What I learned eating my way through Kansas City this summer
The day before my internship began at The Star, I dropped my dad off at the airport. We had just completed a road trip from my hometown in Virginia. As I pulled away from the drop-off area, I started to cry.
Don’t worry. This is pretty standard for me. Whenever I move somewhere new and my parents leave, I almost always cry. Not for long. Just enough to release the mix of sadness and uncertainty that comes with leaving home.
This summer was my first time moving to a new city without knowing anyone. I was excited. But I also felt apprehensive.
As I coasted down I-29 back with tears welling up in my eyes, I craved a sense of familiarity, which, for me, takes form in comfort foods.
I’m half Chinese, so these foods include dumplings, scallion pancakes and, my favorite, char siu bao, or barbecue pork buns — soft, sweet rolls stuffed with neon-red, tangy pork belly.
These buns were my childhood obsession. At dim sum (a Chinese meal with small, shared plates), my Yeh Yeh (grandpa) would order them before we even sat down to ensure they’d be waiting for us at the table.
I knew I could find char siu bao at an Asian grocery store. Forty minutes after I left the airport, I landed at Pan-Asia Supermarket in Overland Park. I walked through the sliding automatic doors and immediately spotted the bakery to my right. Nestled in the stacked shelves of goodies, I found the crown jewel: the char siu bao.
I grabbed a few other pantry staples — soy sauce, frozen pork dumplings and a sack of rice I could barely carry — and dashed to my car and unwrapped the bun. As I sunk my teeth into the fluffy dough and the sweet, garlicky barbecue sauce hit my tastebuds, I immediately felt at ease.
That’s what comfort foods are supposed to do: flood your mind with nostalgia and beckon you to take another bite to relive precious memories.
My Kansas City food tour begins
Seven weeks ago, I began my quest to eat my way through historic Kansas City restaurants, trying iconic comfort foods that have become local staples over the years.
At first, calling these items “comfort foods” felt like a stretch. Cheese-dust tacos and triple-layer pork tenderloin sandwiches felt foreign to me, devoid of personal family memories I normally associate with my comfort foods.
But my perspective shifted quickly.
At my first stop at The Peanut, I spoke with two regulars, Cindy Stingley and Jim McAndrew, who had been coming to the nearly century-old establishment for years. They gushed about the bar’s intimate feel and delightful grunginess, and Stingley joked McAndrew even dumpster dives in the parking lot. The buffalo wings, the dish I had come to try, never came up during our conversation.
The next week at In-A-Tub, I tagged along with my Star colleague Rachel Adamson and her mom Heather Henkemeyer, Northland natives who reminisced about high school nights spent eating tacos in the parking lot with friends. Their laughter revealed what made the space special: the memories and people attached to it.
As I continued to Kitty’s Cafe and PeachTree Cafeteria, I sampled family recipes that have been passed down for decades. I never met the creators, but each bite of pork tenderloin and peach cobbler felt like a friendly introduction.
Talking with second- and third-generation employees at these spots showed me the joys of dishes that haven’t changed and embody stability.
At Joe’s Kansas City Bar-B-Que, I stood in line for an hour with my fellow Star interns, Bella Waters and Ramal Nasim, in the blazing July heat. We chatted with customers in line about why they love Joe’s, united by the long wait. Our Z-Man sandwiches were fantastic, but the meal was more about camaraderie and collectively earning a badge of honor that says: “I ate real Kansas City barbecue.”
At Dixon’s Famous Chili Parlor, the over-100-year-old spot in Independence, I met the Burches — father Alan, mother Linda, son Alan Jr. and daughter-in-law Linda — who gather there regularly, competing for who can eat the most ground beef tacos. It reminded me of my meals I ate with my own extended family, wedged between my Yeh Yeh and Po Po (grandma), fumbling with chopsticks while downing peanut noodles and spring rolls.
My final stop was Town Topic, the classic KC diner where waitress Nancy Linan has worked for 14 years, greeting regulars by name and punching in their orders before they sit, just like my Yeh Yeh would do for me. I watched her joke with customers, her smile beaming brighter than her magenta-rimmed glasses.
A farewell to KC
I’ll always remember the quirky, hearty dishes I ate this summer. But what I’ll remember most fondly are the people I met and dined with and the stories I’ve heard. That’s why there’s no way to sum up Kansas City’s food scene in just a few meek adjectives.
Over the past seven weeks, these dishes — once unfamiliar — have become comfort foods to me because of the memories tied to them, ones belonging to me and others belonging to locals. If you had told me back in June, while I drove away from KCI crying, that Kansas City’s buffalo wings and meat-and-bean chili would make me feel at home, I wouldn’t have believed you.
Now, as I head back to school, I’m leaving with a deeper understanding of what defines a comfort food.
Every so often, I’ll crave a steaming cup of peach cobbler or tender brisket sandwich — not just for the taste, but to recall the interactions and conversations I’ve had with people in this city.
