– English Lyrics

Lyrics & Translation

[English]

[Music]

[Applause]

[Music]

[Applause]

I was born in a refugee camp in Thailand

in 1984.

A few years ago, I met this doctor who

actually worked at that camp, right? And

you know what he said to me? He said,

"Did you know that one and out of three

babies that were born in that camp in

Veni didn't make it past their second

birthday?"

My parents were was in that camp for 10

years, you know. And in while they were

there in that camp, they had three

babies. And in 1987, we landed here and

came to America.

Statistically, one of us weren't

supposed to survive.

Statistically,

one of us wasn't supposed to make it

here.

But against all odds, we did. So that

fact, it changes everything about me and

it changes everything that I do.

You want to know something? I I going to

college, I studied communications, and

my professors at W Lacrosse reminded me

of this that you cannot not communicate.

We're always communicating. It's in our

bodies. you know, you're always sending

messages, you're always receiving

messages, you're always decoding

messages. You know, that's what it is.

It's it's literally in our DNA. We're we

are constant communicators.

You know, when I was growing up, uh, at

my house, my parents taught me how to

speak M. And then when I went to school,

I learned how to speak English, becoming

bilingual early on. But it wasn't until

adulthood that I realized my family has

been speaking another language all

along. One that I didn't recognize until

much later.

From the moment we are born to the

moment we die, we're always intaking

everything. We're always learning. So

I'm thinking, what if the most powerful

universal language isn't spoken? What if

it's not even verbal?

What if it's food?

Food holds meaning. It carries emotion,

memories, and identity. It tells stories

without using words. And food is the

language I speak the best. My name is

Yavang. I'm a proud son of Mong

Refugees. I'm the founder of Union Monk

Kitchen and the owner and chef at Vi,

where we serve food that tells our

story.

And that's the language I speak, the

language of food.

Here's the thing. At the end of the day,

I'm a cook, right? I love it. You know,

I see the world through the eyes of the

kitchen. My whole adult life has been

about, you know, big cuts of meat and

cutting boards and big knives and, you

know, fire and all that stuff. I learn

about everything in life, you know,

through the kitchen. I learn about

timing and pressure from grilling a

steak, right? So, you know, you got your

pan, right? It's super hot, right? And

you take that piece of steak, whatever

cut you want, and you lay that steak

right on that pan, and you hear that

that sizzle. You want to hear that.

That's that's the number one thing you

want to hear. If you don't hear it, you

got problems. So, you hear I mean I mean

it you you want to hear that and you

know what something happens? There's

this while you press that steak down

lightly, not too hard, lightly, there is

this in that pressure you put on,

there's this beautiful reaction that

happens between the sugars and the amino

acids and it comes together and it has

that sear, right? And it's so delicious.

It's so rich in flavor.

But if you push it too hard and you let

it sit too long, what happens? It burns.

It becomes bitter. It's it's not

something you want. That's life.

Pressure can bring you the best things

out. You you know it's you know if you

lean into it, it's amazing if you you

know you got to know when to lean away,

lean in everything. See, that's how I

understand the world. That's how the

world works through me. I call it the

lens of the kitchen. Food is how I

speak. the kitchen and the food becomes

the vernacular.

And if we, you know, talk this way, we

create a completely amazing common

language that we can use. Even if we

don't share the same words, we share

flavors, rhythm, and understanding. It

brings people together across cultures,

background, and time.

You know, growing up, I just wanted to

fit in, right? I was embarrassed to let

kids know that I spoke M.

You guys want to know how I learned

English? Late night talk shows and

sitcoms. I would watch them, right? And

I I go into the bathroom and make sure

my parents didn't hear me, but then I

would actually look in the mirror and I

would emulate these words. I wanted to

make sure I didn't have an accent. So, I

learned how to annunciate very well.

actually to the point where I remember

calling my cousin's house and she was

like, "Um, dad, I think there's like a

salesman on the phone. Like, there's a

there's a white guy on the phone,

right?" And I was like, "Yes, I made it.

I was mistaken for a white dude on the

phone."

But I didn't realize it then. What what

was going on was I was running so hard

away and so fast to trying to fit in

that I was actually leaving my Mong

identity behind me. Meanwhile, my

parents stood strong and rooted. While I

was drifting away, they quietly held on

and you know preserving our language and

our traditions and our values. I didn't

see their quiet strength back then. They

didn't give big speeches about

resilience or identity. You know what

they did? They just lived it.

Their journey from war to refugee camp

to a new life in America was its own

kind of hero's journey. Now, I used to I

used to do this when I was a kid. That

that kid right there, he would go to bed

and he would pray and he would hope that

in the morning he'd wake up and he wake

up with a family that was white and they

spoke English and then he looked like

everybody else. And I was so ashamed of

it. But you guys want to know something?

Over 30 years later, I cannot not speak

about them. That's all I want to do. I

go to bed now hoping the next day I get

to speak about them. I get to tell their

story because you know what? Every dish

I cook with, every story I tell, it's a

quiet thank you to my parents, a way to

honor where I come from and the strength

that was passed on to me.

I believe that there's one language

spoken all around the world and it's

food. I felt the language of food at

like most collaboration dinners we do

when the when the farmer comes in,

right, and goes, "Hey, this is all I

got." Or or or the shrimper or the

fisherman, they would come in and us

chefs from all different backgrounds and

we literally would speak different

languages. You know what we do? We just

we didn't have to say much to it. We

just gather around and we knew what to

do. Why? Because we would get it. We

spoke the language of food.

Ask anybody what is your favorite dish,

right? Or or or what's a dish that you

know you grew up with? You know, I

remember I asked my buddy that once and

he's I don't know. He kind of felt like

Yeah. And so the first thing he said to

me was he's like, I don't know, like hot

dogs and mac and cheese, you know? And

that's what he talked about, but it was

like the good hot dog, you know, the one

with the good snap on it. You know what

I'm talking about. And and he said that

and then there was like a sense of shame

in his voice. And I just looked at him.

I said, "Do you know that that hot dog

and mac and cheese? You know what that

is? That's a mother's love. A single

mother on a Friday night,

doing her best, giving everything she

can so her children can have some.

No matter the accent, ingredient, or

techniques, food gives us a rhythm that

we can all move to. It's how we

understand each other every day without

saying a word.

We all eat, right? So, here's my ask.

When you eat, be quiet for a moment. Be

curious and let the food do the talking

because food can tell a story. Stories

about food usually doesn't start with,

you know, big complex question. It's

it's a simple question.

You know, in my parents' world, you

don't eat truffles, caviar, or fancy

French words that you can't pronounce,

right?

You know what they do? We cook with

taro, with yuka, banana leaves, mung

mustard greens, mung cucumbers grown

from their farm, carrots, herbs, things

that we pull straight from the dirt.

Here in Minnesota, I've met people who

have never heard about mung people who

have never doesn't understand what mung

pallets are or mung flavors are. But you

know what they know? They know root

vegetables. They know leafy greens. They

know what it feels like on those harsh

summers when you're working that field

super hard. and you might not have

anything to show for.

They know how to make the most of what's

in their hands and what's around them.

Food doesn't just feed us. It connects

us. It opens the door to to someone's

story. And if you're willing to ask,

because food is never just about food.

It's about memory. It's about meaning.

It's a story served on a plate.

The greatest gift my parents gave me was

the language of food. But it wasn't

until I came home literally and and I

cooked and ate with them. That I truly

understood

that every dish they made when I was

growing up was made by their hands. Cuz

you know what? Those hands were

connected to these arms and their arms

were connected to this body. And that

body had a heart. And in that heart

there was a soul. And you know what that

soul says to me? So we love you. We went

through war. We sacrificed so that you

can have a hope of a future. And we

would do it all again. No questions

asked.

When you realize that someone has given

up their life so you can have life in

the full, it changes the way you talk to

people. It changes the way you treat

people. And for me, it changed the way I

cook.

My mom once told me, "I can't speak

English to my grandkids. It breaks her

heart because you know the grandkids

they don't speak m much.

So she said all I can do is I can make

them food to show them how much I love

him. Uh my little nephew Lukey he's like

grandma I want egg rolls. You know so

you know that morning mom didn't make

one three five 12. No no no she made a

hundred egg rolls. Yeah.

She wanted Luki to know my love for you

is big and strong. When I love you, I

love you to the max. I don't love you 12

egg rolls. I love you a 100 egg rolls.

My parents legacy lives in every dish we

make.

Right across the street, you know,

bringing this home to our restaurant,

Vina, right across the street is another

award-winning restaurant, Oro, run by my

good friend Gustavo Romero. He's a

Mexican chef. you know, he was a DJ,

came to America, you know, immigrant or

two different immigrants literally from

different parts of the world, right? You

got Thailand, you got Mexico. You guys

know what I'm saying? But we had one

common language, food. You know, when

when we talk, it's not just about food,

it's about family, you know? Um, he

talks to me about mole. I talk to him

about curry. He tells me about

tortillas. I talk to him about purple

sticky rice. two immigrant kids raids

worlds apart now cooking literally on

the same block and we get each other

different languages you know I try my

best at Spanish no caprene you know at

all and so you know but but but same

story when both our restaurant that uh

this past year uh made it on the New

York Times list I ran over to him we're

paper in hand and I hugged him and we

cried we literally just cried together I

said can you believe this we never

thought in our life this would possible.

You never thought that people would hear

our stories through our food.

That's the power of food.

Every dish has a story. And if you

follow that story long enough and close

enough, you get to the people behind the

food. And once you're there, it's

actually not about food. It's about

people. Because you know what? Food is

this catalyst into cultivating great

relationships.

Food is the doorway to understanding, to

connect to each other. And if you really

want to know people, it has to start

with their food.

At the heart of it all,

I'm a child of strength, raised by

sacrifice, by resilience,

and taught a language that can be served

on a plate.

Food is the language my parents passed

down to me. It's one I speak every day.

It's a bridge. A bridge between

generations, between strangers, between

the past, between the future.

Success is not measured in awards, you

know, and and big headlines.

Success is measured in a legacy.

What you leave behind,

the echo that is heard for many

generations to come.

This next part, I have this great thing

to wrap up this whole thing, but I want

to tell you this story. I'm really led

to tell you this story.

couple years a few years ago, we were a

finalist for the James Beard and my my

sister called my mom and explained to

her what the James Beard is. My mom

called me that night. I was driving home

and she said, "You know, honey, today

your sister called me and told me about

this award that they gave you." And then

in this award uh that it's for the whole

United States and you were one of the

best in the United States. And my mom

said to me, she said, "Honey, I'm I I

want to tell you a story." She said,

"When we were in Veni, we were in the

refugee camp. It was so poor. It was so

hard. There were so many people dying

that every morning I wake up and I would

pray to God and as an act of mercy, I

would want him to let me die because I I

I couldn't bear to live anymore." And

she said, "One morning when I woke up,

there was a voice in my heart and it

said that voice said, I I you can't you

have to survive. You have to be strong

because you don't know it yet." Mom said

this voice said to me, "You don't know

it yet, but but your children is going

to change the world and and I need you

to to take this pain and be strong and

move forward."

She's like, she said to me, "Today, when

I heard this news, I knew that promise

was fulfilled."

She waited almost 50 years to see that

promise fulfilled. So when you come to

Veni and you you eat from our table that

comes from mom and dad's hands, you

partake in that story.

You're you're a part of that. When you

eat the pepper sauce that the the the

peppers that are grown on their farm,

you partake in that. That is the story.

So here's the deal. At the end of the

day, guys, like I said, I'm a cook,

right? It's like start fire, put me on

fire. Oh, so cool. You know, like that's

what I do. I love it.

But

you don't need to be a chef to speak

this language. You don't even need to be

a good cook to speak this language. Sit

at a table of someone new. Ask the

question, where does this food come

from?

Because I don't know, maybe in this

world we're living in right now,

the most important language

that we can use to speak to each other

is the language of food.

Thank you.

[Applause]

Key Vocabulary

Vocabulary	Meanings
refugee /ˈrɛfjuˌdʒi/ B1	noun - a person who has been forced to leave their country in order to escape war, persecution, or natural disaster
survive /sərˈvaɪv/ A2	verb - to continue to live or exist, especially after coming close to dying or being destroyed
communicate /kəˈmjuːnɪkeɪt/ A2	verb - to share or exchange information, thoughts, or feelings
bilingual /baɪˈlɪŋɡwəl/ B1	adjective - able to speak two languages fluently
identity /aɪˈdɛntɪti/ B1	noun - the characteristics or feelings that make a person or group unique
flavor /ˈfleɪvər/ A2	noun - the taste of something, especially when it is good
resilience /rɪˈzɪliəns/ B2	noun - the ability to recover quickly from difficulties
sacrifice /ˈsækərˌfaɪs/ B1	noun - the act of giving up something important for someone or something else
legacy /ˈlɛɡəsi/ B2	noun - something that is a part of your history or remains from someone's past
catalyst /ˈkætəlɪst/ C1	noun - a person or thing that causes a change or event
vernacular /vərˈnækjələr/ C1	noun - the language or dialect spoken by the ordinary people in a particular country or region
emulate /ˈɛmjʊleɪt/ B2	verb - to imitate someone and try to be like them
annunciate /əˈnʌnsiˌeɪt/ C1	verb - to speak clearly and precisely
preserving /prɪˈzɜːrvɪŋ/ B1	verb - to keep something in its original state or prevent it from decaying
rhythm /ˈrɪðəm/ A2	noun - a strong pattern of sounds, words, or musical notes
curious /ˈkjʊriəs/ A2	adjective - eager to know or learn something
mole /moʊl/ B1	noun - a traditional Mexican sauce made from chiles and other ingredients
tortillas /tɔːrˈtiːəz/ A2	noun - a thin flat bread made from corn or wheat, used in Mexican cooking
sticky /ˈstɪki/ A2	adjective - having an adhesive quality; tending to stick
echo /ˈɛkoʊ/ B1	noun - a sound heard after the original sound has stopped