The Somm Journal
Mijenta
Mijenta

PROFILES IN RESILIENCE: Jelena Pasic, Harlem Shake, New York, NY

This series highlights hospitality professionals who are responding to the industry crisis caused by the coronavirus pandemic in particularly creative, conscientious ways.

For obvious reasons, fast-casual establishments have adapted to the new normal much more readily than full-service restaurants. But that doesn’t mean they’re immune to the coronavirus—a fact Jelena Pasic, the owner of New York’s Harlem Shake, can attest to quite literally.

“I suspect I actually had COVID in March,” she says. “I had all the symptoms and I ended up in the ER, though I have yet to be given an antibody test.” It was not the ideal condition in which to face a state-mandated closure: “When the shutdown was announced, I had a fever of 101, 102. So things were hazy. Thankfully I have partners, because it was really hard to manage business.”

But manage she has, at least so far, with the resolve of one who’s come a long way to realize her dream. The native Croatian, who arrived in the U.S. in 2000, is a hospitality-industry veteran, but Harlem Shake is her first solo venture, and she considers it a bit of a love letter to its namesake neighborhood. “Coming from Europe, I have a sensitivity to preserving culture,” she says, so she couldn’t help but notice over the course of her several-year search for a location that “so many places were opening that were erasing the cultural aspect of the Harlem of old.” Pasic aimed rather to celebrate it while also adding something of real value: a classic burger shack.

Support from no less a figure than The Food Lab author J. Kenji López-Alt didn’t hurt. “He just lived a few blocks away, and he was excited at the prospect of helping build a neighborhood burger joint,” recalls Pasic of the day she contacted him to consult on her first menu. In May 2013, she opened the doors with a roster of burgers, fries, shakes, and more that, she says, benefits from the combination of “simple recipes, top ingredients, and the ultimate care in execution. There are no pretenses.” The same goes for the dining area, with its retro decor drawn from archival photos of the space as it stood in the mid-20th century, its Wall of Fame hung with autographed portraits of visiting black celebrities, and its bathroom displays of JET magazine covers. And the same also goes for the entire ethos by which Harlem Shake operates, be it a hiring policy that favors neighbors or an outreach program to support community nonprofits.

Admittedly, the currency of local goodwill only goes so far in an enclave that is also, in Pasic’s words, “heavily tourist-oriented; Harlem has a cachet for visitors from Europe and Asia.” Though her team sprang into action with the announcement of the shutdown—installing a Plexiglass partition at the counter, securing PPE for employees, enforcing distancing requirements—there wasn’t anything they could do about the discontinuation of sidewalk business, live-music nights, and other revenue streams. Nor could they avoid cutting their hours of operation or 15% of their staff. Sure enough, sales fell by 25-30%.

The happier news, however, is that delivery has been booming—enough to be able to rehire people and enlarge the zone of service. While admitting that such growth “creates a whole new set of issues to address,” it’s crucial to Pasic, who is not shy about her antipathy toward third-party vendors. “I have a huge reluctance to give away 30% of my profits to delivery platforms,” she says, adding that she’s involved in the New York City Hospitality Alliance’s efforts to regulate what most restaurateurs justifiably view as predatory behavior on the part of Grubhub and its ilk. “It’s important for consumers to be aware, for the sake of all my colleagues, that their choices really impact the businesses around them,” she asserts, adding that the cut of profits delivery companies take could make “the difference between life and death for smaller businesses.”

In the meantime, Pasic continues to “roll with the punches,” in her words, and to do it with gumption. That means throwing in a roll of toilet paper with every order over $25. It means branding items with stickers depicting the logo for the restaurant’s annual “Miss Harlem Shake” contest in a face mask alongside the slogan, “Do your part, stay smart.” It means offering a special on frosé: “Last year, I realized that Harlem is particularly keen on frosé,” explains Pasic. “I created this recipe with elderflower syrup that basically took over all our beer and wine sales; it’s been a hit since day one. We’re offering the special so people can take the edge off their long days in quarantine.” And finally, it means “tackling [projects] we hadn’t had a chance to do before,” such as redesigning their website. “We have not just been sitting and dwelling.”

On the contrary, says Pasic, the hope is that they’ll actually “come out of this more streamlined, more nimble, and more ready for [the] expansion” plans that were already in the works when the pandemic began. Expressing sorrow that “business will never be the same until there’s a vaccine” and that so many of her fellow restaurateurs “will probably not see tomorrow,” she’s nonetheless determined to see the light at the end of the tunnel. “It’s almost going to be like the end of the war,” she insists. “Usually when war ends, there’s a boom period. People will rejoice and maybe even appreciate their social lives more.”—Ruth Tobias