If you have a good imagination or are a part of the generations edging towards geriatric, you can envision the way the Merle Hay Mall food court was meant to be enjoyed. No matter the entrance, the long line of shops and connecting corridors was designed to lead you in the general direction of the food hall.
Now, the walk to the food court from the main entrance is long and dull. And then the smell catches you, rising out of the dead air of the nearly empty mall: cinnamon, cloves, bone and fat reduced to something close to holy. Your feet know what to do before your brain does.
Behind the colorful counter of Vietnam Cafe is owner and chef Brenda Tran. She rushes around the stall, spinning eggs in a pan as she prepares to toss in day-old rice, setting up large metal tins of freshly made chicken and beef dishes, or whirling around the front, removing closed signs.
She’s happy to explain her menu. The beef pho (#1 on the menu), she informed me, is the best for cold weather.
“It helps with your health, and if you have a hangover,” she said. “I think that’s the reason why people really love my food — I don’t just sell my food for money … I care about my customer, and I take care of my customer.”
The customer isn’t always right when it comes to her menu, however. If someone asks for a sauce that doesn’t belong on a dish, she redirects them.
“This is my food,” she said. “I make it this way, and you’re gonna try it, and you’re gonna love it.”
Tran runs the cafe entirely on her own. Some days she has help from one employee or her children, but it’s mostly Tran alone. The work starts before the gates open and ends long after the last customer leaves.
For over 15 years, the cafe has served Vietnamese and Chinese staples to the Merle Hay patron. But as developers plan to close the food court, Tran now awaits an inevitable 60-day notice to vacate the premises — and an uncertain future.
Tran was born in Vietnam. Her father left in 1974 when communists took over South Vietnam, disappearing to the United States. He ended up in Des Moines in 1975. Many Vietnamese refugees found a home in Iowa during that time, following the fall of Saigon. Gov. Robert Ray was one of few to welcome the refugees to their state.
Meanwhile, Tran’s mother and four siblings hid from bombings in jackfruit trees. For years, Tran’s family was unsure if her father was alive. They waited, and survived.
“I used to buy a bowl of sugar and bring it home,” Tran recalled. “I put it in a pot and turned [it] into a candy bar. Then I would sit in front of the store so I can trade with other people.” She’d exchange her homemade candy for rice to help her family stave off hunger.
In 1979, a letter arrived in English.
“The priest had to translate it for us,” Tran said. “This is your daddy, and he’s alive. I say, ‘Oh my God.’ So he started doing paperwork.”
They joined him in Des Moines in 1986.
Tran walked into Hoover High School at 18, speaking no English. She graduated at 22. After graduation, Tran worked as an interpreter and served food to patients at Broadlawns Medical Center. She’d also sell egg rolls to her coworkers on the side.
“My dad [is a] really good cook,” Tran said. “All the things I do, I didn’t learn from school, I learn from my parents and my eye. I just look, and I take. If you invite me to a restaurant and I eat something I like, I taste it and I go home and make it exactly. That’s something I am really good at.”
After 18 years at Broadlawns, she decided to go all-in on her girlhood dream of opening a restaurant. In 2010, she cashed out every dollar of her IPERS retirement savings and opened Vietnam Cafe.
“I took all that out. I’m 57 years old, and the business is ending this way,” Tran says. “I have no retirement for my future.”
During the COVID-19 pandemic, Merle Hay Mall became a true ghost town. Tran kept her kitchen going when nobody else did, carrying food to customers who waited outside in their cars. She took an SBA loan to survive. She spent it all just to keep the doors open.
And then in January of this year, the notice: The food court would close as developers prepare for a planned $42 million project that will add a multi-use arena, volleyball facility, hotel and new retail and restaurant space to the 67-year-old mall.
Management has offered food court tenants the chance to relocate to new restaurant spaces facing Douglas Avenue, with storefronts and arena foot traffic. The problem is the build-out cost: $50 to $60 a square foot for a space that requires rerouted drains, new hoods and fresh electrical. For a business running day-to-day on razor-thin margins, that number is not a door, Tran says. It is a wall.
Unsurprisingly, none of the current food court tenants have taken up Merle Hay’s offer for renovation. No one has the money. One tenant, Tamale’s Industry, closed in late April to focus on serving customers at farmers markets. The other remaining tenants have decided to wait until plans for the redevelopment are finalized. Tran keeps showing up.
She has been working on a ready-to-eat pho kit with broth on the side: all the fixings in the bowl, just heat and pour. She’s also developing a seasoning line for fried rice she calls Seasoning by Brenda. And she wants to teach cooking classes. She’s planning an egg roll class for children this summer.
When the 60-day notice finally comes, and it will, Vietnam Cafe will need a new home. Tran has been looking in Urbandale, but is open to relocating most anywhere in the area she can afford. She’s launched a GoFundMe page with a goal of $150,000 to help fund her next chapter. As of publication time, it has raised $15,045 from 257 donations. Her customers told her: wherever you go, we follow.
“If I give up,” she said, “I feel like I’m betraying myself.”
Vietnam Cafe is open seven days a week: Sunday & Monday, 11 a.m.-5 p.m., and Tuesday-Saturday, 11 a.m.-7 p.m. It is still located in the Merle Hay Mall food court, until further notice.
