In an overflow room at the back of her restaurant, Diane Moua sits at a table beneath a huge golden frame, and sips an oat milk chai. Inside the frame, displayed dramatically against a black background, is her wedding dress: pleated crepe-like white fabric on one side and a rainbow of color on the other, a rolled up headscarf in the middle, and an elaborate neckpiece of metal chains set delicately on top like piped ropes of frosting on a cake.
Moua got married at 16, still a high schooler in Wisconsin. She was already raising young children as she finished up her studies and went to culinary school for pastry.
The dress holds more than memories of a marriage. (Moua divorced after 18 years.) It represents Hmong girlhood and womanhood, experiences that are baked into the intimate northeast Minneapolis restaurant as much as the butter in Moua’s award-winning pastries.
“This is a tribute back to the Hmong ladies,” said Moua, the owner and chef of Diane’s Place, one of the Minnesota Star Tribune’s 2024 Restaurants of the Year.
In some ways, both the dress and the restaurant are, for her, a coat of armor.
“Being first generation, we were built to be warriors,” she said on a recent morning, the cafe already buzzing with customers. “The fact that we had to learn how to be Americanized and then having to deal with our families — having to be a good daughter, waking up, cooking and cleaning. A lot of this food is what we’ve all learned to do in the kitchen. This restaurant is a tribute to all the females out there that worked so hard to make a stand for themselves.”
Moua’s work took her from home to restaurant and back home again, day after day. She spent two decades in pastry, but picked up savory shifts when she could to ensure she clocked enough hours to earn a living. For 12 years, she worked with Tim McKee, Minnesota’s first James Beard Award-winning chef, at Solera and La Belle Vie. She spent seven years with Gavin Kaysen at Spoon and Stable and Bellecour, and helped launch Bellecour Bakery (now Cooks | Bellecour). Even when she was off-duty, she was in the kitchen. “It’s like, ‘Where’s the rice, where’s the food?’” she recalled.
If it all sounds like too much, it was.