foodnclassyear3

[foodnclassyear3]

Female Foodie

“Life’s too short to eat bad food.” As I looked for people to interview for my ethnographies, I came across a food blog with this slogan written in bold print across the center of the page. At that point, I knew I had come to the right place.

Ten years ago, Brooke Eliason started Female Foodie as a fun way to document her experience at all the restaurants in her hometown of West Yellowstone, Montana. Her blog was a space for her to share her favorite restaurants with the world and for her readers to share their thoughts with her as well. Over the years, Female Foodie developed a dedicated readership all over the country, forming a strong online community of foodies who shared their culinary experiences from all over the nation. In 2015, Brooke opened an application for other contributors to the blog, and what started as a passion project has since grown into a comprehensive food guide in cities all over the United States.

What caught my attention about Female Foodie is that it had an all-female cast of contributors. When asked why, Brooke told me that “We need to hear more female voices in 2020 and beyond.” Female Foodie gave her the perfect opportunity to reserve a space for female voices to be heard, and her female team in turn allowed her blog to better connect with different types of female readers. From young working professionals to stay at home moms, all types of women can find a way to relate to the Female Foodies. 

Apart from connecting with her readers, Brooke’s number one priority is to make sure readers know they can trust her blog to have unfiltered and unbiased information. “Every single place that we recommend on our blog is a place that we’re really excited about. I always ask my contributors to share restaurants that they would be really enthusiastic about recommending to their best foodie friends,” she said. You can check out some of their restaurant recommendations for LA below!

–Diana

[foodnclassyear3]

Eater LA

As a student taking this class from South Korea, I couldn’t help but feel isolated at times from the rest of the class. Not only did the time zone make it hard for me to communicate with people in LA, but my inability to physically go out and interview people really restricted my ability to get to know Los Angeles. Luckily for me, local newspapers and food blogs provided daily updates regarding life in LA, allowing me to indirectly experience Los Angeles as well.

One great resource for me throughout this Maymester has been Eater LA, a website that covers restaurant news as well as food reviews. After reaching out via email, I got a chance to talk to Farley Elliott, deputy city editor of Eater LA. As a the author of Los Angeles Street Food: A History From Tamaleros to Taco Trucks and a journalist who witnessed the growth of Eater LA into the powerful website it is today, Mr. Elliott provided me with insight on the journalism industry as well as the evolving food culture of Los Angeles.

When asked about his work, Mr. Elliott told me “I’ve always had a soft spot for the history of Los Angeles and the food within it, so telling stories about people and places and why restaurants matter to communities is more of what I focus on now, although we do still like to tell stories and news before anybody else.” Having worked as a journalist for many years now, Mr. Elliott identified modern-day journalism as one of the reasons why the food industry has “entered an age of quick satisfaction.” While early food critics like Jonathan Gold provided weekly stories and updates to the food scene in LA, the rise of Instagram and other social media as journalism platforms has led to an era of constantly evolving food trends. This makes it harder for traditional journalists to report on the up-to-date food scene in LA.

This comment reminded me of a memory from last semester, when I saw people in front of the USC Bookstore advertising subscriptions to the LA Time Magazine. The development of modern-day social media platforms has really taken away from traditional means of journalism, which in turn has affected the culture of Los Angeles. I can see why Mr. Elliott called it a cycle, as these two fields keep serving as catalysts for change in the other. Given the rapid changes in the journalism world, I wonder if we are on the brink of any drastic changes in the culinary world as a result. I’d be interested to see if the next CORE 301 class would be able to see any of these changes next summer!

–Diana

[foodnclassyear3]

Support LA's Black-Owned Restaurants

2020 has been a rough year for everyone, but especially so for the Black community. As the Black Lives Matter movement once again mobilizes itself to combat this socioeconomic crisis, many are left wondering what they can do to help. There are many ways to take action, such as by donating, protesting, volunteering, and contacting local food officials, but as students studying food and class in Los Angeles, it is our duty to order food from Black-owned restaurants. I mean, how else are we going to study Los Angeles’s food scene?

While researching Black-owned restaurants I could visit when I come back to USC, I came across an article about Kat Hong, an Editorial Assistant at The Infatuation LA who took it upon herself to create a comprehensive list herself and circulate it online. When asked how she came across the idea of creating this spreadsheet, Kat explained that she was frustrated with a lack of options to help the Black community in LA. She told me, “although I was trying to donate as much as I could to organizations like the LA Black Lives Matter chapter, the LA Action Bail Fund, and the Black Trans Protestors Emergency Fund, and share articles, information, etc. whenever I could, it was hard to know the direct impact of those things.”

Kat does not want to send out the message that “ordering from Black-owned restaurants should in any way, shape, or form, replace actionable items” to help the Black community. Instead, she expressed that it was her way of supplementing other actionable items she had taken to support the Black community. Kat’s careful consideration of the potential message her spreadsheet could send out really showed how much care she put into supporting our community. Despite having spent hundreds of unpaid hours creating and maintaining a spreadsheet that made a powerful impact on businesses in our community, Kat remained humble about every aspect of her achievements throughout her interview, and her care and respect for our community left a lasting impression on me. Can we get a round of applause for Kat?

Kat’s spreadsheet: https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/u/1/d/18w-0RBhwBBlXDN9kRV9DVSCAGSCjtHb9K0Pq2YBv18U/htmlview?usp=sharing&pru=AAABcpSt24I*-0SYI1CmpG2fbqBHxTBHKA

–Diana

[foodnclassyear3]

Laura Trejo came from the Ecatepec Estado de México, known for their guisados, all the way to Southern California at the age of sixteen years old. She went along with her then-boyfriend/first husband and her sister. As soon as she arrived in the U.S., she got herself a job at Taco Bell, where she learned the ins and outs of the fast food industry for a year. She said that she couldn't stand the unsanitary conditions that the food was placed in and completely lost her appetite for that lackluster Americanized cuisine that was far from her definition of authenticity. In Spanish, she said, “Una comida Mexicana que es auténtica, or an authentically Mexican cuisine, is one that is a lo fresco, freshly made and clean.” 

Laura then went on to work for a plumbing manufacturing company. At one point, she then went back to Taco Belle, but barely lasted a month there as she had resentment from her past experiences. She then met her second-husband, and was a stay-at-home mom for a while. However, while being a stay-at-home mom, she collaborated with her husband to create a business. The restaurant, which opened in 2011, was named for an ephemeral 2-year period as “Mole De Los Dioses”. This name was short-lived because a past business partner left and was the only reason why they had that name. As soon as that person left, Laura emphasized that she wanted to change the name, as she personally believed in monotheism, not polytheism for she is a devout Christian. In 2013, Laura took the initiative to change her name to “Mole De Los Reyes.” There were many other obstacles that she prevailed through apart from having an initially bitter business partnership. 

She, at first, did not know how to make moles, and had another person in charge of that process. As much as she requested to try to learn, the chef would resist and refuse to teach. It got to the point where she decided to try to make them on her own. She decided to create her own version of mole poblano, containing strawberries as a patrimonio de México. She made a mole that, if I dare say, was fit for kings, gods, goddesses, and any powerful figure—sweetened to divine perfection. Despite the chef saying that the taste was unpleasant, she sold this to customers the day that the chef was not there. Many people told her that it was just like their mother's, and that they wanted more. Ultimately, Laura laid the chef off and she became both the owner and the chef in charge of the ever-promising “Moles De Los Reyes”. She came up with new innovations as time passed, including a flan con rompope, flan with rum and raisin and ajonjoli negras de la India, or black Indian sesame seeds. She initially had flan de chocolate as well, but noticed that her flan con rompope was a larger economic success.

Her tenacity to stay in the business, especially in an increasingly competitive environment that exists for restaurants in Los Angeles, is immaculate . She has been going nine years strong and has been incorporating new dishes as time has passed. She offers fried chapulines or crickets on a handmade machine-pressed tortilla with her special guacamoles that have varying spice levels fit for every palette. She says that one thing that allowed her to develop very far into the business world is her integrity. She admits that her tortillas may be made of Maseca, but she can make you one creamy horchata made with delectable pumpkins seeds, moles of various types that will have you begging for more, chilaquiles that are to die for, and postres or pastries named after queens of universes and beyond. Even in COVID-19, her business is booming with takeout orders, which is indicative of her surefire presence in Los Angeles as an authentic Mexican restaurant.

~Esperanza

[foodnclassyear3]

About twenty years ago, Chef Gilberto Cetina opened up Chichén Itzá with his father, bringing regional Yucatecan cuisine to Mercado La Paloma in South LA, and he more recently opened Holbox about three years ago. Gilberto is from the Yucatan Peninsula in Mexico and said that the inspiration for his menu at Holbox was the fish and other sea food that he used to get when out on boats in Yucatan when he was young. He’d “dive down and spear some fish or pull out some conch,” and these flavors provided his starting point for a Yucatecan sea food restaurant in Los Angeles. He visited many islands, like the island Holbox, in Yucatan, and many of the original dishes in his restaurant are based on his favorite childhood food memories growing up, but he’s also let the menu grow and evolve to bring in other influences, like from Baja and Sonora. 

  When designing the menu, he “didn’t want to do the traditional mariscos menu” – he wanted to do something different, something new. Gilberto said that there are so many amazing mariscos restaurants in LA, so he decided to change things up and purposefully exclude the Mexican or mariscos food items that Angelenos expected. Most people go into a Mexican restaurant and expect burritos, fajitas, and margaritas, items which Gilberto purposefully kept off of his menu. He recalled that upon the opening of Chichén Itzá people would respond with “Where are the burritos? Where are the hard-shell tacos?” One of the biggest challenges that he’s faced in Holbox is getting people to “buy into this new idea of Mexican seafood,” which was at first “a really hard sell.” None of these challenges stopped Gilberto and his father, who have seen the people in LA slowly coming to understand and appreciate regional Mexican cuisine. Chef Gilberto puts something interesting in each of the dishes and has the mindset of “if it’s not interesting for us, let’s just not do it.”

~ Maddie

[foodnclassyear3]

Another week, another scathing indictment of authenticity. Perhaps this represents the final nail in the coffin for the debate surrounding the term—one of those rare cases where a topic of debate actually ends up being much less contentious than it might appear at first. 

 “The idea of authenticity is a joke, really… I feel like it’s a handicap that people put on themselves when they tell themselves their food has to be authentic.” 

 Chef Johnny Lee (formerly of Side Chick, now running the Pearl River Deli in Chinatown), was certainly never more loquacious during our interview than when our discussion veered into this subject, the clipped-yet-punchy reserve of his prior answers giving way to an avalanche of thoughts on the nature of the global decentralization of cuisine that, in many respects, is antithetical to the very inherent need of “authenticity” to be rooted to a specific place, time, or culture. 

 It’s clear how Johnny’s background, both personally and professionally, lent itself to this perspective. A self-described “Toishanese-Canto-American,” Johnny described his cooking as being of the “Cantonese Diaspora,” and he alluded to the rich presence of Cantonese immigrants in Thailand that he claims descendance from as well. 

 One of Johnny’s first significant projects, in fact, was helping to open the Thai restaurant Sticky Rice in the Grand Central Market (he also worked with Alvin Cailan to open Eggslut, another now-staple of the GCM as well). He told me that the motivation to open the restaurant came from the owner’s previous observations from working with Thai restaurants that “the best foods are served not in the restaurant, but rather in the kitchens amongst the staff.” In opening Sticky Rice, they sought to elevate this form of Thai food—Isan food, or food from northeastern Thailand—that hitherto hadn’t been present in the mainstream. From a brief glance at the menu, this means finding (relatively, of course) unfamiliar dishes like Seau Rong Hai (Crying Tiger Steak) and Khao Mun Gai (Hainan Chicken, another nod to the widespread dissemination of Chinese culinary influence) alongside staples from “traditional” Thai-American cooking like Pad Thai and Pineapple Fried Rice.   

 When I asked Johnny his thoughts on balancing Chinese versus Chinese-American conceptions of cooking with Pearl River Deli, a project entirely of his own whose purpose is “the preservation, appreciation and evolution of Cantonese cuisine”—a description that certainly appears to contradict itself—Johnny’s response was, predictably, that “it’s a lot more complicated than that”.”

 Citing his personal “Asian identity issues” as reference, Johnny referred once more to the broader diaspora of Cantonese cooking that has taken shape not just in America, but also in various cultures around the world. He also addressed the fact that: “even within Cantonese cooking, there’s a diverse range of styles and techniques across cooking.” To therefore encapsulate the Pearl River Deli, what really struck me was a phrase from our first week of class—Johnny’s cooking is very much “authentic to itself” in how thoughtfully yet unabashedly he acknowledges the vast range of influences upon Cantonese cooking while remaining beholden to none in particular.  

Most recently, Johnny has also ventured into the world of Japanese cuisine with his newest project gatsugatsu, a pop-up centered specifically around Japanese breakfast. Having found inspiration from the techniques, craftsmanship, and culture of Japanese cuisine, Johnny cites Japanese food as being one of his very first entryways into cooking itself—yet another testament to the ebb and flow, across time and borders, that has shaped the profuse landscape of Johnny’s (still ongoing) culinary journey.

Narrative structure dictates that I conclude with some final musings on authenticity, and how utterly Johnny’s broad yet rich, diffuse yet coherent panorama of experiences appears to countermand a term so artificially defined in terms of stagnation. But in full, petty avant-garde fashion (or perhaps because I think I’ve sufficiently made my point already), how about I don’t?

--pf

[foodnclassyear3]

I’m thinking about February of this year, before the coronavirus pandemic struck the United States, and how things felt then. To think about what February meant to the labor movement, I believe you need to think about the last few decades. Since the 70s, labor has been broken and battered, public services and welfare budgets slashed, all to usher in the age of neoliberal, finance-based capitalism. But by the beginning of this new decade, the left was a real force in America for the first time in my lifetime, labor was a palpable force on campus for the first time since I was a freshman, and Bernie Sanders appeared to have a shot at the presidency. By February, many people’s dulled taste buds were starting to believe in the hints of flavor emerging on their tongues: the sweetness of hope; the spice of power and subversion; and the bitterness of dignity, which finally appeared within the reach of those for whom its possession had been long postponed. At least, that’s how I would have described myself in February. 

From Arelia Valdivia’s perspective, as a lead organizer of the UniteHere Local 11 workers’ union, February looked like growing coalitions and approaching strike vote dates: the possibility of a new labor standard in Los Angeles. Then the pandemic hit, and about 90% of the union’s members lost their jobs, and with them their ability to pay dues. March looked like running food banks, helping members fill out unemployment insurance, and laying off organizers whose salaries could no longer be met by the union’s budget. 

Arelia’s union works primarily with hospitality workers, primarily food service workers and hotel workers, including hundreds of people from LAX, Dodger Stadium, Disneyland, and USC. USC is actually one of the few businesses where members are still working, both in housing and in food service. Food service jobs, Arelia told me, are usually the lowest paid jobs in the union since their wages compete against non-union, minimum-wage fast food jobs. Moreover, food service workplaces are almost always understaffed due to managerial attempts to cut labor costs. 

Now the food service workers are some of the only members that have kept their jobs during the pandemic, food service organizers like Arelia face a paradox when it comes to protecting their members jobs when it is those very jobs that put them at increased risk of infection: “our priority is for our members to be able to continue to live and sustain their families, but also being very concerned about their safety… we’re trying to balance helping people feel comfortable going to work while also fighting so that they’re able to continue to work.” In order to do so, besides insisting that workplaces take appropriate safety measures, Arelia and the union are fighting for hazard pay for workers. “It’s funny to me,” Arelia said, “that the people considered essential are the people usually told they don’t deserve to make more money because all they’re doing is making food… there should be a recognition of how valuable their work actually is.” 

Of course, food and food access is a crucial feature in the lives of members who are not able to work right now, and to help them Local 11 has been conducting a food bank every week. Arelia said she was actually surprised at how many members are relying on the food bank to meet their needs. Interestingly, part of the food bank’s supply is made possible through a mutual assistance relationship between the union and local farmers’ markets. Local 11 was able to secure a grant from the city to pay farmers’ markets so that farm workers are able to get paid for their work while Local 11 members are able to take care of their food needs. As Arelia says, “necessity is the invention,” and she imagines that this event could open up a space in the future for collaboration between the union and farmers’ markets.

Finally, Arelia stressed that the current protests against racial injustice and anti-blackness are profoundly connected to labor: while businesses are keen to make symbolic gestures to racial justice, Arelia insists that the most important thing is paying black workers living wages and making up for the past decades in which black workers have been pushed out of the hospitality industry. “I was reading Carol Folt’s email about addressing anti-blackness, and it included things like renaming buildings that were named after racists, which is all great. But I think paying your black workers a living wage does a lot more for anti-blackness” 

Ultimately, there is a lot in this moment, in spite of the suffering that it has caused and the plans it has ruined, for which Arelia believes we can be hopeful. 

  -Reese Armstrong

[foodnclassyear3]

Just two short blocks north of the Adams and Vermont intersection stands Birds Nest Café, a small building engulfed in parrot murals and the wafted scent of baked goods. Although the website maintains that Birds Nest is a family-owned diner, ownership changed in September 2019 when Viet and his partner bought the restaurant with the goal of re-vamping some of its “outdated characteristics,” including its bare boned website and paltry social media presence. Although Viet was thankful that the previous owners left “a really big crew,” Birds Nest has been severely impacted by the COVID-19 and sales have decreased by 50%, leaving Viet and his business partner with the difficult decision to lay off some long-term employees, which “was the hardest thing [they’ve] had to do.”

Still, Viet remains hopeful about the future of his newly acquired business and has not let the ongoing pandemic or protests faze him, even though Birds Nest Cafe seems to hold a strong relationship with the LAPD, who is at the epicenter of the city’s civil unrest. In an Instagram picture from April 23rd on Birds Nest Café’s account, six LAPD officers are seen holding individual to-go meals above a caption that reads “Thank you to the officers and staff at LAPD Newton Division for being out there for us. We appreciate your hard work!” However, when asked about the image in relation to Birds Nest’s relationship with the LAPD amid current protests, Viet’s answer remained light and apolitical. “I understand the protests and the anger of Los Angeles,” he explained, “I just don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

He continues that the past three months have held “the most unique challenges [him and his partner] have ever gone through,” and reaffirms his appreciation for USC students who have continued to support the restaurant. Viet was also excited to announce that Birds Nest Café will resume in-person dining before the end of June (with outside seating only), unless “aliens descend and decide to attack us all,” which we decided would be a fitting end to a uniquely terrible year.

--ASJ

[foodnclassyear3]

My family and I visited a Mexican snack shop near our home in South L.A, where we were greeted by a very welcoming person, Sonia. Sonia—A single and proud mother who immigrated with the hopes of achieving the American Dream. Sonia excitedly shared her story and her accomplishments as her two sons prepared some snacks in the back. She immigrated from El D.F, Mexico to the U.S when she was very young. She worked at the Carniceria next door to her shop for 25 years. Through reflection, Sonia realized it was time to start something—what she had migrated for—something of her own. She asked the owner of the space she now calls “Extra—Bionicos Alexis” to allow her to rent the space so she could sell Mexican antojitos. She says she started from scratch, all on her own; She did not share her plans with her kids because she wanted to surprise them.

Sonia has known her community most of her life. Since she’ been here, she says the community has improved a lot and shines light on how much violence has decreased. Her customers change all the time, and many of them hear of her shop through word of mouth. Conveniently, the customer traffic does not decrease in the winter, she says lots of young folks come to her shop and order lots of stuff at once. The Covid-19 pandemic however, has affected business a little, but she is hopeful to regain that foot traffic they’ve had before.

Starting her business was definitely difficult, but she made it possible. Thankfully, Sonia was familiar with the world of raspados, and other snacks. Coming up with their recipes, and tweaking some of them was second nature to her. Sonia says the mango slush, one of her originals at the shop, is the one that sells the most. It is a mango flavored slush decorated with cubes of mango and small tamarindo pieces as well as chamoy and powdered chile. Sonia’s favorites are the mango slush and the diablito—a common raspado made of tamarindo and lots of chile and lime. She also decorates diablitos with mango pieces and tamarindo candy.

 Extra—Bionicos Alexis is a family-owned business that has been around for eight years. Her three kids help her at the shop everyday. They’re open seven days a week, but Sonia does make sure to get her day of rest. Sonia’s shop is located in the corner of a small shopping center, painted in a hard-to-miss banana yellow at the corner of Adams Blvd. and Budlong Avenue. Sonia hopes to be able to expand the space and eventually add a restaurant to her business. She looks forward to selling foods such as sopes and pambazos. This is an image of Sonia standing behind the many agua fresca options she makes in her beautiful and colorful shop.  

 —D. Cruz

[foodnclassyear3]

As a lifetime resident of Los Angeles, Jorge Sandoval has been exposed to plenty of variety in food cuisine. A self-proclaimed “food enthusiast,” Jorge runs an Instagram account where he documents his food adventures. Located in Culver City, Jasmine Market and Deli – a Burmese restaurant that offers halal meats, Pakistani, and Burmese fare – stands out as a family favorite restaurant of his.

Jorge’s mother would frequently take him and his brother for meals at the market. Jorge describes the food as “good quality, good value, and like a homecooked meal.” Although Jorge does not have any familial ties to Indian or Burmese food, he has appreciated what he has learned about the culture. “I never really liked Indian food because of the strong flavors, but I enjoy the food at Jasmine’s Market because they don’t use as many spices. Here, it’s very tasty and very good. It got me out of my comfort zone. The restaurant sits within the market, so I’ll usually pick up and try some new snacks that catch my eye. They have a lot of cool drinks and grains.”

Jorge’s family also appreciates the relationships they have built with the owners and workers. Often, the cooks will walk out to the seating area to catch up with Jorge and his guests. “When I eat at Jasmine’s Market, it feels like I’m enjoying a Burmese grandmother’s homecooked food.” Most everyone at the restaurant has Jorge’s order – the tandoori chicken – memorized.

Since the restaurant’s recent change in ownership, Jorge has also noticed a number of changes in its aesthetic appeal. Perhaps this speaks to the evolution of the food scene in Los Angeles, where factors such as image and visual appeal have become important to success. Jorge notes the change from Styrofoam plates and plastic utensils to now higher quality materials. Additionally, there is now an outdoor patio area where customers can enjoy their food. As Jasmine’s Market continues to evolve, Jorge plans to remain a loyal customer.

- Grace

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Sarita’s Pupuseria has become renowned for its excellent Salvadoran food. It has also attracted many tourists to Grand Central Market (GCM) due to its cameo in the Academy Award-winning film La La Land (2016). In the film, main characters Mia (Emma Stone) and Sebastian (Ryan Gosling) can clearly be seen sitting at the pupuseria’s counter. This recognizable scene has surely driven more than a few customers to stop for a picture, however, the main attraction of Sarita’s remains to be its mouth-watering, traditional, and extremely well-priced Salvadoran meals.

 Interested in how Sarita’s has managed to hold its place in the everchanging stalls of Grand Central Market, I reached out to learn more about the pupuseria. “The location on Grand Central Market has helped us tremendously” a representative noted, adding that they “see all types of walks in the market on a daily, it’s a beautiful thing to have so much different faces and races come from all over the world”. The global clientele that frequent GCM along with LA natives have been enjoying Sarita’s Salvadoran cuisine since they moved in 22 years ago.

 One of the most interesting things I learned from reaching out to Sarita’s was how connected the restaurant is to its Salvadoran history. In response to my question, How do you show authenticity in your menu? their representative informed me that they “use products from El Salvador recipes that have been passed down from generations. We try to always use the freshest food available” and that the pupuseria has “been doing the same recipes since [they] opened in 1998 and nothing has changed other than more toppings in the pupusas”. 

 Initially, I was surprised that a restaurant in GCM found so much success without ever updating their recipe. Many of the other vendors in the market have made their name through modernizing or adding a unique twist to classic dishes. This is demonstrated in such locations as PBJ.LA which revamped the classic lunchtime sandwich or Eggslut which boasts “classic comfort fare with a twist” and emphasizes the presentation and experience of the meal at least as much as the food itself. So how has Sarita’s managed to not only stay afloat in the changing market but thrive for more than twenty years?

 Authenticity and fresh good food. It’s that simple. Sarita’s is a paradigm for how a well-written recipe and quality ingredients can withstand the tests of time. We’ve talked about some similar cases across LA (such as with Chinese restaurants in the San Gabriel Valley) where traditional restaurants outlive the more unique modern businesses. Sarita’s falls nicely into this success story. In regards to their most popular dish - the titular pupusa - Sarita’s representative explains, “We make them fresh to order every day so we make sure everything is as fresh as the customer can have”. And at only $4 a pop, Sarita’s pupusas fly off the stovetop about as quickly as they can take orders.

Unfortunately, the pupuseria’s business has come to a screeching halt due to COVID-19 restrictions. GCM has been completely closed to the public causing Sarita’s and all other vendors to subsequently close for the last month and a half. About the closure, Sarita’s rep says they have recently “started opening little by little” and that they “are staying positive and are seeing more of our beloved customers and friends” as restrictions are being pulled back. It is unclear when the market will be back into the full swing of business, but it seems that Sarita’s Pupuseria plans to continue serving scrumptious Salvadoran meals for customers throughout the foreseeable future (pandemic or otherwise).

-C. R. G.

Sources: https://www.eggslut.com/#eggslut 

https://www.grandcentralmarket.com/vendors/32/saritas-pupuseria 

https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/news/la-la-land-guide-los-angeles-locations-featured-movie-959620 

https://www.yelp.com/biz/saritas-pupuseria-los-angeles 

[foodnclassyear3]

*Last week, I wrote a blog entry about a USC student who is working in a grocery store to support his family during the COVID-19 pandemic, hoping that it would shed light on the reality of wealth inequality and class difference at our school. But aside from class differences in the student body, there remains the fact that USC functions due to the labor of its hundreds of workers, an essentially working class group of USC’s community. Although, after tireless organizing, USC workers were able to secure paid leave for the last few months of the crisis, many custodial and food service workers remain on campus. I talked to Marisa Arellano, a culinary specialist who makes the vegetarian food at EVK dining hall, about her experience working at USC during a pandemic. 

Since our city found itself in a crisis, Marisa has been working for a special program coordinated between the city of LA, USC, and UniteHere Local 11 workers’ union. As part of a program called Serving Our Community, Marisa has exchanged her normal duties feeding students for those of a special community service project designed to feed senior citizens of LA. 

To an extent, Marisa has welcomed this change: she’s comforted that her workplace is not overcrowded, she’s glad to be serving healthier food than usual, and during these times she feels happy to be “contributing to the health of the vulnerable population of Los Angeles.” On, the other hand, she’s not sure how long this program will last and harbors some uncertainties about the future.

Perhaps more importantly, Marisa and her coworkers are frustrated that they are being paid the same wages they were making before the pandemic, despite risking their health and safety on the job. “Besides the financial compensation, the most important thing would be to feel recognized,” Maria said. “Prior to this program, we already weren’t recognized, so while we’re doing this really important contribution to our city, it would feel good and be important to us to be recognized.”

Marisa said that ultimately she and her coworkers, like everyone else, feel scared right now, both about her health and her employment. In fact, she believes USC may be using the pandemic as an excuse to cease bargaining for the hospitality workers’ new contract. “We need to be even stronger, now more than ever, with our demands,” which include fair wages; more benefits, like an improved health care plan and tuition reimbursement; and an investment by USC in a community housing fund to combat gentrification of the surrounding neighborhood. In order to win their new contract, Marisa believes that students and workers will need to join together to call on the university, especially once we can all meet again in person. 

  *I spoke with Marisa through a translator, so quotes will reflect the translation rather than Maria’s exact words

https://youtu.be/4IaZwdrN2yY

 --Reese

[foodnclassyear3]

“I’m Korean American. So, I just do whatever I want. And it’s just kind of funny because when people think you’re an authentic person and that you respect their food culture, they’re actually really fine with you doing whatever you want. As long as you give due credit.”

It’s these words from our interview that I believe really captured the essence of who Susan Park—owner of Revolutionario North African Tacos—is as a chef and individual: she possesses a brazen, headstrong trailblazing exterior, but it is one tempered by manifold respect and considerations for the various cultures she interacts with. 

Susan coins the type of food she serves at Revolutionario as “international halal,” which liberally incorporates influences from a variety of cuisines from Chinese, to Persian, to Indian. As Susan puts it, “I do international chicken specials: chicken and rice, or chicken and noodles, that was the umbrella halal component…We might do a Persian chicken with basmati rice with a tahdig crust…while identifying things that are different, say like in Lebanese or Syrian [cuisine]…. so looking at different profiles of different countries, and then regional profiles, that’s where I get the inspiration.” 

When I asked Susan how she tries to do justice to the array of cuisines she experiments with, her answer was simple: research. “Let’s say I’m doing an Indian dish or Chinese dish. I watch a lot of street cooking videos, I watch a lot of high-end cooking videos… When I do a dish, I look for key techniques and key ingredients,” she said. She emphasized her approach of looking specifically into one dish at a time, and comparing (and sometimes combining) different recipes at a time to really understand what the “base” of the dish is. 

To hear Susan explain it, the concept of even serving North African tacos might not even be as, well, revolutionary as one might think. A published food writer and food historian herself, Susan filled me in on the centuries of North African influence on Spain, specifically through the Moors and their rule of the Andalusia community of Spain that was then brought over with the Spanish conquest of the Americas, a conflux of regions which she described as “one continuous foodway.” She also referenced newer Middle-East influences such as shawarma “becoming” al pastor, which she attributed to the Lebanese and Iraqi immigrant influence in Mexico and the range of North African spices and cooking techniques they brought. For her Mexican American customers, this means they often feel a “similarity, a proximity, a sense of adjacency, a sense of shared culinary background from way back when.”

If there’s anything this talk affirmed for me, it’s that food is complicated, and that all the entanglements that comprise cuisines as we understand them today can stretch even farther back than we might have ever thought possible. And what is a better setting for witnessing this continued entanglement in the modern day than in Los Angeles, with a Korean American woman serving North African tacos in a primarily Latinx community?

  -pf

[foodnclassyear3]

In 2007, Ngoc Nguyen graduated at UCLA as a Biological Sciences major and a first generation college student. He is currently working at a health insurance company where he determines whether or not new medications that come into the market get financially covered. His previous jobs were random, as he worked at the notoriously Americanized Taco Bell during high school and at a research office as a clerk during his undergraduate career. His parents sought refuge during the Vietnamese War by coming to America, where their occupations consisted of being health administrators because they took the time to learn English so that language would be less of a barrier. His favorite part of the LA scene was the wide range of tacos and seeing how the street vendors would be hustling and bustling to get their paycheck and serve delicious food. 

  Ngoc has always been fascinated with pho since it was introduced to him as a child through his Vietnamese culture. He would see and acknowledge the long hours it would take to make pho. Every family relative who would make the pho would have their own spin on it, however, it would be praised either way because of the length of preparation that it would take. In LA, he felt that the love for pho he experienced at home was just nonexistent, and that people within the brick and mortar restaurants were just trying to survive with the pho that they made. He completely understands that the restaurant business is really tough, and he had no intention of derailing those restaurants.

  Once street vending was legalized, he wanted to sell pho that was to his liking: filled with delicious collagen, spices, and prepared over the course of eight to ten hours at a low, slow simmer. He was also inspired when he visited Vietnam and saw that many civilians were doing what he was aspiring to do, which is selling pho on the streets. He went to the extreme by using beef feet to get as much collagen as possible so that the pho would have a silky and luxurious texture. The spices he would use consisted of anise, cinnamon, black cardamom, and cloves. The brisket would be infused with these spices and the broth, giving the brisket a pleasant taste and tender bite. The resulting color of the pho would be this delectable golden brown. He would then go on to skim the fat, place this utter goodness into a bottle and would add even more spices to it. He called this invention, “aroma oil”. He gave a word of advice that if I notice that the pho is cloudy and milky, it was cooked at too fast of a pace and too high of a temperature. However, he considers his pho to be his own version, and that any pho can be authentic as any taco can be authentic. His gig was called “PhoKingNgoc”, and he chose the name partly because of the way it sounded like “F-ing Ngoc”, which is something his friends would consistently say because of his occasionally ridiculous behaviors. He also saw similar versions of the name back in his hometown in Sacramento, and thought it would be great to call himself the “Pho King”.

  This beautiful side hustle that allowed him to simultaneously embrace his culture and share it to the world of Highland Park was unfortunately placed on pause because of COVID-19. Instead of going out on the weekends, he now completes a partnership with “Hey Hey Boba” where, on a biweekly to weekly basis, he sells pho kits at the area’s locale. He emphasized that he comes from an area of privilege, and did not want to be part of the ever-increasing competition that this pandemic has transpired. He states, “It didn’t feel right to venture when a lot of other businesses could be using anyone’s business at this time.” As of now, he does not plan on doing anything else with his business other than providing the pho kits in partnership with Hey Hey Boba.

~ Esperanza

[foodnclassyear3]

Glendale, California contains a 40% Armenian population. The city boasts many Armenian businesses, schools, and other ethnic and cultural organizations. Mr. Sarkisyan resides in Glendale and works at Hamlet’s Kitchen, which he, along with numerous Yelp reviewers, regards as one of the best and most popular Armenian Barbeque spots in Los Angeles.

With many comparable competitors in the same area, how does Hamlet’s Kitchen stand out? To begin with, the restaurant serves quality meat that is freshly prepared each day. Reasonable prices and friendly service are also important factors. Combine that with the backyard-feel of the restaurant, and, in Hamlet’s Kitchen’s case, you’ve struck success.

When I asked Mr. Sarkisyan about whether they had needed to adapt the Armenian food to meet the tastes of non-Armenian residents, he replied that they “don’t need to change the recipes because the customers love the authentic Armenian foods. A lot of our regular customers are Armenian, but there are also non-Armenian regulars.”

Hamlet’s Kitchen has a strong relationship with its customers. It seems that there is an educational element to the dining experience, as Mr. Sarkisyan explained that Armenian parents will bring their children for family meals at the restaurant, helping connect them to their ethnic culture and heritage. Often times, Armenian people will also introduce their non-Armenian friends to the food, many of whom have become regulars.

With a quick glance at the Yelp page, it is easy to confirm some of these opinions. Customers rave about the kabobs and shawarma, along with the portion sizes and great value. As reviewer Gary T. writes, “If you ask [the workers], ‘what’s good?’, the answer always comes back, ‘EVERYTHING is good!’ And for once, it’s absolutely the truth.”

In Mr. Sarkisyan’s view, Hamlet’s Kitchen “is a place where different generations of people will come and eat. We have a lot of regular customers.” With a family-friendly atmosphere and, of course, tasty food, Hamlet’s Kitchen is a favorite of both Armenians and non-Armenians.

- Grace

[foodnclassyear3]

“STOOOOOP,” Matthew yelled as the ice cream truck he had been waiting for cruised by. I was nervous because I could not find the money I had put aside for his ice cream and thought the truck would leave if I didn’t hurry. To my surprise, Don Antolin had parked right in front of our house. He greeted us with a big smile—covered with his mask, but easily formed for us to see. He waited for Matt to pick out the ice cream he wanted while  he told me how the very loud “stop” made him come back. As he searched for Matt’s ice cream, I asked him how long he has  been  selling ice cream. He excitedly said, “You’re not going to believe me, but I’ve been doing this for 30 years.” In our conversation, he shared that he previously had a job that involved working with metal, which he did not enjoy at all. He then decided to start this business and has been doing it since; Don Antolin says he loves what he does. He explained that he travels through the same streets, keeping the same boundaries daily—he stays within the streets of MLK Blvd., Western, Adams, and Vermont. He begins by restocking his truck early in the morning, and then goes out to sell in the Mid-afternoon around 1:30 pm.

 When diving into the topic of street vending and health regulations, he walked me through some of the processes through which his truck is inspected like a normal restaurant or food shop. He explained that some people don’t get these inspections because they are costly and oftentimes, they sell other items, like nachos, which have stricter regulations, placing them at a greater  risk of being fined. He shared that his business, known as the “Hernandez” Ice Cream Truck, has gifted him a stable life all these years. He proudly shared that his five kids have gone off to college and are practicing professions in engineering, education, business, and health.

When I asked him if the business has changed over the years, he said that the only thing that has changed is that prices have gone up, but everything else continues to be the same. I was also curious about what he thought of the changing community, so I asked how he has seen it change over the years he has lived here. He mentioned that he has seen an increase of Asian community members and many students, but said that “students are also good clients,” as he let out a short laugh.

 I later learned that Don Antolin had made a full U-turn back to our house, because he had already passed it when Matt called out for him. Matt was very grateful, and I was delighted to hear the sweet gesture and the acknowledgment the two had exchanged. In this image, Matt and Don Antolin pose with his ice cream truck which is decorated with many colorful images of the ice cream he sells. The images pose brightly against the white background of the truck. Displayed in the images are also Don Antolin’s favorites— the Big Dipper and the Vanilla Sandwich (found on the edge closer to his window). Before leaving, Don Antolin provided me with words of encouragement. I learned that we share the same hometown; He left El Salvador as an adult in the 80s, right in the middle of the Civil War. It is an honor to meet someone from the same generation as my grandparents and to hear his story. It is empowering to see his happiness as he dedicates himself to something he loves. I look forward to seeing him again and learning more through our conversations!

— D.C  

[foodnclassyear3]

Grand Central Market in downtown has been an LA staple for generations. The marketplace currently hosts 39 different vendors which consist mainly of restaurants and fresh produce along with one other feature attraction: Instagram-worthy photo opportunities. 

  Lifetime LA resident Maggie Cole describes how Grand Central Market (GCM) has been affected by the rise of social media and aesthetic culture: “The social media aesthetic draws people to GCM for a good picture and then they stay for the food”. Maggie points out some particular examples: “like the Paul Smith pink wall, the GCM neon sign wall provides an LA photo op that is instantly recognizable [and] can potentially come with some clout, especially with people who are visiting”.

  With such recognizable images circulating Instagram, Snapchat, Facebook, etc., GCM is able to cultivate a strong online presence that attracts a younger clientele along with tourists from out of town. Maggie says, “If you’re in LA visiting, chances are you want to make it to GCM. I think it’s the LA equivalent of New York’s Chelsea Market”. And the aesthetic appeal is by no means the only attraction; as Maggie phrased it, you will stay for the food.

  “I usually get either ramen from Ramen Hood, or Horse Thief BBQ, Lucky Bird, or PBJ… I like them all because they’re reasonably priced for good food. Lucky Bird usually has seating available which is always a plus, PBJ is just a really neat twist on an elementary school classic with tons of super creative sandwiches”. These are just four of the many restaurants contained in the four walls of GCM, many of which invoke a unique spin on traditional dishes much like PBJ.LA. For example, Sara Clark of Sarita’s Pupuseria includes non-traditional options like spinach, shrimp, and basil pupusas in her otherwise traditionally Salvadoran inspired stall.

  Right next door to PBJ.LA stands Rocio Lopez’s stall Chiles Secos which boasts a Latin grocery complete with rice, grains, beans, mole, and much more. In an interview with LA Times columnist Steve Lopez, Rocio Lopez stated that business was okay, but with the market becoming more flooded with tourists and millennials looking for gourmet meals, Steve Lopez deduced quickly that Chiles Secos was struggling to keep up. While some vendors update to match the demands of this younger customer, Lopez stays true to her roots and provides the same essential products as she always has.

  Although there has been a shift to a younger customer in GCM (likely caused at least in part by the strong internet and social media presence), the market remains extremely crowded on most days. When I asked Maggie about the environment of GCM she replied “I would say usually borderline chaotic, there have been very few times that I’ve gone when it wasn’t super crowded. It’s usually a struggle to find someplace to sit and sometimes there really is just a ridiculous amount of people in a relatively compact space”. This hustling, bustling atmosphere keeps vendors busy from opening until close and creates a fun, upbeat, casual atmosphere for any demographic of patrons.

  -C. R. G.

Grand Central Market is currently only available for pick up due to COVID-19 restrictions. 

  Additional Sources:

https://www.latimes.com/local/california/la-me-lopez-struggling-merchant-20180325-story.html 

https://www.kcet.org/shows/the-migrant-kitchen/portraits-of-service-the-people-behind-the-counters-of-grand-central