In such a heavily saturated digital era, it is easy to curate your reach, but Z believes in the value of bridging community with our neighbors. “This is our game,” Z says. “This is the game of life and we’re all in this together.” OurChess is a gathering rooted in inclusivity and accessibility, hosting other events in Harlem and Lower Manhattan, too. It is always free-to-the-public and celebrates learning—”each one, teach one.” It had been years since I tried my hand at chess, but enthusiasm roped me in, compelled by my longtime admiration and the opportunity to tread uncharted waters.
Antilles Cafe, which OurChess calls home, is as much a part of the club’s DNA as the players who come weekly. Chefs Erick Nicoleau and Dru Goicochea opened the café back in 2024, quickly becoming a neighborhood fixture and community-driven third space. The two friends have dedicated their lives to service and commemorating the African diaspora, marrying their Haitian and Dominican heritages with countless references to music, culture, and dynamic flavors. Their inventive menu bridges all of these worlds, vibrant dishes served alongside recurring community events, that preserve and celebrate Afro-Caribbean traditions. Everyone who steps foot through their doors is seen, served, and heard.
My Saturday routine means regular communing and camaraderie with my newfound chess family over plates of food. At Antilles, the flock of us feast on everything from griot, a classic Haitian dish of marinated-and-fried pork, to the pair’s take on the classic Vietnamese banh mi, which embraces salt fish, a staple in the Caribbean diaspora. A quintessential accompaniment is a generous heap of housemade pikliz, a Haitian condiment of pickled shredded cabbage, carrots, sweet, and hot peppers, plus plenty of crispy, golden tostones.
Antilles reimagines café classics with an inventive menu that nods to their Caribbean culture. Most notable is the Plantain Brulee latte, a velvety coffee drink featuring the caramelized sweetness of ripe plantains, accompanied by floral vanilla, warm spices, and a torched sugar topping. Citrusy Morir Soñandos, a creamy, Dominican refresher which literally translates to “to die dreaming,” is often likened to a creamsicle. I opt for the house-brewed sorrel iced tea that chef Erick sweetens for me with housemade lime syrup.
