Stir Fried: Asian American restaurant owners reflect on ICE raids
With a deep bench of immigrant workers, here is how some Asian-owned restaurants are addressing the growing issue
From left, Julia Momose, Tracy Wong, and Cheetie Kumar.
Photos via Sammy Faze Photography, Instagram/@myhuongkitchen, Joe Payne; graphic by Ryan Quan
Words by Clara Wang
Stir Fried: The story of any immigrant diaspora is the story of how outsiders became insiders, and nothing tells this story better than food. Names may get scrambled, languages forgotten, neighborhoods gentrified—but no matter how muddled histories become, the truth is served on a plate. Stir Fried breaks down the weird, messy, bastardized fusion cuisines that tell the story of Asian diaspora communities around the world.
The day after I left my parents’ house in Minneapolis and headed back to traveling in Latin America, 37-year-old protester Renee Good was fatally shot three times by Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agent Jonathan Ross while driving away from him. Scrolling through the Department of Homeland Security (DHS) website, a litany of White House updates assure me that ICE agents are securing the safety of our citizens from “criminal illegal aliens” and deporting one child predator and cartel-linked drug trafficker after another. Only the most vicious criminals and predators are being put away! I mean, it’s a “.gov” website, and my middle school computer lab teacher told us .gov websites are usually reliable sources for research papers (remember back when adults used to teach teenagers how to use the Internet?).
Just kidding. Despite DHS’s redundantly worded posts that read like a cracked-out robocop Twitter feed, video footage and citizen interviews illustrate bumbling bullies who have been given guns and badges, specifically targeting civilians for the crime of being Brown. One of a series of lawsuits filed against DHS reveal ICE agents tackling a 79-year-old car wash owner so hard his ribs cracked and holding him for 12 hours without medical attention. In another complaint, a woman was detained for more than two days (counter to the Supreme Court ruling that federal officials cannot hold Americans for longer than two days without charges) without being allowed to contact the outside world. Both were American citizens.
ICE continues to harass and detain hundreds of Black and Brown U.S. citizens and legal residents. Many immigrants report being too scared to leave their homes due to fear of arbitrary deportation. Only weeks after Good was killed, ICU nurse Alex Pretti was killed by ICE agents in my hometown, in the blistering cold, while trying to protect another protester.
The restaurant industry is run on immigrants. From avant-garde Mediterranean cuisine, to Japanese-inspired cocktails, to classic pho, behind all of our favorite restaurants is a deep bench of immigrant line cooks, kitchen workers, bar staff, and food runners—many of whom are the type of Latino immigrants ICE is targeting. Though the American Immigration Council cites the proportion of immigrants in the restaurant industry’s nationwide workforce at a mere 22 percent (exceeding 30 percent in states with significant foreign-born populations such as New York, California, and Texas), anyone who’s ever worked back of house (and picked up some kitchen Spanish) knows the number is probably higher.
We recently spoke to three immigrant chefs and restaurant owners of Asian descent about the impact ICE is having on their businesses, what measures they’re taking to protect their staff, and running a business in the current climate.
Tracy Wong, My Huong Kitchen
On Jan. 24, Tracy Wong went into work at her restaurant, My Huong Kitchen, though all the other restaurants on Minneapolis’s Eat Street were shuttered. Her family had advised her not to go; it was in the thick of ICE protests, the air was still acrid with residual tear gas, and a polar vortex had blasted the temperature into the negative 50s. But there were phones to be answered and stock to be simmered, so though they were not opening for the day, she planned on working a Saturday morning like any other—until suddenly she heard a loud boom. Looking outside, she saw a cloud of smoke and reporters converging towards where Pretti had been shot just a block away on Nicollet Avenue and 26th Street. Two reporters started running towards her restaurant, eyes streaming from the smoke. She opened her doors and offered them tea and pho.
“I was like, ‘Oh my god, maybe some people need help. Maybe I can help them.’ I didn’t expect (ICE) to lock down and start bombing, tear gas, stuff like that. Everybody starts running like crazy, it was really scary, like World War something,” Wong tells me over a Facetime call while simultaneously directing her gardeners.
Many more protesters came into the restaurant to clean tear gas out of their eyes, have some hot tea and a snack, and then headed right back out. “They go back out there and protest again! Wow, this is the kind of people we really need to help,” Wong exclaims.
She stayed in the restaurant helping protesters until well past midnight.
Wong’s parents fled the Vietnam War to Hong Kong in 1979 with their nine children before being sponsored to New York in 1981. They settled in Minneapolis in 1983, looking for a “nice, quiet, peaceful” place to grow roots after the hectic gang violence of 1980s New York. Wong opened My Huong Kitchen in 2012 to pursue her lifelong love of cooking, and though reviews were glowing, business was touch and go; they didn’t have a liquor license and 43-year-old pho institution Quan’s across the street had more name recognition. After videos of her feeding protesters went viral online, her restaurant is now always packed. People even come from out of state just to meet her and enjoy some pho or bahn mi.
With the new flood of customers, Wong tells me that she’s working around the clock at the restaurant filling in for employees who are afraid to go to work, as well as giving rides to the employees who do come in. “Yes, there’s so many, and I’m so grateful, I’m so happy. The first two weeks, I was crying a lot. But happy tears,” she says.
Julia Momose, Kumiko
Julia Momose's Kumiko won Outstanding Bar at the 2025 James Beard Awards.
Sammy Faze Photography
Born and raised in Japan to a half-Japanese father and American mother, Julia Momose helms award-winning Chicago cocktail bar Kumiko. After announcing on social media that Kumiko would be joining the Jan. 30 “86 ICE” general strike, the bar received several voicemails from angry customers, including one who threatened to boycott their business.
“Someone who doesn't respect or care about immigrants' lives deciding not to come to a Japanese dining bar, for me and the team, that's actually a win. Because it means that my team is that much safer, because that person and their disregard for our lives is not coming to the business,” Momose says. “So I like to think of it kind of as the reverse way, like in the moment, sure, it can feel like an attack or aggressive or whatever, but at the end of the day, there are people whose minds are not going to be changed so easily and so quickly, and it's not necessarily our job to change their minds.”
At Kumiko, Momose’s team has implemented measures to protect staff such as designating white-presenting people as points of contact for receiving ICE in case there is a raid and going over procedures for documenting potential raids and contacting immigrant defense attorneys. “We are acknowledging the fact that ICE isn’t following the law in every case. So with that, we are operating under the assumption that no person of color is truly safe. We are prepared for ‘if and when,’” she says.
While there hasn’t been any in-person anti-immigrant aggressiveness at Kumiko, Momose notes that the bar’s recent sweep of awards has drawn a more privileged crowd who can be combative with staff when they can’t get a table, sometimes attacking the host’s English abilities or ethnicity. Hosts dealing with disrespectful customers now have a process of passing a folded paper crane to the manager so they can aid with deescalation.
“The other side of it, though, is, I think that we are more willing to stand up for ourselves, at least I'm learning to do that. Being raised in Japan, in a culture that demands that you apologize for being different or for standing out, right, like a lot of us are part of the model minority, and breaking out of that has taken some time. In a way, seeing the courage of others to stand up when they are not treated right has encouraged me to do so,” Momose tells me. “Being white-passing, having lived through inherently being seen as that privileged class that can pass, and whatever…it makes me realize that I need to pull away from the side of myself that is docile.”
Cheetie Kumar, Ajja
Cheetie Kumar, co-owner of Ajja, is getting her new restaurant, Big Cat, ready to open in the spring.
Joe Payne
ICE raided North Carolina back in November 2025, and Chandigarh, India-born Raleigh restauranteur Cheetie Kumar tells me her team has been preparing for raids since President Donald Trump was inaugurated for a second term. The co-owner of acclaimed Mediterranean restaurant Ajja is deep in the trenches of getting her new restaurant, Big Cat, ready to open in the spring.
“That was not a time when we were hiring for Big Cat, but Ajja was operational and it was extremely challenging to function because there were people on our team who didn’t feel comfortable leaving their house, going to the grocery store, let alone coming to work,” Kumar says. “It’s just an aura of fear. I mean, people have to pay their bills, and we have to open the restaurant. So we're moving ahead without it becoming a topic of conversation every day, but it's kind of like this black cloud that just hangs over everybody's head. It's like the sword of Damocles, you just know it's going to fall at some point.”
Staff has been instructed to ask for judicial warrants and there are areas marked staff-only throughout the restaurant, but there have been many instances of ICE ignoring legalities. “It makes us feel very powerless. It makes us feel guilty even though we're not doing anything wrong. It makes us feel vulnerable, and I feel like I can't protect my team. I'm an immigrant and I feel scared. I don't know if I should be carrying around my passport, even though I'm a citizen, and I have been for my whole life,” Kumar tells me.
Kumar is the daughter of research scientists who moved to New York with visas and jobs that allowed the family to naturalize, and she expounds on the difficulties of immigrating even from a relatively privileged position, telling me how immigration lost their papers three different times. She feels compelled to speak out against the perception of upper-middle-class Asian immigrants being protected. “I think some of it is kind of on us as Asians who think that because we are more educated and have more wealth, so somehow we're exempt, or maybe we're closer to being accepted,” Kumar says, adding how she is “ashamed Kash Patel and I come from the same place.”
“I think there’s a false sense of security that people from Asia and South Asia might have,” Kumar says. “They’re after anyone that doesn’t look white. And conservative.”
Published on March 11, 2026
Words by Clara Wang
Clara Wang is a freelance writer based in Austin, TX but often found wandering abroad exploring culture through the lens of food and drink. Her work has been featured in publications such as Conde Nast Traveler, Food & Wine, Eater Austin, BuzzFeed, Refinery29, the Austin American Statesman, and the Daily Dot. Her monthly column Stir Fried explores Asian diasporic cuisines around the world.
Art by Ryan Quan
Ryan Quan is JoySauce's social media manager, associate editor, and all-around visual eye. This queer, half-Chinese, half-Filipino writer and graphic designer loves everything related to music, creative nonfiction, and art. Based in Brooklyn, he spends most of his time dancing to hyperpop and accidentally falling asleep on the subway. Follow him on Instagram at @ryanquans, and check out his work on his website.