An hour in New York’s most vilified eatery

It’s only earned one honor: an “A” health grade.

Guy’s American Kitchen has been on the receiving end of many a culinary joke since it first opened. You may remember this New York Times review, scathing as the best British humor. I’ve been insanely curious since I read Wells’ first sentence two years ago in my Lawrence, KS apartment. I’d never stepped foot in New York, but I’d seen enough Diners, Drive-Ins, & Dives to understand his schtick. How would $15-$25 for a plate of deep-fried, donkey sauce-topped entrees fare in a city known for its high end concepts and inexpensive street food?

I got my chance to visit the land of “love, peace, and taco grease” this past Friday for a last-day farewell feast. **Yes, this means my junior planning finesse is up for grabs; let’s make magic together. Practically speaking, in words borrowed from a good friend: hire me while I’m still cheap.

I could have explored any establishments from lower to mid-Manhattan, but my somewhat joking suggestion of GAK received chuckles and bemusement from my team, so off we walked. We dodged the Times Square lunchtime crowd and bypassed the over-the-top decor of Jekyll and Hyde to reach GAK’s magnificent interior.

From the second we walked in the door, we knew we were in for a new experience. The multilevel rooms were set up as a mix between an auto shop, a Hard Rock Cafe, and a garage sale, with a mix of wood, chrome, and leather. To my surprise, staff members lacked the signature Guy Fieri enthusiasm, and were slightly irritated. The 500-person capacity space was dotted with 25–30 people, and most were in their 40s or older.

The menu is overwhelming. Half of the ingredients listed under each choice are Guy’s creation, so no one truly knows what Donkey Sauce, LTOP, or SMC are (though I learned through trial & error: SMC= super-melty cheese). The portions are generous. My sandwich had three halves instead of two, and used at least half a loaf of ciabatta. The food tastes alright, though you know it’s because of an overabundance of butter, cream, cheese, carbs, etc. It tastes better when you’re not thinking of the price: sandwiches with fries were ~$16. Better than the horrific mess I expected, but not worth the time or cash.

I’ll let you in on a secret: I didn’t go there for the food. I was there for the people watching. But before you skewer me for exploiting those Southern and Midwestern post-retirement tourists, I’ll say that I knew exactly who I’d encounter, and I needed to see them.

I was raised in the South and Midwest (Army brat), and knew early in my life that I’d someday leave for the big city. Growing up in a multinational, multiracial household put me at odds with my peers from more ‘traditional’ families, and I became tokenized and made an example of for people who were just beginning to understand race and ethnicity. As a child, I didn’t learn about race from my parents— I learned it on the playground as my classmates pulled their eyes into slits and asked why I wasn’t in China. Instead of being good at math because I was smart, it was because I was Asian.

The worst part was that few cared to understand my background below surface level. Only a couple of friends learned that I came from a family of hard workers who received little formal education, that my family was one of refugees and not individuals who bought their way into the US. I couldn’t handle the looks my family got and the judgement we received simply for living and loving.

I’ve been out of the Midwest for four months since college graduation, first to Boston, now to New York, and I’m thankful for new people and new opportunities. But after receiving painful news last week that my ‘dream job’ couldn’t be extended because of budget, that I’d once again be on the hunt in an industry that’s tough to enter, I needed to see a few of those folks.

I appreciated the no-bullshit talks with my office mates about embarking on a (most likely) long and demanding journey that I’d come on top of in the long run, but I needed a look from someone who could have been an old teacher, neighbor, acquaintance that everything would be okay. (I’m now realizing I could’ve achieved that by Skyping my parents instead of calling them, but they get confused by the webcam…)

Going into GAK gave me hope. Even though I haven’t been in the Northeast for long, I’ve quickly adopted their habits: the hardworking, ambitious, dedicated, fast-walking, looking to the future that helps people up here succeed. I’ve learned to avoid certain areas to not see tourists or ‘basics’. I’m sadly becoming immune to those views I gawked at my first time— the Empire State Building and Times Square slowly are losing their gleam.

I got it back from seeing those Midwesterners, yes, those Midwesterners who still give me and my family somewhat not-as-friendly looks as we’re out together, who consider my interests and sense of style so polarizing from their ones of comfort. Even though the South and Midwest have work to do in tolerance and acceptance (note: this is a generalization about the regions, I know plenty of people are great supporters and allies. I also know people on the coasts have work to do as well), I still can admire some aspects about them. I admire their hardworkingness and rolling-up-of-sleeves. These are the original start-ups: family farms and mom-and-pops that struggle against the big businesses of today. Those who resist the bright lights of the big cities to stay and fight for what their families have done for years.

Seeing these couples on vacations they’d spent years saving up for and enjoying meals they surely had splurged on made them less Guy Fieri fan who willingly goes to what some consider the most overrated restaurant in the city, more people who are genuinely excited to treat themselves. When I saw how much people were enjoying themselves and their company, I felt bad for the snark and jokes I’d made all afternoon— though I’ll still laugh at the restaurant concept, because I think it’s over-the-top ridic.

My team noticed it as well. They’ve each been in the city for years and have carved out ‘their’ versions of New York: ones which involve staying away from touristy gimmicks. As we finished our meal, we spoke about how important this exercise (doing something spontaneous, out of our normal comfort zones to observe a new experience) is to the core of brand/strategic/account planning. Our discipline is all about understanding people and brands and learning how to make these brands more relatable, less corporate. It’s an exciting practice getting to learn about behaviors, cultural trends, and thoughts, but it’s a practice that becomes all the more difficult as planners become established in the field and have less time to go out exploring as they’re spending more in the office.

As a young planner with few commitments (I’m not right now a planner by occupation, but one by experience), I have time to spend my nights and weekends learning through osmosis: by watching, by observing, by listening. This is one of my most valuable contributions to a planning team. I can keep my ear to the ground to understand what others are thinking. And my Midwestern, multicultural, Millennial background (a lot of M’s there!) gives me another set of experiences to draw from that makes understanding the world just a little easier.