Swediopian bliss: Marcus Samuellsson and Maya Haile show us round their dream beachside escape

In some ways, the life of a chef is similar to that of a model – chaos and drama, super-sized stress and strange schedules. For both vocations, this is especially true in New York, with its high stakes and stiff competition. But when I reach Swedish-Ethiopian (“Swediopian”, as he puts it) chef Marcus Samuelsson and his wife, model Maya Haile, the couple exudes a certain calm. They are outside the madness of the city – a couple of hours’ drive from their home in Harlem – in Sag Harbour, where Samuelsson, Haile and their two children, Zion Mandela and Grace Ethiopia, have created an idyllic escape in the wake of the pandemic. Inside the refurbished 1970s home, family photos are displayed alongside Samuelsson’s cookbooks. At the heart of the space is, of course, the kitchen, with its diamond-patterned floors and pale oak cabinets, an emerald back-splash offering a burst of colour. Redesigned as an open-concept, it spills into the rest of the living space.

For a chef like Samuelsson, who grew up on fresh seafood and homemade meals, Sag Harbour is a dream locale, marked by great produce, organic farmers and plenty of fishing in the surrounding waters. The environment has inspired both his food and his family’s lifestyle. “The pandemic was a massive shift for us. You start to reflect on what kind of life you want to create for yourself and your family,” he says. “Being close to nature is something that we want to give our kids. I grew up by the water in Smögen in a beautiful part of Sweden and growing up with access to the outdoors becomes a big part of who you are.”

Samuelsson and Haile met shortly after the latter moved to New York to pursue modelling. Like Samuelsson, Haile was born in Ethiopia, living there until she was 14, when she and her family relocated to Amsterdam. In the Netherlands, she was discovered by an agency who sent her to Paris at 22. When she moved to Manhattan, she settled on Amsterdam Avenue; a little slice of home. Though the buildings were taller, Haile was struck by the similarities between the Dutch capital and New York City (“friendly people, well-travelled, English speaking”).

She instantly booked a Pantene gig, which was “good money and lots of fun”. “ New York City is full of opportunities and people you can meet,” she says. “You can go out in Central Park and meet friends. You don’t feel lonely.” One fateful evening, a friend brought Haile along to another friend’s housewarming party in Harlem. The host just so happened to be Samuelsson – she hit it off with him right away. About a month into dating, Samuelsson cooked for Haile for the very first time. “We had both been travelling and reunited over good food,” Haile recalls. “It was a beautiful salmon dish with mixed vegetables like asparagus and fruits like apples.” In 2009, they tied the knot at a ceremony in Addis Ababa.

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The couple looked at 30 homes before finding their dream summerhouse. “Sag Harbour is an old hospitality town, and you really feel that. There are great farmers markets with lots of organic producers, so our holiday cooking is very vegetable and grain-forward,” Samuelsson says. “We don’t need a ton of meat with such good produce around us.” On the Samuelsson-Haile table one finds melon salads alongside fresh corn and peaches cooked on the grill. Then there is the seafood – scallops, clams and, of course, lobster. “You can even get a wild-caught salmon to throw on the grill,” Samuelsson says.

There’s a sense of ease to Samuelsson’s existence in Sag Harbour – a stark contrast to his tragic and improbable road to chef stardom. Born in rural Ethiopia, his life took a dramatic turn in 1972, when his country was hit by a tuberculosis epidemic. Stricken with the disease and in desperate need of medical attention, his mother walked 75 miles from their village to Addis Ababa, carrying three-year-old tuberculosis-infected Samuelsson and his baby sister. After getting her kids to a hospital, Samuelsson’s mother tragically succumbed to the disease.

Both Samuelsson and his sister recovered. They were placed in an orphanage and were later adopted by his Swedish parents – a homemaker and a geologist from Smögen, a quaint seaside village outside of Gothenburg. Today, he has no memory of coming to Sweden, but he does remember a happy childhood there. “My sister and I definitely stood out in school, and no childhood is without challenges, but I’ve been very fortunate with my upbringing,” he says. “There was always lots of love.”

Not to mention the love of food. He got that from his grandmother, Helga, who would always make homemade meals with a pantry full of fresh, pickled, and cured goods. Sitting in her kitchen watching her cook was what inspired him to enrol in chef ’s training. After learning the ropes at the “very competitive”, “very harsh” Georges Blanc, a three-starred Michelin restaurant in Bourg-en-Bresse, he relocated to New York City, taking a low-level job at Aquavit, a Scandinavian fine-dining restaurant headed by Swedish chef Jan Sendel.

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But tragedy followed in his footsteps. Just a few months later, Sendel died of a heart attack. “It was of course shocking for the whole team,” Samuelsson says. “The owner wanted to go back to Sweden to find a new head chef. And then he asked if I could fill in as interim head chef, which made me very nervous. But I had to give it a shot.” Three months later, renowned critic Ruth Reichl stopped by and wrote a career-making review in The New York Times. Samuelsson remained at the helm of Aquavit for 15 years before striking out with restaurants of his own.

Today, Samuelsson’s cooking, both at home and in his restaurants, is a reflection of his personal history. “Nowadays, I like to take part of my Ethiopian and Swedish heritage and introduce it to our guests in the summerhouse or at the restaurant,” he says. Take, for example, Samuelsson’s version of Gravlax, which he cures with berberé, an Ethiopian spice mix “as common in Ethiopian cooking as salt and pepper”. Like any good Swede, he’s partial to curing and pickling. “Back in the day, the technique was used to preserve, nowadays you do it mainly because of the flavour it brings,” he says. This Ethiopian-Scandi approach is also on the menu at the chef’s newest restaurant, Hav & Mar, in Chelsea. The name is a combination of the Swedish word for sea and the Ethiopian word for honey, which plays an important role in the country’s cuisine.

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Growing up with Ethiopian food and then getting a firsthand introduction to Swedish cooking through a top chef has been somewhat of a revelation for Haile. “Swedish food is so clean and healthy, and the dishes are often much lighter than what we eat over here,” she says. “I think we can learn a lot from Scandinavia in terms of the way we should eat.” Lately her favourite dish to cook is shiro – an Ethiopian chick pea and lentil stew – served with injera bread. “It ’s easy to make and very healthy. We make it once a week,” she says. “Zion loves it and I hope Grace loves it someday soon.”

As it turns out, the Samuelsson-Hailes are hardly slowing down. “I haven’t known what an off-day is for the past six years,” Haile says. Still, I ask her to describe her perfect day off with the family. It starts with running after the kids, taking Grace to the beach and then just spending time together. Then, at around 9pm, Haile and Samuelsson get a rare moment alone. “We put the kids to sleep and walk along the beach together,” she says. “Only the moon is out, everyone is sleeping, birds are singing. Peaceful.”