COMMUNITY PROFILE A COLORFUL PLATTER OF TRADITIONAL HAITIAN FOOD FROM 509 CUISINE, INCLUDING DIRI DJONDJON, BANANN FRI, AND GRIOT, SERVED IN THE WELCOMING ENVIRONMENT OF MANGO HOUSE. 509 CUISINE: A TASTE OF HAITI AT MANGO HOUSE STORY AND PHOTOS BY YVENS ALEX SAINTIL THE BATTLING SCENTS of simmering epis and curry waft through the corridors of Mango House in Aurora, Colo. Mango House is a shared space for refugees, asylees, and the undocumented, but a welcoming place for all. In an era of displacement and forced migration, Mango House doesn’t just provide support — it cultivates belonging. I step into Mango House and walk past dental clinics, refugee aid offices, and medical exam rooms. As I make my way to the International Food Hall inside Mango House, I remember my first visit pre-COVID before 509 Cuisine brought their taste of Haiti to Mango House. Through language access, job creation, healthcare, and shared meals, Mango House has become more than a center. It represents what it means to welcome someone truly. The building itself answers that question in layers. Among these resources are culinary spaces intentionally carved out for immigrants and refugees to share their food, cultures, and stories. Inside the small, vibrant kitchen, chef Chantale Celeste, peels sweet potatoes while pots of diri djondjon, poule fri, and griot steam on the stove. For many, this Haitian restaurant is a place to eat. But for those who know, it’s something deeper, a taste of home in a place built for people, who are starting over. At 509 Cuisine, food is not just nourishment; it’s resistance, remembrance, and compassion, served hot and seasoned. “ FOR MANY, THIS HAITIAN RESTAURANT IS A PLACE TO EAT. BUT FOR THOSE WHO KNOW, IT’S SOMETHING DEEPER...” Flanked by Sudanese, Syrian, and North African Cuisines, 509 cuisine is surrounded by flavor, culture, and play. Contrasting my first visit to 509 Cuisine, there were no kids running through the hallways screaming in different languages. The playground was empty. On this warm Colorado Wednesday afternoon, I found myself staring at a platter of traditional Haitian food. Too much to eat in one sitting. Diri djon djon, banann fri, griot, and pikliz, all on one plate. A side of Haitian macaroni and salad rounded things out with a chilled bottle of passion fruit juice, or as we Haitians call it, “jus grenadia.” When you eat at 509 Cuisine at Mango House, you’re not just eating food that a vendor serves; you are experiencing a tribute to Haitian culture, memory, and resilience. Joanne Valcine, head chef and co-owner of 509 Cuisine, began her culinary journey at just five years old. After losing her mother when Valcine was nine, cooking became a means of survival — and healing. “Ever since then, cooking has felt therapeutic for me,” she said. “It was also a way for me to survive. I wasn’t working when I lived in Florida, so I cooked to make money and to share a part of Haiti with people.” What began as a personal refuge quickly turned into a public calling. “People would say, ‘You should sell this.’ That’s how it started, ” Valcine said. Valcine’s cousin, Fendia Laurent, a nurse by profession and also a co-owner of 509 Cuisine, recalled how the vision for the restaurant took shape “Cooking isn’t my passion, but I saw how it lights her up,” Laurent said referencing her cousin. “She’ll get up at 6 a.m. and cook until midnight without complaining. Watching her made me realize: why not build something around this love?” When an opportunity at Mango House opened up, they knew it was the right moment. Securing the location wasn’t easy. “There was a year-and-a-half waitlist,” said Valcine. “But when the call came, we dropped everything.” What drew them in wasn’t just the kitchen; it was the community. “The place felt safe, welcoming, and multicultural,” said 6 DENVER VOICE July 2025
7 Publizr Home