Around guests at the Kansas City distillery and cocktail bar he co-founded with his wife, Jeff Evans was an entertainer. He believed in Mean Mule Distilling Company so much that he once stood on the street corner during a slow First Friday evening hawking the bar’s margaritas to passersby, remembered his wife, Meg Evans.
Behind the scenes, he was a go-getter who wouldn’t shy away from a problem. Like when the bar’s plumbing clogged, and the crawl space in the basement overflowed.
“He put on a suit and these boots and goes down there to figure it out and fix it,” said Meg. “No one else was going to do that, you know what I mean? We were going to call someone, and he was like, ‘No, I can figure it out.’”
So it makes sense why Jeff’s death in July still looms over Mean Mule and its staff, especially as the Crossroads distillery approaches a busy holiday season — and Jeff’s birthday.
And Mean Mule isn’t alone. This year, several Kansas City restaurants and bars faced the unexpected, heartbreaking loss of owners or staff. Given the close-knit atmosphere of many local businesses in the service industry, the deaths have often felt like losing a close friend.
In 2025, that list included some of the metro’s most popular spots. Apart from Jeff Evans at Mean Mule, a beloved couple who worked at Swordfish Tom’s, Simone Mele and Justin Burnell, died in February. Vic Allred, founder of Jazz - A Louisiana Kitchen, on 39th Street, died in April. In August, Farid Azzeh, who helped introduce Middle Eastern food to Kansas City and started Jerusalem Cafe, died. There were undoubtedly others.
KCUR spoke with some of their coworkers and friends to remember their energy and commitment to the Kansas City hospitality scene, and to memorialize what was lost when they died.
Simone Mele and Justin Burnell ‘connected so many people’
Simone Mele and Justin Burnell never did anything without a reason, and remnants of their creativity and intentional eye are everywhere at Swordfish Tom’s, on 19th Terrace in the Crossroads.
Take, for example, the way some bartenders there shake cocktails — with an arm swinging around like crazy — copying Burnell’s effectively unrestrained method.
Or the detailed recipe for milk punch, a specialty of Mele’s. Bartender Beks Leninger still remembers when Mele revealed it.
“I was writing down notes and really locked in, hoping to do it well,” while Mele was out of town, Leninger said.
“When she came back, she was like: ‘The punch is good.’ So I was glad to have been passed that skill and technique,” Leninger said, “so that we can keep it going here.”
Staff remember the couple as authentic, true to themselves and observant of their environments. Mele was operating partner and co-owner of the cocktail bar, and Burnell was a team member.
Tim Whipple, another team member, noticed how the couple cared for each other — “little steps of love,” he called them — like when Burnell would drop off food for Mele during a busy shift.
“There was actually one night we were at capacity, and he just knocked on the door and handed me the food and walked out because it was more important that Simone get to eat,” Whipple said. “And those little steps of love, I think we've all taken on dealing with everybody here, including each other.”
Whipple worked most frequently with Mele, often during the most challenging shifts.
“We had a joke about calling it ‘mandatory best friend,’ but it really became more like a family person,” Whipple said. “You work with somebody so close, so hard, through so many things. There's moments where you can see the nonverbal communication in a person and know exactly where they're at.”
Jill Cockson, co-owner and founder of Swordfish Tom’s, hired Mele in 2020. She said the couple loved hospitality.
“They had this hard exterior, but you realize that intensity was … their way they communicated care,” Cockson said. “I don't necessarily believe in soulmates or any of that, but — if two people didn't fall to this earth to find each other. They loved each other so much.”
Burnell and Mele had just gotten married in New Orleans in February. They were returning from their honeymoon when a wrong-way driver struck and killed them in Pineville, Missouri, about three hours south of Kansas City.
After the couple’s death, staff members had to thread the needle with customers who did not know about the incident. Cockson said one strategy was to encourage people to share positive memories of Mele and Burnell.
So, at Swordfish Tom’s, friends and customers of the couple can write a love letter to them. Notes are then added to a book dedicated to Mele and Burnell.
“Hospitality is about connecting people,” Cockson said, “and I think Simone and Justin were both really, really great. They connected so many people, you know? It was special to see that.”
Farid Azzeh was ‘focused on consistency’
Farid Azzeh had one way to tell if a new dish at Jerusalem Cafe was a hit with customers.
“He'll go back to the dishwasher station, and he'll just watch the plates as they're coming back,” said Dennis Alazzeh, one of Azzeh’s sons. “If there's food left on the plate, now there's something wrong, we’ve got to tweak something.”
Azzeh died in August. He leaves behind his wife, Souhair, and three sons, Dennis, Adam and Eddy. The family will continue running the Westport Mediterranean and Middle Eastern restaurant in his absence.
Azzeh originally opened the eatery as Westport Sizzler in 1989, selling pizza, hot dogs, hamburgers, falafels and gyro sandwiches. On the weekends, Azzeh grilled kabobs outside. As customers gravitated more toward the kabobs, gyros, and other Middle Eastern dishes, Azzeh focused on developing them. Eventually, he changed the restaurant’s name to Jerusalem Cafe, after the city where he grew up.
Azzeh’s favorite dish at the restaurant was a hybrid of two items: chicken shawarma with grilled tomatoes and dill sauce wrapped in a pita.
“Jerusalem Cafe was kind of the first to introduce people (in Kansas City) to hummus and falafel and kebabs,” Dennis said. “A lot of people just didn't have a palate for it, or didn't know what it was.”
The brothers grew up in the restaurant, watching their father run things, tweak recipes and interact with customers.
Now that the restaurant is in their hands, the brothers frequently find themselves wondering: ‘Is this what Dad would have wanted?’
“We tend to guide the ship in the same way he would,” Dennis said. “It's kind of like carrying a chip on your shoulder even when he's gone. You still want to make him proud and happy. And so, it's a lot of pressure but it's also fulfilling, I think, to be able to continue to do this day in and day out.”
To Karim Haj, who has worked at Jerusalem Cafe for 20 years, Azzeh was like an uncle.
“We got to learn a lot from him,” Haj said. “He was very close to his employees, to his customers and to the business. Loved by a lot of people, and he was definitely a special guy, and a very close guy to my heart.”
Azzeh’s family and staff hope to carry on his legacy and remember his commitment to customer service and food quality.
“I feel like he really pushed us to focus on consistency,” Adam said. “He got us ready for this, for this point where we could make our own decisions and be confident that they're the right ones.”
Jeff Evans ‘had a lot of enthusiasm for life’
To hear Meg Evans tell it, her husband, Jeff Evans, had a stamina for life. He put much of that energy into the creation of Mean Mule, which he and Meg started together in 2016.
Jeff started making spirits and brewing beer as a hobby, and combined that love with Meg’s family history of distilling.
With the support of family and friends, the couple brought Mean Mule to the Crossroads, and any feelings of doubt or fear the couple had, Jeff met with reassurances and a belief that they could pull it off, Meg said.
“He just had a lot of enthusiasm for life that kept us going through low points,” she said. “He just had a lot of belief in what we could do.”
Jeff’s drink of choice at Mean Mule can’t be found on the menu, but it’s popular nonetheless: a classic michelada with a shot of Mean Mule Poblano.
“A lot of people order them now, since he's passed, because they knew that was his favorite,” Meg said.
Jeff died in a motorcycle crash on Interstate 670 in July, leaving behind Meg and their young son.
After his passing, Meg and the Mean Mule staff received an outpouring of support from bar regulars and Kansas City’s service and hospitality industry. Meg said it brought comfort and a sense of belonging.
“But I realized after he passed how much of the business is me, and is our team, and is something that we built together,” Meg said. “So, as much as it feels like such a huge void, you can still see yourself in everything that we've done here — and I still see myself.”
Mean Mule staff member Alisha Trujillo remembered Jeff as a goofball with a bigger-than-life personality. He was the kind of person to welcome others with open arms, she said, even when the pace of work at the distillery became overwhelming.
“We could be in the weeds and he would be in this corner by our water station, just kind of laughing and dancing,” she said, “just kept everything upbeat.”
Trujillo said it was moving to see friends, family, and others in the service industry reach out to support and comfort staff following Jeff’s death.
“I think it blew us all out of the water,” she said. “It made us really open our eyes to how this industry really has each other's backs, and it's a really beautiful place to be in.”
Mean Mule wouldn’t exist without Jeff, Meg says, and, though he’s gone, she’s committed to continuing the business and seeing Jeff’s plans come to fruition.
“The things that he was sowing, we're continuing to reap,” she said. “I want to be around to see that, too — and do our own things.”
