Mother-daughter team run a pho restaurant: soup for the soul 

Story and photos by INDIA BOWN

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.

The National JACL Credit Union and the importance of the JACL

Story by DEVIN OLDROYD

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.

New owners bring fresh ideas to Tosh’s Ramen in Holliday

Story and photos by DEVIN OLDROYD

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.”

Tosh’s Ramen Holladay is located at 1963 E. Murray Holladay Road.

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.

Chinatown Market: haven and home for Asian American communities in Salt Lake City

Story and photos by INDIA BOWN

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. 

Authentic Japanese desserts in Salt Lake City 

Story and photos by KRISTAN EHORN  

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.  

Sheer Ambrosia: a businesswoman’s journey

Story by JUSTIN GALLETLY

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.

Steven L. Johnson, CEO of Luke, Johnson & Lewis and Utah Black Chamber Chair, speaks about activism for Utah’s Black community

Story by SUNWHEE MIKE PARK

Steven L. Johnson watched in awe, as the legendary California Congresswoman Maxine Waters commanded the attention of a crowd in Utah’s prestigious Alta Club – an institution that formerly did not allow memberships to women or Black people. He could not believe that he was seated at her table, much less that they had just discussed the growth of Utah’s Black economy together. A surreal sense of pride washed over Johnson in that moment, as it dawned on him that in this room, he stood among Congresswoman Waters’ ranks as a revered and respected activist.

But it would take nearly a decade of devotion to Utah’s Black community before such a moment could arrive.

In 2000, Johnson packed up everything he owned and moved to Utah from Denver, Colorado. A freshly divorced ex-sister-in-law who needed help getting settled was reason enough for him to make the arduous 500-mile move. This decision was the first of countless others in Johnson’s new life in Utah in which he would move mountains to help those he cared for.

Throughout his first year in the Beehive State, Johnson became increasingly aware of the stark contrast between his native Denver and Salt Lake City. Chiefly, he noticed that the Black community in Utah was not only small (comprising roughly 0.7% of the entire state’s population then), but seemed also to be stalling and struggling.

Steven L. Johnson is chair of the Utah Black Chamber, and CEO of Luke, Johnson & Lewis. He is a devoted activist who has served UT’s Black community for almost a decade. Photo courtesy of Steven L. Johnson.

At this time, Johnson was used to the thriving Black community in Denver, which he recalled was akin to those of Black meccas like Atlanta or Detroit. In Denver, Johnson reminisced, Black-owned businesses had longevity and were often core components of the city’s booming economy. In Salt Lake City, however, he had trouble finding Black businesses that branched out from the archetypal barbeques or barbershops.

After a decade of wondering who and where the state’s Black professionals were, Johnson finally found himself at the Utah Black Chamber’s annual community barbeque hosted in Sugarhouse Park.

At long last, there they were. Utah’s Black business owners, professionals and community leaders. Observing Utah’s Black community at large for the first time, Johnson finally felt at home in a land that had only been unfamiliar to him until then. “I met more Black people at that event than I had seen in the [years] that I had been here,” says Johnson over the phone in a surprisingly youthful voice. “It was really eye-opening. It made me feel comfortable.”

There he met James Jackson III, founder of the Utah Black Chamber, known then as African Americans Advancing in Commerce, Communication, Education and Leadership (ACCEL). The fateful meeting, spurred on by Johnson’s wife (then-girlfriend), sparked the flame that produced two of Utah’s most revered Black leaders today. “When I met James, it was like a new beginning,” Johnson says, “[like] I might have the chance to help make a difference or a change here in Utah.”

Inspired by Jackson’s passion and devotion to the growth of Utah’s Black community, Johnson found himself increasingly involved in activism as well. But his methods transcended attending community events or facilitating networking between Black Utahns.

In 2011, Paul Law Office – where Johnson worked as a collections manager – shut down indefinitely. Johnson, however, did not lament his new unemployment. Using his final paycheck, Johnson jumped headfirst into entrepreneurship. He founded Luke, Johnson & Lewis (with partner Preston Lewis), a debt arbitration business that specializes in third-party recovery and collecting receivables.

For Johnson, this new venture was more than a simple means to earn profit. As one of the state’s handful of Black CEOs, he wanted his business to serve as a “beta test” for other pioneering Black businesses in Utah. By watching and learning from Luke, Johnson & Lewis, he hoped, future generations of Black-owned Utah businesses would thrive like those he remembered from his years in Denver.

Meanwhile, James Jackson had plans of his own for Johnson. Seven years into the growth of the Utah Black Chamber, Jackson was eager to increase its influence on a statewide level. In order to achieve such a feat, he required the strategic expertise and interpersonal skills of a seasoned legal professional. He brought Johnson on as the Black Chamber’s board chair in 2015, and later made him the chair of its membership committee as well. “Based on [his] leadership, experience, and desires … I felt [these positions] fit him the best to help grow the [Black] Chamber,” Jackson says in an email.

James Jackson III (left) and Steven L. Johnson receive awards from the Omega Psi Phi Fraternity Inc. for their work in the Utah Black Chamber in 2018. Photo courtesy of Steven L. Johnson.

Nicknamed the Black Chamber’s “Swiss Army knife,” Johnson took on a range of responsibilities – from strategizing the expansion of the Black Chamber’s membership, making connections with sponsors and spotlighting member businesses on a monthly basis, to furthering plans to establish the long-awaited Black Success Center.

Johnson, in addition to running his own business, was now leading the state’s largest Black-based organization. Yet his activism was still only in its fledgling stage.

Johnson explains that his personal philosophy forbids him from feeling as though he has ever done enough. “If you feel satisfied, you’ve closed the book. The chapter’s over,” he says. That’s why, in 2017, Johnson began a partnership with state lobbyist Craig Hulinsky to start the Good Deed Law Project.

Johnson explains that the Good Deed Law Project was founded with the goal of helping people in debt find alternative ways to pay off or reduce their overdue payments. Acting as the project’s Debt Initiative director, Johnson discovered methods to persuade businesses to write off debts as charitable donations, while allowing debtors to work off their sum in community service or work hours.

So far, Johnson’s debt arbitration model at the Good Deed Law Project has resolved $385,000 of debt while producing 10,000 community work hours. Johnson explains excitedly that his model has put over 500 debtors back on track to financial stability.

“He sets an example … in the Black community. His lifestyle is to be copied,” writes Rev. France A. Davis in an email interview. Davis, pastor emeritus of the Calvary Baptist Church, is another one of Utah’s highly revered Black leaders and an individual that Johnson considers his personal mentor. As part of the latest addition to Johnson’s activism, he and the reverend have recently become members of the Racial Equity in Policing Commission for Salt Lake City. There, the pair are able to review and make recommendations to the city’s police department about its policies, specifically regarding racial biases.

Twenty-one years ago, Johnson arrived in Utah without a job, without a home, with only the feeling that he was needed, that he could help. Now, as one of the state’s most active and respected Black leaders, his foundational drive to help those in need remains the same. Despite his many titles and roles – CEO, board chair, director, commissioner – Johnson’s activism is only just beginning.

“Utah’s Black community is growing … and I want to be there to witness [its] development,” Johnson says humbly about the very community that could not exist today were it not for his tireless efforts.

HoneyComb Café: A taste of a rising small business that’s using one of Utah’s natural ingredients

Story by KENZIE WALDON

New Year’s resolutions always open the possibility for new opportunities. That’s how Bailey Johnson and her sister BreAnna King felt at the beginning of 2020 when they made their goal of opening a bakery/coffee shop. This was the year they were finally ready to conjure this lifelong dream into a reality.

Then the pandemic struck. COVID-19’s chaotic attack on daily life led to postponement and reconfiguration of beginning the business they always envisioned.

“We felt super bummed out,” Johnson said in an email interview, “but then ultimately decided that Utah needed another Black owned business this year.” 

By October 2020, Johnson independently opened the virtual doors to the HoneyComb Café, a “Black and women owned bake shop,” serving dairy and vegan pastries with honey harvested from local hives by the team.

The HoneyComb Café’s logo, courtesy of its Instagram profile. Designed by Victor J. Herrera.

Johnson initiated this online bakery offering local delivery or pick-up from their new Cottonwood Heights-based industrial kitchen at 1164 E. Hemmingway Drive. Since its opening, the HoneyComb Café has quickly grown in popularity with the use of social media platforms, such as Instagram, and through involvement in the local community.

“We started with a pop-up shop with two other vendors to get our names out there and get our feet off the ground,” Johnson said. She credits their fast growth to “an amazing community of fellow bakers, [but] word of mouth has been what we’re striving for at the moment,” she said.

Menu favorites at the HoneyComb Café include the “danishes and beignets,” Johnson said. These multi-layered and fritter-type pastries can be custom made with dairy or vegan ingredients. 

The HoneyComb Café’s stand-out quality is that it will substitute sugar for honey from honeybee hives that they harvest and maintain. “All of our honey in our products came from our beautiful hives that we’ve [taken care of] for [the last] three years,” Johnson said. 

Unfortunately, due to severe winter exposure, three out of four hives unexpectedly died this season. But Johnson plans to rebuild more honeybee hives this spring that will have more resilience to the ever-evolving Utah climate. “Our hives were so special and cherished,” Johnson said. “We are excited to start a few more this year and work harder to make sure they’re safe for the off season.” 

The HoneyComb Café team harvesting honey from the honeybee hives. Courtesy of the HoneyComb Café website. Photograph by Joe Johnson.

The HoneyComb Café’s delectable goodies have garnered consistent loyalty from its clientele since the beginning. From highlighting chocolate pudding pie to matcha bread on the website, the HoneyComb Café offers a dessert experience that is uniquely their own. “When every customer enjoys my pastries, I hope they are so happy and realize that 3 colonies of Honeybees, which is over 240,000 working bees, are the reason we are living, breathing, and enjoying HoneyComb Cafe’s pastry,” Johnson said.

Johnson reciprocates this loyalty back into her business by consistently considering her mantra: “Always put people over profit.” She hopes to expand enough in the upcoming years to transition HoneyComb Café into a storefront where customers are welcome to stay, relax and enjoy its high-quality pastries and coffee. 

Johnson’s entrepreneurial spirit is driven by the people she loves and supports her — including her HoneyComb Café team. 

“I am dedicated to making sure this business takes off,” said Valerie Evans in an email interview, a baker at the HoneyComb Café and Johnson’s mother. “I’m dedicated to providing goods to our customers, and I’m dedicated to learning everything about vegan eating,” she said.

Evans has been helping Johnson with HoneyComb Café since it opened in October. “It was honestly a dream come true for her to ask me to not only help bake, but to also formulate the menus and try out new recipes,” Evans said. 

The HoneyComb Café’s displayed goodies during a pop-up shop in October 2020. Courtesy of the HoneyComb Café’s Instagram. Photographed by Bailey Johnson.

With this being the first time she’s worked at a locally owned business, she noted the contrast from previous jobs. “It’s so different because I feel like I’m helping achieve a dream while also building customer connections with different kinds of people I wouldn’t have met otherwise,” Evans said.

Tyce Hawkins, the marketing director and customer relations associate at HoneyComb Café, has also been with the business since Day One. 

Similar to Evans, this is Hawkins first time working at a locally owned business — seeing it as an opportunity he didn’t want to pass up. Hawkins said he enjoys feeling viable and not like a “cog in a system.”

“Every week we improve in a new way and the work that we do helps the café grow and connects us to the community in a more meaningful way,” Hawkins said. 

This support pushes Johnson’s drive to further represent the Black-owned business community in Utah, striving to benefit the Salt Lake City area for the better.

If there’s one thing that Johnson wants her customers to take away from supporting the HoneyComb Café, rather than just an experience filled with tasty treats and a new appreciation for the Beehive State’s resources, is “how amazing Black owned businesses are, and how amazing and life-changing honeybees can be.” 

Versatile Image: helping artists monetize

Story by ERIC JENSEN

Finding a way to monetize art can be hard. It is especially hard for those in the Black community to do so. It can feel like there is nowhere to go to get started as a business. This is why Michelda George created her company Versatile Image.

“I’m just tired with not being able to know where to go,” George said in a Zoom interview.

Versatile Image is an artist collective. It helps artists, specifically Black artists, who want to find ways to make money for their art.

George saw how talented her friends were but also saw that they were struggling financially. So, she created a service to help deal with the back-end business side of art.

A way for artists to make money.

How those two things intersect are simple in George’s mind. The world of business cannot function without the world of creatives.

George said there are many intersections between business and art. Architects, for example, are artists. They draw and design impressive structurers and need to be able to sell them.

George also said mentions the backbone of companies are created by artists. Marketing is done largely by artists.

“You know, you don’t see a logo of a company, and where do you think they get it from? You don’t get it from the mailroom, they get it from an artist,” George said.

Michelda George presenting at a Utah Valley University economics conference. Photo courtesy of Michelda George.

It’s a cooperative ecosystem, George said, an ecosystem that needs both creatives and businesspeople functioning together. Unfortunately, the two often don’t speak the same language. So, George is the middle ground.

Offering a bridge from the corporate business world to the creative dreamlands of talented artists.

Take Chassidy Jade, for example. She is an independent film producer and the creator of Crown Me Royal Labs.

According to Jade, George helps with the business side of her film company. George also helps with the marketing for upcoming films.

“Basically, what they do is assist with the branding and marketing and helping me produce anything,” Jade said in a Zoom interview. “So, all of the paper work, the licensing, making sure everyone gets paid, coming up with different ideas of how we can promote the content. She basically builds everything from scratch on the back end.”

Jade said George handles all the things she doesn’t have time to deal with.

This gives Jade more time to focus on creating projects and developing ideas.

The business is modeled after the SCORE mentoring program. Programs like SCORE aren’t as readily geared toward Black people though, George said. Versatile Image is built to cater toward those needs.

“Black and brown people don’t have that. There’s not a place where you can go where people are really invested in your business, where they’ll kind of take you along the process and teach you as you go. So that way you can be self-sufficient one day. We don’t have anything like that in the Black and brown community,” George said.

Why did the company choose Utah though? George was raised in Ft. Lauderdale and helped her family run their store, Sun Rise Market, there. Coming to Utah was a leap out of the comfort zone.

George said she came here because of the entrepreneurial spirit she and the state share.

“Utah has one of the best economies in the country. Land is cheap here. I knew I wanted a co- working space. … And for it to be my headquarters would just make sense,” George said.

George said she was overshadowed by surface level things in Florida. The market was oversaturated and made it difficult to stand apart.

Utah provided George a place where she could grow her business. She also saw the need for diversity in the market and a lack of competition as added bonuses.

“I just wanted to start afresh, and an economy that I felt would be the best to build a business,” George said.

The advantage Versatile Image has is that it is not rooted to just helping Utah artists despite being in Utah. Salt Lake City is a central western United States city and provides a geographical advantage for businesses to branch out to other western metropolitan areas. George has clients in Florida, New York, Tennessee, the United Kingdom, and more, George said in a follow up email.

George also said she loves Utah because of its natural beauty. She can be found hiking in the mountains in the spring and fall.

George also participates in spoken word poetry in Salt Lake City. Photo courtesy of Michelda George.

She said in Utah her perspective can be different. She can focus more on herself. George said she has more doors opened for her here than in Florida. She can connect more easily with events planners and businesses that need artists.

“The entrepreneur network here is like, unmatched,” George said.

She mentions that most everyone she meets in the business world is interested in connecting with her. Salt Lake City is a tight knit market, and everyone eventually gets to know each other within the business world here. She also says the socio-economic climate is much different than Florida.

In Florida people want to look like they have money, not actually possess it, George said. A true entrepreneur, she is motivated by the bottom line.

That isn’t all she is motivated by though. George believes in the idea of service towards others.

A belief that stems from her parents and their sacrifice to come from Haiti to make a new life for their daughter. A belief built on George’s Christian values. Her heart is set on helping people.

Jade, the filmmaker, said George has always been a motivated person, and always looked for ways to help people.

“That’s what makes it successful, that other people are successful in their businesses. It’s not for us. We’re not here for like the glitz and glory, like we’re really here to serve people in a way that they need for their business,” George said.

Michelda George is selfless, and that is the type of business Versatile Image has become. One built on helping people find ways to live off their dreams.

It is more than a company. It is the idea that if you work hard, help other people, and follow what makes you happy, you can succeed.

That’s what George loves the most about her company, the way it develops people and helps build business owners.

“I love developing things, whether it’s people, whether it’s businesses, whether it’s brands, whether it’s programs or workshops to help people,” George said. “I love the development part of Versatile Image and how it changes. It changes often. It’s not always the same, because every business is different.”

A monochromatic mountain

One family’s mixed feelings toward Utah’s slopes

Story by HANNAH CARLSON

A ski lift traversing a snowy slope. Photo by Simon Fitall on Unsplash.

“I grew up skiing in Utah’s Big and Little Cottonwood Canyons with my dad,” Micheal Bradshaw Jr. said in a collaborative Zoom interview with his sisters. “At the time, I didn’t realize that my dad and I were the only Black ones on the mountain. It doesn’t feel like a safe place anymore.”

In 1974, Micheal, a Millcreek, Utah, native, started skiing with his father, the late Micheal (Mike) Sr., at 3 years old. His younger twin sisters, Sierra and Kellie Bradshaw, started skiing two years later when they too turned 3 years old.

In order to hit the slopes each season, the Bradshaws were often required to make financial sacrifices to afford lift tickets and new ski gear for their growing children.

“Growing up, we never had cute ski outfits like most of the other kids did,” Sierra said. “I remember one year wearing blue camo ski pants and a pink jacket with fur. We wore whatever we could scrape up on clearance or whatever hand-me-downs the neighbors dropped off that year. It always made me sad as a little girl.”

The children’s mother, Ariel Jackson Bradshaw, didn’t share the rest of her family’s passion for skiing. Instead, she often read in the parked car while the others skied on the other side of the resort. She brought sandwiches and snacks.

“My mom loved coming with us,” Kellie said. “She’d always say, ‘I’d rather read in the mountains than on the sofa.’ She rarely missed a week.”

By their college years, the Bradshaw children were elite skiers and masters of the slopes.

In 1999, however, their father unexpectedly died from a heart attack just two months before his 66th birthday.

It was February, and Utah’s shimmering slopes were still covered with snow. “It felt right to go skiing,” Micheal said. “I guess it was both a way to cope and honor his memory.”

By this time, Ariel was too frail to wait in the car parked below the frigid slopes. Instead, she remained in her Millcreek home, reading, while her adult children skiied.

It wouldn’t be much longer until the rest of the Bradshaws would join their mother for warmer weekends indoors and skip the slopes altogether.

A skier pictured below a ski lift. Photo by David Klein on Unplash.

A year later, Micheal went skiing alone one Saturday morning. He was 26 years old.

“Everyone says to never ski alone out of fear for one’s physical safety,” Micheal said. “But I wasn’t worried about it as long as I stayed on populated runs. I didn’t realize at the time that falling off my skis wasn’t the only threat to my safety at the resort.”

After a morning of skiing, Micheal said he went to purchase lunch from the resort’s crowded lodge. He had never been to the lodge before. He had always packed sandwiches like his mother did for him and his sisters growing up.

With his lunch tray in hand, Micheal asked a bearded man seated at a table with his family if he could eat his lunch from one of the table’s three empty chairs.

Micheal recalled the interaction.

“F— no,” the man said while laughing. “Can’t you see that I’m trying to eat with my family here?”

Micheal apologized for interrupting the family’s lunch and asked if he could at least take one of the table’s extra chairs elsewhere to eat his meal.

“Are you kidding me?” the man replied to Micheal. “I just said, my family and I are trying to enjoy our meal. We don’t need a lone n—– like yourself here. F— off.”

Nobody came to Micheal’s defense, despite the room being full of snacking skiers, snowboarders, and stares of shock.

With everyone’s goggles and helmets taken off to eat, he quickly realized that he was the only Black person in the lodge of one of Utah’s most popular ski resorts.

Micheal now understood why his mom waited in the family’s car bundled in jackets and blankets rather than inside the lodge beside the fireplace.

Kellie spoke of her mom as a young mother, having had a similar experience to that of Micheal’s. She was asked to relocate to the other side of the ski lodge after making some of the resort’s regular guests “feel uncomfortable.”

“She was just reading a book,” Kellie said.

In a later attempt to purchase ski pants from a popular outdoor clothing company, Sierra also came face-to-face with the ski industry’s lacking inclusion. After trying on multiple pairs of ski pants that didn’t fit, she was eventually referred to plus-sized alternatives.

“I was 5-9 and 150 pounds at the time. I didn’t wear plus size in any other type of pant. Just in ski pants,” Sierra said. “Those ski pants were made to fit white women, not a body type like mine and my sisters who carry our weight differently.”

Kellie added, “Don’t even get us started on helmet sizing.”

After Micheal’s frightening incident in the lodge, and a few subsequent instances of microaggression later, the Bradshaws retired their skis and hung up their helmets.

“It’s not worth it anymore. The fun of skiing has become so tainted by the lack of inclusion,” Micheal said. “When my father died the bubble of ski bliss popped and we were introduced to the reality that he and my mother tried so hard to keep us from while growing up.”

While the Bradshaws’ story may air extreme, they aren’t alone in skipping out on the slopes. Many of Utah’s minority groups aren’t interested in racing to the resorts each winter either.

An infographic illustrating the racial distribution of Utah’s ski and snowboard population during the 2019-2020 winter season. Image by Hannah Carlson.

 In 2019-20, a Snowsports Industries America participation study reported that 88% of the season’s ski visits were made by people who identify as white or caucasian.

Native Americans and Blacks each represented only 1% of that population. Asian and Pacific Islanders made up 4% and those identifying as Latino made up 5%.

Skiing is also an extremely expensive sport to pursue. In Utah, the average price of a single-day lift ticket last year was $95. The cost of a resort season pass ranges anywhere from $300 to $1,500.

On top of a lift pass, a skier or snowboarder would also require a pair of skis or a snowboard, ski poles, boots, pants, a jacket, a coat, gloves, goggles, and a helmet.

For a median household income of $71,621 in Utah, skiing isn’t an easily approachable sport. Especially for larger families, where Utah ranks first in the country.

“I don’t have all the answers,” Micheal said. “I just wish that I could take my daughters skiing without them having to experience what many of us already have.”

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