A Seat at the Table
“A fast-moving memoir . . . Read on and relish”
—Ralph Naderabout the bookabout
A Seat at the Table is the story of the founding of Busboys and Poets, a Washington, D.C.–based restaurant that has become a celebrated hub for political activism. Named in honor of Langston Hughes, who worked as a busboy while writing poetry, the restaurant is the creation of Andy Shallal, an Iraqi American restaurateur, artist, and activist.
In this fast-paced, personal, and often humorous story, we follow Andy from his teenage years on, helping out in his family’s pizza business, changing his name, abandoning a career in medicine, working in some of the city’s best restaurants, and eventually opening a restaurant of his own.
A rave review by legendary Washington Post food critic Phyllis Richman puts the new place on the map. Long lines form outside. Andy witnesses the power of food to bring people together. He creates a meeting space and a bookshop upstairs. The idea of a restaurant as a social and political hub begins to take shape.
In these pages we encounter the galaxy of progressive authors and activists who have frequented Andy’s restaurants, everyone from Marion Barry and Jesse Jackson to Ralph Nader, Howard Zinn, Jerry Brown, Alice Walker, and Angela Davis.
Packed with misadventures, unexpected triumphs, and insights on race, business and politics, A Seat at the Table takes us on a “How I Built This” journey that ends with the opening of the first Busboys and Poets, now just one of eight D.C. locations bearing the same name. Along the way, we get to savor the delicious cuisine and unique ethos for which Busboys and Poets has become famous.
About The Author / Editor
Preview
OPENING NIGHT
The seed for Busboys and Poets had been planted in my head around the time of 9/11, back in 2001, it began to germinate at the beginning of the Iraq war early 2003. And now, in 2005, it was ready to sprout. It was the perfect moment for an opening of this sort of place. I couldn’t have planned it better had I tried. A convergence of every imaginable peace group was showing up at my doorstep. Word had gone out about this oddly named new place that was about to open its doors and welcome peace activists. The owner, an Iraqi no less, was an activist himself. If serendipity had a name, it would have been Busboys and Poets.
We opened our doors on September 7th 2005. A Tuesday, the day after Labor Day. I was as surprised as anyone at how quickly the place filled up. Word had evidently traveled fast and wide. I thought back to when I opened my first restaurant in DC, Skewers, and sat at the edge of the bar waiting a long time for the first guests to arrive, trying to remain upbeat. Those days were far behind me. Since then, I had learned about the value of connecting with the community months before opening. Showing up at every Advisory Neighborhood Commission (ANC) gathering, condo association meeting, joining listservs, meeting key community leaders, hiring the right people and sharing the vision with them.
The first night had to be cut short. We ran out of just about everything two hours before the planned closing time. I was exhausted, and so was everyone else. One bartender bending over with both her hands on her knees, panting and completely spent, shouted out, “What a shitshow!” Then she straightened up and high-fived everyone nearby adding, “but we did it!” Glasses were everywhere at the bar, dishes on every surface in the kitchen, staff running ragged with their tongues hanging out. For the next few hours everyone pitched in furiously to put the pieces back together.
I had anticipated a steady stream on the first day, but this was a tsunami, and here I was standing in the middle of its aftermath. With the reception we received the first night, I knew that the next day would be even bigger. We had no time to waste, I had to figure out how to make it less chaotic, and fast. Rearranging things for better workflow. Buying more dishes and silverware. Hiring more staff. I had to change the tires at pit stop speed.
“What do you think?” Pamela asked with a knowing smile holding a mop. She had signed up for an administrative job but, like everyone else, was lending a hand in the clean-up. “I had no idea. I knew it would be busy but not like this,”I replied.
“I think we have a hit on our hands,” she said.
in the media
Related Interest
Related Interest
A Seat at the Table
“A fast-moving memoir . . . Read on and relish”
—Ralph Naderabout the bookabout
A Seat at the Table is the story of the founding of Busboys and Poets, a Washington, D.C.–based restaurant that has become a celebrated hub for political activism. Named in honor of Langston Hughes, who worked as a busboy while writing poetry, the restaurant is the creation of Andy Shallal, an Iraqi American restaurateur, artist, and activist.
In this fast-paced, personal, and often humorous story, we follow Andy from his teenage years on, helping out in his family’s pizza business, changing his name, abandoning a career in medicine, working in some of the city’s best restaurants, and eventually opening a restaurant of his own.
A rave review by legendary Washington Post food critic Phyllis Richman puts the new place on the map. Long lines form outside. Andy witnesses the power of food to bring people together. He creates a meeting space and a bookshop upstairs. The idea of a restaurant as a social and political hub begins to take shape.
In these pages we encounter the galaxy of progressive authors and activists who have frequented Andy’s restaurants, everyone from Marion Barry and Jesse Jackson to Ralph Nader, Howard Zinn, Jerry Brown, Alice Walker, and Angela Davis.
Packed with misadventures, unexpected triumphs, and insights on race, business and politics, A Seat at the Table takes us on a “How I Built This” journey that ends with the opening of the first Busboys and Poets, now just one of eight D.C. locations bearing the same name. Along the way, we get to savor the delicious cuisine and unique ethos for which Busboys and Poets has become famous.
About The Author / Editor
Preview
OPENING NIGHT
The seed for Busboys and Poets had been planted in my head around the time of 9/11, back in 2001, it began to germinate at the beginning of the Iraq war early 2003. And now, in 2005, it was ready to sprout. It was the perfect moment for an opening of this sort of place. I couldn’t have planned it better had I tried. A convergence of every imaginable peace group was showing up at my doorstep. Word had gone out about this oddly named new place that was about to open its doors and welcome peace activists. The owner, an Iraqi no less, was an activist himself. If serendipity had a name, it would have been Busboys and Poets.
We opened our doors on September 7th 2005. A Tuesday, the day after Labor Day. I was as surprised as anyone at how quickly the place filled up. Word had evidently traveled fast and wide. I thought back to when I opened my first restaurant in DC, Skewers, and sat at the edge of the bar waiting a long time for the first guests to arrive, trying to remain upbeat. Those days were far behind me. Since then, I had learned about the value of connecting with the community months before opening. Showing up at every Advisory Neighborhood Commission (ANC) gathering, condo association meeting, joining listservs, meeting key community leaders, hiring the right people and sharing the vision with them.
The first night had to be cut short. We ran out of just about everything two hours before the planned closing time. I was exhausted, and so was everyone else. One bartender bending over with both her hands on her knees, panting and completely spent, shouted out, “What a shitshow!” Then she straightened up and high-fived everyone nearby adding, “but we did it!” Glasses were everywhere at the bar, dishes on every surface in the kitchen, staff running ragged with their tongues hanging out. For the next few hours everyone pitched in furiously to put the pieces back together.
I had anticipated a steady stream on the first day, but this was a tsunami, and here I was standing in the middle of its aftermath. With the reception we received the first night, I knew that the next day would be even bigger. We had no time to waste, I had to figure out how to make it less chaotic, and fast. Rearranging things for better workflow. Buying more dishes and silverware. Hiring more staff. I had to change the tires at pit stop speed.
“What do you think?” Pamela asked with a knowing smile holding a mop. She had signed up for an administrative job but, like everyone else, was lending a hand in the clean-up. “I had no idea. I knew it would be busy but not like this,”I replied.
“I think we have a hit on our hands,” she said.