Nicole Kim, Masashi Nakagome and Shuko Stopyra started preparing on the first day of their pop-up at 5a.m. in their familiar place - Manic Coffee - a place where they met and worked together more than ten years ago. We arrived several hours later to an abundance of energy, composed of confidence and nervousness. Each member was focused but kindly welcomed us, later repeated many times over as friends and family stopped by exchanging messages of good luck and congratulations, both in English and Japanese. 

At the front, there was a makeshift POS station, with a variety of gluten-free cookies baked by Shuko. A clever assembly line of sandos and makunouchi-inspired bento boxes lined the back of the coffee shop, along with pre-packaged onigiri. According to Shuko, these “grandma dishes” are commonly found throughout Japan, however these versions are made to be healthier and more vegetable-focused. Shuko explained, “I'm familiar with each ingredient and item we used (food I like to cook at home sometimes) but it was about putting them together to look nice. This menu didn't take long to figure out.” There is a general wholesomeness that oozes off not only the food but the members of this pop-up, as exemplified by the watercolour of the bento box in the front window of Manic.

This project, however, was not bred out of what food they were going to serve. It acted as a breakaway from the privileged and entitled world of dining that has become all too familiar.  Nicole added: “food should make us equal, food should tell a story. Nanoka will tell Shuko, Masashi, and my lived experience and our immeasurable love of food and people.” As a response to the the ongoing “changehospitality movement, they also decided to remove tipping altogether; a move made to help encourage resetting industry norms and drive change within the industry. She described the dishes her grandmother used to make; banchan and jiggae, enough to feed the eight people living together. Those moments were able to communicate her grandmother’s “history and culture through her cooking”. So when Masashi and Shuko were approached, it was easy to combine the ideals of what would become Nanoka to the food they knew and understood. Hospitality being synonymous with Japanese culture and the comfort of a grandmother’s cooking became the cornerstone of Nanoka. This now allows them to tell their stories in the most powerful way - through food.  

The pandemic has proven to be a difficult time for most but it has also fostered a fight for innovation, adaptability and flexibility. Nanoka has been tailored to fit the constantly changing needs of the pandemic’s new normal. With seemingly no end, it’s nice to know the three partners are uncompromising in sharing their experience. Nanoka means the seventh day, which can refer to Sunday, which Shuko describes as a day “when people relax and eat together. 😊” 

With that in mind, visit their next pop-up, Sunday Oct. 18, at Fix Coffee + Bikes at 80 Gladstone Ave., and stay tuned for what the future holds, because their warm, welcoming arms and comforting, delicious food are what we all need.

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Manuel Luis Veneracion, Contributor

2020-09-11 

Say Behind: A muggles guide to restaurant spatial awareness in the time of social distancing.

Gavin Whelehan was at St. Lawrence Market doing his groceries when he came up behind a man. “If I could describe this guy in a term, I would say ‘rolling coal.'" Doing his best to keep to physical distancing protocols due to the current pandemic and also out of courtesy, Gavin called on his former restaurant training to let the gentleman know he was there, so he could get past and be on his way. Gavin called out, “behind.” 

Gavin, now an audio engineer, worked his last restaurant service in 2006, but still finds the term behind useful. It’s leftover from years of service. He says it all the time. "People tend to get out of the way or acknowledge, at least.” He adds, "It would be nice if a new set of manners and social protocols came into play. Restaurant spatial signals may be the way.”

Since we’re currently required to keep three metres away from each other, it may be helpful for the general public to practice spatial awareness by using tools employed by the restaurant industry.

Outside of a restaurant though, the lingo is not easily understood. Muggles (regular people) aren’t familiar enough with restaurant lingo used to navigate the world more effectively. The Little Jerry’s Jodie Dewald says she’s mostly met with "mainly puzzled and indignant reactions” when she uses it at the grocery store. Each time she uses it she follows up with “half baked apologies and mutterings of  'force of habit’” under her breath.

In restaurant kitchens and dining rooms, the term behind is one of the first things you'll learn on the job. It's part of a long list of lingo and protocol designed to maximize spatial awareness for safety around hot and sharp things. Also to keep from getting in each other’s way without the burden of social courtesy and politeness. Without “please” and “excuse me” the message is understood. The courtesy is inherent in the intention. 

The function of behind is to let the person or people near you (“near you” is also a term) know that you are approaching from their blind spot. That there’s no need to turn around. If they’re thinking of moving, stopping, turning around, walking backwards, or changing direction: proceed with caution. I’m here - behind you. 

There are other versions and modifiers that can be added for specificity (and variety) like “backs” (my favourite); “to the left” or “right”; or “corner!” to indicate you’re coming around a blind corner; also “passing” and “following.” Basically, any relevant information, in minimal syllables that will help the recipient time their movements with yours, while keeping their eyes on their work. 

Urgency is indicated by tone or repetition: “behind, b-hind, B’IND!”;  also qualifiers like “SHARP!” “HOT!” “Backs, backs, backs. HOT DEATH!” plus so many more variations depending on the training of the restaurant. It can get aggressive, but the tone is not meant to be taken personal.

Unlike driving on the road, there are no set rules when we’re on foot. Walking can be frustrating at the best of times. Have you been run into by a person while they're zoned out choosing a toothbrush at Shoppers Drug Mart? These situations are inconvenient, but it’s usually understood that they are unavoidable. The very Toronto thing to do in these situations is to get bumped, deem no one at fault, BOTH apologize, then feel frustrated about it on the inside.

Due to the pandemic, that accidental bump at Shoppers now poses a societal health risk. Everywhere we walk there’s a low-frequency of stress. We’re on constant alert. The polite courtesy that Torontonian pedestrians normally extend (real or phony) is being tested. 

So is now an appropriate time to employ restaurant-like protocol in public to effectively social distance? Can we do it without being rude? Social distancing IS spatial awareness. However, there are some things to consider when engaging with the very nuanced and complex world of the muggle.

Bar Isabel’s Nicole Kim never says behind around muggles. Not even to negotiate the often chaotic dining room in Bar Isabel. "I try not to say it to guests. I always move, I feel like it comes off rude and abrupt. I never say it in public for the same reasons."

Mineral’s Ivy Lam agrees, “it's too abrupt for regular people.” But she admits that sometimes it can’t be helped, “when it happens in outside life, it's a reflex.”

Lee Restaurant’s Kelsea Knowles says behind all the time. "I use it mostly in places where I don’t expect people to have spatial awareness. Like the mall or the subway.” Is there a muggle-friendly way to go about it? “Nah. I don’t have the energy to code switch.”

The social aspect of social-distancing can be taxing. According to Dailo’s Geoffrey Fleming, “people are being even weirder about spatial awareness these days. On sidewalks there's all these politeness games happening. And everyone has different levels of concern about it."

To help avoid awkward standoffs and ease abrupt language, here are some tips from restaurant types that may help muggles negotiate the sidewalks and aisles in these uncertain times:

When you’re out in the world maintaining social graces AND social distancing, it helps to first commit. Bar Isabel’s George Fellows says he “usually directs human traffic by staring into the spaces beside people and moving towards the space unflinchingly.” Be the one to commit to a direction to avoid an awkward standoff when sharing space.

Other non-verbal communication includes using facial expressions and hand gestures. When face-to-face and there’s not enough space to go around; raise your eyebrows to indicate that you see them; point with a finger to indicate which direction you intend to take; then proceed without stopping being sure to say, “thank you” on your way out.

If you’re behind and don’t want to declare you’re behind, try passive-aggression. Geoffrey Fleming likes to loudly shuffle his feet and jingle his keychain. “I try to give them a chance to notice me on their own." 

Spatial awareness requires alert anticipation. “I move like a cat in crowded areas,” says Nicole Kim. Be agile and adjust to the conditions around you. When you anticipate the movements of others, it makes communication with them simpler and may allow you to avoid an interaction with them all together. Dailo’s Darrel Gamotin uses timing and tries to “clock a person's tempo and wait for them to pass or overtake them.” 

Anticipation is like a silent courtesy. And this extends to assessing the muggle. Are they old, less mobile, or with children? Show them courtesy and make way before they request it.

If an interaction is imminent, it makes all the difference to send a direct “thank you” or acknowledging head nod. We ARE in this together. 

Perhaps muggles aren’t all the way ready for restaurant language exactly. “There would be mayhem if the general public were all yelling ‘behind’ and ‘corner,’” says Jodie Dewald. “I want to keep it for us service folks."

That does not mean we should disregard spatial awareness in the name of politeness. We’re still in a pandemic after all. Part of being considerate is to maintain proper distance. So don’t be afraid to use some version of behind in your everyday life. Just remember some muggles are more sensitive than others.

When Gavin Whelelan announced he was behind to the ‘rolling coal’ at St. Lawrence Market he meant it politely. But the man “turned it around and threatened to kick my ass.” Then said, “better get out of my bubble. You don’t want to see what will happen if you don’t!”

So be careful out there.

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SIDEBAR

5 Cs of Spatial Awareness:

Ok, you're probably not stupid. But in case you are:

• Case: Take full view, assess the full situation and anticipate what it requires.
• Commit: Be the first to decide the space you are moving into to avoid awkward/polite standoffs.
• Communicate: Either use your voice, hand gestures, facial expressions, or a combination to indicate your intended direction.
• Courtesy: Say “thank you” or acknowledge with a quick gesture when others are making space for you.
• Carry on: Keep it moving.

Manuel Luis Veneracion has been wizarding in Toronto since 2001. Manuel thinks magic is cool, but JK Rowling is a TERF. He is from Scarborough. Prev. Lamesa, Bent, Bar Isabel, BBs, Mineral. Currently super unemployed and living at his Mom's.

Yoan Chan, Contributor

2020-07-24  - Photo: Jay Choi 

The Conundrum of Income Inequality for Cooks

It’s midnight after a hectic shift; I am exhausted and want to go home. Like everyday this week, I’ve been here since morning. I work 60 hours a week at minimum wage. Being on a probationary period, I am not entitled to tips, despite being a senior pastry cook with years of experience. I work at Canada’s 8th Best Restaurant. I hand in my two weeks’ notice and the executive chef asks me why I am leaving. I tell him I am not making ends meet and that everyone here is sad. He says he’s never noticed that before.

I travel to New York to apprentice at a Michelin restaurant and I am offered a job. The pastry chef tells me the starting salary is $14 USD an hour and that it is a no-tipping restaurant. He looks me square in the eye and asks me to consider whether I think it’s worth it to work there.

The personal experiences I shared above may not come as a shock to seasoned cooks; some may even question what the issue is, and why I didn’t stick it through. I, for one, know this sentiment well. I remember having the hardest time leaving the industry because I was unable to reconcile feelings of leaving something I loved and was deeply invested in, but which did not really support me back. I questioned whether I was taken advantage of because I did not advocate for myself enough, or whether I actually deserved to be paid peanuts because an objective decision was made in correlation to my skill level. I have had a couple of years to grapple with these debilitating notions of self-doubt and have since assessed the issue of income inequality for cooks as a result of deeply-embedded systemic problems.

The low pay cooks receive is often obscured by a romantic idea that suffering is a necessary rite of passage. This idea is perpetuated in the media and within the industry itself as a means, in part, to justify injustices towards cooks. It is a well-known reality that cooks earn a fraction of the money that other skilled trades do, and the large majority are not even entitled to paid vacation, sick days or bereavement leave. On top of this, many I’ve known who have gone on to becoming sous chefs have told me that the paradox of attaining a managerial role is that they actually end up earning less on a salary than their junior cooks who are paid by the hour! Employers blame low profit margins for why cooks are paid so little, and sometimes justify their penny pinching with reverse psychology, like trying to make us feel that we should be thankful for working there. Throw in the cost of living in an expensive city to further one’s career and the prospect of financial freedom suddenly becomes very dim. Is there a light at the end of the tunnel for us? What can be done to remedy this incredibly unfortunate situation? As truly devastating as COVID-19 has been for everyone, it has given us the necessary pause to examine the systems that need to be dismantled, and has put us in an ideal situation to recognize that: 

• 1) unjust systems cannot continue  
• 2) we are the agents of change

If we want the industry to survive this recession (and we all do), we must recognize that the issue of low pay in the restaurant industry is directly linked to systemic problems. Bad business models, inaccurate media representations, unsustainable consumer habits, lack of government support, perpetuation of a tradition of toxic culture etc. These problems are not beyond our control.

We have the power to revolutionize these systems; our happiness and the longevity of the industry we love so much depend on it.

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Tevin Makins, Contributor

2020-07-13

I’m at a very middling point in my career and perhaps my life. I feel I’ve gained enough experience to start focusing on the abstract and personal aspects of the industry; namely the people of the industry. Cooks, chefs, bartenders, servers, dishwashers, and all those in between. I notice more and more how great a toll this career can take on our bodies, especially as cooks. I’ve started to feel it myself; it’s sudden and jarring - trying to keep one’s body healthy is increasingly important. Things like custom orthopaedics, and regular appointments for massages and chiropractors. However, these cost time and money, and cooks are notoriously short on both.

Splendido, the first kitchen I worked in, was certainly foreign to my palette and knowledge of cooking, and undeniably intense - even as an intern. At the time, I equated the environment to Hell’s Kitchen; a showcase for the more brutal stereotypes of British and French kitchens. Being older and more experienced, I now know better. I understand that I may have experienced the last of this once accepted and prevalent behaviour. But, I know that the way I was treated was far from the worst it could have been. I’ve carried these experiences with me to Patois, Jackpot, Bar Raval, and now to Quetzal. I respect the difficult experiences; both my own, and of those that came before me. But, I realize that they are part of a romanticized living history that ought to stay just that; romanticism and not reality.

The pandemic’s affect on the industry has gone beyond the body, testing the mental health and wellbeing of industry workers. It’s not just the alcoholism, drug abuse, and daredevil lifestyle. A lifestyle that I think you can’t help but glamourize - despite all the work being done to the contrary. The COVID-19 closures have created a sense of emptiness, purposelessness, uselessness, and loneliness echoing through many of my peers within the industry.

All of this has left me scared for the future of the industry. The pandemic’s affect on the hospitality industry has been unprecedented, and in my eyes, we were woefully ill-prepared for such a thing. The toll this industry takes on us is already huge, but COVID-19 has taken an even bigger piece out of us. 

This is also a source of great excitement for what’s to come. The industry is pots, pans, and people. These people are as rugged and hardy as they are creative and caring.

 We are resilient.

 We can and we will bounce back.

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