New East Austin Restaurant Seen As Embodying Gentrification

EAST AUSTIN, TEXAS — What's in a name? Quite a bit, as it turns out, especially if it's for a new restaurant employing the Spanish term "bodega" in historically Hispanic East Austin where residents are filled with anxiety about the brisk pace of gentrification.

Larry McGuire and Liz Lambert — each behind some of the cities ritziest (read pricey) eateries and hotels, respectively, opened "Lou's Bodega" in East Austin this week to much media fanfare. Heavy press coverage on the new eatery was something of a foregone conclusion given the heft of its backing and cooperation between McGuire Moorman Hospitality and Bunkhouse Group headed up by the veritable king and queen of Austin hospitality in the restaurant and hotel industries.

The glare of focus on the new eatery is still there, long after the camera stopped rolling. But it's not a welcome spotlight. Those lamenting the ever-changing face of East Austin — once a Latino working class enclave taken over by a wave of gentrification — have taken umbrage at what's being viewed as cultural appropriation, and another example of wealthy developers commercially exploiting a now-trendy part of the city unrecognizable from its original iteration as a tight-knit family community steeped in culture.

Even the chosen name of the eatery has been the focus of ire given its use of the term "bodega," the term for a small grocery store or wine shop usually found in a Spanish-speaking neighborhood.

To be sure, the cultural faux pas was lost on some of the media outlets more focused on the backing of the enterprise. A report from Do512, for instance, took on more the form of fawning paean than objective report — with nary a mention of the cultural slight many East Austin denizens felt. For good measure, the report refers to the sector as "the east side" rather than the preferred "East Austin" geography point that evokes cultural pride among its longtime inhabitants.

"Did someone say #RotisserieChicken?" Do512 asked rhetorically as part of its review in an early hint of praise. "We tried the new Lou’s Bodega on the east side today and it was TOO GOOD. Sandwiches, salads, frozen custard, @joscoffee, beer and wine also available. They open to the public TUESDAY."

The capitalization for emphasis is theirs. Tyndall Austin was similarly fawning: "It's time to update your East Austin bucket list! Lou's, a new McGuire Moorman Hospitality and Bunkhouse Group bodega is making waves in the Austin foodie community."

Others were dismissive of a perceived cultural slight, categorizing the naming tactic as mere branding: "This is just a cafe using a phrase and/or decorations to sell their overpriced fare," Betybobety wrote on Twitter. "Hell, everyone does that. I can't get mad at anyone using the word."

But for longtime residents of East Austin (or others sharing lamentation over its ever-changing face), the new eatery was seen as part of the sum of its new and not-always-welcome parts, and the latest symptom of what's often viewed as a more corrosive aspect of gentrification.

Those objecting to the eatery's presence — less for the gentrification-fueled inevitability of its opening than for what's being seen as cultural appropriation to the point of pandering — have taken to social media to air their umbrage.

"Yikes Austin," wrote Jo Lammert on Twitter. "Lou's Bodega (that took over Leal's Tire Shop) is problematic in a myriad of ways, and a perfect example of what happens when privileged rich white people surround themselves with yes people/decide to appropriate things [because] they look cool."

"Keep Austin tone deaf," wrote Fidel Martinez succinctly, employing a twist on the unofficial municipal motto "Keep Austin Weird" once evoking celebration of civic uniqueness and individuality now increasingly suffused with inadvertent irony.

Mónica Teresa Ortiz was a bit more strident in her criticism on Twitter: "Also wtf Lou's Bodega? she wrote. "Like Cortez meets the Aztecs, Part II. Boycott that s**t. Austin, you're the worst.

"Stop gentrifying East Austin y’all!" came another's plaintive cry. "What in the hell."

Others delved deeper, noting the use of tires as aesthetic elements that recall the building's former incarnation as Leal's Tire Shop. Neighborhood activists Defend Our Hoodz weren't amused nor did the architectural flourish ingratiate them to the new eatery:

The outrage comes against an expanding backdrop of displacement of East Austin residents, many forced out of their homes given an inability to keep up with soaring property rates amid bolstered development. As developers descend on East Austin to commercially exploits the now-trendy sector, its longtime residents see a lack of deference paid — in the form of painted-over murals resonant to the community, a lack of input with residents over new construction or, in it worst manifestation, the wanton razing of neighborhood fixtures.

The latter was most dramatically seen in the unannounced demolition of the Jumpolin piñata and party supplies store by unsavory developers that garnered international headlines a few years back. In a rare happy ending for a victim of gentrification, Jumpolin has since reopened at 2605 E. Cesar Chavez — less than mile from the original location at 1401 E. Cesar Chavez that was destroyed — after an empathetic Latina property owner offered up one of her buildings as new locale.

In early 2015, the University of Tor­on­to's Martin Prosperity Institute named the Aus­tin/Round Rock area as the most economically segregated large metro area in the U.S. — a gap more pronounced in spots like East Austin. Worse, an earlier study by the the University of Texas at Austin's Institute for Urban Policy Research and Analysis showed a 5.4% decline in the city's African-American population between 2000 and 2010 — a trend partially blamed on gentrification. Austin earned the distinction of being the only fast-growing city in America losing African-Americans.

That trend is even more insidious when one considers the ugliness of the so-called 1928 Master Plan adopted by Austin government officials to create a "negro district" in the same area now losing its black residents through market forces. Last March marked the 90th anniversary of the master plan acknowledged by city officials today as "a shameful event in Austin's history" with a negative legacy the continue to be felt.

And yet, the gentrification wave is too powerful to curb at this point, too overwhelming a force given it propulsion by market forces. Given the new demographic lured to newly built luxury housing in East Austin, Lou's Bodega will likely be a hit — unburdened by residents' protests and unencumbered by neighborhood history.

In the end, it's the unheralded victories amid the spasmodic environment that yield offerings more deeply rooted to culturally authentic landscape. Rebecca Gorena likely lacks the promotional budget of either McGuire Moorman Hospitality or Bunkhouse Group that enabled the heavy press coverage for their collaborative effort, but she took a stab at marketing nonetheless via Twitter: "Feeling down about Lou's Bodega?" she wrote. "SAME! Here's a new Austin restaurant to try instead."

She alerted to Sassy’s Vegetarian Soul Food offering its wares via food truck owned by Andrea Dawson. In painting its word picture, the website soulciti describes how the "....scent of Grandma's classic soul food recipes wafts through the air..." as it emanates from Dawson's food truck, yielding what it described as the "...savory juices of well-seasoned greens, the aroma of succulent fried cabbage and the small of sweet and crispy 'Chicon N Waffles.' "

While Sassy’s Vegetarian Soul Food is the newest entrant to the field of black-owned food trucks in Austin, Dawson "...hopes her delicious recipes will become a go-to for vegetarians and classic soul food lovers alike," soulciti wrote. The mobile eatery is located at 12 and Chicon streets.

TK Tunchez took a similar approach, posting a long list of eateries with deeper community roots in offering authentic cuisine. The Twitter user urged followers to patronize those restaurants over the offending Lou's Bodega.

In the end, it might be those mom-and-pop shops that ensure generational legacy amid rapid change. It might be those modest enterprises — opening up without fanfare yet with a quiet dignity amid the cacophony of discontent — that save the day in the end.

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