Food and Service Experience

I realized that when my husband of 8 years and partner for 13 years just recently found out that my family owned a Chinese/Vietnamese restaurant in Houston, that there was a lot of service and food history I haven’t shared here on my blog. 

Anyone who’s ever spent more than a day with me knows that I flipping love food and drink. That’s kinda why this blog is here. No one wants to hear me yap on and on about some obscure cooking technique in the real world. I start getting that glazed-over look when I start gushing about food. But the Internet is a wonderful (and sometimes terrible) place to just spit out your passion. 

This is why I love food and drink. 

Here are some of my (and my family’s) past history and work in the food service industry:

My parents, along with a few of my dad’s family members owned a Chinese-Vietnamese restaurant called Hong Kong Kitchen in Houston. This was when my mom quit her job in International Business banking after having my older sister. If you are familiar with Houston, the restaurant is now present-day Fung’s Kitchen (which has awesome Dim Sun, btw) off 59 between Bellaire and Fondren.  

I worked throughout the food service industry when in high school and college. My first paying job was in Houston as a hostess for a sports bar called Champps.  Then, I was a server at a Thai restraint called Lemongrass café. I worked a summer as a bartender on 6th St. in Austin at a surf-themed shot bar called Wave. 

Food’s always been a family passion. My dad’s side of the family ran a Café/French-style ice cream shop in Vietnam. My mom grew up well-off and as a world traveler. She has been wined and dined pretty much everywhere.  When she lost her home country (Vietnam), as well as the cooks that came with her houses, she put on an apron and started learning how to REALLY cook at the age of 25. She made apple pies in Missouri while hanging out with her American host family. She studied and practiced Vietnamese street food and cooking. My mom’s parents emigrated to Paris where my grandmother took cooking classes at Le Cordon Bleu. I remember visiting them over the summers and waking up to the smell of freshly baked petit pain au chocolat and croissants she would bake in her tiny Paris kitchen.  Food is love. Love is sharing food. 

Food, water, shelter. If you boil down life (pun intended), these are the essential material things one needs to survive.