Down the stairs of Detroit’s historic Harmonie Building, a familiar vibration rises—one that speaks of legacy, flavor, and resilience. Velvet drapes, curated cocktails, and the slow groove of a Saturday set the mood. But this isn’t just a trendy new dinner spot serving blueberry lamb chops and hand-rolled sushi. This is LaDonna Reynolds making another intentional mark on Black Detroit’s food culture. From Livernois to downtown, Reynolds is not chasing clout—she’s cultivating community, venue by venue, plate by plate.
The name Enomah 1895 carries weight. It honors Reynolds’ great-grandmother, a quiet matriarch whose influence flows through the artistry of each dish and the energy of the space. Nestled beneath the city’s aging yet iconic Harmonie Building in Paradise Valley, Enomah 1895 brings a bold, unapologetic fusion of Asian American and Caribbean-inspired soul cuisine to a neighborhood layered with Black entrepreneurial history. This isn’t a nostalgic nod. This is a revival—purposeful, precise, and personal.
LaDonna Reynolds doesn’t move without intention. Back in 2019, she opened Good Times on the Ave, a neighborhood favorite on the city’s historic Avenue of Fashion. That venture was seeded with support from Motor City Match, Detroit’s cornerstone grant program that connects local entrepreneurs with the resources needed to open or expand. Her concept quickly became more than a restaurant. It became a spot where Detroiters could celebrate birthdays, break bread after funerals, or wind down after work in an environment that felt like theirs.
Reynolds has now done it again. With Enomah 1895, she secured a second Motor City Match award—this time a $65,000 grant used to purchase the fixtures and furniture that shape the intimate, moody vibe of the Harmonie Building’s basement. This new spot becomes the 183rd Motor City Match-funded business to open a physical location in Detroit.
Her decision to expand into Paradise Valley carries deep significance. Once home to a bustling concentration of Black-owned businesses, hotels, nightclubs, and shops, Paradise Valley was gutted by mid-century urban renewal and freeway construction. What was lost wasn’t just geography—it was autonomy. It was rhythm. It was ownership. For a Black woman entrepreneur to return to this space with a restaurant rooted in legacy and innovation feels less like coincidence and more like alignment.
“Paradise Valley’s legacy as a center for Black business inspired my downtown expansion,” Reynolds said.
That reverence is felt the moment you enter the space. The menu at Enomah 1895 isn’t typical. The blueberry lamb chops pull together sweet and savory in ways that respect tradition while breaking expectation. The sushi—meticulously hand-rolled—is both a culinary risk and a cultural invitation. By weaving soul flavors with Asian technique, Reynolds isn’t catering to novelty. She’s broadening the narrative of what soul food can be, who it can be for, and how it can be served.
This food isn’t fusion for the sake of flair. It’s a living archive of flavor that connects diasporic traditions—Black Southern roots and Caribbean spice—with global textures. And the craft cocktails? They speak to more than just taste—they speak to care. Reynolds curates every detail, making sure the glassware, the music, and the lighting all work together to say: this is our space.
Weekend entertainment adds to that curation, bringing a mix of live performances, DJs, and gatherings that reflect the rhythm of the city. The venue isn’t large, but that’s intentional. It allows for warmth. It allows for real connection. In a city where so many spaces have been rebranded or repurposed for audiences unfamiliar with the culture, Enomah 1895 offers Detroiters a place that doesn’t require translation.
This is leadership in hospitality that isn’t seeking a spotlight but is impossible to ignore. Reynolds’ work stands on the shoulders of those who built Detroit’s restaurant scene when they weren’t allowed downtown—those who cooked from their homes, ran small kitchens, or operated banquet halls that doubled as neighborhood sanctuaries.
Now, Reynolds is one of the few who have not only returned to downtown but have done so on their own terms. Her impact can’t be measured solely in dishes served or drinks poured. It’s seen in the way people show up for her spaces. It’s felt in the way people talk about Good Times on the Ave—with warmth, with pride, with ownership.
Both venues are anchored in joy but grounded in strategy. That second Motor City Match award is not an accident. It reflects both a proof of concept and a trust in Reynolds’ vision. With a program that has faced its share of criticism regarding access and follow-through, Reynolds’ continued success underlines what it looks like when the program works—when a local Black woman entrepreneur receives tangible support, reinvests it into culture-forward business, and delivers.
Enomah 1895 expands that success from the Avenue of Fashion to Paradise Valley—two areas with long histories of Black culture, commerce, and complexity. That kind of movement matters. It says something about legacy. It says something about mobility. It says something about reclaiming geography—not through gentrification, but through cultural return.
Too often, Black Detroiters are left reacting to what happens around them. LaDonna Reynolds is deciding what happens next. She isn’t waiting for an invitation to create beauty or memory. She’s doing it daily, downstairs at the Harmonie Building, with a plate of lamb chops, a chilled glass, and a playlist that understands your Friday mood before you even sit down.
Her restaurants reflect more than just a dining experience—they reflect a community blueprint. They become cultural markers of where Black Detroit gathers, where it heals, and where it gets free. They show what can happen when vision meets backing, when history is respected, and when flavor is paired with fierce intention.
Reynolds’ journey across neighborhoods, through kitchens and grants and historic buildings, isn’t only a business story. It’s a mirror of Detroit’s own journey—how the city builds, loses, and builds again. How culture doesn’t vanish—it relocates. How legacy isn’t something we visit—it’s something we create.
Motor City Match may have helped with the fixtures and tables, but it’s Reynolds who brings the purpose. Whether on Livernois or now off East Grand River, she’s curating more than menus. She’s curating space for belonging. Space for return. Space for us.
What Reynolds is building at Enomah 1895 is not a side project or an experiment. It’s a chapter in Detroit’s evolving food economy led by a Black woman who understands not just what people want to eat—but what they need to feel.
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