A Cultural Cocktail

The even hum of multiple conversations happening simultaneously, coupled with the clacking of the ticket printer, has grown more comforting as the years draw on. Only the ambiance has changed; red silk draped across the ceiling, romantic lighting, and lofi remixes to Chinese folk music is the newest setting of my melodramatic drama. Two Michelin stars, the Chef and owner Jonathan Fèng, is barely 32. The books are open for reservations starting in May of 2022. Chef Fèng takes personal offense to the fact that Americans recognize Chinese food as cheap and greasy, so he’s made it his life’s mission to showcase its exemplary qualities.

I read that in a magazine, I’ve never actually had the chance to speak directly to him, but he waves from the back when I clock in. The article hit me in the gut, I totally understand where he’s coming from. My last gig was at this hipster taco restaurant, the owner and entire front of house staff was white, I was the token brown chick. The back of house? You guessed it, entirely brown. The owner got off on telling people how he traveled Mexico, learned from masters, and was destined to show Americans how good Mexican food can actually be! Because apparently Mexican folk can’t express it themselves. Each morning he would come in and taste everything that was prepped for that evening, give notes, and leave. I worked there five months, I never saw him work a single shift. Plastered his name on this restaurant, a self-proclaimed prophet for Mexican food if you will, yet took a back seat and simply let Mexican people make it.

I never paid attention to that kind of stuff until I moved to the city and it was so painfully obvious that I was the only person of color, or one of only a few, anywhere I worked? Everyone wants to move here and I’m trying to save up to get out. The neighborhood I grew up in was gentrified, I don’t know where my people went, but I’m dying to feel at home where I live.

It’s your average Friday evening, we’re completely booked, myself and the other bartender, Jay, have the perfect system to keep on top of the orders. The night is wrapping up, so to keep ahead we begin polishing the glassware. There’s only a couple tables left so we start breaking down the bar. Between the two of us, it only takes us half an hour to have everything clean and ready for tomorrow. We have to wait until the restaurant’s doors are locked before closing the registers, and by the looks of it, the tables are going to hang out for a while.

“Aye Jay, I’m gonna take a breather I’ll be back.”

He gives me a quick headnod and tosses me a rag. I walk through the kitchen to get to the back entrance and sigh with relief the moment the fresh air hits my cheeks. I lean up against the building and pull out the rag, a pack of yellow American Spirits inconspicuously tucked inside. I wait to hear the click of the soft close door before pulling one out, but before I could,

“Beautiful moon tonight, huh?”

I nearly jump out of my skin turning quickly to see Chef Fèng sitting on the floor also leaning against the building. He takes a swig of a Tsingtao, a couple empty bottles sitting next to him.

“Beautiful moon indeed boss. Is everything okay?”

He gives me a half smile and nods gently before turning back to continue admiring the moon. In a warm and sincere tone he asks, “Anna, do you have a dream?”

Stunned at the question, I cleared my throat before speaking, “I do, I umm. I dream of becoming a singer. Specifically, for Salsa music.” I feel my cheeks flush. It’s difficult to admit that to anyone, let alone my boss.

He turns back to me, with tender eyes, “That’s amazing. Why did you hesitate?”

I can feel the sweat pooling in my palms, I can barely meet his gaze, “Sometimes it feels silly, like a childish dream, or unrealistic because the competition is so fierce.”

He turns his body to face me, “Well, why do you want to do it?”

I fight the urge to nervously laugh and manage to choke out, “The short of it, I love to sing, and Salsa music makes me feel incredible.”

“And the long of it?”

I take a deep breath, look up at the moon, then back at him, “Salsa speaks to me in a way I had never experienced-in a way I didn’t know I was looking for. I love being Latina, first generation Mexican-American. I love what an important role music plays in Latin American culture, it’s freedom, its power, it’s rebelion. Though I am a US citizen, I sympathize so deeply with immigrants from anywhere living in the US, you’re homesick, tired. The need to just get away and have a good time is real. Dancing is creative expression dripping in sweat. Black and brown bodies immersed in rhythm escaping, even for just a few moments, the shit we face daily. A moment where we can indulge in our culture, indulge in what makes life worth living. I love that, I live for that. I want to make music people can enjoy and dance to for generations.”

He collects his three bottles between the fingers of one hand and stands up, “Now that’s beautiful. Please tell me you’re actually working toward it in some way.”

He’s taller than I expected, I look up at him and back down to my hands, I notice I’d been involuntarily squeezing the rag this whole time, thankfully the box was just about empty, “I’m saving up to move out to Miami. I want to at least give it an honest try. I doubt I’ll get any real traction in Denver.”

He nods and smiles, “May I give my opinion? You can say no, I won’t be offended.”

My mouth nearly fell agape, what would I look like saying no to him? “Oh my goodness, of course, please do.”

Facing me, he leaned against the wall and spoke with the same warm and gentle tone, “I grew up in Shanghai. My father is a very successful businessman and put me through good schools hoping I would follow in his footsteps. But from a young age, I was alway more intrigued with watching my nannies in the kitchen, than listening to my father drone on about his work. After finishing senior secondary school, I wanted to tell my parents that I wanted to study culinary arts, but I was too afraid of what my father would say. So instead, I did what was suggested to me and studied business. I convinced myself it would be too difficult to escape the desires of my parents, until I realized, it was much more difficult living a life I didn’t want for myself. I began trying to convince myself that it would be easy to accomplish my goals, and then one day I looked up, and it was the truth.”

He winks at me and goes back inside.

Absolute shock washes over me, before I’m able to snap back into reality and quickly get back to the bar. Jay had already finished up all the other closing duties and was just waiting for me.

“Holy shit, I’m so sorry Jay I….”

“She’s alive, god did you smoke a whole carton out there? I’m kidding. I owe you one so it’s all good.”

The next several weeks things continued as normal, Chef Fèng continued to wave at me from the kitchen when I clocked in, and no one ever asked why I was outside for so long that one Friday. I thought about the advice he gave me nearly everyday since the interaction. Running errands on my days off and suddenly I’ll remember the compassion in his voice, the sincerity in his eyes. Laying on the rug in my apartment, I dissect every last word he said and write notes in my moleskin journal. He’s recognized internationally and his talent and vision is praised by celebrity chefs all over the world? Of course he’s right. I know he’s right, I need to believe my goals are easy to achieve for me. Right then, I got a call from the general manager of the restaurant. He asks if I’m available for a meeting with Chef Fèng a couple hours before the restaurant opens the next day. I immediately sit up and ask for more details.

“I don’t know, he won’t say. I’m actually surprised he even knew your name! But hey, you’re good at what you do, so don’t worry about getting fired.”

The anticipation and curiosity of why he wanted to schedule a meeting nearly kept me up all night. Did I say something that offended him? Did word get back to him that I actually went back there to smoke?

I show up an hour earlier than expected to the restaurant, and sit inside of my car trying to get a grip before talking to him again. Why am I so nervous? I was already told I wouldn’t be getting fired, I need to chill. I remember his wink and my heart fluttered.

“Whoa, I really need to chill.”

I take a deep breath before knocking on the door to his office.

Chef Fèng carefully opens the door and gestures for me to come in “Anna! Please, have a seat.”

His office is immaculate, Mid century modern design, a minimalist style desk with only a macbook, no wires in sight.

I step in carefully and sit across the desk, “Good morning Chef, how are you doing?”

He takes a seat across from me and leans forward, resting his forearms on the desk, “Good morning, I’m fine thank you for asking. You seem a bit nervous, don’t be, you're not in trouble.” He smiles.

His voice cracked a bit, “I’m a little nervous, but you seem a bit nervous yourself, are you sure everything is okay?”

He sighs softly and smiles, “I think I am a little nervous, but I’ve wanted to have this meeting with you for a little while now. Anna, do you remember mentioning to me how you sympathized with immigrants living in the US? May I ask you to elaborate more on that?”

A bit shocked I nod, “My parents immigrated here, I grew up in a predominantly black and brown neighborhood, and a lot of my childhood friends were undocumented. I kept from talking about visiting my family back in Mexico because I felt like I’d be bragging.”

He nodded and asked softly, “May I ask where your friends are now?”

“Honestly, I don’t really keep up with them much, I say for certain. I think a few of them managed to get US citizenship.”

There was a pause before he spoke again, “Anna, please feel free to stop me at any moment. I think you might know where I’m going with this. I’ve exhausted all connections here, and will soon be facing deportation back to China. You mentioned that you’re saving up to move to Miami, I want to offer you $20,000 for you to marry me and help me to obtain American citizenship. We would have to live together, but I could find us a nice home where you won’t have to pay for a thing. I’ve made some phone calls, I could very easily jump in on an offer to open a new restaurant in Miami Beach. I could find you a job anywhere you like, or you could focus on pursuing your career full time. We would just need to make this look authentic.”

“You could have asked anyone, why me?”

“Because you have a good heart, and you know what it’s like to have a dream.”