There are no hard facts on how many restaurants go under in their first year of business. So says Ian Tostenson, president of the B.C. Restaurant Association in a telephone conversation with the Straight. "It's a murky area and hard to track." Some restaurants simply close their doors; others are sold, sometimes keeping the name and sometimes not, but the licence remains with the business. It's thought that in the U.S. about two-thirds of new restaurants don't make it past their first year. "In Canada, the survival rate is about 50 percent," Tostenson says.

Of those that succeed, many are family operations. Some of the best-known include North Vancouver's Tomahawk Restaurant. Three generations of Chamberlains—Chick, Chuck, and now Chas—have run the place since its 1926 opening. At Bishop's, owner John Bishop's daughter Gemma spends her summers making pastry and son David hosts.

At Papi's in Steveston, chef Ken Iaci, scion of the Iaci's Casa Capri clan, cooks with his 23-year-old daughter, and 13-year-old son Dominic helps on weekends. (Papi's expects to reopen in early summer after February's devastating fire.) Wife Yoko Hidekazu "works in the office" at Tojo's Sushi, while nephews Shiroki and Ryu Watanabe cook. The extended Huynh family keeps Phnom Penh humming, and there are countless small neighbourhood hole-in-the-wall cafés and noodle shops where everyone from kids to grandparents pitches in.

Many of these restaurateurs are from countries where generations traditionally live together. But how do they share a home and work together without going nuts?

"We're in this together," says Sara Barbosa. Together with her dad, Armando Barbosa, and chef-husband Jonel José, she owns and operates eight-year-old Casa Verde (3532 Commercial Street), a warm, inviting Portuguese restaurant tucked away on the East Side. "Business is business, and it's sometimes strenuous. We cry together and we succeed together. No one is left behind. We wouldn't have it any other way." Their shared house has two suites: one family lives upstairs, the other, down.

Cesar Ascencio of six-year-old The Mouse and The Bean Antojería Mexicana (207B West Hastings Street) echoes these sentiments. The family? Dad Arturo cooks and runs the kitchen, mom Luisa is the bean counter, sister Rossana does PR, recently married sis Annie is a "silent partner" and expecting her first child, and son Cesar does the purchasing and runs the day-to-day business. He's the smiling guy on the floor, welcoming diners, fielding questions about the traditional recipes—old family recipes "handed down from our grandparents"—like the sopa de tortilla and chicken mole. "We found few good Mexican restaurants in Vancouver so we were motivated to do one," says Cesar.

The ups and downs of working with family? "We get to see each other all the time but don't have time to talk and hardly interact except for restaurant things," he says. "We all live together in traditional Mexican style. Kids live at home until they get married."

Back at Casa Verde, Sara Barbosa explains the inner workings of the restaurant. The kitchen is Jonel's domain, the front hers and Armando's. Here the boundaries are blurred as nattily dressed Armando, the perfect host, oversees all but has no hesitation in "sending tasks and customers my way", says Sara, smiling. He's also a perfectionist, which has rubbed off on his six-year-old grandson, who ensures all the bottles in the fridge are precisely aligned, labels facing out. "And he makes sure my table settings are perfect," Sara adds.

Maria's Taverna (2324 West 4th Avenue) will be 20 years old in May and the English Bay branch (1037 Denman Street) will be three soon after, keeping Maria and Dimitrios Tadoglou and sons Arg, Greg, and Marcos hopping. Maria and Arg cook, Dimtrios runs the day-to-day operations and does the books, and Greg and Marcos wait tables. "Everyone works. We have no managers. We do it all," says Arg, who trained as a plumber after high school but opted to cook when Maria's opened. "I was too big to be a plumber." After finishing school, Greg and Marcos came aboard as waiters. Still strikingly beautiful and energetic, Maria, who is nearing traditional retirement age, cooks half days and oversees the kitchens. Except when it gets crazy busy—then everyone lends a hand wherever they're needed.

There are the usual arguments and stresses of overwork. "We sacrifice a lot for the family business," says Arg. Work can be all-consuming, and it has an impact on the men's social lives—and Arg's golf game. The rewards are great, too: the cohesiveness, camaraderie, and commitment of working with family toward shared goals, and a comfortable living.

Like the Ascencio and Barbosa/José clans, the Tadoglous "work, sleep, and eat together," says Arg. As for retirement? "What would we do? We're always here," says Maria. With the senior Ascensios and Armando Barbosa (this is his "retirement") going strong, they're all likely to still be working hard when the third generation steps up.