BEING UNABLE TO ENGAGE with
customers is the biggest change
because that’s the reward of
the work. I thought we’d see an
increase of tips to 20% because
delivery drivers are risking their
health. But we haven’t.” —Will
Jacobs, delivery driver at Blue Pan
Pizza, DenverAFTER HAVING TO SHUT DOWN
the dining room and losing our only
source of revenue, we also had to
cancel and refund all of our prepaid
tasting menus for a month. That
meant we needed to generate some
money quickly, so we looked to sell
some of our collectible and rare
wines that don’t make it to retail
easily. It wasn’t an easy decision,especially when it came to items
where I had one bottle, and I’m
thinking, ‘If I sell this, I am never
going to see this wine again.’ A cellar
like Manresa’s is a labor of love, and
it’s also a labor of time—that’s what
was hardest about it. But we were
able to bring in over $40,000 in a
week, which really helped while our
takeout business ramped up andbegan to generate enough revenue
to keep the lights on. In the end,
there’s always more wine. And when
we reopen, sure, a few wines may
be missing, but the overall integrity
of the list —and, more importantly,
the restaurant—will be there.” —Jim
Rollston, Master Sommelier, wine direc-
tor at Manresa, Los Gatos, CaliforniaJULY 2020 75WHEN I GO OUT TO EAT at Ashleigh Shanti’s Benne on Eagle in
Asheville, North Carolina, or enjoy chef Tanya Holland’s cooking at
Brown Sugar Kitchen in Oakland, California, I’m drawn in by the
ways these folks preserve African American culture—in many ways,
their menus represent a 400-year history of Black contributions
to American cuisine. These chefs are the modern-day caretakers
of recipes written down by legends like Patrick Clark, Edna Lewis,
and Leah Chase. I marvel at their gifts and grit as they illuminate
African American foodways on the plate to a broader public.
For communities like mine that are shouldering disproportionate
counts of sickness and death as a result of the COVID-19 pandemic—
in Michigan, Black people make up 14% of the state’s population but
account for 31% of its coronavirus cases and 40% of its deaths—the
current economic and health crises are bound to become cultural
crises down the line. I lost my great-aunt to the virus. She died in
a nursing home, alone. The family read verses and sang songs via
Zoom, even though funerals, much like restaurants, are linchpins
of Black life. These digital gatherings do not offer us the critical
closure we get from dancing, eating, and drinking with the dead.
This virus has altered the very nature of human, communal
interaction in ways that threaten to erase the essence of the most
important African American–led restaurants in the country.
According to the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics, in 2018, only 17%
of chefs and head cooks were Black. In Chicago, Erick Williams’focus on hiring and mentoring fellow African Americans at Virtue
has been key to his success. In Savannah, Georgia, The Grey, a 2019
F&W World’s Best Restaurant, plays a core role in bridging the deep
cultural divide in America during a time of profound national division.
The potential shuttering of restaurants like theirs that are driven by
history, homage, and humility, instead of by money, fame, and the
thirst to scale, causes irrevocable damage to their communities , and
to the future of American cuisine.
History tells us that African American restaurateurs will experience
the worst of this crisis, especially since Black- and brown-owned
businesses are much more likely to be denied small-business loans.
There is, however, a silver lining: As Congress bailed out the wealthiest
publicly traded restaurant chains over small, independent restaurants,
there is potential for solidarity. No one is rescuing any of us.
Restaurants as we know them are not coming back, but that may
be a good thing. Perhaps this is what we need for the transformation
of this industry, starting with raising the minimum wage to a livable
wage, offering paid family and sick leave, and ultimately creating
a new generation of restaurants with broadly held ownership that
build equity and resilient communities that are better prepared to
withstand threats like the one we’re facing now.Devita Davison is the executive director of FoodLab Detroit, a nonprofit that
supports food entrepreneurs in under-resourced communities.DividedWe Fall
Activist Devita Davison shares a dispatch from
Detroit on race, restaurants, and the way forward.