I’ve been going to Lang Van, a small Vietnamese restaurant in Charlotte, NC since I was four years old. For as long as I can remember, it’s been more than just a place to eat—it’s been the backdrop for so many moments and milestones in my life. Over the years, my family has celebrated birthdays, family dinners, and other special occasions there. Lang Van is where we marked each year and occasion with bowls of pho, fresh spring rolls, and the comforting hum of conversation that filled the air.
Lang Van also played a special role in one of the most important moments of my life. It’s where I got to introduce my parents to my husband’s parents back when we were dating. When it came time to pick a place for that all-important meeting, there was no other spot that made sense. The familiar faces of the servers, the cozy corner booth we always sat in, and the comforting food felt like the perfect setting for two families coming together. I still remember the sense of ease that settled over me as the night went on, the laughter flowing as smoothly as the conversations.
But my connection to Lang Van goes even deeper, back to when I was just a kid. Around the age of six or seven, I developed this quirky little habit of asking my parents if strangers could join us for dinner. As a family of three, we’d often get seated at larger tables. Sometimes, if there was a wait, I would look at the group standing behind us and ask, “Can they sit with us?” It started as innocent curiosity, but my parents would usually say yes. Some people accepted the offer with smiles, while others, understandably confused by a small child inviting them to join dinner, would kindly decline.
I’ll never forget one particular evening when we were being led to our favorite cozy corner of the restaurant. There was a couple waiting behind us, and as usual, I asked my parents if we could invite them to sit with us. They gave me the go-ahead, and to my delight, the couple said yes. I don’t remember their names, but I remember the woman vividly. She spoke passionately about the ballet, art, and her travels. Her stories seemed to float through the air like the aromatic spices filling the restaurant, colorful and full of life. We laughed and shared our meal, connecting in a way that felt effortless. Before long, it was time to say goodbye, but the memory of that evening stayed with me.
Looking back, I realize that my love for hospitality, good food, and time around the table was already starting to bloom. Even as a child, I believed that a stranger was just a friend you hadn’t met yet, and with my parents keeping a watchful eye, I got to see firsthand how sharing a meal could connect people. Each story I heard was a thread in the tapestry of shared human experience —some similar to my own, others wildly different, yet all equally meaningful.
In adulthood, I often joke with my husband that making friends isn’t as easy as it was when I was a kid. There’s something about the simplicity of childhood that allows you to reach out without hesitation, a quality I sometimes wish I could recapture. But every now and then, I think about how maybe I should embrace that same openness again. After all, food halls, open-concept breweries, and restaurants are all spaces where people naturally gather. I picture us sitting there, playing Jenga or sipping on drinks, striking up conversations with the people next to us.
Now, my husband and I are usually just a party of two. But every time I see an open seat, I’m reminded of the possibility of inviting someone new to join us. Who knows? Maybe, like at Lang Van all those years ago, we’ll meet someone with stories as rich and vibrant as the meals we share.
Lang Van has been a constant through so many phases of my life—from childhood wonder to adult reflection. And even now, as we sit together at dinner, there’s always the chance that someone new will pull up a chair and join the conversation, adding another story to the table.
Hannah Watanabe is the founder of Host Stand. With almost two decades of hospitality experience ranging from food and beverage, private household staffing as a household manager and nanny, and over 10 years in the wedding industry in various positions (event planning, catering, and wedding photography) she has a love for bespoke events and hospitality with feeling. In 2023 Hannah started challenging herself to not save the good stuff – open the good wine, have the caviar, light the expensive candle … these luxuries are meant to be enjoyed, but often times we put too much pressure on saving them for the right moment. But she believes any moment that is set aside to connect and celebrate with the people we love is the good stuff!
About day-to-day life – Hannah’s husband is her best friend and co-host, they have two doggos to keep the house feeling lived in, and they call Belmont, NC home. She enjoys finding excuses to host events, cooking, filling her bungalow-style kitchen with antiques, and her favorite cocktail is a mezcal Old Fashioned.
You can find Hannah on Instagram, her website, and her blog (coming soon!).
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