After Disaster Report: Accept, Grieve and Rebuild
After Disaster Report: Accept, Grieve and Rebuild
I’ve lived in Lexington long enough to have a heart full of special memories of Uptown. Memories of taking my kids to BooBash,watching the lights being hung for the Christmas season, walking up and down the sidewalks admiring the history in front of me. But nothing prepared me for the sight that greeted us in the early morning hours of May 19, when flames tore through Shoto Japanese Steakhouse & Seafood — a place that, for many of us, felt like an extension of home. Fire crews arrived around 1:12 a.m. to find the building engulfed from the first floor to the roof, flames already pushing into the neighboring Candy Factory. Both buildings ultimately suffered roof collapses and were declared total losses.
My heart broke that morning, watching smoke rise into the dark sky. Shoto wasn’t just a restaurant — it was a gathering place, a landmark, and for those of us who know the Huynh family personally, a testament to their decades of hard work and generosity. Fire Chief Michael Tofano later confirmed what we already feared: the roof had collapsed before firefighters even arrived, leaving little hope that anything inside could be saved.
What struck me most wasn’t just the destruction, but the silence… the kind that falls over a crowd when people are grieving something shared. The Candy Factory, another beloved uptown staple, was also lost to the blaze. Families who had made a ritual of stopping in for one of a kind treats stood shoulder to shoulder, staring at the collapsed rooflines and charred beams. One resident described it perfectly: “It’s collapsing upon all the foundations of great memories and great experiences.”
For those of us who know Jimmy and Daniel Huynh, the loss felt deeply personal. They are the kind of people who remember your order, ask about your family, and make you feel like you belong. That spirit carries through everything they do, from the way they run the restaurant to the way they support other small businesses. The Farmers Market even shared how the Huynh family are weekly regulars, always showing up for others in the community.
Thankfully, no one was inside the building when the fire broke out, and no injuries were reported among civilians or firefighters. Fire departments from across Davidson County responded, along with EMS, emergency management, and Lexington Police, who handled road closures and aerial monitoring throughout the night. Their quick action prevented the fire from spreading further, though nearby businesses like Main Street Pizza & Deli and Bagels and More suffered smoke and water damage.
By sunrise, the Huynh family had released a statement that captured the heartbreak we all felt: heavy hearts, deep gratitude for first responders, and a request to keep everyone affected in our thoughts.
As the day went on, people gathered along Main Street, some leaving flowers, others simply standing in quiet disbelief. One man told reporters he had gotten married inside Shoto, right there in the bar Jimmy decorated for the occasion. “I won’t ever be able to show that to my daughter,” he said, and I felt that in my chest. So many milestones happened within those walls, from birthdays, anniversaries, first dates, reunions. Losing Shoto feels like losing a chapter of Lexington’s story.
But if there’s one thing I know about this town, it’s that Lexington shows up. Already, local groups are organizing support, including donation efforts through the Farmers Market to help Shoto and The Candy Factory rebuild.
The fire may have taken the buildings, but it didn’t take the spirit that built them. The Huynh family has weathered storms before, from their journey to the U.S. to the decades they spent building Shoto into a place where everyone felt welcome. And as someone who has called them friends for years, I know they’ll rise from this too.
For now, though, we grieve. We remember. And we hold onto the hope that one day, when the smoke clears and the rebuilding begins, Shoto will once again be a place where Lexington gathers — not just to eat, but to feel at home.
