With the snap of the wooden chopsticks, squeeze of the sriracha bottle, and slurp of the broth, having a bowl of pho is more than just about the eating. It’s also about the fresh ingredients. The side dish of assorted veggies including bean sprouts, limes, onions, mint, and jalapeño, enhances the flavor of the broth and can be modified truly any way you want.
In typical pho house fashion, the soup speaks for itself. The restaurant, in its simplicity, puts the quality of taste in the food, making the decor and house toned down to let the foods shine as the main attraction. No decked-out tables, just the essentials — hoisin sauce, chili paste, and sriracha.
A gem within a neighborhood in South Salt Lake City, Pho Tay Ho brings Asian communities and other groups the experience of eating traditional Vietnamese soup, pho.
A bowl of beef pho and a side dish of assorted vegetables.
Pho is the ultimate comfort food. Pho Tay Ho is run by Mai Nguyen and her daughter Michelle.
The noodle house opened in 1995 after Mai came to the United States in the 1980s to seek safety during the Vietnam War. With a passion for cooking and Vietnamese food, Mai went from starting her business in an apartment, now where Penny Ann’s cafe resides, to having her own house down the street converted into a pho restaurant.
When the rent agreement was terminated for the apartment building in 2008, Mai was forced out of her business and made the future of the pho restaurant uncertain. Michelle Nguyen would describe the move as a “blessing in disguise.”
The home-turned-restaurant at 1766 Main St. was how the dynamic duo got their business back up and running. This gave the two ownership and the freedom to manage the restaurant their way.
For being in an actual house, location adds to the familiar feeling of home. Now being open for around 27 years, Pho Tay Ho is the place to get both great hospitality and any bowl of pho your heart desires.
Michelle speaks on her role in the business and the experience of growing up in a noodle house. Living in Salt Lake City her whole life, Michelle has worked alongside her mother for as long as she can remember.
Michelle Nguyen working her Saturday shift.
Growing up, Michelle’s childhood was a lot different from the other kids in town. “I didn’t have a typical schedule that most (children) did and since I was of age doing math and writing, I was being immersed into the restaurant,” Michelle said. Looking back, Michelle can confidently say that her childhood is heavily marked with memories at the noodle house that made her experience unique.
Sitting in the restaurant after school, doing homework up until she was at the University of Utah, making her own food and being so close to home, Michelle loved her childhood being centered around the restaurant.
Michelle’s passion for pho is the reason why working at Pho Tay Ho felt like the perfect fit. She said, “I got a degree in communication and worked at a station for a while, but corporate life isn’t what I wanted, so that’s why I decided to do this (work at the restaurant) full time.”
Since she was a little girl when starting to help at the restaurant, Michelle has the unique perspective of having customers that have known her since she was a kid. “We have a joke up front that says employee of the month and there is my kid picture up there…so longest streak ever on employee of the month,” Michelle said.
As for the beauty of the kind of meal pho is, Michelle describes it similar to Subway. “You can make it your own, I always get upset when people say there is a right or wrong way to eat pho because you can spice it up differently… you can change it up however you like,” Michelle said.
The inside seating and dining area at Pho Tay Ho.
It’s all about the broth for Michelle. Serving traditional Northern Vietnamese pho, Pho Tay Ho separates itself from a majority of pho places. With a lot of the influence being taken from the southern region of Vietnam, the Northern holds a lighter flavor compared to the deep richness of southern Vietnamese pho.
Being a part of the community of Salt Lake City, many in surrounding areas also love the familiarity and home feel that the noodle house has. Kathy Chau, a second-year student at the University of Utah, is a regular at Pho Tay Ho and a big fan of Mai and Michelle.
“I’ve been going there with my parents since I was really young and they had it in the apartment complex, it always felt homey and comfortable, like going to a family member’s house,” Chau said. Living in Utah her whole life, Chau loves the pho place for more than just the food, but for the service as well.
“I feel very calm in there, it’s not chaotic, very intimate, they care about the customers, very personable, not so much hustle and bustle, so that’s why I like it,” Chau said.
Being a Vietnamese American, Chau appreciates the quality of Pho Tay Ho’s cooking, along with the care they put into their service.
“Usually other pho restaurants I’ve been to are trying to push you in and out, in and out” Chau elaborates, “so I really appreciate the tastes of the broth and how long they could cook all the meats and other stuff.” Chau agrees with the reviews, Pho Tay Ho does have the best broth in town!
The noodle house has been a staple to people in the Salt Lake City community for around 27 years and is a guaranteed spot for authentic and delicious pho.
The cozy restaurant is a safe place to discover the world of pho. It stands for good family and good food, making sure that you’ll never feel homesick when eating there.
Traditional Vietnamese iced coffee with assorted vegetables.
Just a few short weeks after renewing their contract in Chinatown, South Salt Lake City, the owners of Tea’s Memory were forced to pack up and relocate their business, and fast.
A new franchise café was put in its place. Luckily, Tea’s Memory owners Yuling He and Haiming Yu were planning on expanding their business and had already looked at locations in cities like Farmington, just north of Salt Lake City. There, Tea’s Memory re-opened in June 2021 as the only boba tea shop in the city and its surrounding community.
Yuling He is making an iced citrus tea, which she said is her favorite refreshing drink.
“Utah is a state that I think has an open mind and boba is pretty new to them, but people are loving to try new things, especially in Farmington. That’s one of the things that I’m so appreciative of,” Yuling He said.
Boba, a unique textured drink, became increasingly popular in China when she was growing up, He said. She began making boba in high school and credits her business’ success to her former boss, who taught her the basics beyond typical things like inventory management, consumer relations, budgeting, and more.
“She’s kind of like my first teacher about boba. She taught me how to cook it, she taught me what is good with green tea and what is good with black tea. There is so much knowledge in this market and I learned a lot,” Yuling He said.
A few years after she began her career in the café business, He was accepted to the University of Utah, where she would begin studying accounting six months later. She said she wanted to spend the half year exploring Utah and getting to know the area before moving on to college.
It wasn’t easy to part ways from her friends and family, He said, but a certain animated video about new beginnings brought her high hopes for moving to Salt Lake City and comforted her with the endless possibilities to come.
One of the first occurrences in the United States came as a shock. He said her partner, Haiming Yu, was selected to launch a boba tea shop in Chinatown. The rent was reasonable, He said, and the location was ideal, and so came Tea’s Memory — named after the video that comforted her when moving across the globe.
“I see it kind of like my child because, me and Haiming, at the moment we decided to do it, it became a thing that we really value,” He said. “At the very beginning I didn’t want to do it actually. I’m a student, I want to focus on my study.”
In order to focus in school, she became the brains behind the café’s operation by investing and providing ideas and knowledge to Haiming Yu and their employees, He said. She appreciates the staff as they execute her ideas and run the café day-to-day to make it all possible.
The new store, located at 210 W. Promontory in Farmington, has continued with great success, manager Caralee Donaldson said. Like He, Donaldson said she had no previous interest in working in food service. But, she was inspired by watching content creators on YouTube, like Mike Chen, who create vlogs as they travel the world trying different foods including boba.
Donaldson said she is lucky to have her Filipino mother, who regularly made a dessert from the Philippines called halo halo, meaning “mix mix,” throughout her childhood. She describes the sweet treat as an iced drink with mixed flavoring ingredients comparable to boba and milk tea. Boba is nostalgic to Donaldson, she said, as it reminds her of her grandparents in Arizona.
“It’s always kind of sad because you never know when you’re going to see them again, you know, so we always make a boba shop stop afterwards to cheer ourselves up,” she said.
This sentimentality toward boba brought her to managing the café, where she makes new memories every day. Donaldson said she enjoys the diverse groups of people who come in and stay a while, charmed by the shop’s welcoming environment. She said she predicts that the K-Pop music played in the café will encourage unique crowds to return regularly.
Yuling He said she carefully crafted this cordial environment to stay more involved with her consumer community while she focuses on school. Upon entering the café, there is a vibrant wall of Post-it notes with messages from customers. Some notes feature drawings, from detailed sketches to stick figures. Other notes contain inspirational messages and quotes.
“It’s kind of hard to balance at the beginning because I’m international. I do have some limitations with working. The only thing I could do is give ideas,” He said. “Some people come in and they will read, and they will get inspired.”
Caralee Donaldson is making a drink behind the counter where customers view the menu and place orders.
The menu displays a variety of fruity flavors, floral flavors, milk alternatives, sweeteners, and add-ins like jellies and boba pearls. Customers can watch every step while the barista makes their drink. The barista pulls a cup from a tall stack, each one featuring a sticker with colorful Asian artwork made by Yuling He’s cousin. When the customer receives the visually pleasing drink, they can write a review on a Post-it note on another section of the message wall. Customers look to the colorful stickies to read other people’s experience, which can help them decide what to order.
Donaldson said reading the reviews is uplifting for her as a barista and manager, but “the most fulfilling part about it is I don’t even have to be making eye contact with the person. I can hear someone [say] ‘this is so good like I’m coming back’ and that makes me feel so good about myself.”
The drink is still very new to the United States, He said, and thus many customers don’t understand what makes the drink to be considered “tea.”
Brad Heller, owner and president of the Tea Grotto in Salt Lake City, is a tea expert who enjoys sharing his knowledge with his customers and curious tea consumers. He explains that milk tea usually has powdered Camellia Sinensis plant leaves in its mixture, making it a tea.
“I like to think of Milk Tea with boba as a Taiwan milkshake. It is sweet, creamy, caffeinated, and for most, fun to chew on,” Heller said in an email interview. “I welcome boba’s role in exposing more people to the nearly infinitely complex world of tea.”
The versatility of boba milk teas is convenient to customers who wish to adjust the nutritional values or flavors of the drink, Yuling He said. She hopes people see boba’s future, and encourages customers to customize their drinks to their satisfaction and not limit themselves to a menu.
“You can make it healthy, and I want to expand the boba market, especially in the United States,” He said. “There’s still tons of people that don’t know about boba and I want to be a person who introduces it to them.”
Customer reviews recommend a honeydew coconut smoothie, cloud foam rose tea, Hong Kong coffee milk, caramel oolong, lychee lemon bark tea, taro smoothie, matcha latte, and brown sugar boba.Post-its with phrases and a simple drawing of a frog. Pictured is a brown sugar boba milk tea. All drinks are served in a plastic cup with an artsy sticker.Post-its on the wall are brightly colored, each with a unique drawing or phrase from anonymous café visitors.
On a Sunday at 2 p.m. in downtown Salt Lake City, I was held at knifepoint in a Walgreens.
A week later, I was learning how to escape the very move I had been assaulted with.
I walked into Mushin Self Defense nervous. Martial arts wasn’t something I had experience with, unless watching my little brother earn his taekwondo black belt counts. But still, co-founder and instructor Brian Yamasaki had encouraged me to come, promising in an introductory phone call that I would control the boundaries of our interaction.
That call was my first inkling that the culture of Mushin Self Defense was unlike anything else I had experienced. And as I continued to learn about the school’s story, that continued to be proved correct.
That first night, I put on a facade of cheeriness in the car ride to North Salt Lake.
“As long as it’s not chokeholds, I’ll be fine,” I said to the friend who accompanied me.
We walk in. It’s chokeholds.
It only took a moment of knowing eye contact with my friend before I burst into tears. I almost asked to leave, sure that coming was a mistake despite Yamasaki’s encouragement. I wasn’t ready.
But the instructors quickly assured me that nothing was expected of me. My training partner for the night, Ruby Talataina, hugged me tight, saying it was enough just to walk through those doors. She had been there too, she said.
Talataina and my friend began to spar. I watched, and wanted in.
It was at that moment, with someone else’s arm around my neck and tears down my face, I knew I had made the right choice in coming to Mushin.
“I just keep thinking, I wish I had found Mushin 20 years ago,” Talataina said in a phone interview. “From my perspective, for a trauma survivor, you go in there and you work through a trigger in one hour that a lot of people spend years working through.”
Talataina’s journey to Mushin Self Defense unfortunately is similar to mine — she had started working through her healing process and thought a self-defense class would help. Her first class ended in tears too, and she told Yamasaki she wouldn’t be returning.
“He was so respectful and he said, ‘Yes, we are here any time,’” Talataina said. “Then the very next day, I went to bed and I was like, ‘Man, you’re just going to let this fear conquer you for the rest of your life, or are you gonna do something about it?’”
Talataina went back to the next class.
“Honestly, what made the difference were the coaches, Sir Kiser and Sir Yamasaki,” Talataina said.
Brandon Kiser is Yamasaki’s business partner and the instructor of the Monday night women-only self-defense class I attend. Together, the two have been running Mushin Self Defense since 2000. But the culture that exists today wasn’t always the one Mushin cultivated.
Brian Yamasaki, left, and Brandon Kiser are coaches and co-founders of Mushin Self Defense. The gym was known for fighting before the owners pivoted to teach students from all walks of life. Photo courtesy of Mushin Self Defense.
Stepping onto the mat
Flash back to the ’80s: Kiser and Yamasaki are both enthralled by the likes of “The Karate Kid” and Bruce Lee. But as Kiser says, “The flashy kicks was just the hook.”
That hook was literal: Kiser’s journey started with a friendly rival showing off a fancy taekwondo kick. The resulting bout of jealousy inspired him to start taking classes. But looking beyond the movie-star moves, there was a different draw, rooted in a chaotic childhood.
“At the time, I didn’t make that connection, but now in hindsight as a 42-year-old, I’m like ‘Oh, well I was probably just really insecure and thought that [martial arts] was going to fix some part of me that I was missing,” Kiser said in a phone interview. “And it did.”
Once he found martial arts, Kiser never looked back.
“The martial arts just really grounded me and gave me direction in life,” he said.
I understand the appeal. The first time I slammed someone into the mat, I immediately asked if they were all right. It was easier than I thought — a lot easier, in fact.
I walked away feeling powerful, like something had finally slotted into place.
For Yamasaki, there were several draws to martial arts — bullying, for one. Growing up in Davis County, Utah, Yamasaki said he could probably count the number of Asians, not just Japanese Americans, on one hand.
“I just think, maybe, deep down inside, it felt good to have an Asian hero,” Yamasaki said about Bruce Lee in a phone interview.
The appeal he’s most certain of, though, came from an existing connection: Yamasaki’s father and grandfather both hold black belts in judo.
“That probably was one of the other big driving factors in my interest in the martial arts,” he said. “Trying to understand these people that I love from doing what they did and going on the journeys that they went on.”
Brandon Kiser poses as an attacker while assistant coach and professional referee Dave Seljestad looks on during the Monday night women-only self-defense class. The class utilizes defense moves that rely on limb placement and technique rather than strength.
The reckoning: “We were white belts on the business side of things.”
In the ’90s, mixed martial arts was practically unheard of. Separate schools taught separate sports, and loyalty to the sport one originally learned was emphasized and expected. Utah, meanwhile, was establishing a name for itself in the jiujitsu world.
Kiser, who was training in taekwondo, was rebuked harshly by his then coach for expressing an interest in jiujitsu. When he found William Bernales of the Bernales Institute of Martial Arts, Kiser knew he had found the change he was looking for.
“It wasn’t a hard transition,” Kiser said. “Once I had heard about him and validated the things that I had heard, I was all in.”
Kiser began taking private lessons in 1998, paying for them with almost his entire paycheck from Walmart. Brian Yamasaki walked into the gym the following year. Right off the bat, he could tell what he needed to know about Kiser.
“He was there, finishing up his private [lesson],” Yamasaki said. “I was able to watch a move and I could tell that he was really serious about training.”
Yamasaki made it clear from the first day that he wanted to compete. But at a time with very little opportunities to do so, that ambition wasn’t taken well by existing members of the gym.
“I just remember wanting to run him out of the gym, and him not letting that happen,” Kiser said.
Yamasaki’s perseverance proved his dedication to Kiser, and the two struck up a friendship.
“There was just something about him that I connected to very quickly,” Kiser said. “It’s hard for me to see back through the eyes I had at that time, because now I could go on for hours about all the great things about Brian Yamasaki.”
As training partners, it became clear they both shared similar visions about martial arts, from the discipline of the journey to the world of MMA.
“Brandon and I were fighting, but we never saw ourselves as fighters,” Yamasaki said. “I think both of us would agree we’re both more interested in the art aspect [and] self-expression.”
Yamasaki approached Kiser in 2000 with a business proposal that would center these core beliefs. One handshake later, Mushin Self Defense was born.
“We didn’t even have an agreement between each other more than our word, and I don’t think that works in most cases,” Kiser said. “You would have to find a Brian Yamasaki, and they don’t make a lot of those.”
It was no small amount of effort to ensure success. At one point, the pair put their houses on the line to keep the school afloat.
“We were not really business savvy,” Yamasaki said. “We were white belts on the business side of things.”
Their inexperience reflected in the clientele Mushin developed up until 2010.
“Our gym was a very rough environment to get exposed to martial arts,” Kiser said. “We were just trying to run everybody out of there, and whoever was left was … who we wanted to train.”
With Kiser and Yamasaki’s growing reputations as instructors, the gym became a hotspot for those looking to fight — and to win. But many weren’t willing to put in the effort to succeed.
Nor were they willing to pay.
“Fighters don’t pay and they run out all the people who do pay the bills,” Kiser said. “So at the end of the day, you’re just left with a very broken business model.”
The business model wasn’t the only thing that was broken. Although the school was producing successful, winning fighters, Yamasaki knew something had to change when a fellow school owner called Mushin’s culture a disgrace.
“It was very hard to pivot and change directions,” Yamasaki said. “It was painful. Personally, it was hard to let go of a lot of what we had built.”
At first, Kiser was resistant, finding himself sucked into the fighting world and its vices. But slowly, he came around.
“I was determined — and I know Yamasaki was too — to make our business work,” he said. “I give Yamasaki all the credit for really changing course in the gym.”
While he’s proud of what’s been created, Kiser admits that Mushin’s old training methods probably gave people a bad impression of martial arts. But without the path Mushin took, Kiser doesn’t think the school would be where it is now.
Yamasaki added, “We needed to find our people, the people that understand us and understand what we’re doing. And even now, we’re still really refining that process.”
Students of the women-only self-defense class watch as coach Brandon Kiser demonstrates how to escape from a pinned position. The focus of the class is to teach women how to defend themselves against untrained attackers.
Training for life
The scariest part of my Walgreens experience wasn’t the knife in my face. It was the realization that I had no idea what to do. At Mushin Self Defense, mental preparation and empowerment are just as important as physical training.
“For a number of years you’re a puppy, and if things went bad, you just had to roll over and show your belly,” Yamasaki said. “Well, you’re not that anymore.”
As he says, a lion never has to tell someone it’s a lion. And like a lion, boundaries are encouraged to be set, as gym member Ruby Talataina knows. The coping skills she had previously used to survive were discouraged within the gym.
“I remember Yamasaki said to our class on the first day, ‘Do not suffer in silence,’” she said.
Now, over nine months since her first class, Talataina feels safe enough to roll with men twice her size, working through her trauma.
“It’s like, ‘Oh my gosh, I just had a 210-pound man over me who was trying to choke me, and guess what?’” she said. “I effing survived.”
After Monday night’s women-only self-defense class, student India Bown unties her white belt. Bown has been involved with the class since January.
Mushin Self Defense has also survived. It started with action movies and shared heroes, then a handshake and shared values. Now, 22 years later, the journey continues.
“When I made the shift to, ‘I wanna figure out how to teach jiujitsu in a way that people love it and stay with it,’ then that became my new passion,” Kiser said. “That’s still where I’m at now, years later.”
Yamasaki views the martial arts journey as a dynamic, ever-evolving thing. Over time, his journey became more introspective, grappling with how he may have contributed to negativity in the universe.
“How have I been a bully?” Yamasaki said. “How have I not lived up to my expectations?”
He advises new students to follow where their own journey takes them.
“Let it have time to take root and germinate and grow and evolve because the story, it just gets deeper and more interesting and more fulfilling as time goes on,” Yamasaki said.
Kiser can’t even imagine what his life would be like without the influence of martial arts.
“All the good, all the bad, the whole journey for me is what’s kept my life on track,” he said. “I want to share that with as many people as possible.”
The future of the gym isn’t grandiose. For Kiser, it’s continuing exactly what Mushin has been doing: teaching quality classes to anybody who wants to learn.
And for me, I learned more than just a jiujitsu move. Walking in that first night, I never expected what a bright blue mat and a chokehold would teach me in only one class.
As they say in this world, it’s not the years, but the hours.
“There are so many life lessons in there that I have learned from those classes, and that is why I go four days a week,” Talataina said. “That is what Mushin is for me — I am training for life.”
Students in the women-only self-defense class are encouraged to “roll” with each other in friendly sparring matches. During this time, students have the opportunity to practice against jiujitsu moves instead of preparing for untrained attackers.
There’s a steady buzz in the studio from tattoo guns. Overlapping this white noise are conversations between artists and their patrons, discussing favorite restaurants, clothes and swapping personal stories. It’s noon and the walls are bathed in sunlight streaming in through the large east-facing windows. The small studio is decorated in pastel decor, a pearlescent couch, white room divider and clippings of each artist’s designs above their stations. The ever-so-slightly slanted floors point to a large mirror at the back of the studio, where customers and artists alike check out their new tattoos.
Above the noise and general chatter, the artists can be heard routinely checking in with their guests. They ask how their clients are feeling, if they need a break, if they’re comfortable, and provide numerous opportunities for customers to voice their concerns or desires.
Located at 401 N. 300 West in Salt Lake City’s Marmalade District, Everybody Tattoo is a beacon for people of all backgrounds. Ensuring comfort is of paramount importance to the artists who work there and is a core part of the shop’s culture.
Before Victoria MinjiLee took over as shop owner, Everybody Tattoo was owned and run by Gheybin Comish, a local tattoo artist. Comish established the shop as a hub for self-taught and community-taught artists who chose an alternate route into the tattoo industry.
Generally, becoming a tattoo artist requires a lot of training, research and an apprenticeship. This process is championed by artists who have gone through it, though it can be degrading, exhausting and financially draining work. Because of this, many artists have decided to carve out their own paths consisting of extensive sanitation and safety coursework followed by practice on themselves and friends.
Comish welcomed artists on non-traditional paths and curated a similarly non-traditional environment in the shop that focused heavily on artist individuality and respect between artists and clients.
Currently six artists work permanently in Lee’s studio, including herself. Each artist’s work is unique and diverges from the traditional American tattoo style in some way. Lee specializes in animal- and plant-themed tattoos. Resident artist Mikki Reeve’s work is whimsical and heavily features skeletons, cherubs and animals.
Long-time residents Hallie Rose Taylor and Logan Law’s designs tend to be bold. Law’s work is psychedelic, with thick line work and patterns. Taylor’s work is more abstract, consisting of natural elements and fantastical imagery.
Sam Walker, the studio’s newest resident, creates designs based on nature, cartoons and abstract images. Walker’s work is more colorful, and utilizes complex line work and designs are often scaled to larger sizes.
Hiri Sung specializes in hand poke tattoos that range from cartoon characters to fairies to abstract linework. In the hand poke tattoo method, the artist uses a needle with a handle to create designs using dots, much like pointillism art. Machine tattooing involves a small handheld machine with needles on the end used to create lines using small strokes.
Artist Hiri Sung is free-handing this client’s extensive branch handpoke tattoo.
Most of the artists in the studio take custom tattoo requests and flash requests. An artist’s flash designs are their own artwork that they usually tattoo as-is, though sometimes they will make small modifications for a client.
The Client Experience
When Lee took over in 2020, she continued to build the best environment for the shop’s artists and clients. To her, everybody in the shop should feel welcome and safe, and as such the shop consists of female and non-binary artists of different ethnicities.
Getting a tattoo is, after all, an intimate experience and necessitates trust between the artist and client. Everybody Tattoo artists make it a point to provide opportunities for their clients to express their desires and collaborate in the process. They want to see their art on someone who is just as obsessed with it as they are.
In between appointments, resident artist Hiri Sung enjoyed a drink at Blue Copper Coffee 2000 next door and elaborated on the Everybody Tattoo experience from a client’s perspective.
“You’re never going to come in and feel like we aren’t listening to you. That’s a huge thing that I feel like is different about the shop. We’ll actually listen to you, we’re not going to rush you to pick a placement, we’re not going to intimidate you,” Sung said.
Kenzie Smith, one of the shop’s loyal clients, echoed Sung’s sentiments. She described appointments at Everybody Tattoo as full-on experiences.
At other tattoo shops, she said, she felt like artists just saw her as a business transaction. It was obvious to her that artists at Everybody Tattoo considered their work to be art that their clients play an important role in creating.
From the beginning of every appointment customers have the freedom of choice. They’re able to choose a size from a series of printed templates and try different placements until they find the one they like best.
Victoria Minji Lee’s client has chosen a size and placement for her tattoo using this stencil that Lee provided and applied.
Not only will the artist have a few templates available to start, but they will also have others ready to print so that the client doesn’t feel like they’re wasting time by asking the artist to print more. Smith said this was an uncomfortable part of past appointments she had at other shops.
She also noted that tattoo artists usually want to go bigger in size because it means they’ll make more money.
During one appointment at the studio, Lee had printed three stencils of a goose for Smith to choose from. The last was so large Smith recalled thinking it looked comedic, which was not the way she’d envisioned this tattoo. Lee agreed and said the smallest size would suit Smith’s arm best.
The experience at Everybody Tattoo includes friendly conversation should clients want it. In addition, the artists are completely open to a more meditative appointment with interaction limited to check-ins.
At Everybody Tattoo, Smith said, you feel like you’re hanging out with a friend and all of a sudden you have a new tattoo.
One of the biggest differences in her experiences at Everybody Tattoo compared to other shops was the level of communication the artists provide. She has been tattooed by two different artists at the studio, Lee and Logan Law.
Never once in four appointments did Smith feel like she couldn’t say what was on her mind, nor did she feel like there was the superiority complex that she so often felt at other shops.
Working at Everybody
Lee said this level of respect and communication is a vital aspect of Everybody Tattoo’s culture behind the scenes as well.
“It’s equally as important for our artists to feel welcome and safe [as our clients],” Lee said in a Zoom interview.
The artists are constantly having to navigate the balance between making their customers comfortable and making sure they feel safe with their clients. They need to be able to tell Lee if a client or clients are making them feel uncomfortable in any way.
Hiri Sung described the work environment as that of a cooperative. Lee owns the shop, but she doesn’t reinforce a hierarchy of power with the other artists. At Everybody Tattoo, they treat each other as equals and Lee values their input.
Artist Victoria Minji Lee is seen tattooing at her station next to her hanging flash designs.
Lee’s position as the owner gives her more responsibility in maintaining the shop’s culture, so she’s the one to take ultimate action should it be necessary.
Sung mentioned one issue she’s had at Everybody Tattoo. On numerous occasions, clients in the studio have asked Sung how her baby is doing or made a comment about her baby.
While the comments were well-intentioned, the problem here is that Sung doesn’t have a baby — Lee does.
Clients were confusing the two artists for one another and it got to the point where Lee had to create an infographic to remind clients that there are two Korean artists in the shop.
Sung described Lee’s leadership as bringing comfort, openness and a higher standard of treatment. Her coworkers feel like they can confide in her without judgment or risk to their jobs.
Racism in the SLC Tattoo Industry
Despite its deep roots in various indigenous cultures, the tattoo industry consists of mostly white people, namely white men. In an area like Salt Lake City, where Asians make up less than 10% of the city’s population, the population of Asians in the tattoo industry here is extremely low.
Due to the demographic and political makeup of the state and city, there also exists a lower level of awareness of the various facets of racism, including microaggressions and appropriation.
One popular request tattoo artists get is for “Asian-inspired” designs. Sung said that she’d received various requests like this, though she takes a hard stance against tattooing Asian art on people who are not of Asian descent, citing cultural appropriation.
When someone uses imagery from another culture, without any knowledge of its history or significance, their actions are defined as appropriation. Lee and Sung described another type of appropriation in tattooing that occurs when a non-Asian artist tattoos Asian designs and therefore reaps the financial benefits.
Often, people guilty of appropriation defend their actions by claiming that they have cultural appreciation.
Sung said that people don’t always necessarily have bad intentions, but intent doesn’t outweigh impact. She always appreciates people who own their actions and commit to doing better.
On her Instagram account and in emails, she states upfront that certain cultural designs can only be requested by people who are a part of that culture. This is her way of cutting down on confrontation in situations like these.
Lee, too, acknowledged the existence of race-related issues, though she hasn’t encountered quite as many requests like the ones Sung has gotten. But in 2021, she limited her tattoos to flash only so she isn’t designing tattoos based on customer requests anymore.
“At the end of the day we’re trying to educate. We’re not trying to, like, keep someone away from the shop just because they make a mistake,” Sung said.
Lee knows that microaggressions will likely not completely disappear, but she recognizes that it could be worse and has hope for the future.
“Thankfully, things are changing in the right direction and people are more sensitive to these things,” Lee remarked, hopeful that the community will continue improving.
Immediately through the threshold is this colorful mural and couch for clients to sit on while they wait. Right next to the couch is the photo setup that artists use to take photos of their work after a session.The shop also has this small section of artwork for sale by local artists and resident artists.Pictured here is artist Mikki Reeve’s tattoo station complete with their flash designs hanging above the chair. On the left, artist Hiri Sung’s station is partially visible with her flash hanging on the wall as well. Pictured here is a closeup of Mikki Reeve’s flash designs and tattoo station. Pictured is another closeup of more of Reeve’s flash designs at their tattoo station. During their appointments, clients check out their new tattoos and stencil placements in the mirror at the back of the shop. Artist Mikki Reeve is pictured in the mirror’s reflection. Artists Hallie Taylor and Logan Law’s stations are pictured side by side, with Law’s flash designs peaking out on the left.
On Feb. 19, 1942, more than 125,000 Japanese Americans across the United States were forced out of their homes and into internment camps. Japanese internment was a response to the Dec. 7, 1941, attack on Pearl Harbor carried out by the Japanese military. This time is now remembered as a dark spot in the history of the United States.
Utah was home to one internment camp, Topaz War Relocation Center, located in Delta.
Finding themselves displaced, distraught and disjointed from society, Japanese Americans coming out of internment camps turned to the National Japanese American Citizens League Credit Union as a safe place to bank. The National JACL Credit Union was born out of the idea to help those who had been forced into internment camps assimilate back into society.
This sign showcases a plum blossom, the logo of the National JACL Credit Union. Photo courtesy of Dean Hirabayashi.
According to Dean Hirabayashi, the president and CEO of the National JACL Credit Union, efforts to start the credit union began with Topaz. Individuals who had jobs were being released. They were earning a paycheck but found that banks would not allow them to deposit their money or take out any loans.
“There was a group that wanted to help these people,” Hirabayashi said in a phone interview. “They did some research into a financial institution that is a cooperative, which is a credit union.”
Nearly 80 years later, the credit union still serves Japanese American Citizens League members. It is a relatively small credit union, only having one office in Salt Lake City. According to Hirabayashi, today it serves about 3,800 members and has around $37 million in assets.
Though in the beginning, the credit union was only open to members of JACL, it now serves residents of Salt Lake County. Additionally, by extension, family members of customers of the credit union can bank with it.
“Those people who are members in JACL are our primary members,” Hirabayashi said. “We opened our fields of membership to Salt Lake County, only because [of] the aging population of the JACL.”
Dean Hirabayashi is the CEO and president of the National JACL Credit Union. Photo courtesy of Hirabayashi.
Maya Chow associates the credit union, JACL, the Salt Lake Buddhist Temple and organizations like them with a feeling of camaraderie. She is the daughter of Tatsuo Koga, one of the National JACL Credit Union’s founders. Chow said in a phone interview that it served as a place where everyone knew each other and felt comfortable. In the earlier days, it was a place where Japanese was spoken, something she thought to be helpful.
“I think the Nisei (the child of Japanese immigrants born in the U.S. or Canada) tried hard to fit in as ‘Americans’ so [they] did not speak Japanese to us or try to make us show ourselves as Japanese, especially during the war,” Chow said in a follow-up email.
Chow said the Nisei would borrow money from the National JACL Credit Union during wartime because they knew of nowhere else to go. She described the Nisei as a “tight-knit community back then.”
Hirabayashi said the National JACL Credit Union still aims to help Japanese Americans and members of JACL, over anyone else.
“For us, being able to help the Japanese American community, whether it be for financial services, or small sponsorships or different things like that, that’s one of our main objectives,” Hirabayashi said.
He said all of the current employees at the credit union are members of JACL. Employees are encouraged to join JACL, and Hirabayashi even pays for their memberships.
Additionally, it is not a requirement that employees be Japanese to work at the credit union. Hirabayashi said that individuals of Chinese, Korean and European descent all work at the National JACL Credit Union.
“I’ve been a long-time member of the JACL,” said Larry Grant, chairman of the board of directors for the National JACL Credit Union, in a phone interview. “I joined the credit union initially, just because it was, kind of, an alternate place to put my savings, where, at the time, the credit union wasn’t offering checking accounts so it was a little less accessible.”
Along with the National JACL Credit Union, Grant, who is half-Japanese, said he has done quite a bit of work with JACL in general.
One of Grant’s first responsibilities as a chapter officer was being the vice president of scholarships. He said most JACL chapters offer scholarships to high school seniors and some even offer them to college students.
Both entrances of the National JACL Credit Union feature a torii-inspired gate. In traditional Japanese culture, toriis represent the entrance of a sacred area. Photo by Devin Oldroyd.
“We promote education about Japanese Americans and things like what happened in Topaz,” he said, noting that “120,000 people were incarcerated and two-thirds of them were American citizens. There was never any court hearings, no habeas corpus or anything. [They] were summarily moved out of their homes and forced into these camps.”
Grant said JACL does a lot to educate people on Japanese culture. It hosts cultural presentations and the Japan Festival in Salt Lake City each year. (Due to ongoing concerns about the coronavirus, the next festival is scheduled for 2023.)
It is also very involved in civil rights issues, Grant said.
“We’re not only looking for things that affect Japanese Americans but other Asian Americans and any other minority groups who suffer [from] discrimination because of their race, religion or even sexual orientation. We’ll fight for their rights,” he said.
The building is dedicated to Shigeki “Shake” Ushio, one of the founders of the National JACL Credit Union. Photo by Devin Oldroyd.
Chow, whose father was a founder of the credit union, described JACL as a way to bring Japanese culture to Utah, something she feels is important for younger Japanese Americans.
“I think the generation now doesn’t feel the need that they have to associate with the Japanese [culture] or seek out any Japanese [culture],” she said. “I would think that they would want to carry on, just like us, what their heritage was and try to pass it down to the next generation.”
The National JACL Credit Union is located at 3776 Highland Drive in Salt Lake City. It is open Monday through Friday from 9 a.m. to 6 p.m. and Saturdays from 10 a.m. to 1 p.m.
Savory curry ramen, sweet mango sticky rice and much more dance across the tastebuds of customers just through the glass doors of the evolving Tosh’s Ramen Holladay.
“Tosh’s Ramen initially started with a Japanese man named Toshio Sekikawa,” said co-owner Maxwell Peck, during a Zoom interview. “He had been in the food industry for his whole life. … He just recently retired and sold the Holladay location to me and my wife.”
In January 2022 Maxwell and Annie Peck became owners of the restaurant, about 20 minutes away from downtown Salt Lake City. They run one of the two locations — the other located closer to downtown on State Street — and have a big vision involving more than just ramen. Sekikawa, nicknamed “Tosh,” ran both restaurants until selling them so he could retire.
Both Annie and Maxwell say they love running their restaurant. They enjoy the existing customer base and the relationship they have maintained with Sekikawa, who is now 70.
“Everybody loves Tosh,” Maxwell said. “Even trying to do a business deal with Tosh, we love him so much, he’s such a great guy. He stops by every once in a while, but he tries to stay retired.”
Maxwell and Annie were first introduced to Sekikawa and Tosh’s Ramen through a friend. Annie, who is from Thailand, was working at Sawadee Thai Restaurant at the time. The owner, Pom, heard from Sekikawa that he wanted to retire and return to Japan. She told Annie, “Hey, this restaurant is for sale, you and your husband should have it.”
With Pom’s encouragement, Annie left her job at Sawadee to learn how to cook ramen with Tosh and, eventually, assume ownership of the restaurant.
“I got to make ramen for two months with Tosh,” she said in a Zoom interview. “Tosh, he just [taught] me everything, like [the] ingredients.” Annie also studied his business format.
Curry ramen is a favorite of Maxwell and Annie, as well as customers. It is made with Japanese-style pork cutlet, onsen tamago (soft boiled egg), bok choy, negi (spring onion) and wheat noodles.
They have different roles at the restaurant.
“The dynamic of a couple running a restaurant works very well,” Maxwell said. “But you can’t have husband and wife both in the kitchen. You’ll butt heads for sure. Especially if you’re both hardworking people. If you have two very strong energies, one has to control for sure. I leave the kitchen to [Annie]. She runs that perfectly and I handle all the other business aspects.”
Even Annie said that she takes control of the kitchen, while Maxwell checks in on customers, making sure they are enjoying their time dining.
“I have to handle everything, like [making] the food come out,” she said. “[Controlling] the quality, [making] every bowl taste the same. Not salty or sweet, or something like that, and make the food look good. That’s all my work.”
Green tea is a classic from the original menu. Tosh’s Ramen serves Hojicha, which is a homemade green tea that is roasted in a porcelain pot over charcoal.
Annie said that making her dishes look appealing and pretty is something she puts a lot of thought into. She pays close attention to the presentation of every dish, making sure it is appealing to the eye. According to the Pecks, this contrasts with the traditional, simple style of food preparation that Sekikawa favored when it came to his menu and the interior layout of his restaurants. This is something they love about the former owner, but they intend to expand upon his original concept.
“We’ve kept every same recipe because we know that that’s important,” Maxwell said. “But we wanted to do some interior changes. Like we’re painting the walls, we’re gonna put up a mural and make it look more like a restaurant. Right now, it does, kind of, look like an office space. It was a bank before. It still kind of looks like a bank inside.”
Every dish is specially curated by Annie. The mango sticky rice dish is a good example of this with its carefully placed mango slices and mint leaf in the center.
The couple has added to more than just the interior of their restaurant. Along with getting new kitchenware, décor and dishes such as bowls, they have expanded their menu. Things like katsu curry rice, lemon honey green tea and mango sticky rice have all made their way through the kitchen and onto the plates of customers. They are enacting their vision while still doing their best to stay true to that of Sekikawa.
The duo’s vision is something Megumi Haverson, a server who works with Annie and Maxwell, called refreshing. Haverson has been with Tosh’s Ramen Holladay for over three years, working with the Pecks as well as Sekikawa.
“It’s like a different energy,” Haverson said.
Sekikawa was a “typical, older Japanese man,” who stuck with tradition, Haverson said. She noticed customers were intrigued when he strayed from tradition and sold to the Pecks.
Haverson said the additions to the menu and the interior renovations have begun to draw a younger crowd. She said that the new generation, as she called them, get excited to try the new dishes.
“I was really, kind of, nervous about how much Tosh’s Ramen is going to be changing,” Haverson said. But now she is excited to see what the Pecks will bring to the business.
Tosh’s Ramen Holladay is located at 1963 E. Murray Holladay Road. It is open 5-9 p.m. Monday through Thursday and 5-9:30 p.m. Friday and Saturday and closed on Sunday.
On the south side of Salt Lake City, the mountains are accompanied by a grander view. The crimson paifang arch structure marks the entrance to the Chinatown Supermarket.
The Paifang, a traditional Chinese arch, is the first structure seen before getting into the Chinatown Shopping Center.
The aroma of traditional Vietnamese beef pho fills the air before even getting to the shops. Sweet sounds of sizzling fresh meats on the grill and the pure enjoyment of cooking your own hot pot meal.
Chinatown is home to all these sensations.
In the 5.7-acre shopping community, the largest cultural Asian shopping center in Utah takes on an even bigger role within the daily lives of Asian American communities in and around the Salt Lake area — a safe haven.
On 3370 State St., the marketplace and surrounding businesses made their debut opening on July 30, 2014. Before that, Salt Lake City wasn’t known for Asian markets or substantial in size for that matter.
The development of the shopping center went through many phases and with the initial proposal for Chinatown starting in 2005. Lots of trial and error occurred, but with the importance of the project and having a hub for Asian people in Salt Lake City, a $15-million investment was headed by Hong Kong developers Yue So and Wai Chan, according to Voices of Utah.
The population of different Asian American communities residing in Utah, and Salt Lake City in particular, is increasing. According to the Census Bureau, the population was 5.4% in April 2020.
Salt Lake City’s Asian American population is among the faster-growing populations of diverse groups. Having a larger population of Asian Americans, especially those that continue to grow, signifies the need for the Chinatown Center. With South Salt Lake being one of the most Asian populated areas in the county, the location of the marketplace is pivotal to communities nearby.
The outside of the Chinatown Shopping Center with access to the market and other shops inside.
Amongst the karaoke bar, boba shops, and hot soup restaurants, the marketplace and its products are the main attraction. Aisles of all kinds of authentic cuisine, from Chinese to Korean, Thai, and Vietnamese, to Indian, Filipino, and Japanese, the supermarket accommodates the Asian American residents of Salt Lake City.
Justine Nguyen, a University of Utah student and a Chinese-Vietnamese American, came to Utah for school from the East Coast, hoping to find a place that could provide a multicultural food experience. Then she found Chinatown.
She likes to order a Bánh mì sandwich at the supermarket, a French baguette filled with pickled carrots and radish, meat, or tofu, along with other fresh veggies and jalapeños. With just the perfect balance of spicy and sweet, she thought no other sandwich could compete with those she previously tried in Utah.
“I love the feeling of familiarity, the people, the ambient lighting, the chaos of the market, it creates a sense of home for me that I’m missing here in Utah,” said Nguyen over direct messaging.
Nguyen, from Maryland, said there are more Asian markets there. The state also has a higher Asian American population of 6.7%, according to the Census Bureau.
The inside entryway, guarded by a panda bear statue, leads into Chinatown Supermarket.
This wasn’t too much of a cultural shock for Nguyen but with the overall lack of diversity in Utah, the 19-year-old college student wanted a place to call home. “The Chinatown Market is a place where I can go to get a sense of home and feel safe,” Nguyen said. “With recent events (Covid-19 and the growth of Asian hate), it’s scary going around Utah myself. I don’t have to worry about that here (Chinatown) and I can fully embrace my culture.”
Having previously worked at the Tiger Sugar Boba Shop in Chinatown, Nguyen emphasizes the way the experience allowed her to “immerse herself in the Asian culture of Utah.”
The cultures that are highlighted are available to those from different groups as well, giving people from different nationalities and backgrounds the same opportunity to discover all that Chinatown has to offer. Part of Nguyen’s experience includes helping people from other cultures on their food journeys.
Born and raised in Salt Lake City, Cynthia Wang, a Chinese-Vietnamese American, gives insight into the tie to her identity that the shops and restaurants have.
“It feels like home. It smells like the spices and flavors my parents used in their cooking. I see people who look like me,” Wang said over direct messaging.
The third-year student describes what it was like living in Utah growing up, and how markets that were around before the Chinatown market had some traditional Asian products, but in smaller selections and markets. “It makes me feel seen,” Wang said. “Growing up here, there were very few restaurants that served food from my culture, but most of them catered to white consumers.”
The South Salt Lake Chinatown allows the majority of residents in Utah to gain a new perspective through the cultural diversity the market has to offer in customer and employee interaction. Engaging with people from all walks of life is a valuable experience, especially when minority populations continue to rise.
The majority of Utah’s population is white, the Chinatown is a community for the underrepresented. For those who haven’t had a place to belong or relate to. A community to be able to “blend in” as Wang describes it.
With the occasional homesickness, Aurora Xu, 36, a Chinese immigrant, had a relatively easy time adapting to Salt Lake City and its culture.
Asian snacks and drinks are two types of purchases Xu said make her visits to the Chinatown Market. Whether the snacks are shrimp chips, choco-pies, or mochi, Xu enjoys the foods that feel more familiar.
About the living adjustments and the transition of living in Utah, Xu said the Chinatown has foods from her hometown, making connecting to tradition “easy for shopping and with the Supermarket having a lot of restaurants.”
Even though her journey to finding her community wasn’t as difficult as others moving from out of state, Chinatown is a meeting ground for social interaction and for cultivating more relationships. Restaurants around the market like Hero Hotpot are hot spots for Xu and her friends to get together.
The impact that Chinatown has on different Asian American communities in Salt Lake City has brought various groups together in celebration of Asian cultures.
A marketplace, one unlike the American grocery store chains, is more than just the produce and products that reside there. It’s a home, a safe haven, a market for all Asian Americans.
When Asian hate crimes began to rise around the country during the 2020 pandemic, Carrie Shin knew she had to do something about it.
Shin took a trip from Utah and ended up volunteering in Oakland, California, at a place called Compassion in Oakland. This group helps empower and support the Asian American community. Compassion in Oakland does community service projects, provides companionship, and supports those who are being affected by hate crimes.
It was at this place that Shin felt especially inspired and motivated to do more when she returned home to Utah and within her own community.
“Utah is greatly in need of an organization like this,” Shin said in a phone interview.
So, she started the Asian Link Project in Salt Lake City in late 2021.
The Asian Link Project is a 501(c)(3) nonprofit organization. The group links the Asian community and volunteers for group assignments to help those in need. Its mission is to promote real connections and unity through partnership, sponsors, events and news.
The group Compassion in Oakland inspired Carrie Shin to start The Asian Link Project in Salt Lake City. Photo courtesy of Carrie Shin.
The team consists of five directors, a digital marketing manager, a Vietnamese community coordinator, an event manager, and two Chinese community coordinators. The nonprofit also has a long list of volunteers as well as a youth leadership team.
The organization was inspired to help with a response plan for all of the surge of Asian-American hate crimes during the pandemic. As Asian Americans themselves, they knew just how important this type of work was at that time and will forever be.
Shin, the directors, and the rest of the staff are proud of their recent project called The Chaperone Project. It was created to ease the burden of senior and younger Asian Americans who do not feel safe being alone in the community. Free chaperone services are provided to residents in the Salt Lake Valley so they can feel safer.
The Asian Link Project provides chaperone services to Asian American residents in the Salt Lake Valley to prevent hate crimes. Photo courtesy of Shin.
Another initiative the group was able to be a part of was The Window Project. A local Asian restaurant had its window vandalized. The profanity was etched into the glass, so it wasn’t even able to be cleaned. It had to be physically replaced so the team joined up with some local glass companies to have it paid for and fixed.
The restaurant owners told Shin the business was barely making ends meet and because the vandalism happened during the pandemic they couldn’t afford to pay for the new window. The news wanted to air the story, but this type of hate crime is so shameful for the Asian community, and for them personally and their business, the owners declined to air the story at the time that it occurred.
“We are able to hear these stories that have brought pain, anger, and sadness, and try to give our community something positive to do with that,” Shin said.
The Asian Festival is the current venture that the staff works on tirelessly. This festival is being held July 9, 2022. It is being held to showcase speakers, performers, and food culture across the board for the Asian American community. This is a daylong event that takes at least six to nine months of planning, but Shin said in a phone interview, “It is all worth it in the end.”
Utah’s 45th annual Asian Festival will be held July 22, 2022. It will host hundreds of local businesses. Photo courtesy of Shin.
The festival is filled with beautiful displays and vibrant colors. The warmth and smells are all-encompassing, and it isn’t a day anyone would want to miss.
“So many volunteers have come forward to make this event possible,” Shin said with gratitude. It is because of the efforts from the people in The Asian Link Project that help those being affected by hate crimes, feel seen. Their efforts show that someone is available to be there to support them and that they aren’t alone. They also ensure that the needs are met for those in the community not able or willing to speak out.
Shin received a bachelor of science degree from Southern Utah University in 2002. She is currently a paralegal in criminal law. Her domestic partner and co-founder of The Asian Link Project has an MBA from Westminster College and is the director of finance in his current career. Her partner is also a martial arts teacher in Salt Lake City.
The board of directors at The Asian Link Project all have personal experiences with being harassed due to their ethnicity and came together to find ways to end the toxic behaviors.
Carrie Shin is the director and founder of The Asian Link Project. Photo courtesy of Shin.
Kate Forth is among some of the volunteers for The Asian Link Project. She got involved with the group to help contribute to safety in her community. Forth has spent time helping and donating her time when at all possible. She was able to be a part of The Window Project as well as The Chaperone Project. “I am grateful to be a part of such a wonderful organization,” Forth said in a phone interview.
Shin added, “To help chaperone our Asian senior Americans in need, to help fix damaged property to innocent Asian-owned businesses, to help empower our Asian community to join and be a part of something better than the sad stories on the news. We take a proactive approach to try and get positive results.”
In the heart of downtown Salt Lake City sits a quaint one-of-a-kind bakery. Customers who enter see Japanese-style floor seating, electronic futuristic ordering and plenty of artistic treats to choose from. The hustle and bustle of workers will instantly fill your ears as employees shuffle around making authentic Japanese desserts. Laughter and conversation permeate the walls as many locals enjoy something you cannot get anywhere else in the entire state of Utah.
Doki Doki is the only Japanese bakery of its kind in Salt Lake City. It is owned by Irie Cao, who is a young entrepreneur and self-taught baker.
Doki Doki is a Japanese bakery and is owned and operated by Irie Cao. She is a 30-year-old self-taught baker and entrepreneur.
Cao was born and raised in Vietnam and moved to San Gabriel, California, when she turned 15 in 2006. She said she would often visit local bakeries with her friends and family growing up to enjoy Japanese specialties around the city. California has a higher population of Asians and Asian Americans, so with that comes more options for authentic foods.
Cao started baking on her own at an early age at home and continued to do so as she grew older. Her passion for baking only got stronger once she moved to Utah. She wasn’t as satisfied with the options that Salt Lake City had to offer regarding Japanese desserts. She enjoyed all the options she once had at her fingertips in California and wanted to bring that availability to Utah.
Cao remembered thinking, “I wish I could just open my own Japanese bakery.”
After little convincing, Cao made her dreams become a reality by opening her very own bakery, Doki Doki. In Japanese this means, to feel your heartbeat. She chose this name because she feels this type of connection to her work. She always thought to herself, with the amount of time it takes to bake Japanese desserts at home, it made more sense for her to mass produce her goodies instead. Also, this way she was also able to share her passions with others.
Japanese treats are well known for their decadent and distinct tastes. The Japanese culture prides itself on using no refined sugars or artificial flavors. Japanese desserts do contain less sugar than most American desserts. However, they are still perfectly sweet.
Taiyaki is a traditional dessert that is sold at Doki Doki, 249 E. 400 South. It is a wafer-like batter that is shaped into a fish shape or a cone. Taiyaki is then accompanied with ice cream that comes in many flavors and fresh layered toppings.
Strawberry is a popular flavor at the bakery. It is strawberry ice cream with Oreos, raspberry rosé sauce, fresh strawberry bites, Taiyaki with custard filling, topped with wafer sticks and strawberries.
Fluffy pancakes are also quite common while exploring treats across Japan. They happen to be Cao’s most popular and time consuming menu item. Fluffy pancakes get their special texture by using a soufflé technique. The egg whites are whipped up with a sugary gloss, then they are mixed with the batter that is made with the yolks. It leaves the pancakes light, jiggly, soft and so delicious.
“They are so delicate and are like eating a cloud,” said Joseph Cox, a regular Doki Doki customer. “Her fluffy pancakes are like air.”
Crepe cakes are another menu item. They are made of 20 layers of thin crepes placed together like an architectural masterpiece with flavors that melt in one’s mouth. Other popular handcrafted desserts that Cao offers are butter cookies, and mille-feuille.
These delicate and detailed desserts do not come without a cost, which is many hours of practice and skill to get them just right.
Cao said the hardest part of opening her own bakery was the extensive training she implemented to get it so her employees knew how to bake properly. They shadowed her for many hours as she trained them in all aspects of baking. It was hard to teach her employees something she had been practicing for over a decade.
The business side came easier to her than the training she did for her employees. She also said that it was much easier to open a business in Salt Lake City than to do so in California because it costs a lot more money.
One of Doki Doki’s most popular desserts is the Japanese crepe cake. It is made from 20-plus light golden brown crepes layered with homemade creams. The passion fruit flavor is shown here.
You might think that with all the recent Asian hate crimes we have seen, a young Asian woman opening her own business may have many trials. But for her, it flowed naturally. Like fate.
Cao said, “I am very lucky.”
In 2020 the pandemic struck the world. The coronavirus devastated local business owners as hundreds of owners were forced to shut down. Many businesses have still yet to recover, and some were forced to close permanently.
For Cao, it had the opposite effect. The community was forced to do takeout only so it gave Cao free marketing across all of the food delivery sites.
As a new business owner, marketing can be one of the most expensive aspects of opening.
Customers became more aware of her bakery after it was listed on food ordering platforms such as Grubhub, Uber Eats, Postmates and DoorDash. All of a sudden everyone knew who she was, and that Doki Doki existed.
“It’s like I blew up overnight,” Cao said in a phone interview.
Cao said she is also forever grateful for the many influencers and foodies in Salt Lake City who blogged, posted and continued to share her work. They helped and continue to help spread her passions of baking and all of the hard work that goes into it, all across every social media platform.
Sherrita “Rita” Magalde is the owner of Sheer Ambrosia, a small business based in Salt Lake City dedicated to baking baklava to sell to customers.
Over the last year, Magalde’s business has reached new heights.
She’s seen a big spike in sales and has met arguably the greatest commercial success of her business’s lifetime.
However, it wasn’t always glitz and glamour for her brand, as she, like many up-and-coming small-business owners, ran into many roadblocks along the way.
Many of these roadblocks predate her business’s very foundation and go back several years before she even came up with the idea to sell homemade baklava.
During a phone interview, she explained that she’s been involved in independent, entrepreneurial endeavors stretching as far back as the mid-90s.
In 1996, she and her then-husband moved from Spain to Salt Lake City due to its reputation as a great place to go skiing.
She started a small mortgage brokerage and later ran a travel agency with her husband.
Despite her success with her independently run business, her relationship with her husband wouldn’t last in the long run.
“We were six years into running the travel agency when we got a divorce and neither one of us wanted to leave the business. So we tried to make it work, but I was very unhappy so I decided to quit. I still wanted to be a business owner, but I wanted something that was all my own, so he bought me out of the agency in 2008, which is when I also started the bakery,” she said.
Rita Magalde
Magalde always enjoyed cooking and baking, having grown up learning from her mother.
Baklava, the dessert Magalde’s business is built around, was primarily learned from hanging around a Greek family she worked with while growing up in North Carolina.
“The baklava has stuck with me through the years, so I decided I wanted to see if I could turn it into a business. So I decided to start slow from home and got a cottage food license from the Department of Agriculture and began my baklava business then,” Magalde said.
Despite her experience running independent businesses in the past, the transition was not a smooth endeavor.
“One of the big differences between running a travel agency and a bakery is now you have to deal with inventory,” Magalde said. “It also isn’t as lucrative a business as a travel agency, so I’m selling my baklava at $3 a piece and wasn’t able to hire people right away. Also, unlike when I began the travel industry, I now had two children and was without a partner.”
She also refused to take any bank loans and only used the funds she gathered from selling her share of the travel agency.
The barrier to entry felt much steeper than previous endeavors.
Over time, she was able to find a degree of success with her business.
In 2013, five years after beginning Sheer Ambrosia, she took a big step to legitimize her business.
She ventured out into a commercial space in hopes of getting more people to take her business seriously.
“I put $50,000 of my own money into the space to build it out and was able to legitimize my business and really bring Sheer Ambrosia to the forefront. People weren’t taking me seriously until I did that,” she said.
Although while her business continued to do well, it didn’t do as well as she had hoped.
After the death of her father, Magalde decided to cut back, as the long hours which required her to work upward of 16-hour days every day of the week took its toll on her.
“I decided to sell the space to another bakery and moved Sheer Ambrosia back into my home,” Magalde said. “I fell into some debt, and my son who was graduating high school wanted to go to an expensive college. So I said I’m going to sell my home so I could get out of debt and allow my son to go to the college he wanted to attend.”
Things got especially stressful when the pandemic hit.
Magalde’s business, like many small businesses, was severely hit when it all began.
“No one wanted baklava, they all wanted toilet paper and hand sanitizer, so I had to get another job to make ends meet when the pandemic hit,” she said.
Rita Magalde
Then, in the midst of the pandemic, a tragedy occurred that shook the entire nation to its core.
“In horror, we got to see George Floyd murdered before our very faces by a Minneapolis police officer. Black people have been watching this kind of thing happen for years, and it seems as though the white community has been oblivious to it,” she said. “Right after that, there were so many white folks in the community who decided they wanted to support local Black-owned businesses.”
While Magalde was initially reluctant to embrace this swell of support because she didn’t want to feel she was capitalizing off a tragedy, she changed her mindset when she realized how it played into a good cause.
“I started to think about it and saw that these were people who don’t necessarily want to protest in the street. They don’t want to get out there and hold a sign and yell, and walk the street protesting that way. This is their way of putting their money where their mouth is by supporting Black-owned businesses,” she said.
She also came to realize that while they may initially support her business because she’s Black, that didn’t mean they would continue their support if her products weren’t satisfying.
“It’s still my job as a business owner to make sure they want to come back by giving them a quality product and amazing service. So it’s not going to be free service, I still have to earn their repeat service, so this a challenge for me,” she said.
The success led to a busy holiday season, one where she would need some additional help if she was going to continue thriving.
Helene Simpson and her daughter, Desi Hayda, offered their services.
“She’s very dedicated. She’s very grateful for everything, and it’s hard that it was the death of somebody which created an influx of sales, her product is what continues her business and for people to come back to her,” Simpson said during a phone interview. “It’s not just because people think ‘Black Lives Matter’ and only supporting her for that reason. She sells quality products, has excellent customer service.”
Simpson said she appreciates Magalde’s positive guidance.
“I think she’s very thorough. Just how she explains things to you and wants things done, and that’s to be expected because everything she does is pretty perfectionist, so you just follow her instructions and help her out when you can. She’s awesome to work for,” Hayda said.
“Now I’ve got a following that I can parlay this into growth for my business, and I’m hoping for one day to quit my second job and go back to running my business full-time,” Magalde said.
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