Supporting small businesses is always an adventure. Sometimes the food is unforgettable, sometimes the service could use a little work—but every now and then, you stumble upon a story so charming it stays with you forever.
That’s how Ava’s Kitchen came to life.
It all began when a customer decided to visit a newly opened Black-owned business. The name on the door: Ava’s Kitchen. Inside, balloons decorated the space, a little mismatched but joyful. When the guest asked about them, Ava—tiny, confident, and wearing her chef’s hat proudly—snapped back with honesty only a child could have: “Mind your business, those are Mommy’s.”
The customer laughed, already sensing this wasn’t going to be an ordinary dining experience.
Then came the wait.
Minutes stretched into nearly 45. Ava, the head chef, was occupied in her miniature play kitchen, clattering plastic pots and pans, pouring imaginary ingredients, and occasionally glancing up to make sure her only customer hadn’t left.
The food, of course, wasn’t real. But the experience was.
Halfway through service, Ava paused. With the decisiveness of a true boss, she announced she needed a break. Paw Patrol was on, and nothing—absolutely nothing—comes between a 4-year-old chef and her favorite cartoon.
So the customer waited another 20 minutes. And when Ava returned, she did so with the energy of someone who believed fully in her work.
The service could have been smoother. The menu could have been clearer. But none of that mattered. Because in that little kitchen, with its tiny sink and plastic oven, something magical was happening: a child was being celebrated, supported, and encouraged.
It was as if the dining table wasn’t just for pretend food, but for something bigger—dreams being served up with love.
By the end of the visit, the customer wasn’t frustrated at all. Instead, he was charmed. He promised to give Ava’s Kitchen another chance, not because the “meals” would ever fill his stomach, but because supporting her meant more than food. It meant recognizing imagination, family bonds, and community spirit.
And perhaps the most important takeaway? That sometimes, supporting Black-owned businesses—or any small venture—means being patient, forgiving imperfections, and remembering that behind every effort is a story worth honoring.
Ava may not yet know the meaning of customer service, but she knows how to bring joy. She may not yet understand consistency, but she understands pride. And maybe that’s enough.
Because one day, Ava’s Kitchen might not just be playtime. One day, it might be a real place, born out of these little moments of encouragement.
Until then, every plastic burger and pretend cup of tea is worth waiting for.