At Yummy House in Toronto’s East End, back to school means back to business | Canada Voices

Susan Duong was standing behind the counter, stacking containers of chicken fried rice, hot off the wok and ready to eat.

She looked out the window at Riverdale Collegiate – the large high school directly across the street from her little takeout restaurant – and checked her watch. 11:36 a.m. The lunch bell was about to ring. It was time to open the doors. Yummy House was once again open for business.

“This,” said Ms. Duong, “is when things get lively again.”

Every year, the beginning of September – the day after Labour Day – signals back to school. The end of summer. Across the country, this means little kids clinging to their parents on the first day at kindergarten. Bigger kids posing for back-to-school pictures. Even bigger kids crowding the sidewalks in their fresh-out-of-the box sneakers.

But that first day of school excitement isn’t unique to families with kids. Across the country, it also signals neighbourhoods shrugging off the sluggishness of summer – communities and businesses coming back to life. The return of crossing guards and after-school programs to neighbourhood community centres. Tweens at Starbucks. Teens at convenience stores.

At Yummy House in Toronto’s East End on Tuesday, the first customers of this brand-new school year arrived even before the school lunch bell had rung.

It was the first day of senior year for Jinaya Yip, 16, and Rae Domenico, 16. Their first time back at Yummy House since the school year before. They checked with Ms. Duong that their favourite menu items – the barbecue pork fried rice and bubble tea – were still on offer.

“Same menu, same price,” called out Ms. Duong’s partner, Tom Lum.

Did the girls come here often during the school year?

“All the time,” said Ms. Domenico.

“We like how friendly everyone is here,” said Ms. Yip.

The day brought with it first-day jitters for the two girls. They were worried, broadly, about the demands of Grade 12. Ms. Yip wants to become a dentist and Ms. Domenico a lawyer. So, they were anxious about exams, and, of course, applying for universities and colleges.

“Like, I don’t even know how to apply for university,” Ms. Domenico said.

But on this day, there were even more immediate concerns, too. Like what to wear.

“It took me two hours to figure this out,” said Ms. Yip of her decision. She was wearing a simple yellow tank top and jean shorts. Adidas sneakers on her feet.

“And it’s still really basic.”

It was in fact, seemingly the same choice every other female student had made that morning. Every other girl outside the school and on the sidewalk seemed to be dressed identically – either in a tank top with jean shorts, or a tank top with baggy sweatpants. Adidas or Birkenstocks on their feet.

There was another reason, Ms. Yip added, that the girls went to Yummy House almost every day – why so many of the school’s students line up out the door almost every day.

“It’s also, like, really cheap,” she said.

A sleeve of popcorn chicken here costs just $3.50. A box of barbecue pork fried rice $5. The “student special” – fried rice with a side of popcorn chicken – is a bursting container of food for just $7.50.

The pricing was a deliberate decision for Ms. Duong and Mr. Lum. They both grew up in this neighbourhood. Ms. Duong attended Riverdale Collegiate as a teenager. In the decades since opening the business in 2003, they’ve seen the area change.

The pandemic threw their business into turmoil. They planned to shut down. But after moving all of their equipment out of the building and listing their house for sale – after posting a sign in the restaurant window saying goodbye – the neighbours rallied around them. Customers (many of them students) flocked to the restaurant, asking them not to leave.

“It was very emotional,” said Mr. Lum.

“We’re so grateful because customers know us. Customers wanted to support us,” said Ms. Duong. So now, with the crisis averted, they take pride in feeding their neighbours homemade cooking, at affordable prices.

“Real food – not junk food,” said Ms. Duong. “And we try to give them all a fair price.”

All around the school that afternoon was more evidence of this ecosystem – of students and businesses relying on one another. Of businesses springing back to life after the summer, once again bursting with teenagers. There was the 241 pizza, a McDonald’s and Popeyes. A convenience store. A mall down the street.

Despite their anxieties around the future, Ms. Yip and Ms. Domenico said they were excited about the year ahead. As 12th graders, this was their chance, finally, to participate in senior traditions, like senior skip day, and prom.

Others were less thrilled.

Simone McKenzie, a 16-year-old, was making her way back to the school after lunch.

Was she excited to be back at school?

“No,” she said, without hesitation.

Not even to see her friends?

“No,” Ms. McKenzie repeated.

School meant the end of summer. And she’d spent the summer in Jamaica, dancing, and hanging out with friends.

By this point, the lunch hour was coming to an end. The last of the Yummy House customers – the last of the kids with their giant backpacks – had disappeared up the steps and back into the school. About 50 kids had come and gone in that one-hour window.

“Could’ve been a little busier,” said Ms. Duong. “But overall, not bad at all.”

The afternoon might see a few more orders, she said. A few teachers, hanging back to avoid waiting in line with their students, running in to pick up their phone orders. After-school groups dropping in for bubble tea.

Summers are rough here, she said. “We call it summertime surviving.” Having the kids back each September usually means an increase in business of about 20 to 30 per cent.

Beyond that, they were just happy to see the streets come back to life. To see the kids back again.

“We’ve been here for 20-something years, and never had a problem with the kids,” said Mr. Lum.

“They’re good kids,” said Ms. Duong. “Really good kids.”