J’s Peapod in Lansing closes after passing of owner Jeff Lo
J’s Peapod closed both Lansing restaurants Jan. 1 after the sudden passing of owner Jeff Lo in December, his son said.
Lo, 61, died Dec. 15 after being diagnosed with pancreatic cancer in October, said his son, Justin Lo.
“It was a pretty surprising diagnosis,” Lo said. “J’s Peapod was a big part of his life. We’re very sad to see it go and see him gone.”
Lo grew up in Hong Kong and came to the U.S. in the mid-1970s with his parents, his son said. They lived in Chicago’s Chinatown neighborhood, and growing up Lo helped his parents in the restaurant they opened in Streamwood, Justin Lo said.
“I think that’s where he learned a lot of the fundamentals and appreciation for that environment of a restaurant,” Lo said.
J’s Peapod in Lansing was Lo’s “brain child,” his son said, and he opened the 171st Street location in 1992, the same year he welcomed his first child, a daughter, into the world. In the early 2000s, his father opened a second location on Burnham Avenue, Lo said.
Lo was the business owner and hired chefs to cook the meals, his son said. But, his father was an excellent cook and was known to help in the kitchen when needed. A lot of the recipes were Lo’s creations and ideas, Lo said, like the delicious orange chicken sauce that was sweet and tangy.
He’s not sure how his father came up with the name J’s Peapod for the restaurant, Lo said. The J stands for his name Jeff and nickname “Jackie Lo” in the Chinatown community, he said. If he had to guess, Lo said his father likely picked peapod because his favorite color was green.
“My dad had built the restaurant from the ground up. It inevitably was tied to him and his handwork, his dedication to the restaurant,” Lo said.
When the Lo family posted on social media that the business will close Jan. 1, many people commented to share their condolences.
Shannon O’Sullivan Weltlich, who grew up in Lansing, said she was a loyal customer of J’s Peapod since about 1993. Lo was a positive person who memorized the orders of his regular customers, she said.
“Mr. Lo always greeted me with kindness and a double handed handshake, and if it had been a while since he had seen me he would come around the counter for a hug,” she said. “The food was always amazing, but it’s the spirit and kindness of Mr. Lo that the community will truly miss.”
Lo said he and his family were surprised by the outpouring of not only community support but memories people had of eating the food his father created.
“I had known that my dad had been in the community for a while, but I also didn’t expect this many people reaching out to say they had been customers for 20 plus years,” Lo said.
Growing up, Lo said he and his father had a close relationship. They spent a lot of time together traveling around the country when the younger Lo played baseball.
One of his favorite memories, Lo said, was when he was about 16 and they were traveling back to Chicago from a baseball game either in Wisconsin or Iowa. His dad noticed they were passing a quiet lake and asked if his son knew how to skip rocks over water.
When he told his dad that he didn’t, they pulled over. They started looking for rocks, Lo said, and his dad gave him all the smoothest rocks he found.
After the younger Lo threw a few rocks, his dad stopped him and told him to watch as he threw a rock, Lo said, which went much further than the rocks his son threw.
Lo said that simple memory exemplifies all the qualities he loved about his dad.
“He was a constant presence. He was able to be in the moment and somebody to spend my time with and share a lot of life experiences with,” he said.
