In July 2018, Fred Yee, former director of Kin On, introduced me to Thien Phat’s Restaurant in Columbia City. I had called him because I needed help to complete my memoir.
“Meet me at Thien Phat,” he instructed me. “We’ll have lunch.”
“I’ve never heard of it” I responded.
“It’s not far from Kin On,” he said, “Family-run. Comfortable, not too loud. Chinese and Vietnamese food. Cheap. We can talk there. Park in front.”
I kept it simple. I ordered what Fred did: a delicious, heaping plate of veggies, chicken and noodles. I felt like I had just eaten in a neighbor’s cozy home kitchen. My stomach and soul were happy.
Fred spent the rest of the afternoon in the restaurant with me, patiently filling little gaps in my manuscript and revealing his own complex saga of journeying to Seattle from Hong Kong as an immigrant and fourth-generation Yee.
We sat for over two-and-a-half hours. Customers came and went. The owner, Oanh Nguyen, a young woman with big round glasses, seamlessly pivoted between managing the front counter, serving customers at their tables and bringing food orders to her mom, the cook, in the back kitchen. Oanh didn’t rush us or forget us, cheerfully refilling our teacups over and over.
Sadly, several weeks after that meal, Fred died suddenly of a heart attack. I completed the draft of my book that same year.
And I continued to eat at Thien Phat, sometimes weekly, rotating between two favorites: papaya salad with shrimp, and Bun with stir-fried veggies and tofu. Over the years, I have invited dozens of friends to the restaurant because, well, it’s the best comfort food spot in Columbia City.
Oanh said the menu was extensive (141 dishes) because she and her mom wanted to have options for everyone, regardless of allergies and dietary limitations. Regular patron Warner Lew calls it a “bewildering selection.” But he invariably settles on an order of tender oxtail or beef tendon noodle soup.
On Sunday, June 28, Thien Phat closed its doors, succumbing to the fierce challenges of the pandemic. Oanh and her mother, 67-year-old Huong Huynh, hadn’t been able to keep up with monthly rental payments on top of accumulated debt. Customers initiated GoFundMe efforts.
Southeast Seattle restaurant-goers—and Asian foodies—grieved. In the final weeks, as news of the impending closure spread, loyal customers came to say goodbye to Oanh and Huong—many call her Ma Huong or mom—and to enjoy one final meal.
Thien Phat had also served as a third space for the Rainier Valley community.
University of Washington Professor and long-time OCA Greater Seattle Chapter leader Connie So said she quickly “bonded” with Oanh “over food Chinese dramas and community issues.” She noted that the restaurant has hosted OCA events, including a book reading by author Peter Bacho.
“Everyone is low-key and enjoying themselves,” So said. “It’s warm and welcoming.
“I mentioned to Oanh that I have friends and family that cannot digest sugar, so she went shopping and asked which sugar substitute I liked. She purchased a few and was trying it out. I was touched.”
Oanh said she’s sad that the restaurant has closed, but she has embraced the reality. She is now focused on raising $15,000 to settle back debt to the owner, Jin Investment LLC, a California firm. She believes the owner will either sell or redevelop the property, which also houses Rainier Teriyaki.
Those interested in helping Oanh can contribute: Fundraiser by Oanh Nguyen : Support Our Family Business in Rainier Valley
Oanh said she and her mom will continue to prepare food for long-time community partners, but they will also relish some down time before deciding what to do next.
“We’re selling the furniture, the Buddha statues and kitchen equipment,” Huong said. “We’ll still do side catering for some of the schools, supplying sandwiches. In the past, we worked with the Franklin High mock trial, Garfield band and John Muir teacher appreciation.”
Huong said one big challenge had been the restaurant’s location.
“We’re in a high crime area,” she said. “The windows and door have been smashed five times. The bars on the windows and door were installed after Covid. It was the worst time. We spent $25,000 to fix this damage. We’ve had stuff stolen like an iPad and a JBL speaker we used for events. Just last month, I found a gun in the compost bin.”
Oanh said the restaurant was started in 2007 by a family friend. The space previously housed the Emerald City Mini-Mart. Oanh’s family became restaurant partners in 2010. In 2015, Oanh and her mother took over the business.
Oanh grew up nearby. “I remember that I used to go to Chubby & Tubby across the street from the Mini-Mart to buy caramel apple candy and shoes,” she said. “Chubby & Tubby was Walmart before Walmart arrived.”
Oanh was born in Thailand in a refugee camp, where her parents met and married. Her mother is from Bến Tre, southwest of Saigon. She is ethnic Chinese and speaks Hakka. Her father, Chi Nguyen, hailed from Củ Chi, close to Saigon. In the camp, Oanh’s mother honed her culinary skills by cooking for the children and the single men without families.
She and her parents arrived in Seattle in 1999. “We had an option of resettling in Houston, but we came to Seattle because my father had siblings here,” Oanh said. Oanh’s mother’s first job was at a tofu manufacturer on Martin Luther King Jr Way. Oanh’s father worked as a janitor for years at Joint Base Lewis-McChord. He passed away two years ago.
“It’s been hard for my mom when my dad died,” Oanh said. “The customers have been a help. They comfort her and give her hugs.”
Oanh said she was only five when she came to America. She attended kindergarten at Thurgood Marshall Elementary. “We stayed with my uncle in SeaTac, then with my aunt in Federal Way,” she said. “In 2002, we lived in Bryant Manor. I grew up in the south end of Seattle.”
“I’m going to miss my community,” Oanh said. “My mom will miss the kids. This stuff in the restaurant—that’s all just physical stuff. What I’ll miss is the people who come here, the high schoolers, the families, the babies being born, the people who keep coming back. You see them grow up.
“I know what they like to order, their food allergies, their preferences. Everyone is family and they are all so sweet. You talk and there are a lot of deep moments. You share and people open their hearts. But I will see them in the neighborhood. I live only 10 minutes away from here. I will see them at Costco Fourth Avenue.”
She added, “And, Ron, I will see you running on Beacon Hill in the morning.”
