Dashi Drama

It is October 2020...

This blog post is long overdue. I should have probably posted in early August when my newly opened sushi restaurant in Long Beach made its long awaited debut. I could have used the blog as a medium to document each painful step (and misstep) of opening a restaurant in a pandemic

As my user name suggests, I am here to catch all the drama, but in retrospect, it was good that I waited about 8 weeks to digest everything that happened before writing anything...

The good news is that I now have the luxury of sitting and reflecting on what I’ve experienced I the last month and a half. I’ve graduated from frantically running around my patio in a hyper vigilante state, stopping by every table to make sure that everyone is over the moon for my food. I can move past the anger and frustration and hurt when anyone dare criticize anything about my restaurant. I mean, don’t they know how hard it is, doesn’t anyone really care what I’m going through ? ... and the short answer to that is “no, they really don’t”. To hell with the pandemic and the rules and demands. People have little patience for the plight of independently owned restaurants. Before... the idea of that made me frustrated, then angry. Then I started to accept it, and then I started to understand it, and finally now, I embrace it.

Being a new restaurant opening during a pandemic, the learning curve has been very steep. It’s been hard having to pivot so many times and yield to all of the restrictions that prevent us from bringing the absolute best experience possible.

Here you can see our beautiful sushi bar that remains unoccupied and empty since we opened.

So with that, we had some road bumps, made mistakes, learned from those mistakes, got some harsh feedback both online and in person. It’s hard to hear, and sometimes, it’s unwarranted. But I dig deep not to clap back... -Deep down, I want them to know that visiting Japan once and watching Top Chef does not make you a food expert. I want to tell people that yes, my chefs are Japanese, but I am not. I am also not a testosterone- driven chef-owner. I am not a chef, and worst of all, I’m not even a man (gasp I know). Basically, sometimes people are just jackasses.

But... when you move past all that , What surprises me the most though is how frequently we hear this from our customers “thank you so much , we really needed this”.

In hearing those words, I am reminded more than ever that we have a unique opportunity and the privilege of bringing delightful moments into people’s lives when they so desperately need it. We can create a beautiful environment and deliver an enchanting experience of which delicious food is just one part of, during a time when people crave those things so deeply and can’t always get it.

Last year, I attended a screening of Chef Roy Choi’s ( Los Angeles native and acclaimed Chef behind Kogi Food Trucks) PBS Docu Series “Broken Bread”. The series showcases examples of Food and Beverage professionals that use their restaurants as a vehicle for social justice. They employ marginalized members of society such as those struggling with a criminal record, drugs and homelessness. 

As someone who grew up in the restaurant industry and a former employee of a multinational marketer of packaged goods, I left with a lot of new questions and an overwhelming sense that there was something very wrong with the way our society values food and the people who work in the industry. I had a nagging feeling that this topic would confront me again, and that somehow, the status quo was going to cave in, and I was right. Eight months later, restaurants and their workers are in the midst of a crisis. There is an up swell of people calling to support local eateries, and most, are in agreement that our nation’s restaurants need help right now, and I of course, agree. 

But when the dust settles, and when the Stay Home Mandates end (whenever that may be), are we actually going to start asking the really tough questions about what drove my beloved industry into this state in the first place? Yes, restaurants had to close for a few weeks, but how could that (relatively) short span permanently cripple so many places, even those that are established and considered to be “successful” by any measure. As I hear more news of restaurants across the country, and as I look to the state of my own family’s restaurants, it seems that the dirty secret of the restaurant world has finally come to light; financial health for independent restaurant owners has all become but a pipe dream. While so many other industries and companies are making a claim to provide more work-life balance and promote health (physical, emotional, mental, financial), why is it that the restaurant world has been quietly passed over for these same things?

Any restaurant operator or even an investor in a restaurant will tell you, that over the years, margins have dwindled down to almost non-existent. 5-7% is considered “rock star” status; 2-3% is the new norm in larger metropolitan cities. The business of making food has become glorified through celebrity chef icons and anecdotes of success through scaling, franchising and branding.  The reality is that, for the ones who are bold (or crazy enough) to try, in reality, you are about to embark on a journey that forces you to make a lot of unpleasant compromises. 

For the restaurant operator, all of our costs are always rising. Rent, wages, insurance, produce,  and then there are the additional costs of keeping up with labor law legislation- sick pay, health insurance, accommodations for new parents, etc. These are the things that every worker (including restaurant workers) should have. Successful operators should be able to provide all of these things while paying a fair, living wage, and they should make enough money to be rewarded for the financial risk and the grueling hours that they work, but most operators will have to choose between these things. Operators are squeezed so tight and margins have dwindled so low that we are complicit in the things we know are wrong, but have essentially become an industry standard. Kitchens at even the most established places will take advantage of free labor by line cooks who start work early without clocking in to “develop themselves”, and so many of those employees demand their pay under the table because the wages they receive after taxes do not cover their basic living expenses.  Why is this happening? 

Yes, yes. Some of it is the competitive climate, and yes, landlords are tough. The restaurant world is brutal, thankless and litigious. It punishes those who do not have their head in the game, but all that aside, the real reason it is so hard for restaurant owners to survive though is... the customer. Because, we can only charge what you are willing to pay, and many customers simply do not understand the value of what a restaurant actually does. 

Today’s consumer has a seemingly insatiable set of demands when it comes to eating out. They are conscientious so they want their meals prepared from farm fresh ingredients, wrapped in eco-friendly packaging. They want the food quick but still at the perfect temperature. It would be nice if the meal was Instagrammable, and if the service is anything less than delightful, you will probably ask for a discount, and even if it was delightful, it should still be half off between the hours of 4PM-6PM. 

The demands continue to grow and grow while the downward pressure on prices drives margins lower and lower. In 1991, when my father opened a (a very successful) Udon shop in Hillsboro, Oregon, he charged $9.75 for a Bento Box- Chicken Teriyaki, Tempura, a California roll with a side of white rice, green salad and miso soup. Today, almost 30 years later, we make that same Bento Box and we charge $12 even though all of our other costs have increased tenfold and then some.  This isn’t relevant to just us. 

I regularly eat out in Garden Grove, California (the mecca of Southeast Asian food) where a bowl of noodle soup where the broth has been simmering for over 24 hours, is sold for EIGHT DOLLARS. Then there is always that wise ass guy that thinks he is a food expert because he eats out a lot and goes on Yelp and writes some asinine review about how the service was bad. Yes, the service was bad because the place is probably family-run and the employees are working for free. That is why your noodles were $8.

I cannot for the life of me understand why our society chooses to commoditize the meals prepared by people who work SO HARD to prepare, cook and serve them? Don’t get me wrong, the restaurant industry does employ a lot of assholes and misfits, but I can say pretty confidently that a vast majority of them work very very hard. Whether it be a line cook, or bartender or owner-operator, our job requires so much of us to deliver the quality that today’s consumer demands. So for those of you who are supporting your local business by ordering take out and buying gift cards, please continue to support our industry long after this is all over. Please do not complain about tipping or that your meal went up $.75. Please be willing to pay more at the restaurants who treat their employees well, and please, for the love of God, keep your negative Yelp opinions to yourself.

Hi everyone, 

My name is Jae, and I am the blogger behind Kombu Dashi Drama. I am an almost-entrepreneur planning to open a sushi restaurant in Long Beach, California. I say “almost” because I haven’t opened yet (still under construction);  I am not making money (yet), and I have no colleagues or employees on payroll (unless you count my dad).

When starting a blog, it often makes sense to start at the beginning. I would normally answer questions like , “What are my entrepreneurial ambitions?” or “Where did I start my journey as a restaurateur?” and most importantly, “What the hell is Kombu Dashi?”

At this moment however, I felt it was appropriate to start in the present. 

It is March of 2020, and for those of you who might be visiting this blog years from now (when I am hopefully successful and famous) and may have forgetten, let me kindly remind you that we are in the midst of a global pandemic. My first venture as an entrepreneur opening a restaurant (all by myself) was supposed to come to fruition in 4 weeks time. 

Upon further reflection of my current situation, I realize that the universe might be really really mad at me. Yes... I  am gearing up to open a sushi restaurant during a time when there is a strong anti-Asian sentiment (because COVID-19 virus came from China), with stigma against fish (because the virus supposedly surfaced in a wet market selling seafood) in the state of California (under a government mandated Stay At Home order at the moment). If there were such a thing as a patron saint of entrepreneurship, surely, he or she is giving me the middle finger in a huge way right now. Not to say that my current state is any more painful than the thousands, if not millions of food service and hospitality workers suffering right now. So, I am not complaining, except I sort of am, but this is why you are here right? 

To hear about all the drama...the surreal shit that happens when a  millennial entrepreneur puts everything on the line to follow her dream. 

This is not, however, a rags to riches story of a young, up-and-coming business woman who reminisces on her struggles before she found success. I will never be #Forbes30under30 because I am already 37 (still keeping my fingers crossed for #Fortune40under40 though). It is also not a collection of insights of a quintessential boss lady and how I overcame obstacles and came out on top. The truth is, I am operating under very ambiguous and uncertain times right now, and I have no idea how my story will end. I still lay at awake at night wondering “when will I be able to open my restaurant?”, “will I ever open?” and “why did I waste all that money on the Brazilian Blowout on my hair when I won’t see any humans for a whole month?”

What I can do, is share with you very candidly, how my journey began and everything that happened in between until now. While reading this, If you can laugh a little at my expense, then I would welcome it. If you are a  business owner, entrepreneur or a colleague in the Food and Beverage world that can gain some insight from my missteps, then I am happy to share those as well. Most importantly, however, this blog is really for me...because it makes me feel better bitching about everything that has happened. I am telling you people, you cannot make this shit up.