, identity, and love.
Before cooking, there was law school—and professional soccer. At what point did food go from a passion to a profession?
It started before my injury. I had extra time after soccer training, so I enrolled in culinary school, thinking cooking could bring me closer to home and give me purpose. When the injury ended my soccer career, the kitchen gave me something else to chase. The discipline and strategy I learned on the field now shape the way I run a kitchen.
Diouf’s grain bowl
You trained and cooked in Argentina and Brazil for nearly two decades. What did those places teach you about flavor and plating?
Argentina taught me simplicity can be bold—like with empanadas, where dough and filling speak for themselves. Brazil showed me how layered street food can become elegant. I learned to plate with intention, to let food carry history, generosity, and emotion.
Burrata salad
Tandoori chicken
The herb-roasted chicken with jollof rice at ALK reflects your West African heritage. How do you decide which parts of your cultural identity to bring forward?
It’s about sharing my story without alienating diners. Jollof rice is bold and comforting, and pairing it with herb-roasted chicken makes it accessible while still grounded in my roots. I want each dish to say something. That one is a love letter to where I’m from.
And for the record—yes, Senegal invented jollof. Ghana and Nigeria can keep arguing; we’ll be here smiling.
In your cookbook, you call food a connector across cultures. What recipe best captures that idea?
Acaraje—an Afro-Brazilian fritter made from black-eyed peas, onions, and ginger, fried in palm oil. It started as akara in West Africa, crossed the ocean during the slave trade, and evolved into a sacred food in Brazil. Growing up, I ate it for breakfast. It’s a dish with memory, migration, survival—all wrapped in spice and crunch.
Herb-roasted chicken with jollof rice
You managed a kitchen during the Rio Olympics and ran a restaurant in San Francisco. What excites you about Chicago?
Chicago has range—deep-dish and fine dining, soul food and tasting menus. There’s real diversity and a hunger for authenticity. I want to explore more West African and Afro-Brazilian street food, pop-ups, cooking classes, maybe even a small eatery that pulls it all together. Chicago feels like the right city for that.
When you're not in the kitchen, where do you go to unwind—or get inspired?
The lake. It clears my head. I also visit markets in Bronzeville, check out restaurants in the West Loop, and spend time in museums. Inspiration doesn’t just come from food. It comes from beauty, structure, stories—just like the best dishes.
