The American Dream, Part 2
Banana Leaf
1026 Ryan Rd, Cary, NC 27511
An interview with Hon Lai (owner and chef), Verry Chu (ex-wife of owner, nurse at Duke), and Henry Lai (son of owner, junior at NYU)
She greeted me with a big smile and a demanding voice that emanated unexpectedly from her tiny frame. Unsure of who she was, and a bit taken aback at her boldness, I approached her hesitantly. It was only the first of many unexpected yet pleasantly surprising aspects of this visit to Banana Leaf, a Cantonese restaurant in Cary, North Carolina, owned by head chef Hon Lai.
“Are you the owner’s wife?” I asked.
“Let me get this straight,” she said. “I’m his ex-wife.”
And thus began an eventful two hours of storytelling over a feast of dishes: roasted duck, poached chicken, salt and pepper shrimp, stir-fried bok choy, fried wontons, and dumplings – a large meal that was also unexpected but very much appreciated. At the table sat Hon Lai, owner and chef of Banana Leaf, his ex-wife, Verry Chu, and their son, Henry Lai, a junior at NYU. There was also Lisa Lai, Hon’s current wife.
The late afternoon sun streamed through the windows, illuminating the vibrant yellow walls and varied assortment of decorations that seemed to so perfectly medley together. A fake cherry blossom tree, a wooden giraffe, curtains with bright red tassels the size of baseballs, smiling cat figurines, and a pig with three sunglasses left behind by customers. This is a combination of items that might seem ill-sorted and incongruous, but the restaurant was still overarchingly elegant, just wonderfully coordinated with notes of whimsicality and small little things that made me feel at home – like a framed selfie of Henry, Hon and Verry’s son, at his summer internship, sitting at the front desk for every customer to see within seconds of walking in.
Verry and Hon are both from Hong Kong. Kerry was born in the Kwun Tong district of Kowloon, and Hon was born in Aberdeen, famous for its floating villages and role in the fishing industry. Verry and Hon first met as teenagers at The International, a restaurant in Hong Kong. In the 1980s, Hon received a job at Paradise Island (now called Atlantis), a resort in the Bahamas, and the couple relocated there for a couple of years – it was quite the adventure, and the first of many adventures, Verry reminisced, smiling. The couple then got married and moved back to Hong Kong for a short period of time before moving to New York City, where Hon worked as a chef at Phoenix Chinese Restaurant in China Town. The couple moved to Connecticut, and then to the small town of Creedmoor, North Carolina, where they operated a small restaurant, and where their daughter Jessica and son Henry were born. Verry and Hon divorced, and Verry went to nursing school at community college. The couple then relocated to Cary, NC to open up Banana Leaf. Currently, Hon operates the restaurant full time, while Verry works as a pediatric nurse at Duke Hospitals. Henry is a junior at NYU.
Here, Verry talks about Hon and moving to the Bahamas, the first of many of her adventures. If you listen closely, you can also catch slight banter between mother and son – a common occurrence throughout the entire visit.
Here, Hon interjects briefly to speak about his time working at a famous restaurant in New York City, and jokingly comments, “everything I know, she knows,” – just one of many comments on Verry’s bold and talkative nature.
In one of my favorite clips, Verry speaks on becoming a nurse.
“You can still make your American dream, or second dream, or third dream.”
Here, Verry talks about divorce, nursing school, moving to Cary, and raising her kids.
Summing up her journey again, Verry speaks on the resilience of restaurant kids.
“Restaurant kids are tough. They’re hard workers too… They’re different, their personalities.”
Ultimately, Verry’s tale is a story of resilience – resilience within every individual character of the story (herself, Hon, and her two children), as well as resilience in the very nature of the meandering relationships among these individuals. Love, respect, and admiration were evident in every relationship, and still so very alive and thriving. This intrinsic and deeply rooted bond is what ultimately sustained the immigrant and restaurant journey, and is so very unique and special among these relationships, and perhaps across immigrant relationships in general.
In another one of my favorite clips, Verry speaks on her cooking skills and how the family remains together because of food. Henry also has some commentary on his mother’s cooking.
“That’s what ties them up to their dad, even though we are not together – because of the food, because of the restaurant – they like to eat.”
(Note the mention of Bojangles!)
In perhaps my favorite clip, Henry speaks about the story of his own birth, amidst a bigger conversation about “crazy stories,” filled with lots of laughter, and again, lots of mother and son banter.
When asked about her favorite “crazy story,” Verry again speaks on her “adventure” working as a nurse, as well as the struggles that Jessica and Henry endured as she attended nursing school.
Here, Henry speaks on being a “restaurant kid,” and how it’s made him a more resilient person.
“She’s too much,” Henry says about his mother within the last few seconds of the above clip.
The excerpts from this interview took place amidst other conversations that ranged in subject from academic and professional pursuits, to national politics, to the story of my own parents’ immigration story, and even to college basketball. (It was March Madness season.) I left feeling fulfilled, with a more colored and nuanced perspective of the depth of the immigrant experience, and with a better understanding of some of the greatest hardships of the restaurant business. As a daughter of immigrants, the insight I gained from these conversations colored the perception I had of my own parents’ journey to America, and shed light on the ways in which my parents were committed to each other, to me, and to the other members of my family. As a consumer of Chinese food in America, I began to comprehend the inextricable intertwining of family, culture, and food in the restaurant business, and the value of persistence, tenacity, and a constant longing for more in the sustenance of a business.
I left with a giant cardboard box filled with leftovers from our mid-afternoon feast, which my family and I happily devoured later that night.
Pictures from the visit appear below:
In order, they feature: (1) Hon in the kitchen, (2) handmade noodles, (3) the cold storage room, (4) roast duck (the best on the East Coast, according to Verry), (5-8) food, (9) Hon (and me laughing), (10) Hon’s hands, shot by Henry, (11) the tassels the size of baseballs mentioned above, and the fake cherry blossom tree, as well as the wall of pictures from banquets and other events held at the restaurant, (12) Hon and Henry, (13) Lisa and another worker, (14) Verry and Henry, (15) the wonderful pig with sunglasses, (16) Verry, me, and Hon, (17) a picture of young Hon and Muhammad Ali at the front desk, (18) Hon’s certificate from the American Culinary Association, and a happy cat, (19) a framed selfie of Henry at his summer internship, and finally, (20) Lisa at the front desk, with lots of smiling cat and pig figurines.
