When Semaj Sims was middle school age, he wanted to be a chef. By age 14, he was well on his way, working under chef-restaurateur and Top Chef winner Nick Elmi at The Landing. Today, Sims is a full-ride freshman at Cheney University majoring in business administration, minoring in communications, staying in touch with Elmi — and harboring zero plans to become a professional chef. “The kitchen isn’t for me,” he says.
And that, according to Elmi, is how it’s supposed to be. Hospitality work isn’t for everyone. But the lessons you can learn from working in a restaurant can be transformative. Not to mention the person you work for.
Elmi met Sims through the KB Foundation, a Philly-wide mentoring nonprofit with the slogan, “Exposure is Life.” The first time Elmi volunteered for the group, it was a fledgling afterschool life skills workshop for 11-year-old boys in the Courtyard Apartments, an affordable housing development at 4th and Washington. Elmi showed the kids how to make pasta using a hot plate.
Sims was, he says, “infatuated.”
In a way, Elmi was too. Through KB, he’s since hired three more boys, chaperoned a trip to Côte d’Ivoire, pitched in with overnight summer camp, hosted just-for-the-kids programs at his restaurants, tied a few ties, and answered countless questions from young men via text.
This Thursday, Elmi, for the fifth time, hosts the annual fundraiser for the foundation. It’s the only time all year you’ll be able to eat down-home barbecue by the French-trained chef. Open top shelf bar. Cigar and candy bars too, a DJ, games, a magician. Plus, some of the coolest people you’ll meet anywhere. It’s $175 a head.
You probably should go.
Chef Nick
If you’re into fancy food in Philadelphia, you know Nick Elmi. He worked at the Rittenhouse Hotel and for Georges Perrier at Le Bec-Fin. In 2013, he parlayed his Bravo show win into a place of his own, Laurel, a jewel box destination on East Passyunk Avenue that would go on to win James Beard nominations and a Michelin recommendation — just before closing near the end of last year. (He also owned and ran In the Valley, the elegant bar next door to Laurel.)
From 2016 to 2021, Elmi also oversaw the kitchen of Royal Boucherie, a snazzy French bistro in Old City. In 2021, he and business partner Fia Berisha formed BE Hospitality and launched both The Landing Kitchen, an elevated all-day cafe, and Lark, a fine-dining coastal Mediterranean destination, both in Bala Cynwyd. Three years later, they added The Pump House, a special event space also in Bala.
These days, he’s less hands-on cooking, more leading. “The bulk of my job is organization — keeping things moving, customer relations, but also teaching and mentoring the young cooks in the kitchen. Not like: This is how you tie a chicken. More in the sense of: This is how you act; this is how you present yourself; this is how you speak.” His belief: “If we find people who are inherently nice and want to work,” he’ll work with them.
This philosophy-at-work makes Elmi a pretty amazing fit for KB.
A low-key foundation with high-profile power
KB exists because of the combined efforts of two men: Justin Fishman, a onetime finance guy and Lieutenant Commander in the Navy Reserve, and Kirk Berry, a youth advocate who has spent years developing group mentoring programs for young people. They met when Fishman volunteered to teach financial literacy to non-custodial fathers at Project Dad, the organization where Berry was CEO.
At the time Berry, in addition to his day job, founded and ran a low-cost overnight summer camp where middle school boys learned real-life skills. When Fishman told Berry he was planning on taking some neighborhood kids under his wing, Berry offered up a roadmap to do so, and invited the boys Fishman was mentoring to his camp.
Soon thereafter, about 10 years ago, the guys decided to ditch their other roles and start working together full-time. They brought the kids they knew, plus some new ones, to workshops and programs teaching goal setting and public speaking, among other essential soft skills. They brought in professional men to meet with the kids. They all went on workplace and college visits. They continued to run the summer camp.
Both Berry and Fishman know each KB participant’s name and the names of their family members. “We understand we have to do this one event at a time, one service at a time, one family at a time,” says Berry. One day, the organization will go from under-the-radar to a known quantity. But to do that right takes time.
As the kids have grown up, KB has grown too, adding programming for high schoolers, starting programming for girls, taking the older boys to Africa, and, more recently, Toronto. Right now, they serve about 300 Philly boys and, through the years, have found jobs for 100 of them — including 30 jobs this past summer. KB’s only official employees are Fishman and Berry. The rest are volunteers. Some are famous.
A few years back, KB had a basketball program, and a few kids taking part were fooling around on the court at the Phield House. The boys caught the attention of an athlete getting his photo taken there.
Jalen Hurts, quarterback of few words, was charmed by the young players, picked up the ball for a quick shoot-around, and promised he’d stay in touch. Hurts has since spent time with small groups of KB kids, purchased a van for them to use for their trips, invited them to the opening of the Jordan store on Walnut Street, provided them with outfits for their Canada trip, and graciously provided other, less-limelight-y, more one-on-one help that, says Fishman, Hurts doesn’t want credit for.
Hurts isn’t the only accomplished person on KB’s list of helpers. The 60 to 70 male volunteers (there are women too; they mostly work on the growing program for about 60 girls), include executives, physicians, attorneys, entrepreneurs, men you might recognize on TV or in City Hall. For the most part, these guys are pretty low-key about their inclusion.
They all go by “Mr,” plus their first names. Except for Elmi. He goes by “Chef Nick.”
All the volunteers contribute. But, says Fishman, Elmi has done more than most.
Showing up, over and over
A lot of adults who have, when facing kids who have less, make promises. They show up a first time, but not a second. They offer jobs. They make connections. They mean well. But they rarely follow through. Elmi is different. “He does what he says,” says Fishman. “He actually gives everything: time, talent and treasure. He opens up his doors. He gives resources.”
Berry points out the connections Emli’s mentees make with other Landing employees. During Berry’s regular visits there, he says, “It’s really, really nice when they say not only is [one of the boys] a decent young man, he’s also a great employee.”
When Elmi’s mentees get their first paycheck from The Landing, he’s there to explain the disappointment of deductions. When it’s his turn to host a lunch and learn, he’s gotten the kids their own chef’s jackets, taught them to peel potatoes, break down chickens, and put on fine dining service. At camp, his course in chicken sandwich-making has been a hit. He hosted a Lark-based suit fitting event for the boys, complete with instructions on tying a tie and polishing shoes. He still introduces himself to new, 11-year-old participants with a pasta lesson.
Elmi credits his mom and three of his four sisters — all teachers — with his ability to share what he knows with others. Fishman cites the chef’s patience and no-B.S. approach — not stern, but serious, compelling. “I don’t need to be in the room if he’s there,” he says.
As a chef and restaurant owner, Elmi gets asked for charitable donations all the time. Working with KB kids, he says, is so much more meaningful and impactful than just giving stuff away. “I try to instill in young chefs to try to find two charities that you really want to work with. Stop saying ‘yes’ all the time; stop doing this dinner, that gift card, this charity event. Get involved; get your hands dirty. It feels so much better.”
The boys feel it too. Not just in their work experience, or via their paychecks, or through people they meet. It’s Elmi’s presence, how he shows up.
Samaj Sims remembers his early days at The Landing. “At first, I thought it would be a little intimidating because, you know, you don’t want to disappoint the guy who gives you the opportunity,” he says. But after four years, and seeing “a whole bunch of people come in and come out, it was always a consistent part of my life, just being there with Chef Nick — just seeing him, yucking it up with him, having different conversations about life, about work, was always fun, always real.”
Elmi remembers this May, when Sims and his KB co-worker Zyaire pulled him aside. “They’re like, ‘We both made it into Penn State,’ and I had to literally just turn around and walk out of the room because I started crying,” says Elmi. “These kids are just like everybody in life: They need someone to listen to them, and give them an opportunity … to see them grow up and mature, and understand the difference between where they come from and where they can go.”
This spring, KB hosted its first-ever graduation celebration for 13 seniors. Beforehand, the participants filled out a questionnaire. At the prompt: “Share one meaningful experience you had with a KB mentor” who is not Berry or Fishman, a handful of responses included Elmi.
Sims wrote about his first day working at The Landing. Faheem wrote about bunking with Elmi in Ivory Coast. “It turns out, he’s a really chill guy,” he wrote. (Fishman would later tell Faheem that those morning meals Elmi made for him and his roommates in Africa would be worth a whole bunch of money back home. “I knew that breakfast sandwich tasted good,” Faheem replied.)
Ethan shared: “One meaningful experience I had with a KB mentor was when Chef Nick helped me tie my tie before closing dinner in Africa. It may have seemed like a small moment, but it showed me the importance of mentorship, preparation and having someone willing to guide and support you when you need it.”
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