16th February, 2011
On another part of the menu, there’s spicy papaya salad, and Pad Thai, and a yellow curry dish called Kao Soi – the Thai heritage of Mark’s wife, Supattra.
Throw in some American staples like a parmesan-encrusted pork chop and the Lijadus’ tiny Jasmine Bowl restaurant – with five tables and eight bar stools just south of downtown Des Moines – is a love story told through food.
All through the restaurant, you can taste the essence of their marriage. It’s a union that would have seemed impossible when Mark was a Nigerian political refugee looking for a home and Supattra was working a boring market-research job in Bangkok.
But love is a journey. It’s not always easy, and it’s never predictable. And so on this, the eve of Valentine’s Day, perhaps it’s worth remembering that love can sprout anywhere – and bridge the divide between two starkly different cultures, between 6,500 miles of land and ocean, and between two cuisines that one would never think to pair together.
Mark Lijadu grew up in Abeokuta, a city of half a million in far southwestern Nigeria.
His mother owned a restaurant, and Mark grew up there. He remembers jumping on tables as a 5-year-old, dancing to Michael Jackson’s “Bad” as guests howled. He loved the smells of the Nigerian spices coming from the kitchen. He tasted everything. And he helped his mother cook: stews, cassava dishes, tilapia.
But a life as a chef? Not a chance.
“What is so shameful about Nigeria being the way it is, they didn’t see the talent that I had,” he said. “They thought it was a woman’s thing. But I always enjoyed it. I just could never be a professional chef.”
Until something scary happened.
The Nigerian president, Gen. Sani Abacha, was a brutal and corrupt dictator known for executing his political enemies. Mark’s father, David, was a politician bent on impeaching Abacha. That didn’t sit well with the general. Authorities came to arrest Mark’s father. He wasn’t home. Instead, they jailed Mark’s sister for a time. Mark’s father fled to neighboring Benin, where he sought political asylum.
For a few years, Mark didn’t hear from his father. Money was tight, and life was difficult. Authorities kept close tabs on the Lijadus. But one day in 1999, word came: It was time. They fled to Benin to meet David Lijadu and went to the U.S. Embassy. Their family had refugee status in the United States. Mark had just turned 17 when he flew to Des Moines.
“The smell, the atmosphere – it was something else,” Mark remembered. “Everything was blooming in the spring. It was like, ‘My gosh, am I in heaven?’
The long journey to the Jasmine Bowl led Mark to Drake University, where he got a job washing dishes at Hubbell Dining Hall. One day, the grill cook didn’t show up. Mark took over. His supervisor was impressed. Soon Mark moved from burgers to pizzas to classic American cuisine to fancy international cuisine with things like bechamel sauce. Students knew him as the best omelette-maker on campus.
By 2006, he’d become executive chef at John Deere Credit in Johnston, and decided he wanted to go to culinary school at Des Moines Area Community College. The textbooks were dull. Where Mark shined was in the kitchen.
Supattra came to Des Moines in the winter of 2006. She’d studied hard in high school, gotten a degree in economics and a stable professional job in the bustling city of Bangkok. But she was bored. She wanted to cook. A friend was living in a place called Iowa. Supattra threw caution to the wind, moved to Des Moines, shivered at the cold, then enrolled in the Iowa Culinary Institute at Des Moines Area Community College.
Almost immediately, Mark noticed her. She was the only Asian; he was one of two Africans.
The two couldn’t have been more opposite. Mark is loud and gregarious, like his ebullient West African culture. Supattra is quiet and giggly, like her reserved Asian culture. They had a baking lab class together. Mark tried to sit closer to her. She moved farther away. He asked to join her group in baking class; she hesitated.
“I might be African, but I don’t think I’m going to bite,” Mark said.
They made a fruit tart together. Later, Mark tried to talk to her. Supattra ignored him. She was here to learn.
“But I’m a very persistent guy,” Mark said.
He asked her to go to a club. She said no. He asked her to go to a movie: Fine. They saw a Harry Potter film. At the end of the movie, she said goodbye and left.
Soon after, Supattra was working a waitressing shift at Cool Basil, a Thai restaurant in Clive, when she noticed a man sit down by himself: Mark. He ordered yellow curry with shrimp and fried rice.
He persisted, and finally they began to date. Mark remembers when he really fell for her: When she cooked for him the first time. A spicy Korean chicken noodle soup.
“It tasted like something I had never tasted before!” Mark exclaimed.
Jasmine Bowl is usually closed on Mondays, but on Valentine’s Day, Mark and Supattra will be working.
At the restaurant, Mark can be found in the kitchen, Supattra working the tables. Sometimes their 3-year-old son will be hanging out, like Mark did when he was a boy. The boy’s first name is Gbemiga, a Nigerian name (pronounced BEM-ig-uh). His middle name is Dechathorn, a Thai name (DAY-shuh-torn).
They opened their restaurant in 2009, at 2128 Indianola Ave., the old location of Florene’s Bakery. Supattra taught Mark the recipes for all her Thai favorites, taste-testing then adding seasonings to make sure they were just right.
They can remember the nerves when their first customers walked in. Mick and Marie Leat had been regulars at Florene’s. Now, they’re regulars at Jasmine Bowl. The Leats often talk with Supattra about how Mark and Supattra read through hundreds of recipes together, experiment and change the recipes to their liking.
One of their cooking mentors isn’t surprised that their restaurant somehow finds a way to blend Nigerian, Thai and American cuisine – and make it work.
“When somebody has a love for cuisine and a love for their cultures, and a love for the hospitality industry, and can combine it and make it work, it’s like they’ve hit on the perfect combination,” said Robert Anderson, executive director of Des Moines Area Community College’s Culinary Arts program. “There has to be that right mix for a place to be able to do that. Their story only adds to the mix.”
Mark and Supattra have an agreement: Mark cooks at the restaurant, Supattra cooks at home. They share duties of picking up their 3-year-old son at child care. Running a restaurant is their shared dream but a difficult dream. More than a year in, they’re making it.
“It’s harder than we thought,” Supattra said. “A lot. When we work for somebody else, every two weeks, we get a paycheck. But it’s getting better after a year.”
It can be tough to work with a spouse, but they’ve learned how. Their tips on running a restaurant could be tips for a successful marriage:
• Remember to thank each other for the little things, from scurrying to cook for the flurry of a lunch crowd to giving a precise description of what a customer wants.
• Don’t be selfish.
• Money issues aren’t everything, but they’re important.
• Don’t stay mad for long. Say what you have to say, then get over it. Their longest argument lasted 10 minutes.
• Remember, you’re working with your best friend.
“For us,” Mark said, “this is the beginning. It’s what we set out to do.”
He could be talking about their restaurant, which they want to expand someday. Or he could be talking about their marriage – their journey from being two different people on different sides of the world to being two Iowans blending their different pasts toward a shared future.
“It’s not easy,” he said. “It’s a challenge every day. But it’s worth it. We just leave it up to God.”
