After a long day, I need boba the way some people need a hard drink. (This is not to say I don’t occasionally need that hard drink too.) When I’m in San Francisco, the only place I go for my boba is a spot called Wonderful Foods in the Sunset. You’ll know it because they’ve got a new sign painted on the window that says: “BEST TAPIOCA IN TOWN.” Believe them. There may be a half dozen boba shops on that stretch of Irving where Wonderful Foods is, but you’re never going to find the same perfectly chewy boba or the same fresh-from-the-peel banana or avocado or mango fruit smoothies at the rest. Get any of those or the red bean or taro smoothies, or the oatmeal milk tea. Okay or the almond or coconut milk tea. That or the fresh watermelon juice. I’ll stop.
There’s been something of a boba renaissance in the last few years in San Francisco, especially since the frozen yogurt craze finally quieted down. Boba has reclaimed its title as the most popular Asian dessert on this part of what I call Asian Irving. And all around the city, new, more hip versions of boba are being sold. But I actually really like that through the years Wonderful Foods has never tried to reinvent itself. It just is the best tapioca in town.
I remember being a little taken aback the first time I saw the thick slices of butter that are wedged into bao in Hong Kong. They don’t sell ‘em that way in the U.S. But the thing that really makes me nostalgic for the city are those split-second shots of Hong Kong milk tea. The soft bite of intense, darkly brewed English tea cut with the comforting sweet of condensed milk is pure heaven to me–Hong Kong in a cup. It’s enough to make me want to make my own at home…
Food nostalgia aside, there’s plenty to love about this segment. You go, Mrs. Chan.
Imagine bright watermelon flavor, a textural cross between chewy German Haribos and soft Japanese Kasugai gummies, and the crunch of a finishing roll in sugar, and you’ve got these sweet Kabaya Suika gummies. They are tasty, fun and as a matter of course when it comes to Japanese snacks, adorable.
I consider myself something of a french fry connoisseur. Matchstick thin, crinkly chubby, curly and seasoned, I know my way around a fry. Some of my favorite french fries are the ones McDonald’s makes. Straight from the fryer, they are, hands down, the best fast-food fries produced in the country. And I say that with confidence even though there are 40 U.S. states I’ve never even stepped foot in.
Those sentences feel like a bold confession, but I’d like to get even more personal with you, if that’s all right, and talk about fast-food workers’ rights. It may seem like a departure from granola and sweet Babette on The Snack House, but it’s an issue that’s as close to my heart as other food topics I care about–like intimate meals with friends and lovingly handed down heirloom recipes.
Today, fast-food workers and their supporters in over 100 U.S. cities protested to demand higher pay and the right to unionize. The photos from around the country are stirring–many people in the cold, some out before the sun rose, coming together to stand up for themselves and others is just plain moving to me.
In this uncertain economy and in an industry where the majority of workers cannot make ends meet on their wages alone, it takes a lot of guts to put one’s livelihood on the line and stand up publicly to demand better treatment. Their courage has me thinking about my role as a french-fry lover in our food ecosystem.
In the last decade the local and sustainable food movement has made enormous strides in changing the conversation around food. Today, considering the sourcing of ingredients (local? organic? chemical-free? sustainable?) is a central part of food ethics. It’s a hip (and expensive) privilege to eat locally sourced, sustainably grown beets and pork and farro. But when I see these courageous fast-food workers and groups like ROC United I see an effort to expand our food ethics a little wider to include consideration of not just the food itself but also the people who farm, harvest, cook, deliver, stock and serve the food, whether it’s organic or not. Are those people treated with dignity and respect? Do they get bathroom breaks? When they get sick or injured, can they take time off work without fearing they’ll lose their jobs? Can they work without fear of being sexually assaulted? For far too many food workers, the answers to these questions are no and no and no and no.
Striking fast-food workers are calling for a $15 minimum wage, a hefty increase from the current federal minimum wage of $7.25, but one that some economists–and more importantly to me, workers themselves–say is necessary for the large swath of U.S. workers who make up the growing low-wage economy to stay afloat. I listened to a debate on the radio today about the economic feasibility of such a wage increase, and got so annoyed at the clearly partisan nature of the conversation that I tuned it out. I regret doing that–I’m not an economics expert, and I’d like to hear rebuttals to claims that raising the minimum wage will just encourage further automation of low-wage work.
But in the immediate, what do today’s protests mean for us consumers on the other side of the counter? Where is our place in this debate? I’m starting with the basics today. For me that means listening to, and sharing with you, the calls for better treatment from people who make the fries I love so much.
photo by Steve Rhodes (via Flickr/Creative Commons)
An old friend named Corina, herself a pro baker, once told me that if your dish takes good raw you know it’s going to taste great cooked. This was, if I remember correctly, why she insisted on trying all her cookie dough. Sound logic, if you ask me.
I was thinking about that kitchen wisdom as I was making this granola. Granola is not unlike fried rice, I discovered. Whatever you like (or happen to have on hand) goes! The original recipe calls for coconut, I had none. The recipe wanted dark brown sugar, all I was light. Again I swapped out fancier dark chocolate for regular old chocolate chips. No matter. When I snuck a few bites of the oats prior to their toast in the oven, I knew the finished product would be a keeper. Thanks, Corina, for that wise advice.
p.s. This was my first time making granola! With that whopping one experience under my belt, I pass on to you this pro tip: you’re going to want to stay in the room to catch the wafting smells of oats and nuts while they roast. Heavenly.
Chocolate Almond Pecan Granola (adapted from xobreakfast) Makes 3-4 cups
1 ¾ cups rolled oats 1/3 cup sliced raw almonds ½ cup roughly chopped raw pecans 1/3 cup light brown sugar ¼ cup olive oil ½ tsp coarse salt ½ to ¾ cup semi-sweet chocolate chips
1. Preheat oven to 300ºF and line baking sheet with parchment paper.
2. Mix everything, save for the chocolate, in a bowl and spread onto pan.
3. Bake for 30-40 minutes, removing every 10 to stir, until the oats and nuts are toasted to your taste.
4. Remove from oven and cool in the pan until granola is just warm, then stir in chocolate chips. Store in an airtight container.
Can the loving decadence of a haute French feast thaw hearts hardened by years of puritanical self-denial, unrequited love and too many harsh Danish winters? In Babette’s hands, the answer is yes.
This was a sweet movie, good rainy day fare.
I’m pretty ignorant about wine. I lean toward that which is sweeter, and cheaper, and when I do partake I’m usually satisfied with one glass and tipsy by the second. But Babette’s careful attention to the pairings underscored their central role in French cuisine. Every course had its wine accompaniment, and Babette was fastidious about each. I couldn’t help thinking though, if I were so lucky to have been a guest of Babette’s I’d have been drunk and under the table before the quail ever made it out.
