From Alice

Have you ever found a cool neighborhood spot that you loved from the first time you walked in? Maybe it was something about the way the light streamed in at a certain time of the day, or the way you felt when you first walked in, maybe a smell reminded you of something you forgot a long time ago, or you somehow saw yourself fitting into the space in one way or another. You started going there alone at first, tentatively relaxing and letting yourself trust that good gut feeling. Shy at first, you become a regular staple there over time. You learn everyone’s names, you ask about their lives, their families, their pets. You see people through tough times, good times, and every day boring times and they see you in yours. You become enveloped in an ecosystem so much so that it’s hard for you to remember a time outside this space. Instead of fitting into that space you first saw yourself in, the space now fits around you. You become ingrained in this tiny world, and the tiny world becomes ingrained in you. You cannot imagine a time before this not-so-accidental community, but this time did exist. Without actually acting on that adventurous thought, that random pulse of free will that led you through the doors of your favorite neighborhood establishment for the first time, you would not be the person you are today.

Immigrant stories are both divisively unique yet also uniquely unifying. Both of our parents left their home country behind to try to find something better somewhere out there in the world at large. They landed in North America, having a somewhat limited knowledge of the culture, not to mention the language. This is not a particularly unique position to find oneself in. According to the UN, in 2024 there were about 304 million people who migrated away from the country they were born in. The United States holds 52.4 million of them, that’s approximately one out of every 7th person you meet out there. 

Taking that chance to go for something bigger, something more you want out of life, is a basic human instinct. Without this quite primal yearning our wimpy little branch of the evolutionary tree would likely have withered away hundreds of thousands of years ago. 

Yet the immigrant experience is frequently an incredibly isolating existence. Learning a culture takes immersion, and immersion takes time, not unlike a good soup. Think back to that first time you scoped out that new spot. You were probably a little tentative and spent more energy reading the room before making any kind of move. You saw the space as a separate entity outside of you and you thought about your place in it as opposed to just existing as part of the space itself. 

This mild, but noticeably uncomfortable phase is a familiar place for you if you’ve ever moved to a new school (or a new country) as a kid. (Also if you decided to open a restaurant! - Katya) Getting comfortable in the uncomfortable is a skill that all immigrants possess, whether it’s by optimistic delusion or blind stubbornness. The only way to come into a space you previously have not occupied, is to fit in. However fitting in isn’t necessarily the most cozy and comfortable concept to ponder. Fitting in means being uncomfortable. It means losing or maybe changing parts of yourself in order to make it through. Sometimes this can be spun to mean personal growth or, the word maybe most scoffed at by every New Orleanian ever, RESILIANCE. 

The only way to make it to the other side is through. Through the uncomfortable moments, the times where in the middle of a crowd you feel your loneliest. Through the times where you feel like the only person in the universe that has ever felt the way you do. 

Look at us! We are just two girls, daughters of Russian and Ukrainian immigrants, opening a restaurant with very little “real restaurant experience” between the two of us. Maybe we inherited a little optimistic delusion and/or blind stubbornness here and there, too.

I commend anyone travelling that path less traveled, as even in the deepest darkest woods know that many others have walked this path before you. Although it is not the majority of travelers, the ones that brave this way are more connected to you than anyone else. In this brave existence, know that those uncomfortable feelings, the melancholic darkness of forging this path, binds you to a community that will make space for you. Not just a space to fit in but a vital part of a community that adds up to something greater than the sum of its parts. Very very much like a good soup.