Jan Sobecki, Tribeca: My greatest challenge: De Wielewaal

Jan Sobecki (Poznan, Poland, 1980) built his career with an almost relentless determination. After New York, Paris, two Michelin stars and the turbulent years at Tribeca, he faces his greatest challenge: making the iconic Landhuis de Wielewaal a success. "It is not yet entirely there."

The Early Years

You lost your father at age three and moved with your mother from Poland to the Netherlands shortly after. How did that early displacement shape you?

[After a pause:] "That is a loaded question. It was certainly very difficult, especially for my mother. She did not move to the Netherlands for herself, but for me. Back then in Poland you had to use food vouchers at the butcher, the cheese merchant and the baker. It was a country with little prospect for the future. My mother saw the West as a ticket out of misery. But once here, she had to build everything from scratch. She was alone and worked incredibly hard every day to make it work. She made enormous sacrifices to give me a chance. That awareness has always driven me: I had to make something of my life. Otherwise it would all have been for nothing. That is why I always gave it everything I had."

Your Polish grandmother brought a piece of home with her when she visited. Tell me about that.

During the holidays she always came over and we cooked traditional Polish dishes together. Lots of meat and gravy, but also kluski: a kind of dumplings with poppy seeds. And when we went to my grandmother, she often had live carp in the house. They would swim in the bath for two or three days, so I could play with them first before they went into the pan. Those kinds of memories are unforgettable. In Catholic Poland, those moments of togetherness at Christmas and Easter are enormously important."

What typically Polish traits do you still recognize in your way of life?

"I would not dare to say. I was very young when I came here and quickly became Westernized. My mother wanted me to speak Dutch as quickly as possible and not fall behind."

You took your first steps in professional kitchens during lower secondary school. What drew you as a boy to that world?

"I found it a tough, rough environment: fire, pans, pace, a touch of machismo. And you had authority over something. If you had to make desserts, it was up to you to say: 'Those plates go now.' That directness and energy attracted me enormously."

Was it initially just a side job, or did you already feel: this is my direction?

"It started quite by chance. I had spent a year filling punching bags, until I met someone who worked in the dishwashing section. I started doing that too for a few days, and it went surprisingly well. Around the same time I saw Pretty Woman. Especially that scene with the hotel manager of the Beverly Wilshire Hotel stuck with me: someone with overview, authority, someone who arranges everything. That fascinated me. When I later saw an application form for secondary hotel school lying around, I signed up immediately. Also because that education offered opportunities to do internships abroad. New York especially exerted an enormous pull on me. Initially I wanted to become a hotel manager. That intrigued me even more than the kitchen, because the manager has control over everything. I went to secondary hotel school in Heerlen and left from there for America. First I did an internship at a hotel chain in Chicago, with locations across the country. If someone dropped out anywhere, in service, at reception or in the kitchen, I was sent there from the corporate office as an intern. So I ended up in the kitchen more and more, more back of the house than front of the house. And that suited me. Slowly my attention shifted from hospitality to gastronomy. In that hotel organization everything was tightly controlled from above; the kitchens were quite compartmentalized and frankly also rather dull. That is why I looked further. To New York, a city that attracted me not only through art, culture and music, but especially through gastronomy. It was a melting pot, and at that time almost every major French chef had an outpost there, from Joël Robuchon to Alain Ducasse. So after a year in Chicago I went to New York, where I studied at The French Culinary Institute, at that time the best culinary school in the city."

"I also made mistakes, was too hard on my brigade"

Lessons from El Terminator

What scenes drew you to New York back then?
"The hip-hop scene with its break-boys and concerts. I lived in Bushwick, in the north of Brooklyn, a neighbourhood that also produced names like The Notorious B.I.G. Beyond that, I felt a strong pull towards the graffiti scene. In my younger years I went through quite a few spray cans; thirty years later I still sometimes come across my own work. At the same time, I was being drawn deeper and deeper into gastronomy. After an initial job at The Carriage House, I landed at Craft, Tom Colicchio's two-star restaurant. His first words were telling: 'You want to work here, but I'll show you how to clean first.' I had to spend two weeks cleaning refrigeration units and mopping floors. They wanted to see if you were willing to start at the bottom. I had that dedication. Two and a half years later, Colicchio asked me to be sous chef. That's where I truly lived the American Dream: if you're willing to work incredibly hard, you can make it. I was there for almost six years in the end and worked six or seven days a week during that time, with little sleep and always pushing forward. At one point I weighed just 56 kilos. Friends who saw me were shocked. But I was there on a mission: I wanted to learn everything there was to learn. Alongside my work I did internships at the fish market, with butchers, with pastry chefs. Purely to absorb knowledge. That investment paid for itself many times over later in my career."

From New York you wrote letters to greats like Joël Robuchon and Alain Ducasse, but you got no response.

"Nothing at all. Very frustrating. I even travelled to Paris to hand in my CV in person at receptions and kitchen entrances, just to show my determination. That led nowhere either. Until I suddenly got a call from Antoine Westermann, the French chef who had brought Le Buerehiesel in Strasbourg to three stars. He was about to open a bistro in Paris, Drouant by Antoine Westermann, and had come across my CV through the grapevine. I could start there as Demi Chef de Partie Poissonnier. I was overjoyed: a job in Paris, a steady income, my own little room. And I grew quickly because I excelled in my role. Every morning I stood filleting crates of fish. The head chef initially thought: he'll never manage that. But by half eleven it was all done. I owed that to New York, where I had learned the trade from Hector 'El Terminator', a nickname he earned for good reason."

From Drouant you worked your way up to Pavillon Ledoyen, which at that time had three Michelin stars. How did that move come about?

"By then I was chef de partie in the fish section. At Drouant around 150 guests lunched and another 200 dined, of whom roughly 80 per cent ordered fish. So serious pace was needed there. But I had learned that in New York. I could handle that volume. Monsieur Westermann noticed that too, he was very complimentary. Where they first saw me as a tourist, now I was one of the team. I got a Japanese intern under me. One day she asked if she could schedule an appointment with me. She was very beautiful, so I thought: I'm in luck! But her intentions were entirely professional. Through her boyfriend, who was sous chef at Ledoyen, she had heard they were looking for a poissonier. She thought I belonged there. Through her my CV reached the sous chef, and eventually Christian Le Squer. My intern lost her chef because of that, but she gave me that chance. I've always found that very special."

What was it like to find yourself in such an absolute top-level environment for the first time?

"I still remember receiving a voicemail from monsieur Le Squer. I heard his voice and hung up immediately. Even though it was a voicemail. I found it so thrilling. After that, I listened to the message again and called him back. We arranged to meet at Ledoyen, on Champs-Élysées. Just walking in there was overwhelming. Suddenly I found myself in the world I had been dreaming of for so long: the chefs in complete focus, the pans on the stove, the polished copper, everything breathed perfection. I was worried my poor French would let me down. But somehow, during that conversation, I suddenly spoke like a seasoned Frenchman. I got the job. And floated down Champs-Élysées shortly after."

You stayed there for two and a half years. What did that period teach you?

"Refinement. Precision. The care of dishes. And above all: learning to think intelligently about flavour, structure and experience. Paris was the complete opposite of New York in every way. There it was mostly about intensity. Prep cooks made all the sauces and garnishes from early morning until mid-afternoon, then the line cooks pushed service as hard as possible. In Paris I was responsible for the entire process: from mise-en-place to plating. That was a shift at first. By seven in the morning I was already cooking at full capacity. But the standard was impressive. The elegance of the dishes, the precision, the service..."

Back in the Netherlands

Why did you decide to return to the Netherlands?

"At some point I was offered a position as junior sous chef in Paris. I was in my late twenties by then. After about ten years of moving around and living in small rooms, I wanted a sofa, a television, my own fridge, a bit of comfort. Paris was a wonderful place to learn, but it is also very closed off, you don't easily make contact with locals. I felt somewhat isolated. Add to that the austere existence and the low salary, and the Netherlands became increasingly attractive. There I could actually afford my own apartment. So the idea of going back slowly took shape."

How did you end up at restaurant Chapeau! in Bloemendaal?

"Initially I applied at De Bokkedoorns. John Beeren, the owner at the time, passed my CV on to his friend Ronald Voogel from Chapeau! He called me: he was looking for a sous chef. That's how things got rolling. In 2011 we brought Chapeau! to one Michelin star, and a year later, after I had taken over from Jeroen Granneman as chef, the second followed."

What did that first chef role teach you about responsibility?

"That leading a kitchen is something completely different from simply performing a task well. Suddenly I had to create menus, make decisions and manage a team. I found that last part especially difficult. I made mistakes there too. I was too hard on my brigade. Tyrannical behaviour is the easiest way to get things done quickly, and I simply didn't know any other way. I was young, under enormous pressure and had barely any management experience. Getting angry was the fastest way to achieve something. My approach may have been efficient, but I wasn't liked for it. Staff turnover was high, it wasn't a sustainable way of leading. I realised it had to change. I started moving the mise-en-place to the days when the restaurant was closed. That way I could be much more present for the team during the day, explain things and guide people better. That worked incredibly well. When a sous chef joined later, real calm and stability came to the kitchen. Quality went up, and at some point we were even mentioned as a candidate for a third star. Where is this going, everyone asked themselves."

And that question pressed itself on you too, because Ronald was working on an exit strategy.

"Completely understandable, since he had been in the business for thirty years. For a long time, taking over Chapeau! was a serious possibility for me. Until Ronald was approached by a property developer who wanted to build apartments on that site. That simply offered him better financial returns. And to be fair, I was genuinely happy for him. But for me, it meant I suddenly found myself at a dead end."

Meanwhile, something important was also happening in my personal life.

"I knew Claudia from hospitality school in Heerlen. That first meeting is still crystal clear in my mind: she walked in wearing pink trousers and a red jumper, and I fell for her instantly. Only the feeling wasn't mutual back then. After that, we kept running into each other at birthday parties of a mutual friend. But the timing was always wrong: I'd be in a relationship, then she would be. Until eventually it did happen and the spark flew. After stints at Beluga and Château St. Gerlach, Claudia eventually also worked at Chapeau! And then the idea started to grow of building something together. The perfect picture: me in the kitchen and Claudia in front of the house. Claudia didn't necessarily have an entrepreneurial dream, but she wanted to take on that adventure with me."

A bomb goes off

Then Boreas in Heeze came your way.

"After New York I worked there for six months, in the period between America and Paris. That's how I already knew Nico and Sonja. At events they would sometimes jokingly say: 'When are you finally going to take over the place?' Until that suddenly became serious. I got a phone call: they wanted to stop. For me it felt immediately like a unique opportunity. Only I couldn't secure the financing. The bank said: if you can raise half elsewhere, we'll put up the rest. In the end, it worked out through crowdfunding."

Wasn't it nerve-wracking to build so visibly on the support of others?

"No, for us it was the solution. In hindsight it even turned out to be a masterstroke. Depending on their investment, crowdfunders received a lunch, dinner or cooking class from us. That created personal contact from day one. It worked incredibly well. They weren't just our financiers, but also our first customers. When there was something to celebrate, they came to us. So we immediately built a circle of regular guests. And in Brabant people are invested in the business, feel involved and genuinely want you to succeed."

Different from Bloemendaal?

"Absolutely. Both Bloemendaal and Heeze are in affluent areas, but the mentality is completely different. In the north it's more formal, here it's much more relaxed. People are more themselves; they come in just as easily in jeans and a T-shirt."

What else makes Brabant such fertile ground for gastronomy in your view?

"Location plays a role. Ten kilometres away you're in Belgium and Germany is also nearby, so we receive many Belgian and German guests. Beyond that, you benefit from the Eindhoven region. The presence of ASML has enormous impact: the company is growing explosively, and that attracts international visitors, knowledge workers and purchasing power to this area. You feel that absolutely as a restaurant."

How did that 'perfect picture' work out: you in the kitchen, Claudia in front of the house?

"It seemed like a boys' adventure, except success came far too fast. We started in August 2016 and already had two stars that same autumn. It was wow, but also brutal. The restaurant grew explosively and we were completely unprepared for it organizationally. I'm talking about protocols, reservations, investments, logistics, staffing. It felt like a bomb went off. The restaurant was full every day, both lunch and dinner. Claudia was doing everything in the meantime: she was host, sommelier, accountant and mother, because we had just had a son. She had to be at the restaurant every single day. It was exhausting. And I was living on pure survival mode: I usually didn't get to bed until around three in the morning and was back at the stove at seven. The real blow came for Claudia when her father was diagnosed with ALS and died before Christmas, while in that same period her sister also got cancer. I can still see her coming down the stairs one day. It was as if I was looking at a stranger. I barely recognized her. Completely broken, she looked right through me. Only at that moment did it dawn on me how serious it was. That day she really crashed completely. That was intense. My partner was gone. She literally couldn't do anything anymore."

You suddenly had to do it all alone.

"I also took on the role of host, because someone had to greet the guests and hand out the menus. But of course that couldn't make up for Claudia's absence. Meanwhile we were falling behind on payments and administration, reservations weren't being processed properly. Then the restaurant would be full and suddenly eight extra people would show up at the door saying: 'But we have a reservation.' It was complete chaos."

How did you eventually turn that situation around?

"One of the biggest problems was the logistics in the main kitchen. During the day we had to do fifty lunch covers there and prepare the mise-en-place for the rest of the week. That was completely stuck, so we often worked deep into the night. The solution was to convert an unused space into an extra kitchen for ten covers. That way we could reduce the restaurant from fifty to forty covers and no longer had everything going through the same bottleneck. That brought calm. During the day there was finally some breathing room, also for things like administration and reservations."

The restaurant was doing better, but how did Claudia recover?

"She couldn't really recover above the restaurant. You could hear everything: the door, the kitchen, the music. Work was constantly present. That made her feel guilty for a long time. At the beginning of 2020 we had set our sights on a new house, but then corona struck. The restaurant closed and our search for a home also came to a standstill. That we got through that period, we owe in large part to our regular guests. They immediately offered to buy gift vouchers. Yes, for thousands of euros. They're so involved. In that unexpected calm Claudia slowly came back to life a bit. After corona she also cautiously returned to the restaurant: she handed out the menus and went around the tables with the cheese cart. Meanwhile I had already organized reinforcement for reservations and finances, and with Roy Pelgrim a new sommelier also joined. After corona we went ahead with the move after all. That helped enormously to find stability again. At first work constantly bled into home life; now home is really home again. From that regained calm we also started making plans for a major renovation of Tribeca. There was every reason to: too little space for staff, storage and cooling, and besides the restaurant and kitchen were too far apart. But those plans got stuck because the restaurant is in a residential area. It took four years to sort it out with the municipality. But eventually everything was arranged: the permits were in, the contractors were ready. In September 2024 we would sign the contracts, in November the renovation would begin and in May 2025 everything would be ready."

A new chapter: De Wielewaal

And then, suddenly, a completely unexpected opportunity presented itself.

"In August, I received an email from a headhunter working on behalf of the municipality of Eindhoven. They asked whether we would take on the operation of Landhuis de Wielewaal for fifteen years, with an option for another ten: a restaurant, brasserie, chef's table, wine cellar, hotel lounge and nine suites. Just as we had finally received the green light after four years of proceedings for the renovation of Tribeca, this landed on our desk. But you cannot ignore such an opportunity. De Wielewaal is an iconic spot, where Frits Philips lived until his death in 2005. When I read Claudia that email, she immediately said: 'You must make this choice.' For me, the choice was already made: we had to do this. My first call was to Frank van Gool, a loyal contact of ours. I sent him the pitch before it even went to the municipality. He was immediately enthusiastic and committed to supporting me financially. After that, we entered the selection process. On 22 December came the news we had been waiting for: we had won. We were, of course, incredibly pleased about that.

In January 2025, we began to develop the construction plans in concrete terms. And then everything went completely wrong. It turned out there was insufficient power supply and that bats were living in the roof. Two enormous batteries ultimately had to be installed, representing an investment of three and a half million euros. So the discussion immediately arose: who will pay for that? And that was not all. The infrastructure for electricity and air also proved to be outdated, there were problems with the access routes and the roof, with a surface area of no less than 3,000 square metres, had to be completely replaced. It took well over a year before we reached an agreement with the municipality on this. Only last February did we reach a settlement."

How did you meanwhile keep the plans for Tribeca afloat?

"After a tour of the estate, Frits Philips junior said to me: 'You remind me of a circus acrobat balancing on two different horses while juggling.' That image was spot on. In Eindhoven and in Heeze, I was trying to keep all the balls in the air at the same time. Fortunately, I received help in Heeze from a very loyal guest, Jan Willem Rijkse, who turned out to be first a kind of construction chaplain for the renovation in Heeze and subsequently project manager of De Wielewaal. He also conducted all negotiations with the municipality and played a major role in making the agreement succeed. This took some of the pressure off my shoulders. Yet that renovation ultimately did not go ahead. We had a confidentiality obligation and were not allowed to say anything about De Wielewaal. I found that perhaps the most difficult part. We had to keep postponing the renovation of Tribeca, without being able to be open with our team and our guests. While the real reason was, of course, already settled: the move to De Wielewaal."

That move was scheduled for this summer, so you could open in September. But that seems barely achievable now. Why is that?

"Because of the bats. On 22 January, we received permission from the Council of State to begin replacing the roof. However, there are two bat nests in it, and bats are a protected species. As a result, the roof cannot be tackled all at once, but only in strips of ten to twelve square metres, while an ecologist observes on site whether bats are flying out. As soon as that happens, work must be stopped immediately. We have since taken mitigating measures by placing bat hotels around the building. Let's see how that works this summer. So it is not yet entirely clear sailing."

After Chapeau!, it has certainly not been a bed of roses. In hindsight, would you have done things differently?

"I still stand completely behind the path we have taken. When we started Tribeca, though, we had a more accessible formula, almost bistro-style. We served dishes like lamb rack, veal shank and stews. Over time, however, our guests also wanted turbot, caviar and langoustine. We gave in to those wishes and ended up at fine dining level and on Michelin's radar. We did not want to explode right away, boom. We wanted to build steadily, consolidate and grow from there. Things went completely differently. Perhaps I should have listened less to the customer. On the other hand, it is ultimately the guests who pay your bill."

Is De Wielewaal your shot at three stars?

"Early in the process I told Frank van Gool: I think this project is wonderful, but I have one major concern: I want to remain a chef and not become a manager. That is why there will be a strong team around me, including a general manager and a hotel manager, so I can keep focusing on the kitchen. My current team is coming with me, and Claudia will join again too. Of course I will be involved in management, but I will no longer need to be called if the dishwasher is sick. And because of that, I think I can now excel more in the kitchen. But not with the goal of three stars. I have never been a star chaser. What matters much more to me is that the restaurant is full every day, that my team feels good and that I can do what makes me happy: create beautiful dishes and send guests home satisfied. Whether that is rewarded with one, two or three stars, it is all fantastic. But that can never be the starting point. I have seen too often how passion can turn into ambition, and ambition into obsession. That is a dangerous path. Because if you force that third star, you have to stay on your toes afterwards. I want to guard against that. If Michelin ever rewards us, it should be because we reach the highest possible level in our own way."

What dream is left?

"I have always pushed myself forward: from New York to Paris, from two stars at Chapeau! to two stars at Tribeca, and now to this challenge. I think this will be my last trick."