Non-Tyronian wouldn’t know, but we know, we remember. Bamboo was the chinese restaurant next to our salon in Tyrone, GA.
They closed in 2023, about three years ago. And today, for no particular reason I miss the elder couple who owned and operated that restaurant, and I want to write a bit about them.
We opened our salon late 2021, this is our first business so we literally put everything we had into it. Naturally, first couple months were very slow, we couldn’t afford the a trash dumbster. I was bringing trash home every night. Ms. Sonya (the wife, elder chinese boss lady) saw it and let me use her dumpster. By the 4th month business became stable, so I started splitting the cost of the dumpster with her. My share was $50 a month. She didn’t ask for $50 for three months while we built up our clienteles.
We are the 1st generation immigrants from Vietnam. We came here with nothing as refugees from Communist Vietnam. Litterally with Nothing. People born into decency (not even wealth, just decency), wouldn’t understand how much $50 a month could mean. I have staffs members now and I don’t normally throw out the trash myself anymore (Sophia/ Kevin does), but I always remember the kindness from a stranger. There were a few other business owners around me – nice people, great neighbors, but I doubt they would have noticed me bringing trash home everynight to save $1.6 a day. They wouldn’t understand. But Ms. Sonya did, and I remember.
Sometimes $50 is just 50 Dollars, some other time $50 is 30 consecutives $1.6 saved up, Not every $50 is equal.
Sometimes $50 is just 50 Dollars, some other time $50 is 30 consecutives $1.6 saved up , Not every $50 is equal.
The food, in all honest wasn’t the best, but it was of very reasonable quality and quantity given its affordability. They didn’t increase their price, not in covid, and not after covid. They were worried some people might not be able to afford the food. When they absolutely had to, they increased the price by about 20 cents. The menu came out weird because they would cross out the old price manually on those togo menu. I meant, on EACH togo menu. It would have been most cost-effective to re-print, but that would be wasteful, maybe half a penny worth of paper waste.
We liked the eggplants, we sometimes ask the Si Fu to stirfry it dry without oil and he would do it. (Si Fu is a title we call head chef in a restaurant, typically male head chef).
From a business stand point, there was no reason for restaurant owner to spend 5 seconds and save half a penny. (That would be $3.6/ hr). Most people wouldn’t understand why, but I do. Because my mom would do the same. There was a period of famine in Vietnam, right after the Vietnam war ended in 1975. Imagine the great depression, except the land were bombed with 7.5 million tons of explosives since 1965, and it was also poisoned with 11.5 million gallon of Agent Orange. Food couldn’t be grown, and the communist regime was horrible with economic management as well. The famine lasted for a decade and a half. During this decade, $3.6/ hr would have been worth it. My mom went through that and now she couldn’t stop working, she couldn’t stop saving. It wasn’t about the amount, it was about fear.
And the Si Fu, the Si Fu was a typical asian dad. He never talked. I was eating his food and seeing him every day for 18 months and the only time he talked to me was to call me over when my food was done. But I love him. The first month i was there I had to budget (cause no money). I ordered three portions of food for five staffs, we made some rice at home and split the beef. He threw in extra meat and veggie for me. There was no way 2 order of black pepper beef could fill up that bowl. I had spent years working in restaurants, I knew how much meat there should be for how much money. That wasn’t a mistake either. A Si Fu of 15 years experience could weight beef one handed in his sleep. When he handed me the bowl I was surprised. Si Fu said nothing, he just nodded. It was the kind of nod dad give son when son ask permission to marry. It was the kind of nod from a big brother to a smaller brother. It was the nod “here is the thing you need from me. I need it too but you need it more so now I am giving it to you, take it and don’t make a big deal out of it.
One time, Si Fu got a heart attack and had to be hospitalized, for three weeks I believe. The day he got discharged, he got right back to work.
Bamboo wasn’t doing ok for the last three years before they closed. I told Si Fu, with the most delicate tongue I could, that instead of stir frying, he should use an air fryer. The modern customers prefer less oil, less salt, and no MSG. I told him to fix up the store front. His sign was peeling, the bottom part of the sign was falling off as well, especially the letter C in “Chinese Restaurant.” They had no social media, no website, and no facebook. The business model rely exclusively on foot traffic and word of mouth, it wasn’t sustainable. But mind you, he didn’t listen. Very similar to my dad. My Dad never listens to me either. Si Fu spent a good third of his life on mastering the cooking art, and he wouldn’t change now.
They couldn’t sell the restaurant either. They wanted an exit but it wasn’t available. The second restaurant owner who took ever was someone with more experience in business. They came in, snoofed around the place, and they waited.
The last day Si Fu and Sonya were there, they cleaned up the place, made one last dish for us. They left us a box of Oranges. Oranges signify good luck in Asian culture. Last Orange box from a restaurant meant
“Here is all the luck we accumulated, how ever small or big it is, we hope you inherit all our luck as our time has come.”
So, the town of Tyrone, let us take care of you. We are the kind of Salon that would remember a customer three years after they move out of town. The kind of neighbourhood salon you can trust, can depend. Come to Tyrone Nails, come to your neighborhood. We might not be fancy, we might not be big, but we are yours.
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