More Than Food — A Story of Family, Love & Haiti.
For me, food has never simply been about eating. It has always been about family, community, love, and taking care of the people around you.
Growing up in Haiti, my family didn’t always have much, but my parents worked incredibly hard to give my brothers and me the best life they could. Some of my earliest memories are of watching my parents and relatives cook. The kitchen was a gathering place, a space where we talked, laughed, learned, and spent time together.
I still remember the first meal I ever made completely on my own: "diri blan ak kalalou", white rice with fried okra. I made it one Sunday morning before church, and I completely burned it. It was terrible. But my family sat around the table and ate every last bite.
Looking back, I realize that little moment meant much more than I understood at the time. They were encouraging me to keep trying, keep learning, and unknowingly, keep pursuing something that would eventually become a huge part of my life.
A Promise That Changed Our Family
One of the most important memories behind Ti Talè came during a particularly difficult time for my family.
There was a day when we had very little food left in our home. My brother and I told our parents how hungry we were. My mother gathered what little clothing, shoes, and belongings she had and went out to sell them. She walked through the streets and into the mountains, in the rain, looking for anyone willing to buy something so she could bring food home to her children.
And she did.
That day, my mother made a promise: her family, and the people she loved, would never go hungry again if she could do something about it.
She worked incredibly hard, eventually opening a restaurant and changing the circumstances of our family. But she didn’t do it alone.
While my mother poured so much of herself into the restaurant and her passion for feeding others, my father became the steady backbone behind so much of our family life. He made sure we got to school and back home, took us to activities, helped us with homework, and handled countless everyday responsibilities that can so easily go unnoticed.
Some of my memories of him are simple ones; Sitting beside us as we worked through homework, teaching me how to ride a bicycle, and simply being there. They may have seemed like small things at the time, but looking back, I understand how important they were. While my mother worked to fulfill her promise through food, my father helped create the stability at home that allowed our entire family to move forward.
My parents were a team. They just cared for us in different ways.
And once our circumstances began to improve, they didn’t keep what they had built to themselves.
Our home became a place where people could eat.
Friends came. People from church came. Sometimes people we barely knew came. If someone was getting married and couldn’t afford to feed everyone, my family would help cook. Often, it was done for little or nothing in return.
Food became our family’s way of saying, “There is a place for you here.”
A Family That Stood Together
Although my parents were at the center of this chapter of our lives, they were never standing alone.
My other grandparents were an important part of our story too. Even as they grew older, whenever they had the strength, they would come to the restaurant and lend a hand wherever they could. Their support wasn’t always loud or complicated; it was simply constant.
They showed up.
And they weren’t the only ones.
My aunts, uncles, cousins, extended family, and even members of our community all became part of what my parents were building. Some helped at the restaurant, some offered their time, and others simply supported and encouraged us along the way. Everyone contributed in their own way.
Looking back, I realize that this was never really the story of one person. It began with a promise my mother made, was strengthened by the steady presence of my father, and was carried forward by grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, friends, and a community that continually showed up for one another.
That is one of the lessons I carry with me today: something beautiful can begin with one person’s dream, but it often takes a community to help that dream grow.
Summers With Grandma
Some of my happiest childhood memories happened away from the city, in the mountains of Haiti at my grandmother’s home.
Every summer, my brothers, cousins, and I would gather there. It felt like one big family reunion that lasted all summer long. We played, sang, danced, created little shows and skits, and performed them for our grandmother.
And we cooked.
On many of those special evenings, Grandma let us take over dinner. We weren’t preparing elaborate meals. What mattered was being together, the laughter, the mistakes, the smells coming from the kitchen, and the feeling of being surrounded by family.
Those summers helped create my love for cooking.
Years later, my grandmother passed away while I was away from home, and I wasn’t able to attend her funeral. I carried a lot of regret over the time I had missed with her and the memories we never had the opportunity to make.
But as I’ve gotten older, I’ve also realized that I carry something else with me: everything she gave us.
Those summers.
Those meals.
Those memories.
And that is where Ti Talè comes from.
Why Ti Talè?
Ti Talè was my grandmother’s nickname.
When I decided to turn my love of cooking into something bigger, naming the business after her felt natural. Ti Talè is my way of keeping her memory alive and honoring the woman whose home helped shape so many of the memories that made me love food in the first place.
As life went on, I moved around, went to college, and eventually found myself in Boise, Idaho. A place that slowly grew on me and that I now proudly call home.
Over the years, I kept cooking. I cooked for friends, hosted gatherings and Friendsgiving, and introduced people to Haitian food. Somewhere along the way, I realized how much I loved not only cooking, but hosting, watching people gather around a table, sharing something from my culture with them, and seeing them experience Haitian food for the first time.
Eventually, an opportunity at work allowed me to earn some extra money. Instead of simply spending it, I decided I wanted to invest it in something meaningful.
That little decision became the beginning of Ti Talè.
Sharing the Haiti I Know
Boise has introduced me to so many wonderful people who are curious about the world, willing to try something unfamiliar, and excited to experience other cultures.
And that made me realize that perhaps I had an opportunity to share mine.
Haiti is often introduced to the world through its struggles. Those struggles are real, but they are not the entirety of our story.
Haiti is also beautiful.
It is colorful, joyful, creative, resilient, and filled with people who know how to turn a meal into a celebration and a stranger into family. I remember a Haiti filled with beautiful places, incredible food, laughter, community, music, and people who continued moving forward even when life was difficult.
That is the Haiti I know.
And that is the Haiti I want to share.
Through Ti Talè, I have an opportunity to introduce people to Haitian culture in one of the ways I know best: through food.
Every catering event, every gathering, every conversation, and every person trying Haitian food for the first time becomes an opportunity to tell another part of our story.
The Family I Found in Boise
Starting a business was never something I imagined myself doing. I’ve never considered myself someone with a natural “business owner” mindset. For a long time, I was perfectly happy with the idea of working a regular job, coming home, and living a simple life.
So when the idea for Ti Talè began turning into something real, I had a lot to learn, and I certainly didn’t do it alone.
My family continued encouraging me from afar, and here in Boise, I was incredibly fortunate to have friends who believed in this idea, sometimes even when I wasn’t completely sure what I was doing yet.
Two of those people, Jordan and Seth, have been there through so much of the process. Whether it was helping me think through a logo, talking through business decisions, throwing out ideas, listening when I needed to work through a problem, or simply giving me a place to talk about the excitement and frustrations that come with building something from the ground up, they showed up.
And so did so many of my other friends here in Boise.
Living far away from much of my family, the friendships I’ve built here have become another kind of family to me. Their encouragement helped take Ti Talè from an idea in my head to something I truly believed I could build.
Welcome to Our Table
When I look at Ti Talè today, I see pieces of so many people in it.
I see my grandmother’s memory.
I see my mother’s promise.
I see my father’s quiet and constant presence.
I see my grandparents showing up to lend a hand, my aunts, uncles and cousins supporting our family, and a community willing to help one another.
And now I see the friends who stood beside me when it became my turn to build something of my own.
Ti Talè may carry my grandmother’s name, but its story belongs to a much bigger family.
Every plate I prepare carries a little piece of that story—from the family kitchen where I burned my first meal, to my mother walking through the rain determined to feed her children, to those unforgettable summers cooking at Grandma’s house, and now to the community here in Boise that has welcomed me and this dream.
Today, when I cater an event, serve someone Haitian food for the first time, or watch people gather around one of my meals, I’m reminded of where all of this started.
For me, Ti Talè will always be more than a food business.
It’s family. It’s memory. It’s community. It’s Haiti.
And now, I get to share a little piece of it with you.
Byenvini sou tab nou. Welcome to our table.