Lana’s Way: How One Top Chef Contestant Is Reclaiming Black Food Stories, One Pop-Up at a Time

Article by Janna Tamargo | Photography by Clay Williams | Published April 24, 2025

At first glance, Lana Lagomarsini might seem like another talented New York chef feeding off the reality TV hype. As a contestant on Top Chef, she’s been courted by high-end restaurants, worked in the refined kitchens of Daniel Boulud, and trained in classic French techniques. But if you dive deeper, you’ll see Lana isn’t following a script, in fact, she is writing her own and food is just the beginning.

Before Top Chef Season 22 premiered, I met up with Lana at Union Square Greenmarket in New York City to talk food, authenticity, and the importance of real research.

“I’m born and raised here in New York. Still here,” Lana tells me with a laugh. “I got my start in fine dining, but during the pandemic I realized—this isn’t where my whole heart is.” She speaks of the restaurant world as a place of performance and pressure, but also one of profound storytelling. “I missed the 'why’ behind it all.”

That “why” became the foundation of Lana’s ongoing pop-up series which is an ever-evolving, deeply personal project that celebrates Black heritage foods through historical research, modern technique, and Lana’s signature storytelling. “I’m trying to rebrand the series this year,” she says, “but at its core, it’s always about diving into Black history and American history. They’re not separate. They’re intertwined.”

Reclaiming Food Histories

Take, for example, Thomas Downing. “He was the oyster king of New York,” Lana says, her eyes lighting up. “He had a restaurant near Wall Street and fed people like Edgar Allan Poe. He even shipped oysters to Queen Victoria. But he died never having been a U.S. citizen. A Black man from Virginia who made this incredible mark on the city.”

Downing’s story inspired Lana to build a dish around oysters, not necessarily as a nostalgic callback, but as a way of giving history a new voice. “I use some of his original recipes I’ve found, and I talk about him when I serve the dish. I’m not just feeding you oysters. I’m feeding you a story.”

Lana calls this her “own interpretation” of Black food. She’s quick to acknowledge that while her roots trace back to Alabama, she wasn’t raised there and doesn’t claim to make the “best” Southern food. Instead, she’s focused on dishes that reflect her own journey, infused with research and reimagined with intention. “If you want the best collards, you might find better in the Carolinas,” she says. “But if you want a version that tells my story—that’s what I’m here to offer.”

On Authenticity: Research Over Replication

So, what does “authentic Black food” mean to someone like Lana, who straddles fine dining, personal memory, and broader cultural history?

“Honestly, the more research I do, the more I realize Black food is American food,” she says. “You go to Louisiana and have red beans and rice, then you taste jollof in West Africa, and it’s like, wait a second…”

To her, authenticity doesn’t come from strict replication. It’s in the lineage. The labor. The adaptation. “Our ancestors didn’t always have the best ingredients. They used what was available and still made magic. I’m just continuing that, using what’s available to me—including the techniques I’ve learned in fine dining—to tell a story.”

Take her oxtail terrine, wrapped in plantain, a fusion of French culinary training and Caribbean flavors. “You’re never gonna see that on a French menu,” she says with a grin. “But it’s me. It’s my story. And it’s rooted in facts and tradition.”

Inspiration, Fire, and Francis Mallmann

Lana’s aspirations reach far beyond the traditional restaurant path. “I’m not trying to be the next restaurateur,” she tells me. “I don’t want to be. I’m more inspired by someone like Francis Mallmann.”

As we weave between food stands, she reflects on her time working with Francis Mallmann, not just mastering the choreography that is needed to cook with open fire, but absorbing something more sincere: how he built a life around his values, crafting a lifestyle that transcended the confines of a brand. For Lana, it was never  just about technique, it was about ethos, intention, and living the story you want to tell. “That man doesn’t even have to do anything. People come to him. It’s his presence. He’s iconic. That’s what I’m interested in. How to build a presence rooted in something real.”

She dreams of going to Ghana, inspired by a close friend who travels frequently there. “She has that connection, that closeness to family and home,” Lana says. “I want to see where my family came from, be on the ground, eat the food, find my own inspiration.”

Moving Forward, Against the Grain

Even after the visibility that Top Chef and Netflix’s Pressure Cooker brought her, Lana stays true to her independent path, especially when it isn’t easy. “I’ve had to say no to a lot of tempting offers since the show,” she shares. “It’s just about staying aligned with the vision I’ve been working toward all along.”

Her next steps remain uncertain. She’s outgrown her home kitchen, but a brick-and-mortar space in New York is daunting. “I’m too big to stay small, too small to go big. I’m at a weird in-between.” She’s working on a business plan, hoping to find the right investors, and dreaming of building something sustainable on her terms. But if there’s one thing Lana is sure of, it’s this: “My cooking is where the facts meet the technique. And it’s driven by passion. That’s what keeps me going.”

In a culinary world often driven by trends and gatekeeping, Lana is building something both grounded and radical, especially in an age where influencers with no experience can drive narratives. She offers a form of food storytelling that’s actually researched, rooted, and unapologetically her own.

And that, in every sense of the word, is authentic.