The Best Thai Signature, the subtle beauty of being known, and everything in-between

“Yes, it’ll be the yellow curry again…”

Have you ever gone somewhere so often that they know your order? Literally like, “What is it today? The yellow curry or the spicy soy beef?”

If I weren’t Black, my cheeks would be bright red.

Hold up — because I don’t even go there that much. Or maybe I do. Maybe I go just enough that my order has somehow become a sacred touchpoint between the excited Thai restaurant folks who have gotten my shekels again and me 😂.

Tonight in particular, I wonder why embarrassment (in my African accent) was the first feeling I felt. Maybe because it puts into perspective the many times my Wells Fargo card has found its home here. Or maybe I wonder if they think I’m a big back who never cooks for himself. Or maybe — just maybe — I’ve stuck around enough, visited enough, shown my teeth enough, to be known in this way.

I sit here on a Friday night at 6:42 p.m. as an older white woman sings that one song by Fleetwood Mac — “And I saw my reflection…” something about getting older, too.

I think back to stumbling upon this restaurant — the young, 23-year-old Garvin with no connected beard — finding connection (no pun intended) in the most random of places. I think about how everything and nothing has changed over the last six years. With my good ol' Wells Fargo credit card out again, I think about the seasons of life and the journey of letting folks in.

No man’s an Island

It’s a little comical because this little restaurant has really seen me over the last six years. And the many versions I’ve brought with me.

From first stumbling in as a vegan boy — hahaha, when I was doing veganism all wrong and right — to lover boy and heartbroken boy. That yellow curry holds more than the level 5 spice I ask for.

Laughing boy.
Deep-convos boy.

Bringing every guest from the past to new friendships with boy

Even when I get my haircut from Rod, I find myself with a book and a fresh cut in the corner of Best Thai Signature, all by myself.

I see my growth in the restaurant’s mirror — when “alone” used to have me tossing and turning, where abandonment lies, and rejection felt the heaviest when everyone seemed too busy to go with me.

In many ways, during my first solo apartment in Addison, I learned that sitting with myself is one heck of a gift.

And as I hear my auntie’s voice saying, “No man is an island,” I take in the realness that we all need community, mixed with the idea that we cannot be afraid of the sound of our own voice.

A different version of myself indeed, as I grew into this adult adulthood.

Lol, I know I’m not the only one who repeats words for emphasis — perhaps an ode to the Black community, where we repeat ourselves to show we really mean it. Like when we double “okay, okay” to compliment. Or when we say someone was singing singing to show talent that surpasses the ordinary.

I digress.

In some ways, community can even look like the Thai staff being excited to see me again (and again). Sneaking in a quick five minutes to ask, “How’s your life been?” Sometimes being too much in your business, asking what happened to so-and-so — ex: Jesu!

A reminder that some places must stay sacred… but somebody’s got to ask. Hahaha. Don’t we all need someone to ask?

The best Thai is a place where I meet up with the homies monthly for a check-in to lower the noise of life and recenter. A place where I celebrated year 26 and year 29, glancing around the table at all the people who still decided to do life with me.

Crossing the seven-year mark into a lifetime.

Cutting the red velvet cake from Nothing Bundt Cakes because they know that’s what I like.

The simple, tiny things.

To be known.

To be known

My brain does this thing where I absorb quotes like a sponge. I hyper-focus on certain lines. And as I type this, I think about my friend Goodness, who once said something along the lines of:

“What’s so wrong with being known?”

It had to have been years ago when she first said it, and I kid you not — it has stayed with me.

In short? Nothing. There’s nothing wrong with being known.

But to be known does require a release of control when you think deeper than just ordering yellow curry.

Being known looks like allowing others to see all facets of you — the good, the bad, and the ugly. Allowing your brokenness to be reflected back to you.

Having people in your life who say:

“Hey, you’re about to walk straight into a hole.”
“Hey, give me three put-ups because you’re talking crazy about yourself.”
“Hey, you might just be in your head about it all.”
“Oh, that’s a damn lie.”

Tell us to go anyway: 

I remember going through it. I remember in blog one when I said 2025 was No Bueno!— lol. ( Go back and read it!) 

When I was asked if I was celebrating my birthday last year, I answered, “What’s there to celebrate?” In a synopsis  in 2025 I took on a new role I felt I was tanking at, buried my last parent, estranged complicated Friendships, felt weird anxiety and fear of if "I don't make it, what was going to become of me?" Wondering who I needed to talk to about all this so I don't make my friends my therapist....👀 anywho,   “What’s there to celebrate?”

Well the homies knowing fully well, I usually love to bring the house down with a celebration. I was just having a year where I didn't feel like myself. Which is odd, because, like, I am extra. Dress-code-extra-extra. (See? Repeating words again.)

The response?

“Umm, Garv, you okay?”
“I’m coming down there.”

The troops gathered for your boy — with the red velvet cake — bringing the energy I didn’t have.

What started as “No, I don’t want nothing” (deadass stubborn, hardheaded guy) turned into probably three or four different celebrations.

Remember this.

The funny part? It was exactly what I needed to end last year.

To be known sometimes is like being reminded to eat your vegetables — because we already know it’s good for you.

Being known means closing the gaps when you don’t know how to take the next step.
Being known means going anyway — and if the abrasiveness was too much, asking for forgiveness. Stamping that, because we know each other’s hearts, it never came from malice.
Being known means going even when everything in you wants to stay in darkness.

Moses:

All this “known” talk makes me think of Moses.

Moses had a stuttering problem. And what I know, as someone who grew up with a speech impediment, is that the last thing we want to do is use our voices. Let alone lead a people out of bondage — hahaha, the chuckles come from connecting to when we have someone who knows us deeply, even our rebellion to going is met with "Nah, you're gonna do it anyway." Why, because it's good for you. 

I think of a God who knows us deeply — to the point of knowing every hair on our heads — who can decipher our huffs and puffs. Who reminded Moses that He would go with him, even when Moses had real rebuttals. 

To be known is to be seen for what one can be. A reminder that we are not alone in the things that are hard. 

Good ol’ Duality:

To be known is a dance of understanding and stretching.
Awareness and reflectiveness.
Grace and challenge.
Boldness and listening.

Striking that balance is never easy. Saying hard truths is never easy to begin with.

 Being in leadership these last couple of years, I’ve come to terms with the fact that courage sometimes requires letting go of the “how” and “when.” Not to say those things don’t matter — but they cannot cement your feet while you watch the people you love leap headfirst into danger.

It’s like when there’s a habanero floating in a pot, and your one friend mistakes it for a piece of meat. Shows up at your door, sweating, with red eyes, asking, “What did I eat?” And you respond with, “Oh yeah, I put peppers in there. Bone apple teeth.”

Lol. That was very specific. True story. Sorry, Mateo.

I say all this to say: part of being known is allowing the people who have taken the time to know you — a stubborn, hardheaded guy who loves red velvet Nothing Bundt Cakes on his birthday — to speak into your life.

And as you do the same for them — whether it’s as small as an order or as big as “you might be very depressed” — all of it is worth it.

It’s nice to be known: 

Like… It’s really nice to be known.

 At the Best Thai:

“So will it be the yellow curry?”

I’ll chuckle and say, “Yes, ma’am. Spice level 5.”

And here’s where the heart of this piece lies —

Being known requires surrendering control. 
And surrendering control is terrifying, difficult, but healing....