November 2023

NOVEMBER 2023

DINING GUIDE 2023

With more than 30 shops, 40 restaurants, and 15 sports and culture venues, we’re giving you 85+ reasons to stay in University City.

With spring on the horizon, SHOP PENN joins a host of conversations on health and wellness, with a little help from hot spots and hang outs revitalizing the way the Penn community and beyond eats, moves, and lives.

Shop Local.

Shop Penn. #S HOPPE N N @S HOPSATPE N N

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S H OPSATPE N N .COM

Salads Smoothies + Shopping Sprees

Wants Needs + Musthaves

Reps Refresh + Refuel

Or, crying in the parking lot of the Monterey Park 99 Ranch Market

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Ego of the Month: Sarah Girgis

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Anybody Can Cook, But How Do We Learn?

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A Taste of the Philippines in the Heart of Philadelphia

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An Ice–Cream Bike Tour with Philly Native

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The Great Korean Fried Chicken Showdown of University City

Mom–Mom's Milkcrate Chicha San Chen

Sarah Girgis is eager to address food insecurity in West Philly.

From tablets to TikTok, follow Street’s deep dive into how we ended up with such high quality microwave skills.

Your next favorite Philly TikTok chef only owns one cookbook.

Film & TV Beat Aaron Visser and DP Photographer Ethan Young embark on an odyssey to uncover the city's best scoops.

Three wings enter, one wing leaves.

REVIEWS

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A Taste of Homesickness

Pho 75 Tonalli Zama Wilder Pietramala Kalaya Virasat Haveli Picanha Steakhouse

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48 50

O N TH E COV ER Spaghetti & Romance The power of love and food on film.

The Grand Unified Theory of Food Films And the reason behind the explosion of movies and TV shows set in the kitchen recently.

The golden, sweet, acidic maltagliati with sungold tomato sauce at Pietramala.

By Kaveen Harohalli

LET TER FROM THE EDITOR

I took a class last fall that made me believe food is the center of the universe.

"Cooking with Words." If you know me, you’ve heard me talk about it (and if you know Walden, you’ve been hearing him talk about it this semester). Guest professor, chef, and writer Gabrielle Hamilton showed up to the Kelly Writers House on day one in her aviator sunglasses and all–white overalls, sleeves rolled up to her elbows, and grabbed a piece of chalk.

Yeah, she’s old school like that. She put a prompt on the board—an unfinished sentence with which we were to begin a personal essay—and set a timer for 20 minutes.

We did this every week, what we’d call a “free write.” The task was to write about the first thing that came to mind. Each time there was a different prompt, but it always with the same guidance: to write about ourselves using food as a lens.

It was therapy. And I began to see that every relationship, every memory, every interaction I’ve ever had has some element of food attached to it. When Hamilton wrote “My situation was now an exceedingly awkward one…” on the board, I continued, “schoolyard drama became my moral dilemma, and the only right answer was to have mom stock the freezer with Breyers mint chocolate chip ice cream.” This very specific frozen dessert was the antidote for middle school heartbreak when my best friend got dumped for the first time, a bittersweet memory I had locked away after we had a falling out in high school.

When my grandma died after I’d spent years not talking to her, food was central to reconciling with that relationship. I immediately thought of her when given the prompt, “She was never easy to get along with, but…” A complicated woman, but was that really how I wanted to remember her? “My earliest memories of her are filled with the aroma of coffee and books, a scent I still adore to this day. Every time she visited she took my brother and me to Barnes and Noble where

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she’d buy us treats at the cafe and watch us read until we chose a book to bring home. I always got something with chocolate, and she always let me taste the foam from her cappuccino.”

"Cooking with Words" was exactly what the name suggests: not a class about food writing per se, but constructing our narratives as if we were making a recipe. Writing is cooking and cooking is writing—the physical tools and ingredients are the only difference. But we still break down and combine the elements, we taste and we tweak, we ask for a second opinion, and we create something beautiful and uniquely our own.

Every year when Dining Guide comes around, I get to relish in some of my favorite things: great food and great writing. You’ll see how flawlessly they intertwine to bring out the best in our staffers. The restaurant reviews dissect the components that produce an outstanding meal; the profiles and personal narratives demonstrate how food connects us to our communities both here and back home; there’s even a piece about all of the film scenes where characters fall in love over a bowl of spaghetti.

Food brings us together, and it brings us closer to ourselves. Writing isn’t any different.

EXECUTIVE BOARD Walden Green, Editor–in–Chief green@34st.com Arielle Stanger, Print Managing Editor stanger@34st.com Alana Bess, Digital Managing Editor bess@34st.com Collin Wang, Design Editor wangc@34st.com EDITORS Avalon Hinchman, Features Editor Jean Paik, Features Editor Natalia Castillo, Assignments Editor Kate Ratner, Assignments Editor Anna O'Neill–Dietel, Focus Editor Naima Small, Style Editor Norah Rami, Ego Editor Hannah Sung, Music Editor Irma Kiss, Arts Editor Weike Li, Film & TV Editor Rachel Zhang, Multimedia Editor Kayla Cotter, Social Media Editor THIS ISSUE Allyson Nelson, Copy Editor Deputy Design Editors Wei–An Jin, Sophia Liu Design Associates Asha Chawla, Anish Garimidi, Insia Haque, Fiona Herzog, Erin Ma, Emmi Wu, Melody Zhang STAFF Features Staff Writers Keira Feng, Meiling Mathur, Luiza Sulea Focus Beat Writers Leo Biehl, Prerna Kulkarni, Bobby McCann, Ellie Meyer, Chloe Norman Style Beat Writers Claire Kim, Anjali Kishore, Madeline Kohn, Steven Li, Anna O'Neill–Dietel, Zaara Shafi Music Beat Writers Nishanth Bharghava, Cole Knight, Derek Wong, Ananya Varshneya Arts Beat Writers Jessa Glassman, Dylan Grossmann, Kyunghwan Lim, Luiza Louback Film & TV Beat Writers Mollie Benn, Aden Berger, Emma Halper, Fiona Herzog, Amy Luo, Isaac Pollock, Aaron Visser Ego Beat Writers Sophie Barkan, Parin Keerthi, Gemmy Levy, Ella Shusterman, Ella Sohn, Leah Weinberger Staff Writers Caleb Crain, Lila Dubois, Jake Falconer, Julia Fischer, Dianna Trujillo Magdalena, Thu Pham, Kate Ratner, Maia Saks, Talia Shapiro, Natasha Yao Audience Engagement Associates Preston Chan, Weining Ding, Jackie Errera, Yamila Frej, Sophia Hall, Bilkiss Haman, Kayla Kramer, Victoria Navarrete-Ortiz, Lauren Pantzer, Cassidy Whaley LAND ACKNOWLEDGEMENT The Land on which the office of The Daily Pennsylvanian stands is a part of the homeland and territory of the Lenni-Lenape people. We affirm Indigenous sovereignty and will work to hold the DP and the University of Pennsylvania more accountable to the needs of Indigenous people.

CONTACTING 34 t h STRE E T M AG A Z IN E If you have questions, comments, complaints or letters to the editor, email Walden Green, Editor–in–Chief, at green@34st.com You can also call us at (215) 422–4640. www.34st.com © 2023 34th Street Magazine, The Daily Pennsylvanian, Inc. No part may be reproduced in whole or in part without the express, written consent of the editors. All rights reserved.

T R A AGT H TA , BTRDRTC—WD.

CAMPUS WORD ON THE STREET

A Taste of I Homesickness Or, crying in the parking lot of the Monterey Park 99 Ranch Market

BY DIAMY WANG Illustration by Emmi Wu

don’t really get homesick. Plenty of my friends count down the days until they get to take the next flight or train home.

But as I sit on my dorm bed 2,704 miles away from “home,” I’m a little scared to admit to myself that I feel almost fine.

Most of the time, I don’t know how homesickness feels—right up until the moment I meet someone with a 626 area code. Or make a plate of tomato and egg.

Or when I step into Philadelphia’s Chinatown, walk into an Asian supermarket with a large shopping bag, and emerge with a bag full of ingredients and spices I know only I will cherish.

I was born in Monterey Park, Calif., commonly known as the first suburban

Chinatown in the United States. In the San Gabriel Valley, where I lived my entire life, Asian supermarkets are like forks in the kitchen—so common that their existence was a given. There are probably more Chinese signs than English ones in downtown Monterey Park.

Like many other children of Asian immigrants, food and supermarkets are a central part of my identity and connection with my culture. No restaurant will ever encapsulate my childhood as wholly as Wei–Chuan pork, corn, and cabbage dumplings do. But rather than simply being staples in my mom’s weekly grocery runs, she’d bring them home after a whole weekend of peddling them to customers.

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For more than a decade, my mom worked weekends for Wei–Chuan, a manufacturer of Chinese food, to market their products in supermarkets all around the SGV. That was in addition to her weekday job as an office assistant to an ophthalmologist. As a result, many of my childhood memories with her are in the context of food; her cooking dinner after she came back from a long day of work; counting down the minutes until she came home, in case she brought treats for me and my brothers. If she had egg tarts or an entire Swiss roll cake, I basically won the lottery.

The natural consequence of my mom working seven days a week was that I didn’t get to spend much time with her.

The time we did have together, as I recall it, was spent in the presence of supermarkets. As the only two people in the family with any sweet tooth whatsoever, we bought ourselves treats during shopping trips while she half–jokingly made me promise not to tell Dad. Sometimes I did, sometimes I didn’t. It depended on her mood.

Even after she quit her weekend job, it was still much of the same—just more of it.

Instead of infrequent supermarket trips, they started happening every weekend.

Her grocery shopping destinations were always different from whichever local supermarket we visited the weekend before.

Conversations were squeezed between items on a shopping list. I cried my angriest and most bitter tears sitting in the passenger’s seat in a 99 Ranch Market parking lot after arguing with my mom. The infinite patience she had while I obnoxiously played K–pop on the radio probably qualified her for sainthood.

The only time I’ve ever felt like a nepo baby was when my mom brought me and my brothers grocery shopping, and we would run into her old colleagues from her weekend job. Their reactions to us turned into an inside joke: Of course, they’d say hi to my mom first. Then they’d turn their attention to my brothers—twins, each 6-foot-2—and marvel over how tall they were. Optionally, a few jokes were made about how much

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it would take to feed them. And finally, they’d turn to me, and ask my mom how old I was now and how long it had been since I’d last seen them. After my college acceptances, my mom would humblebrag about where I was going. The result would pretty much be the same every time: We got extra samples. Small victories. At some point, we started intentionally going to supermarkets where we could rely on at least a handful of her old colleagues to be there.

Realizing you took something for granted hurts more than actually losing the thing. That’s how I felt a month after I started my first year at Penn. I was a continent away from home, bedridden with COVID–19, and there was nothing I wanted more than scallion pancakes. I didn’t even need them to be homemade. I just wanted the frozen stuff.

I stayed in Philadelphia this past summer, because “I don’t really get homesick,” I told my friends and myself. But every two weeks, I’d either take the Market–Frankford Line east to Chinatown or west to the H Mart in Upper Darby, because every meal I cooked just turned out to be me chasing a taste of home.

The truth is, I don’t know how to express my feelings of homesickness in a language others can understand. It’s like if my friend asked me what a specific Chinese dish was called or the name of an ingredient I used. I don’t have the vocabulary to describe such a feeling, and I don’t think I ever will—not to my friends, not to my family, probably not even to myself.

How do I tell my best friend that a plate of pork, corn, and cabbage dumplings would probably make me cry?

Homesickness implies you know what “home” is and means to you. Sometimes I think I catch a glimpse of it—in an aisle of the Upper Darby H Mart sitting next to the endless rows of soy sauce or hiding in my Rodin suite’s freezer in a pack of red bean buns. But as hard as I try to find the meaning of home while I’m in Philadelphia, I know that all efforts are futile unless I start looking in the parking lot of a Monterey Park 99 Ranch Market. J

CAMPUS EGO OF THE MONTH

Hometown

Princeton, N.J. ————————————————————————————

Major

Health & Societies ————————————————————————————

Activities

EOTM

Mañana, Operation Meal Forward, Penn Kidney Disease Screening and Awareness

W

hen Sarah Girgis (C ‘24) was a first year, her room in the Quad wasn’t exactly a state– of–the–art kitchen. Yet, armed with a hand mixer and an extra desk, she made cookie dough in her dorm, earning her the hall title of resident baker.

As a senior, Sarah is able to extend her passion for food to the city as a whole.

From providing meals for homeless shelters to running an edible cookie dough business, food is her way of building community. Like any good baker, Sarah is all for experimentation. She loves inventing new cookie dough flavors from ingredients in her fridge. She is unafraid, starting a club that got removed from the Penn Clubs roster for breaking the Penn Dining contract. In the end, her food–related efforts are a vehicle for one goal: providing the essential resources of love and happiness to other people.

Where did the idea for Operation Meal Forward begin?

I started the club at the beginning of last year. It came out of a conversation I had with my professor for URBS 2850: "Health on the Urban Margins." I was just telling him how, when you're walking on 40th and Walnut streets—or just anywhere on the corners of campus—you notice how many homeless people there are. And sometimes I feel like, to what extent as students can

Sarah Girgis

Sarah Girgis is eager to address food insecurity in West Philly.

BY ELLA SOHN Photos courtesy of Sarah Girgis This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.

NOVEMBER 2023

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we help them or give them the resources that they need? The professor really emphasized the idea that people need resources.

My sophomore year, I was accumulating the sandwiches and sides from Gourmet Grocer and freezing them in my refrigerator. At the end of the semester, I took them all out, defrosted them, and my friends and I brought them all around Philly. I wanted to make it a Penn thing, so I started a club.

Long story short, I got in trouble with Penn Dining, because it is against the contract to take other people's food even though they were giving it to us voluntarily. So our club got off of Penn Clubs. We reapplied this year, and we've been interacting with nonprofits like Sharing Excess and Philly Food Rescue. We're going to be getting fresh, free produce from them and making fresh homemade meals, giving them to the most food insecure shelters via the Bethesda Project, our partner. The whole goal is to have healthy meals. It's so easy to give $1, but then people choose what’s the most that they can get for their money, which would usually be high–calorie, energy– dense foods and whatnot. So [our project] kind of promotes a healthy lifestyle.

After everything that happened with Penn Dining, are you back on Penn Clubs?

We are. It's been a really cool experience.

We kind of have a responsibility as students to try and the worst thing that could happen is you fail, right? So yeah, it's been a roller coaster, but I feel like I've been learning a lot about how starting something works.

What are your thoughts on how Penn, as an institution with strong food influences, interacts with Philly and the residents here?

In our meeting with Penn Dining, they did say that they blast–freeze the food that they have and give it to nonprofits. That’s great. It’s just that Penn is also posed as a nonprofit and they don't pay PILOTS, and their way of giving back is just through

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student–led interventions like tutoring in West Philly.

Of course I don't know the full extent of it, but I definitely feel like there's more that we can do, especially since we've been struggling a lot to find support or advisorship for this club. We still don't really have a Penn connection to help us lead this project. So it makes me think, where's the food justice support from Penn? We're very privileged, but are we also helping? We literally see that there are homeless people outside and instead of brushing them away, how can we help them?

And especially with the McDonald's now [a longtime McDonald’s location closed in Jan. 2023 to make way for redevelopment into a Penn office building], that McDonald's was such a hub for so many homeless people. Now that's going to be a Penn building, it's going to limit a safe haven for these people. McDonald's was open 24/7.

I’m not saying that McDonald's is the best food option, but it was something that people could sit inside of. So I think about that when I think about Penn's connection with the homeless community.

What are your hopes for how the club will change and grow after you graduate?

I want the club to be sustainable. I want it to continue from year to year. I really think we have committed members. My hope is to just continue having consistency with making meals and having all members enjoy it. We really want to try to do a celebration since Bethesda does celebrations with some of the homeless individuals. I think it's important to know the population you're serving by interacting with them.

There's a lot of stereotypes with homeless people. We want to get to know them and bring humanity into the equation. So I hope that we have passionate people who

care about getting to know them and who believe in the mission because I think it's a really fun thing, and it teaches us how to cook too.

On a related note, I heard you have a passion for baking.

Yes! I have a baking business, Culbazini.

That started when I was younger. I've always had a sweet tooth. I asked my mom to go to the baking aisle in the grocery store, and I would do the box cake mix. Then my parents took out our cable TV, so I started watching Cake Boss, a bunch of YouTube videos, Rosanna Pansino, Bigger Bolder Baking—all the baking people. In fifth grade, I started making cakes. My parents were kind of shocked that I was able to do all that at such a young age. And it stuck with me. Whenever we had family gatherings at Easter, Thanksgiving, Christmas, I would always make a cake. I would sketch out my cake first and look online on Pinterest for ideas, but I wanted to do something different. I loved sculpting, carving the cake, not just piping all the time. I'm such a visual person, so I like the idea of 3D cakes. For example, I made a Santa Claus cake of him upside down going into a chimney. I did an igloo cake and a Christmas tree cake.

My favorite cake I did was two years ago for my grandma's birthday. My grandpa passed away before I was born, but he was really good at painting oil paintings with texture. So I recreated one of his paintings as a cake. And it was so hard—this cake took me days and there were so many colors involved, but it was just such a great project.

Can you tell me more about your baking business?

When I got to college, I realized that I don't have as much time to make cakes for people. So I started getting into edible cookie dough, and I now have a whole menu for edible cookie dough. For example, we have cookies and cream, and we’re about to add this one to the menu called Simsim Remix. Simsim means sesame in Arabic and it's basically a sesame–flavored

piece of cookie dough. I love it because I'm literally in my dorm room, trying to think of new ideas based on the ingredients I have. I had tahini in my refrigerator, so I made use of that.

I also have a mystery flavor as one of the menu items. If someone orders it, that encourages me to do something new. I love doing cookie dough because it's a good way of making community throughout Penn. I get to meet a lot of new people just by telling people in my class, "Hey, I do cookie dough if you want to order." I try to use the money that I get from Culbazini towards other things like Operation Meal Forward, especially since we don't have funding.

You said that you’re Coptic Orthodox Christian. How does baking relate to your faith?

Being Coptic is an important part of my identity. We’re the indigenous people of Egypt. With me having a sweet tooth, I wanted to make vegan stuff so I could eat while I was fasting. So [baking] helps me connect with the Coptic community. Because it’s vegan, it’s also more accessible

for people who have dietary restrictions.

There's not a lot of Coptic people on campus. Part of the reason why I did cookie dough was to have my own community and make friends through that. Especially in a time when I’m looking for my identity since I can’t relate to that many people culturally.

What do you enjoy most about running a cookie dough business?

The overall best part about Culbazini is not just the process of sketching out a cake, executing it, or thinking of a new flavor for cookie dough. It's when you finish your product and it has its label and you give it to the person—when the person sees it, how happy they are. It's just the best compliment when someone's like, "It's so good, I can't wait to order again." It's the best thing ever when you can bring happiness to someone. I think that also connects with my other clubs in that the whole idea is to provide a resource, and love and happiness is a really needed resource for everyone. ❋

Favorite place to eat around campus?

Marrakesh.

—————————————————————————————————————————————————— Favorite movie?

The Pink Panther 2.

—————————————————————————————————————————————————— No-skip album?

Death of a Bachelor by Panic! at the Disco —————————————————————————————————————————————————— Best place on campus to study?

13th floor of Gutmann. I come at 3 a.m., and I see the whole sunrise.

—————————————————————————————————————————————————— There are two types of people at Penn …

I know a lot of people say this, but those who walk on Locust to go to class and those who don’t.

—————————————————————————————————————————————————— And you are?

I don’t.

NOVEMBER 2023

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CAMPUS // STYLE

A College Student's Guide to Grocery Shopping

Or, how not to look stupid after spending 30 minutes in ACME

BY CALEB CRAIN Illustration by Emmi Wu

K

eeping track of food and groceries is just one of the many things that students have to learn once they get to college. Planning out when, what, and where to eat can be extremely daunting after childhood when most parents take care of of all that. Even though students are required to be on a dining plan for their first two years, somewhat easing the burden of fending for themselves, there are still important decisions to be made in order to avoid forming any poor habits during one’s first months on campus.

While there are plenty of guides on simple–yet–delicious recipes to make—including one from this very magazine—learning what to cook is only half the equation for college students. Another key, which is arguably more important, is learning how to shop for groceries, including what to buy, how to maximize value, and which products should be avoided.

Even for students who don’t have a kitchen and still get the majority of their meals from dining halls, grocery store fare is still an excellent way to supplement, whether it be for late–night snacks, on–the–go breakfasts, or those times when you’re too lazy to leave your room, apartment, or house.

So without further ado, here are some tips for how to be a more efficient grocery shopper as a college student. While these are designed for students both with and without access to a full kitchen, a fridge and microwave are helpful to get max usage

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from these recommendations.

Firstly, be sure to shop around your needs. If you have plenty of early classes but likely won't be motivated to hit a dining hall on the way, consider getting breakfast foods. If you get peckish late at night or several hours into study sessions, quick snacks might be your best friend.

In addition to timing, another key factor is dietary needs and wants. While it may be tempting to select exclusively salty and sugary foods at the store, healthful eating is important, and you’re the only one responsible for these decisions now. Be sure to choose foods that have protein and will keep you full for long periods of time.

Another key tip: In most cases, you’ll be shopping for an audience of one. While you may occasionally pick up an item or two for a roommate or friend, you aren’t sharing food to the extent that a family does. This means that you’re likely to go through food less quickly than a several–person household does. As a result, a few things become more important. The first is checking expiration dates; try to give yourself at least a week or two to use an item before it goes bad. The next is product sizes: even if a smaller container of milk or cheese is more expensive on a per–unit basis, I’d still recommend it because of the higher likelihood you use all of it. After all, food that has to be thrown out because it goes bad is worthless. Don’t forget to also consider potential substitutions. Just because a recipe calls for

something doesn’t mean you need to use it, especially if it's a waste of both money and space in your fridge or pantry.

And finally, remember to stay within your means. This doesn’t just mean budget—although that is crucial—but also remember how much time you have. Most students at Penn are busy people and might not have the time to be whipping up elaborate dinners on random weeknights.

Ready–to–eat and other easy foods will be your best friends here. I’m not just talking about instant ramen, either; there are tons of delicious, healthy options that just need to be heated before they’re ready to eat. And if breakfasts are a regular issue, prepare them ahead of time, with dishes like overnight oats ready for eating in the morning.

Here are some of the foods that got me through two (and a bit) years of college, both during my time without a kitchen and now having one.

1. Single–serving yogurt cups. Quick, nutritious, and good tasting, these provide plenty of breakfasts and afternoon snacks.

2. Berries. Despite being on the pricier side, they make a wonderful snack.

3. Sandwich meat. Salami, in particular, can be lower–cost, but overall, this is a protein–dense food that can be quickly packed in a sandwich or eaten on its own for a quick snack.

Bon appétit! J

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CAMPUS // STYLE

Anybody Can Cook, But How Do We Learn?

From tablets to TikTok, follow Street’s deep dive into how we ended up with such high quality microwave skills.

BY JULIA FISCHER Illustration by Melody Zhang

1. Remove lid. Add room temperature water (6.4 fl. oz) to inside Fill Line.

2. Place in microwave center. Microwave uncovered for four minutes on HIGH (1000W).* Let stand for one minute.

3. Stir and enjoy!

* Cooking time varies with microwave wattage.

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I

f you’re a college student, these instructions are probably familiar: they come from cup noodles. They promise warm ramen, created quickly enough to satisfy an empty stomach when the stove seems daunting and the act of cutting a vegetable is out of the question. Students are often presented with the chance to truly cook for themselves for the first time in college. Instead of serving as parents’ or siblings’ sous chefs, we discover the freedom to make and consume whatever we want—and often find ourselves lacking in the skills and knowledge we might have taken for granted.

In a pattern fitting much of the general college learning curve, we experiment, and sometimes get a little bit burned.

The cultural landmark and ultimate cooking film Ratatouille once famously told this generation, “Anyone can cook," but somebody had to start somewhere. Centuries of rich history stand behind the ways we learn to navigate the kitchen. With this short historical overview of the ways we learn to cook and what we might look forward to seeing in the future, I hope you too will be inspired to venture beyond the instructions on that instant ramen package.

COOKBOOKS The oldest cookbook on record was not written down on paper, but rather carved into clay.

The Yale Tablets were created around 1700 B.C. and reside in Yale’s Babylonian Collection. An important note in the history of cookbooks: They were generally for one–percenters. It was only after the printing press made its debut that this landscape began to slowly change.

The first printed cookbook was a 1465 Italian guide called On Right Pleasure and Good Health, and it wasn’t intended to be widely available.

During the 15th and 16th centuries, cookbooks were exclusive status symbols of court culture, but eventually, as technology spread, so did their reach. This reach often targeted specific groups, especially along class lines: A Plain Cookery for the Working Classes, published in England in 1852, is one example. Literacy grew, a middle class emerged, and ideas of democracy and equality spread—and so did the cookbook, until eventually, it was readily available on bookstore shelves for all. Food magazines emerged in the 20th century, and today, with food blogs, we’ve arguably progressed past the need for paper–

borne recipes, though cookbooks are still popular.

COOKING SHOWS Cooking shows were not only relatively cheap to produce, but also transformed the making of food into its own form of entertainment. The first was actually broadcast over radio: Édouard de Pomiane hosted a program with the goal of bringing easy and luxurious recipes to a France fresh out of World War I. He is often considered the first celebrity chef. Following Pomiane’s highly successful example, other programs, like The Betty Crocker Cooking School of the Air, brought instructional content to anyone with a radio, a kitchen, and a paper and pencil to jot down these recipes.

With television quickly invading households in the mid–20th century, it was natural that cooking shows would take advantage of this both visual and auditory medium.

James Beard’s I Love to Eat (1946–1947) was the first real cooking show, and after it fol-

lowed an explosion of content for the decades to come: from Julia Child’s humorous and legendary decade–long The French Chef (1963–1973) to Emeril Lagasse’s engaging Emeril Live (1997–2010), which made him an international star. The Food Network struggled at first to fill 24 hours with exclusively cuisine–related content, but eventually cracked the code. In the past few decades, there’s been a boom in the quantity and diversity of cooking shows, with something for everyone. Ina Garten’s Barefoot Contessa (2002–2021) provides classy and comforting cooking in the Hamptons, competitions like Chopped (2009–present) are like Jeopardy! to aspiring home chefs, and Guy Fieri’s Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives (2007–present) steps out of the home kitchen to highlight restaurants around the country.

SOCIAL MEDIA Now, with the popularity of the internet and smartphones, social media has infiltrated the food scene. YouTube permits easy

searching for specific recipes and instructions, like your basic knife skills, and boasts content across a variety of cultures, niches, and languages. Apps like Instagram and TikTok provide a similar platform for anyone to post and spread content, but in a more concise format. Through these online platforms, other apps are seeking to gain traction as well, like Zest, which provides recipes and tutorials based on skill level. The app’s humorous commentary and interactive nature reflect its catchphrase: “Like Duolingo 4 Cooking.” Like Zest, these apps tend to be geared toward and populated most often by younger audiences.

56% of Gen–Z uses TikTok for food–related content, while only 29% of millennials rely on the app. These platforms are a way not only to share cooking tips and tricks, but also to converse and connect with others. “FoodTok” is its own hashtag and community, with drama and trends (see “Cakegate” and “Girl dinner,” as recent examples). Cookbooks even focus on foods “as cooked on TikTok.”

COMMUNAL COOKING With all of these ways to develop your cooking skills, comparison between them is inevitable.

It’s easy to forget the most fundamental—and I’d argue, important—way to learn: from others, person–to–person. It’s often said that our parents are our first teachers in terms of morals and personal growth, but the same applies to cooking.

In noted stone–cold classic Ratatouille, it isn’t an innovative, flashy creation that undoes the critic Anton Ego’s cold exterior during the film’s climax. Instead, it’s the movie’s titular ratatouille—a “peasant dish.” It reminds Ego of his mother in his childhood home, serving his younger self the home–cooked meal she made with her own two hands. At its core, food is a deeply communal aspect of life, one that cultivates human connection, comfort and joy. For all that fun recipes from viral videos or fancy techniques from award–winning chefs have their merits, the closeness of cooking with a loved one transforms a dish into a beloved memory that remains long after the last crumb is gone. J

NOVEMBER 2023

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CITY // EGO

A Taste of the Philippines in the Heart of Philadelphia Chef Kathy Mirano's journey from family recipes to Philly's beloved Tambayan

BY SOPHIA ROSSER

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Illustration by Katrina Itona

ilipinos are passionate about their food. I grew up with the pungent aroma of garlic and banana ketchup on sticks of chicken caramelizing on the grill— the highlight of family gatherings. Birthdays were always celebrated with pancit and lumpia that my mom would make from old family recipes. My family’s cravings would be satisfied when we visited my uncle in New York City and ate at Filipino staples like Krystal’s Cafe or Jeepney, or when my aunt brought us ube cakes from a Princeton bakery on her visits. But growing up in Philadelphia, there were hardly any local Filipino food restaurants we could go to for a “home–cooked” meal. So when Tambayan first opened in July 2021, my family was naturally thrilled.

Rather than driving to New York or New Jersey, we hopped on the Broad Street Line to Reading Terminal Market in eager anticipation of some of our favorite dishes. From longanisa to Filipino barbeque to pandesal, we ordered meals that had graced our family dinner table on so many special occasions.

But a trip to Tambayan afforded us an opportunity to enjoy them on an ordinary weeknight in Philadelphia.

Tambayan owner and chef Kathy Mirano’s road to serving Filipinos, Philadelphians, and tourists wasn’t straightforward. After immi-

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grating to the United States from the Philippine city of Batangas, she worked as a manager and server at Olympia Gyro in Reading Terminal for 21 years.

COVID–19 took a toll on Reading Terminal. Hours were reduced, and no one was coming to the market. Recognizing that the pandemic offered her an opportunity to do something else. Among her friends, Mirano was known for her Filipino food and baked goods, so she decided to take the plunge and open up her own online desserts business. Runner’s Sweets N Treats

was born, and orders started pouring in.

As Runner’s became a successful online business, Mirano's boyfriend, John Pearlman, started to push her to expand. “People love you, they love your food. Why don’t you make it more serious?” she recalls him asking.

Then, one day, Pearlman got down on one knee and asked her if she wanted a ring or a restaurant. “I chose the restaurant. I can lose the ring, but with the restaurant I can make more money,” Mirano recounts. She opened Tambayan in July of 2021.

Mirano aims to create a casual atmosphere,

serving street style food in a comfortable environment. “At Tambayan, you don’t have to dress up. If you’re sweaty or anything, you can just sit down and you can still enjoy our Filipino food no matter what,” she says.

All of the recipes offered at Tambayan are “authentic,” passed down through generations of Miranos. “I don't twist my food,” she says. “Everything on my menu here is made with love. Nothing fancy, just a simple menu that I grew up with.”

While Mirano can't pick her own personal favorite dish (because she loves them all), her

customers’ favorites are the barbeque skewers, Tapsilog, and fried lumpia. She marinates her barbeque for a week, giving it that rich sweet yet savory taste that melts in your mouth. Tapsilog is a cured beef dish served with garlic rice and a runny fried egg. Mirano says it's a great hangover cure. And fried lumpia (my personal favorite) are pork spring rolls that you dip in sweet chili sauce. No one can stop at just one.

Tambayan is the first Filipino restaurant in Reading Terminal. According to Mirano, having her restaurant in the market is a dou-

ble–edged sword: On the one hand, it's hard to compete with all of the other amazing offerings. On the other, it allows her to share her culture with tourists from all around the world.

“I am so grateful to be here because even though it's hard to compete with everybody here, Tambayan is not only serving food, I'm also serving my culture,” she says.

Despite Mirano's initial fears of the stiff competition in Reading Terminal, Tambayan has thrived over the past two years. It’s become so successful that the restaurant is expanding to a secondary location in December 2024 in either Fishtown or East Passyunk.

Since Tambayan’s opening, Mirano has received many inquiries from customers about hosting events. But because Reading Terminal is only open until 6 p.m., she’s had to decline those requests. With this potential new location, Mirano is hoping to have a venue for night time parties and serve her dishes with alcohol, such as the Filipino beer Red Horse, in the evening.

“Running a business is not easy, but I'm learning from my business now … my heart says that I have to expand no matter how hard it is," Mirano says. I think I will do business for the rest of my life until I die because I love serving people and I want to expand."

As I ate her pancit after our interview, I realized the importance of Mirano's vision for her restaurant. In Tagalog, Tambayan means “a place for friends to hang out.” Mirano has extended the meaning of the word: It also means a place to meet new friends.

Even though we just met, our shared culture gives us a starting point to converse. We talk about our parents’ use of 7–Up in their barbeque recipe, our excitement at the semi– recent opening of Jollibee in Northeast Philadelphia, and where our families are from in the Philippines. Tambayan is a place for Filipino tourists and native Philadelphians to gather and enjoy a meal from their shared heritage, but people from all cultural backgrounds can appreciate Mirano's amazing food and welcoming hang out spot.

“I’m proud to be Pinoy,” she says. I am too, and Tambayan has opened a door in Philadelphia to allow me, my family, and other Filipinos to remain connected to our culture. J

NOVEMBER 2023

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P R I N TC I/T/ Y L/ E/ GAARCTYS

A Munch with Mensches at “I Could Nosh”

We kibitzed, schmoozed, and of course, noshed at this conversation with Michael Solomonov, Alex Edelman, and Jake Cohen.

BY JESSA GLASSMAN

W

hat does it mean to be kosher?

How can our family recipes enter mainstream culinary canon?

How much is a yahrzeit glass? Heck, what does it mean to be a Jew today?

Between laughs and stories, a distinctly Jewish conversation was had at the Weitzman National Museum of American Jewish History on the evening of Sept. 28. We gathered to celebrate, contemplate, and of course consume “modern Jewish cooking and baking” in all

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Graphic by Wei-An Jin

its glory. The event was hosted by two titans of the food world—four–time James Beard awarded chef and restaurateur Michael Solomonov and New York Times bestselling author, social media personality, and self–acclaimed "nice Jewish boy" from New York City Jake Cohen—along with comedic relief courtesy of stand–up comic and writer Alex Edelman. The special gathering commemorated the release of Cohen’s sophomore cookbook I Could Nosh: Classic Jew–ish Recipes Revamped for Every Day.

“Starting at matzah, everything we know as Jewish food was modern at some point because of where we moved, and it just happened to be based on war and strife and persecution and fleeing,” said Cohen as the bubbe beside me stuck out her hand to offer me a hard candy. “But with that came these new traditions, these new ingredients, these new ways that we incorporated the foods around us and made them adapt to Shabbat or the holidays.”

Many of Cohen’s recipes are inspired by his own Ashkenazi heritage as well as his Iraqi Jewish husband’s grandmother’s recipes, with two particularly popular dishes being his Iraqi roasted salmon and Hadji Bada almond cookies. For Solomonov, this is particularly important, and not just for the purpose of impressing Cohen’s in–laws: “Baghdad was at one point over 50% Jewish and there are zero Jews right now. [Iraqi Jewish food] doesn’t exist in Baghdad and it doesn’t exist in Iraq,” he said. “So the only way for this 'l’dor vador, Jewish hand–me–down' thing is really by cooking and for you, by marketing this to a much larger audience.”

This dynamic in Jewish cooking exists beyond Iraq, with Cohen and Solomonov both touching on further examples. Once–vibrant communities in Europe like Budapest, Hungary and sites of culinary tradition were lost at the hands of the Shoah, they explain. Solomonov says that ingredients like mushroom, berries, and geese, for example, were popular in this region but didn’t cross the Atlantic—not only because of the mass loss of life, but also because of the extreme poverty of those who did immigrate. As such, Ashkenazi food took the form that we know today with dishes like knishes, blintzes, tzimmes and more.

But what is glamorous about gefilte fish?

“I think the last generation was embarrassed,” Solomonov says. Cohen, in both of his cookbooks and beyond, has made it part of his mission to reinvigorate an excitement and joy for the food of his people. He notes that Jewish food, whether Israeli, Yemeni, Polish, or even Indian is something that we can take pride in and that can be “hot, vibrant, and colorful.”

Cohen’s new cookbook I Could Nosh, as well as Solomonov’s beloved eateries like Zahav, undoubtedly achieve this pridefulness. At the end of this conversation sprinkled with Yiddish, belly laughs, and candid stories so funny that at one point Solomonov spit out his water, the audience had a tangible sense of passion and gratitude. Beyond this, of course, everyone was ready for a little nosh–challah grilled cheese and harissa tomato soup made from recipes in Cohen’s cookbook were served to conclude the evening. J

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CITY // STYLE

Sparking Social Change One Cup of Coffee at a Time

How Blew Kind is using coffee and art to galvanize civic discourse within the Philadelphia community

BY CHLOE NORMAN

W

Illustration by Asha Chawla

hether they’re making a pit stop at Saxby’s in between classes or catching up with friends over lattes, Penn students have made coffee a vital component of their daily routines. From pumpkin spice lattes to toasted croissants, local coffee shops in Philadelphia define cultural trends and influence individuals' daily habits.

While many people simply view coffee as a trivial commodity popularized by caffeine addicts and sleep–deprived students, Blew Kind sees coffee as a powerful avenue

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for social activism. Her concept of ‘brewing’ social justice through a cup of coffee has helped to promote greater civic engagement in the Philadelphia community for over a decade.

Previously the co–owner and founder of Franny Lou’s Porch, Kind began her coffee–related social just 14 years ago.

Named after civil rights activists Frances E.W. Harper and Fannie Lou Hamer, Franny Lou’s Porch served as a safe community forum where customers could indulge in specialty lattes and pastries while simul-

taneously debating imminent rent increases or rising police surveillance. With locally sourced menu items ranging from an “Anti–Oppression” sandwich to a “Nobody’s Free” lemonade, Franny Lou’s Porch invited customers to embrace cultural awareness and propose broader conversations centered around radical change.

Although Franny Lou’s Porch permanently closed in 2023, Kind has continued to pursue social change by creating her own community–based art gallery and cafe named D’Griot, which opened to the public for the first time on Sept. 10. Located in the heart of Germantown, D’Griot features Black and marginalized artists whose work encapsulates the gallery’s broader mission of communal connection through artistic expression.

By allowing artists to have the opportunity to create pieces of art that reflect their own lived experiences with oppression and adversity, Kind hopes to uplift suppressed voices and highlight the power enclosed within visual narratives to invoke community change. “I had this idea of doing community galleries on different parts of marginalized communities to uplift the Black and brown population with

the stories that exist there and just create sustainability, possibility, and healing,” she says.

After Franny Lou’s Porch closed, Kind wanted to create another community space like her cafe. According to Kind, D’Griot’s mission is to create “a place of story, ancestral guidance, present in the magic, focused on the future.” The gallery spotlights Black and Brown artists that are both storytellers and community activists.

Integrating her passion for artistic expression with her affinity for local cafes, Kind plans to incorporate a cafe section into the gallery, where customers can partake in healthy, locally sourced teas, lattes, and confections while discussing the introspective impact of the art around them. Drawing upon her past experience as a cafe owner, she envisions D’Griot to retain Franny Lou’s model of social consciousness by ensuring that each menu item is ethically sourced and contributes to bolstering the community’s local economy.

While many businesses opt to import their ingredients from foreign countries, Kind believes that they neglect the abundance of natural resources that can be found in Philadelphia’s local communities. “I wanted to make sure our local economy can be cared for; instead of us outsourcing our work overseas or in the next country over or the next state over, it’s really beautiful when we can support the local economy—let’s get herbs from the growers next door or the town over even,” she explains.

Due to the relationship of trust between consumers and company owners, Kind encourages businesses to focus on educating consumers about the importance of ethical sourcing. Coffee production is a process that involves many steps—including harvesting, packaging, roasting and transportation—and the lack of visibility in this process makes it an industry particularly vulnerable to unjust labor practices. Thus, Kind believes it is critical that businesses remain committed to supporting other local businesses as well

as promoting socially responsible consumption.

Beyond her work within the art and coffee industry, Kind has branched out into the world of online entrepreneurship and consulting. This past year, she has been working to design an online store dedicated to selling “radical ware,” which is clothing and accessories that promote calls for social equality and illuminates community empowerment.

Phrases such as “pro–love” or “anti– capitalist” are stamped across the front of these stickers, clothing items, and pin buttons in hopes of uniting customers as proponents of social justice within the Philadelphia community. With Philadelphia facing mounting political divisions and social challenges, Kind’s work towards creating greater collaboration and connection within local communities is critical in reinforcing civic engagement.

Alongside D’Griot, Kind also works as a consultant for entrepreneurs interested in entering the coffee industry to educate the next generation of social activists.

Although she does not possess a professional degree in business, her previous work with her cafe renders her a savant in entrepreneurship, specifically on how to find success as a Black business owner. Through her unique approach to coffee cafes as a community space for civic discourse, she hopes to propagate the potential of local coffee shops to serve as a means for positive social activism and interpersonal communication.

Although she no longer oversees a physical cafe, her online store of “hospitality” and “radical ware” still aims to embody the cafe’s previous values, which aimed to “ensure everything is local, organic, relational trade, and made with love.” By creating her locally roasted tea and coffee in refurbished vintage grinders and brewers, she sustains her dedication to running a socially conscious business centered around ethical consumption.

In addition to her online store, Kind plans to establish herself as an entrepreneurial consultant by teaching individuals the logistics surrounding opening

their own cafe, cultivating a distinctive brand for their business, and teaching them how to craft their own specialty coffee drinks from the comfort of their home.

Kind’s decision to work as a social activist was derived from the strong connection and support she had always felt within her own community as well as the innate desire she harbored to spread a message of love amongst others. In a time characterized by turbulence and animosity, she hopes community residents find resilience amongst one another and form adamantine bonds of support.

From a young age, Kind’s mother instilled in her an admiration for the power that personal connection and love holds within a community. At 14, Kind began experimenting with crafting coffee drinks, and she soon found that the intersection between her love for coffee and extroverted nature could be used to create her cafe business.

“I liked the social aspect of the cafe, how people come and how they see people they know, it was just a very beautiful process to watch and it’s very healing,” she says. “Even during the pandemic, so many people didn’t see each other, but they would come to my window and see people, and it really helped their mental health.”

From her experience growing up in a supportive community, Kind was able to recognize the importance of community connection. Conversely, as a young woman in the foster care system, she was able to witness firsthand the racial injustices entrenched within society. “My heart is always pulled to tell the stories of people whose voices have not been heard. Truth seeking is part of my spirit,” she explains.

Although mounting social issues can appear daunting to address, Kind encourages individuals to repudiate the idea that social activism must operate on a large, citywide scale. Instead, her work with Franny Lou’s Porch and D’Griot proves that social change can start with something as simple as a freshly brewed cup of coffee. J

NOVEMBER 2023

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CAMPUS // EGO

Penn’s Newest Late–night Fuel He grew up eating flavored fries back home in the Philippines; now, Lance Tan is bringing his Potato Pit Stop to students across campus.

BY SOPHIE BARKAN Photo Courtesy of Lance Tan

B

ack home in the Philippines, Lance Tan (SEAS ‘23) grew up eating fries as his after–school snack. Not your ordinary McDonald's fries, but flavored fries, a common food concept in Southeast Asia. In college, noticing a gap in the snacking options on campus, Lance decided to bring a taste of home to Penn and launch his own specialty fries business. “Potato Pit Stop” was born.

“Everybody loves fries here in the US, so I decided to give it a try,” Lance says. He designed Potato Pit Stop with the goal of fueling students with an affordable and convenient snack to satisfy those inevitable salty cravings mid–study sesh or post late–night party. “I wanted to provide the same kind of accessibility, experience, comfort, and delicious flavor that I had back home,” he says.

Potato Pit Stop offers quintessential potato chip flavors in the form of a shoestring french fry. What makes these fries special—and unique from the offerings of fast food chains around campus—“is that they can be ordered and eaten on their own be-

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cause of their bursting flavors,” Lance says.

Currently, Potato Pit Stop has three flavors: “cheese rocket,” “barbecue burnout,” and “sour cream speedster.”

Through the clever flavor names, and the logo featuring a potato on wheels, Potato Pit Stop embodies an auto racing theme.

The motif was inspired by Lance’s interpretation of the college journey. “We're all like little cars on this racetrack that go around, trying to hit that finish line and graduate," he says. "The fundamental thing that every car needs is fuel, so I was hoping that this business would be a fun way to help students get through this journey."

As an avid foodie who cooks frequently, Lance developed his flavored fries test– kitchen–style with potatoes, his air fryer, and some seasonings. “I have this taste palette from traveling a lot and from having lived in Southeast Asia. A different type of food scene is out there, and I think this is something people on campus would love to try,” he says.

After months spent developing and perfecting his product, Potato Pit Stop is now in full swing.

Lance cooks his homemade fries in his college apartment, operating a “ghost kitchen” business model, where people can

order the fries directly through a Google Form and Lance will hand–deliver them to numerous locations around campus.

Currently, Potato Pit Stop delivers fries between the hours of 2 p.m. and 1 a.m., guaranteeing ultimate freshness and crispiness. “With these delivery hours, I wanted to capture both the daytime market as well as late night studying and activity that goes on around campus,” Lance says.

Lance plans to continue marketing his business through word of mouth and also hopes to partner with various clubs on campus. “Although my footprint is not big yet, it's been great to get feedback from the customers, my friends, and people I know here at Penn,” he says.

A fifth–year submatriculate in the School of Engineering and Applied Science, Lance never expected to enter the food industry.

While he plans to work in finance after graduating this spring, Lance says, “If this is something people love, then there’s definitely potential that I will continue running this business in the future.”

Whether you wish to satisfy a midday craving or need to refuel during a late– night study session, be sure to place an order of Potato Pit Stop fries and experience a taste of Lance’s childhood. J

OVERHEARDS

This month: hummus, hoagies, and homophobia.

"I was clinically diagnosed with an apple juice addiction."

"You mean you don't want a log of beef in your pita?"

— That Hummus Grill Checkout Guy ­

­

— Johnny Appleseed, The Later Years

"The grocery boy character is homophobic, and I didn't realize that until it was too late." — Mask & Wig Frosh

­

"I was already stealing from Wawa, but now they just do it for me and give me free stuff."

"People see the words 'Penn Dining' and think health code violations."

­

— Pam Lampitt (Look It Up)

­

— Legally Changed His Name to HoagieFest

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All your health needs in one place $25 off groceries when you sign-up* *Terms apply. Scan code for details.

NOVEMBER 2023

21

CITY // STYLE

An Ice Cream Bike Tour with Philly Native Film & TV beat Aaron Visser and DP photographer Ethan Young embark on an odyssey to uncover the city's best scoops.

BY A ARON VISSER Photos by Ethan Young

T

PART ONE: THE RIDE he moment I cross the Schuylkill, I become a tourist. Despite where I may sleep and what my new address says, I just don’t know Philadelphia.

Its streets, its restaurants, and its people are all unfamiliar to me. And when I want to get to know a place a little better, I get on a bicycle. Bikes are flexible, fast, and, unlike a car, have no physical separation from the street. I also need a guide, so I turn to Ethan Young, a DP photographer, bicycling enthusiast, and Philadelphia native. We put on our sweaters for the first chilly fall day of the year and head out to try some ice cream.

The weather doesn't dissuade us: While ice cream is the best summer dessert, it, thankfully, is also the best winter treat. Yes, other options might be eaten for variety, but no other treat rivals the combination

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of sweet, frozen, and creamy. This is a cold take (literally), as ice cream is the most popular dessert in America—the second highest ice cream consuming country in the world per capita—and in Pennsylvania, which is also a top dairy producing state.

We bike across the South Street bridge toward Rittenhouse, a historic neighborhood centered around its eponymous square, and arrive at our first location. With over 50,000 Instagram followers and at a location just a block from the square, 1–900–Ice–Cream is the signature ice cream of the neighborhood. Raina, the self–proclaimed best scooper in Philadelphia, tells us that they get reviewers coming by on a weekly basis. For an Instagramable place, the store itself is surprisingly spare. The walls are white with little decoration. There’s no cutesy fonts or funky chairs. But despite a lack of bougie gloss, the prices are high enough, so this ice cream better be good.

We sample both their hard and soft serve ice cream. Get the soft serve: The hard ice cream is average, but the soft serve's quite

creamy, and the fall chai flavor is pretty unique. Ethan, who lives in Rittenhouse and for whom 1–900 is his local place, strongly recommends it.

We then stop by Ethan's house for him to pick up a bike helmet. This has paradoxical results. Ethan's mom is home and offers to drive us to our next location all the way in Fishtown.

PART 2: FISHTOWN Driving feels like a defeat, but after 20 minutes of traffic on the Vine Street Expressway, we reach our second destination.

Located north of Center City next to the Delaware River, Fishtown has historically been an Irish Catholic working–class neighborhood. But we’re here for trendy ice cream, which means it's been experiencing some gentrification. And sure enough, for every auto shop there’s now a thrift shop, and for each diner there’s a cafe. For a Young Urban Preprofessional like myself, Fishtown seems perfect.

Our first location's inside Pizza Brain,

a self–described “museum of pizza.” We park outside and walk past various distractions—a massive brick pizza oven, five hippies, and a TV playing Princess Mononoke— straight to the back room where one bored employee sits behind an ice cream freezer.

I have to ask him whether these really are the same “Cloud Cups” that had been recommended multiple times online. I must say that the pizza is certainly good, because I don’t see why anyone would just come for the ice cream. It's overpriced, slightly icy, and stingy with its serving size.

Next stop is Weckerley’s, which has a second location four blocks west of Penn’s campus. Walking past La Colombe and a board game beer hall, we enter and instantly realize peak chic: drawings of smiling ice cream cones on the wall, tasteful ivy

strung around the kitchen, and a retro letter board announcing the dessert options.

We order the signature ice cream sandwiches, composed of thin chocolate chip cookie surrounding a layer of vanilla and chocolate ice cream. Solid in your hand, these are easy to eat even while melting — most importantly, the ice cream's of high quality. We walk out each with an ice cream sandwich in hand. Cheers from a bar tell us the Eagles are winning. And we have one more stop before going back to Penn.

PART 3: MILK JAWN We've saved the best for last. Returning the car to Rittenhouse, Ethan and I bike down to South Philly. The setting sunlight reflects off the brick of the townhouses, lending a serene quality to

the ride. We lock on Passyunk Avenue. and walk into Milk Jawn, our final destination. The store feels hip, yet of a piece with the broader neighborhood. Travis, sporting an Eagles jacket and beanie, recommends their “award–winning” Earl Grey Honeycomb. While Kat, the other scooper, bombards us with samples of all their flavors, we eat our ice cream and watch the Eagles game on Travis’s laptop. They have 30 seconds and 30 yards to score before halftime. Though all the flavors are delicious, the Earl Grey distinguishes itself. Here is the essentially Philly place—Ethan informs me “jawn” is Philly slang for things with amazing ice cream and vibes. Next time I won’t need to embark on an ice cream odyssey. I’ll simply just bike over to Milk Jawn. J

NOVEMBER 2023

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DINING GUIDE

Homemade Polish Staples in the Heart of Philly Mom–Mom's Kitchen brings a cozy atmosphere to their Polish cuisine.

BY MADELINE KOHN

A

Photo by Madeline Kohn

ll roads lead to Mom–Mom’s Kitchen on 15th and South streets. Viewers of Guy Fieri’s Diners, Drive–Ins, and Dives, late–night patrons of Bob and Barbara’s Lounge right next door, or loyalists of Polish dining alike all find their way to this “brick and mortar food truck.” From vegans to cheesesteak fiends, their small menu manages to offer something for everyone.

My go–to is the potato pierogi (which they also make vegan!), the most popular dish on the menu. It's uber crispy on both sides, with a steaming hot, melt–in–your–mouth filling. It only takes about ten minutes for Mom–Mom's to prepare your order, enough time to schmooze with the friendly staff or take in this quaint section of South Street.

Equally delicious is the kapusta (meaning cabbage) pierogi, which is actually the most authentic version of this Polish dish.

Sides of sauerkraut, apple sauce, and sour cream round out any meal. While Eastern European fare can be meat–laden, Mom– Mom’s is an authentic, delicious, and vegetarian–friendly option for those looking to expand their culinary horizons.

Much like a food truck, their setup on

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South Street only offers takeout. There is no inside seating, but guests are allowed and encouraged to take their meal to the iconic dive bar next door, Bob and Barbara’s. (But only if you promise to clean up after yourself and buy a round of drinks.)

Street–side tables are also available, and depending on your comfort level (and blood–alcohol level), curbside seating is always an option.

While waiting for my order, I ask about the “Polish Feast,” where $50 will get you one of everything they've got. The cashier promises me that it's a good amount for two people, but I challenge him on his low expectations of a single determined consumer of Polish cuisine. That mega order is a good way to try their offerings beyond just pierogi. It includes gołabki (pronounced “gowumpki”) which are meat–filled cabbage rolls, as well as kielbasa from Czerw's (“Chev’s”), a restaurant in Port Richmond.

Featuring food from other Polish establishments, such as Czerv’s, is just one way that Mom–Mom’s bridges Philadelphia's old–school Polish culture with the hipster dining scene. In a similar vein, you can catch their food truck at the monthly Richmond Street Flea Market, a community– wide revitalization of the Polish neighborhood on the last Sunday of every month.

Mom–Mom's are no strangers to hitting the road, and you can find them at farmer’s markets and food–truck pop–ups around Philadelphia every weekend.

This type of culinary outreach was the goal of founders Ryan Ellmore and Kaitin Wines, who wanted to honor the delicacies of their Polish grandparents while adding a “grandchild’s twist.” Even without a culinary background, their “hand–made and home–made” food has been popular since the opening of their food truck and original northeast Philadelphia location in 2018.

The hype has followed them in their transition to the current South Street location two years ago.

Their biggest contribution to Philadelphia's dining scene, however, must be the cheesesteak pierogi. Deliciously sacrilegious, it represents the perfect fusion of Polish and Philadelphian cuisine. Though

the concept is adventurous, the dish is as straightforward as all of their other offerings: simple pierogi dough, ground–up rib– eye steak, and shredded cheese, pinched, boiled, and fried–up like their other traditional offerings. While I can't try it myself, Fieri awarded the cheesesteak pierogi the title of a “legitimate, groundbreaking, destination dish.”

In a city with such a rich dining scene, it’s easy to get lost in the sauce. While some restaurants can feel like a culinary adventure, Mom–Mom’s feels like a warm hug: few enough options to avoid decision paralysis, and the “Polish feast” for those who still can’t make up their mind. Serving meat–filled and vegan options ranging from the glutenous to gluten–free, Ellmore and Wines have created the perfect simple food that can still cater to everyone.

Mom–Mom’s is a testament to the joys of no–frills dining. Portable, versatile, and delicious, they don’t need anything more than grandma’s recipe, a pot of boiling water, and a flat–top grill to cook up a meal that tastes like home. J

TL;DR Mom–Mom's pierogis will have you feeling right at home, whether or not you grew up with a Polish babcia.

Location: 1505 South St. Hours: Wednesday–Friday: 4 p.m.–10 p.m., Saturday 11 a.m.–10 p.m., Sunday 12 p.m.–10 p.m., closed on Monday and Tuesday Price: $

NOVEMBER 2023

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CAMPUS // STYLE

The Great K Korean Fried Chicken Showdown Three wings enter, one wing leaves.

BY STEVEN LI Illustration by Melody Zhang

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orean fried chicken: It’s more than finger–lickin' good. It’s heavenly. After a long day of classes, office hours, and meetings, a combination of perfectly tart radish, soy garlic chicken, and fries might just be a spiritual, out–of–body experience. That first crunch biting into Korean fried chicken is simply magical.

On campus, three Korean restaurants are battling to be the king of the fried chicken hill.

Bonchon is the established chain, with franchises spanning across the country. It’s known for its wide variety of dishes and, of course, juicy chicken. Pelicana is a certified Penn classic, even though it's only been open for five years. With late–night hours targeted toward college students, Pelicana is conveniently right across the street from the high rises. CM Chicken is the underdog in this competition, opening recently in 2022. However, its chicken quality and presentation have placed it as a frontrunner in the Korean fried chicken scene.

So, I decided to put these three restaurants to the test—the ultimate Korean fried chicken showdown—to determine a winner worthy of the KFC crown. I judged using a five–category rubric: flavor and seasoning, texture and crispiness, variety of menu, presentation, and service and atmosphere.

BONCHON What we ordered: seafood bibimbap, tteokbokki, soy garlic and spicy soy garlic chicken combo, bulgogi fries, and Korean fried donuts.

Bonchon’s bibimbap, which translates to “mixed rice” in Korean, is beautifully plated.

What sets their dish apart is the bits and pieces of shrimp and octopus, a creative twist on the usual bibimbap variations. Another surprising element is the incorporation of quinoa, which contributes a unique texture, a nutty flavor, and enhances the perceived nutritional value of the dish. However, the rice itself is a letdown.

It's mushy and lacking the crispiness that

should occur at the bottom of the clay pot. Still, better than Hill rice.

The next dish is tteokbokki, which are cylindrical rice cakes simmered in a typically sweet and spicy gochujang–based sauce. At Bonchon, the tteokbokki is too salty, bordering on what in Chinese cuisine might be termed "xia fan," or a strong, salty flavor meant to complement rice.

As someone with high expectations for tteokbokki after eating in Los Angeles’ Koreatown, theirs quite frankly did not stand out.

The chicken has a thin, crispy crust with generously–sized pieces. Although the accompanying radish is a bit too sweet, the chicken itself is exactly what you’d want for a KFC meal.

The best part of the dinner is the bulgogi fries, a mouthwatering combo of creamy mozzarella, spicy mayo, marinated steak, and chopped green onions. Imagine loaded nachos with an Asian twist and the satisfaction of fries.

The surprising highlight of this meal is the Korean fried donuts. The donuts’ twists make them easy to share, plus providing a good structure for the cinnamon and sugar to stick to. The cold condensed milk on the side adds a welcome contrast to the warm, fluffy donuts.

PELICANA What we ordered: Everything Combo with white powder cheese fries, mozzarella sticks, onion rings, soy garlic and spicy soy garlic chicken.

Pelicana’s "Everything Combo” delivers on its deliciously light chicken, with a perfect balance of spicy soy garlic and soy garlic. The chicken is definitely the highlight of the meal: super juicy yet still crispy.

The radish on the side is also perfectly tart, striking that perfect balance between sweet and sour. The side dishes are unimpressive, but not anything to look down on.

The white powder cheese fries are fresh and crispy, but the cheese is tasteless. The mozzarella sticks and onion rings frankly taste like dining hall food—nothing to complain about, but nothing special, either.

The main complaint with Pelicana is their long wait time, not due to too many people, but because of understaffing. With only two tables filled, food took upwards of half an hour to get on the table. The final product, while delivering in flavor, has a

straightforward presentation, ultimately focusing on delivering the essence of the dish without excessive frills.

CM CHICKEN What we ordered: Tikku soy garlic chicken, snow onion chicken, and cheese fries.

CM Chicken presents their two flagship chicken flavors: Tikku soy garlic and snow onion chicken. The Tikku soy garlic is a crispier version of the traditional Korean fried chicken but is exceptionally juicy. Yet, there's a strong charcoal–grilled flavor reminiscent of its thinner–crusted KFC counterparts. The snow onion chicken is also incredibly unique in its presentation, with a bed of caramelized white onions on top of the well–breaded chicken. Although the idea is novel, the flavor profile compared to the Tikku isn't as intense—even erring on the side of blandness.

However, the quality of the chicken is still on par with the Tikku and competitors. The cheese fries are definitely stronger than Pelicana’s, but still nothing to write home about.

They serve their job as a satisfying complement, but don't provide a “wow factor” like the bulgogi fries at Bonchon.

After thorough review, the underdog CM Chicken narrowly beats out Bonchon and Pelicana for the Korean fried chicken crown. Although the location next to Hill is slightly out of the way for some residents, the emerging KFC joint is definitely worth a try. The quality of the chicken here is undeniable, and the restaurant's dedication to presentation and atmosphere adds to the overall experience. Even the cheese fries, while not exceptional, play their role in enhancing the meal's satisfaction.

But go to Bonchon if you’re looking for Asian dishes that remind you of home. The restaurant tries to put creative twists on traditional Korean staples, which either creates a minor letdown or a beautiful combo. Although I wouldn’t order the bibimbap or tteokbokki again, the chicken will still hit the KFC spot. The bulgogi fries and Korean fried donuts are must–tries, demonstrating when the fusion of flavors works.

The same goes for Pelicana. You’re ei-

ther going for the good chicken, late closing times, or soju. Its wait times and customer service are definitely not highlights, but when the KFC calling comes, Pelicana does the job.

So, whether you're seeking creative takes on classic dishes, a consistently satisfying chicken fix, or something entirely different, these three restaurants have something unique to offer. The KFC crown may sit on CM Chicken's head today, but the Korean fried chicken scene is undoubtedly vibrant and one prime for exploration. J

FINAL RANKINGS Bonchon: Flavor and Seasoning: 7/10 Texture and Crispiness: 8/10 Variety of Menu: 8/10 Presentation: 9/10 Service and Atmosphere: 9/10 OVERALL: 41/50

Pelicana: Flavor and Seasoning: 9/10 Texture and Crispiness: 9/10 Variety of Menu: 8/10 Presentation: 7/10 Service and Atmosphere: 6/10 OVERALL: 39/50

CM Chicken: Flavor and Seasoning: 9/10 Texture and Crispiness: 9/10 Variety of Menu: 7/10 Presentation: 8/10 Service and Atmosphere: 9/10 OVERALL: 42/50

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DINING GUIDE

Lean Into Your Hipster Side at University City’s Newest Cafe Brews with a side of curated musical nostalgia—and a killer soundtrack to match.

BY MAIA SAKS Photo by Weining Ding

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or those of us who have dabbled in Philadelphia’s vast landscape of hipster coffee shops, the scene inside Baltimore Avenue’s newly opened Milkcrate Cafe on a sunny autumn morning wouldn’t appear at all surprising.

On its first open Sunday, the convivial Fishtown–based java bar’s new University City location is filled with tattooed singles toting laptops and thermoses, flannel–clad couples chatting over cappuccinos, and young parents doling out bagels to excited toddlers. Sunlight streams in through large windows, bouncing off of wooden high–tops and illuminating an open coffee bar, behind which black–clad baristas pull espresso shots and froth oat milk. In many ways, Milkcrate shares all of the hallmarks of curated hipsterdom found in Philadelphia’s favorite neighborhood cafes—Rival Bros. in Graduate Hospital, Shot Tower Coffee in Queen Village, Menagerie Coffee in Old City, and University City’s own Green Line Cafe.

In many ways, that is, except for one—“cafe” is only half of Milkcrate’s job description. As its website boasts, Milkcrate is both a coffee shop and a “vinyl record boutique.” While tables, chairs, and espresso machines fill its airy interior, the space also houses a collection of vintage records, decor, and musical paraphernalia, much of which is for sale. Alongside their chai lattes, customers can purchase authentic hip–hop, rock, and jazz vinyls; toasted everything bagels can be enjoyed underneath 1980s concert posters, below album–cover displays, and next to bins of records.

Milkcrate advertises a unique customer experience—the combination of delicious cafe fare, neighborhood people–watching and relaxation, and musical exploration for vintage heads of all stripes. Its menu already highlights an emphasis on locally made ingredients and offerings. We enjoy toasted bagels slathered with flavored cream cheese (vegan “tofutti” is an option, of course) from South Street’s family–owned Philly Bagels; also available are exotic herbal tea blends from Mt. Airy’s Craft Teas, and a small collection of cookies and pastries house–baked at Milkcrate’s own Fishtown location.

Milkcrate’s coffee menu is a veritable greatest–hits list of craft cafe classics. typical

espresso drinks are advertised alongside hot teas and chai lattes, and a comprehensive spectrum of available flavor shots includes coconut, mint, and lavender alongside the usual vanilla and caramel. Like many of Philadelphia’s favorite coffee spots, Milkcrate brews with La Colombe coffee beans, affording their drinks a familiar, dependable degree of quality. My cold brew is a perfectly respectable iteration of the form—smooth and flavorful, strong but not too bitter, elevated by a (free!) splash of oat milk.

But the perfectly satisfying, relatively predictable food and drink is by no means the standout aspect of my visit to Milkcrate. Rather, the cafe’s musical spin is what sets it apart, turning an otherwise typical coffee stop into an inviting weekend haven. Milkcrate’s decor is a beautiful, whimsical representation of hipster eclecticism—vintage Victorian lampshades dot the walls, cream–colored crown molding covers the ceiling, and scarlet leather mid–century couches fill the back. Large windows and warm lighting create a bright, cozy atmosphere, emphasizing the shop’s homey, vintage aesthetic.

Of course, the most striking aspect of the decor is its musical theme. Milkcrate’s walls are lined with a patchwork print of vintage concert posters, music magazine covers, and newspaper clippings citing Jethro Tull and The Who; wooden shelves display colorful rows of vintage record sleeves. One lineup features albums by R.E.M., the Dead Kennedys, and Jurassic 5; the shelf below displays an entire row of vintage Booker T. And The M.G.’s vinyls. Elsewhere on the wall are Bob Dylan, De La Soul, Etta James, Willie Nelson, the Ramones, and the soundtrack to Tim Burton’s Edward Scissorhands. The collection is eclectic, far–reaching, and filled with cult classics—exactly what one would hope for from a vinyl–themed cafe in the heart of University City.

Overall, while its meticulous vintage decor and artfully displayed vintage records could potentially border on hipster overload, Milkcrate Cafe feels cozy, accessible, and authentic. Its corner of 45th and Baltimore streets has been a volatile location for neighborhood cafes since the downfall of long–time hotspot Milk and Honey in 2020

and Vagrant Coffee’s short–lived stint in its wake. And in a neighborhood jam packed with beloved, unique spots for cafe fare, from funky vegan joint Grindcore West to the delicious Ethiopian coffeehouse Alif Brew just across the street, it’s easy to question whether another oat–milk–toting haunt represents an in–demand addition or a salient business venture.

If any new cafe can find success in University City, I believe it could and would be this one. With its clever marriage of vinyl, coffee, retail, and relaxation, Milkcrate fills in West Philadelphia's dining and leisure scene with whimsy and musical fun and appeals to the interests of its young, diverse neighborhood clientele. For Penn students, Milkcrate is an equally great option for a playlist–powered afternoon study session or a festive weekend brunch after hitting the Clark Park Farmers' Market. And for those interested in music, vinyl, and vintage culture, Milkcrate offers an experience unique among Philadelphia’s many cafes—the chance to sip, eat, chat, and work surrounded by musical greats, against a gentle soundtrack of handpicked classics. J

TL;DR New location of Fishtown cafe combines eclectic styling, creative local fare, and a passion for vintage vinyl in the heart of University City.

Location: 4435 Baltimore Ave. Hours: 9 a.m. – 1 p.m. every day Price: $

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DINING GUIDE

CHICHA San Chen is Bringing Tea Back into Boba CHICHA San Chen, Chinatown’s newest boba shop, is the most authentic boba you’ll find in Philadelphia.

BY N ATA S H A YAO

O

Photo by Jean Park

n any day of the week, you’ll find a line at CHICHA San Chen, and there’s a good reason. Their beverages won the International Trade Institute Award in 2021, a certification from the Michelin guide. Even on a chilly Tuesday afternoon, I'm waiting in line to get my boba.

Taking in the clean natural surroundings of the shop, I feel like I’ve been transported to a cute cafe back home in Asia. Their sleek golden machines are bustling away, pressing tea, and the bobaristas are calling out order numbers. It’s a small shop with plenty of light, wooden tables, and plants surrounding customers. Even though it’s busy, there’s still a sense of calm.

Jay Li, the owner of the Philadelphia branch, greets us with two of their most popular drinks—the bubble milk tea and honey osmanthus oolong tea—while he talks about the shop. He was initially attracted to the shop in Taiwan and decided to bring it over to Philadelphia. CHICHA San Chen in Taiwan is a beautiful concept store, and they’ve been dedicated to growing the best ingredients in Taiwan for their teas for the past 20 years. All the ingredients used in the Philadelphia store

have been imported from Taiwan.

Li is also kind enough to show us the fresh tea leaves they use to make the teas. When ordering, you can choose from a selection of teas to customize your order. One can’t go wrong with the award winning green tea.

The jasmine really stands out in this, and Li recommends it with cream. There’s also the osmanthus oolong tea, which is refreshing with sweet floral notes. The high mountain pouchong tea has a bit of a buttery taste to it, so it goes well with lemon juice. The classic black tea that is used to make the bubble milk tea is quite mellow and has a bit of natural sweetness to it that comes out in their boba.

For something slightly stronger, there is the dong ding oolong tea that has more charcoal undertones. Lastly, I must recommend my personal favorite, the cassia black tea, which has a bit more of a vanilla scent than the ordinary black tea.

After choosing the base for the tea, customers can choose flavors like lemon or honey and toppings like bubble or taro balls (for a limited time only!). Of course, if that’s too many decisions to make, there’s always one of their classic drinks. Every cup of tea is brewed individually once it's ordered. While this does come with a slightly longer waiting time, it's absolutely worth it—every cup is made with their time and love.

With the first sip of their classic bubble milk tea, I can immediately taste the difference. Instead of being oversaturated with that creamy, milky taste often found in boba, I can really taste the black tea, but it’s still just sweet enough. The boba is still fresh and warm at the bottom of my cup and it has that perfect "QQ" texture: a level of chewiness often desired in Asian food. CHICHA San Chen also allows you to adjust the sweetness and the level of ice in most of their drinks, making it ideal for even the most particular of customers.

We finish up our time at CHICHA San Chen with green tea and cream (as Li recommends) and bubbles. Despite being the strongest green tea I’ve had in boba before, the aftertaste is nice and light. Oddly, this green tea is not green at all. That’s because it's made from fresh green tea, which is naturally yellow and not matcha–green. If that’s not quite to your tastes, finish up with their

classic lemon tart, which comes with high mountain pouchong tea, lemon juice, and mousse. It’s perfectly refreshing, hitting you with lemon and just the aftertaste of tea. It’s not too sugary or sour at all and makes for a great dessert drink.

CHICHA San Chen has a level of luxury not found in the average boba shop. The teas are the stand–out in all their beverages; not just heaps of sugar and milk.

As for what’s next for CHICHA San Chen in Philadelphia, Li says they plan on starting pickup services, so customers can order in advance and hopefully not have to wait in that impressive line. He also wants to sell gift sets like they do at the Taiwan store, with beautiful ceramic tea sets. In the future, he may completely orient himself toward tea by opening a store in Philadelphia where customers can participate in tea ceremonies, an incredible cultural experience that is an essential for all tea lovers.

CHICHA San Chen has already had a lot of global success, with stores all around Asia, the Unitedd States, and Canada—and it’s for good reason. For the boba enthusiast, the lines are absolutely worth it. J

TL;DR CHICHA San Chen is every tea lover's dream come true.

Location: 932 Race St. Hours: Tuesday through Thursday and Sundays 12 p.m.–9:30 p.m; Friday and Saturday 12 p.m.–9 p.m.; Closed on Mondays Price: $

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Pho 75 is a Classic That Demands Your Attention A bowl of delicious pho is a soothing remedy for hunger and homesickness.

BY FIONA HERZOG Photo by Weining Ding

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s a slightly homesick newcomer to Philadelphia in search of comfort through food, it felt as if everyone I asked knew what I was searching for and what the antidote was.

Pho 75.

Located in a strip mall on Washington Avenue, Pho 75 stands out with its large yellow banner spanning the entire length of the building and more. The neon “PHO75” sign shines against the backdrop of the relatively empty street.

Before entering, I know I'm walking into a space that has been a fixture of the community.

Inside, there are teenagers hanging out, mothers trying to feed their kids, single diners on their phones, businessmen, tourists, and me. There's no target demographic for a comforting bowl of soup.

The menu offers little in the way of customization, except for your choice in the cuts of meat and size of your bowl.

If you feel adventurous, you can choose tripe, tendon, or even both. Otherwise,

no matter the choice, the tender meat infused with the layered flavor of the broth is guaranteed to be delicious.

I select the skirt steak, and my friends each order different cuts so we can experience as much variety as possible.

While I wait, I take in the ambiance: The tables are plain with hoisin sauce and sriracha in reused bottles covered in duct tape. The restaurant also only accepts cash. When you are done with your bowl, you walk up to the register to pay.

After a short wait, the bowls arrive piping hot on a large tray. Each bowl is precariously filled with a mound of meat, endlessly long rice noodles, and shaved onion and herbs floating atop.

Like a mother cooking dinner and offering seemingly endless amounts of vegetables, Pho 75 is also generous with its garnish. Even while I'm rapt in my bowl of pho (one hand slurping down the noodles, the other hurriedly reaching into the mountain of bean sprouts and cilantro to dump into my bowl), there are still sprouts and herbs left on the plate at

the end of the meal.

However, the most important transformative experience is with the broth itself. Acidic, umami, rich, robust; all these descriptors exist simultaneously in my mouth. The lime and spices add a brightness that balances the richness of a beef broth simmering for hours.

Most surprisingly, it's perfectly salted.

I find other restaurants tend to oversalt the broth to compensate for the lack of flavor. Pho 75 understands how salt is meant to enhance natural flavor, not to mask it.

In addition to pho, you can’t go wrong with their drinks. The black drip–pot coffee with condensed milk is the perfect sweet ending to the savory broth. Further, their plum soda is incredibly bright and punchy, especially after drinking soup on a hot day.

No matter who you are, whether you're celebrating a new opportunity or seeking comfort in a place far from home, a bowl of delicious pho is always going to be a soothing remedy. J

Penn science Café SCIENCE ON THE MENU MONDAY, NOV. 13 • 5:30 PM • XFINITY LIVE

TL;DR Pho 75 is a quick, simple stop for Vietnamese pho soup in many varieties with choices in soup base and cuts of beef.

Location: 1122 Washington Ave. Hours: Monday through Sunday 9 a.m.—8 p.m.

Price: $

Catering 0 Delivery 0 Takeout 4040 Locust St. pattayarestaurant.com N O V E M B E R 2 0 2 3 33

DINING GUIDE

Pizza Meets Mexican at Tonalli At this family–owned BYOB, Mexican dishes and the unique pizzas they inspire shine.

B Y A N N A O ' N E I L L– D I E T E L Photo by Victoria Navarrete-Ortiz

N

estled on a tranquil, tree lined block on Front and Morris streets, Tonalli is the latest addition to South Philadelphia’s vibrant restaurant scene. In a neighborhood renowned for both its pizza and Mexican cuisine, Tonalli truly stands out. Co–founded by lifelong friends Odilón Sandoval and Israel Cortes, this BYOB skillfully blends traditional pizza recipes with the vibrant flavors of their hometown, San Mateo Ozolco, Mexico.

Passersby are beckoned in by the restaurant's pleasant outdoor seating, underneath festive papel picado that flutter among the branches of the old growth trees. Just a step inside the restaurant, and the warmth and passion that the owners have is palpable.

When photographer Victoria Navarrete– Ortiz and I walk through the doors, Sandoval, who works at the front of the house, welcomes us inside. Surrounded by lively music and the enticing aromas of roasting trompo al pastor and their signature house– made adobo sauce, we take our seats.

Sandoval explains that over the past 20 years in Philadelphia, he and his business partner Cortes have worked their way up

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the city's restaurant scene. After working preparing pizzas, combining this classic Italian fare with flavors from their hometown seemed like a natural move for the duo. And with Sandoval’s sister and Cortes's brother recently marrying, what started as a partnership between the childhood friends has grown into a family affair.

"Tonalli" translates to "sunshine" in Nahualt, the language of Sandoval's mother.

When he told her about his plans to open the restaurant, she said "it's time for the sun to shine" on him, and her words became the inspiration for the restaurant’s name.

It's a fitting one, as flavor and love shines through each dish at Tonalli.

The menu features classic pizzas such as margherita and buffalo chicken, as well as traditional dishes from Southern Mexico, like the borrego en adobo artesanal, a lamb shank in a sweet and spicy sauce. But what sets Tonalli apart is its selection of piz-

zas with Southern Mexican flavors, like its Tonalli pizza, topped with refried beans, chorizo, sweet corn, and poblano peppers.

Sandoval recommends I sample the borrego en adobo artesanal pizza, tacos de camaron, borrego en adobo artesanal, and the nachos.

I begin with the borrego en adobo artesanal pizza, topped with braised lamb, cactus salsa, their house–made adobo sauce, and mozzarella. The thin crust pizza exemplifies what Tonalli does best, seamlessly melding the flavors of Southern Mexico and Italian pizza. The pizza is generously topped with tender lamb and the adobo—a sweet, savory sauce made from chili powder, vinegar and sugar—paired well with the mozzarella.

I move on to the tacos de camaron, and as someone who orders shrimp tacos whenever they’re on a menu, I can attest that these are the best I’ve had in Philadelphia. The

shrimp are tender and juicy, paired with freshly chopped pico de gallo and a chipotle mayo sauce. Next, I sample the nachos, a must–order side if visiting Tonalli. They're piled high with three types of cheese (chihuahua, oaxaca, and queso fresco) along with refried black beans, pico de gallo, and guacamole.

Toward the end of the meal, I dig into the borrego en adobo artesanal, a lamb shank in adobo sauce served with cactus salad and guacamole. The recipe comes from Cortes’ mother, and Sandoval explains that in their childhood town of San Mateo Ozolco, it's served on special occasions. The lamb is cooked to perfection, falling off of the bone, while the side of guacamole and cooked cactus cut its richness. I would order the lamb shank if you are in the mood for an indulgent dish and have a strong spice tolerance.

Conversely, the borrego en adobo artesanal pizza balances the spice of the lamb with the

crust, and is an easier dish to split family– style.

The best way to enjoy Tonalli is undoubtedly with others, allowing everyone to sample its many flavors. By the end of lunch, I'm glad to have come with a friend. We spent the meal passing dishes back and forth, exclaiming at the meal's many unexpected, delicious flavor profiles.

After leaving Tonalli, the warmth of the restaurant’s atmosphere and the flavors of the lunch linger for the rest of the day. The care that Sandoval and Cortes have imparted into their restaurant is there in every bite. Now I'm eager to tell everyone I cross paths with about this gem, and with menu items left to try, like their trompo al pastor pizza topped with slow roasted pork, pineapple, and red salsa or the memelas stuffed with refried beans and cactus salad, I know I’ll be returning. J

TL;DR Tonalli offers a totally unique blend of Italian fare with the flavors of Odilón Sandoval and Israel Cortes' Mexican childhoods.

Location: 100 Morris St. Hours: Tuesday through Sunday 12 p.m.–10 p.m.

Price: $$

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The Art of Omakase Choose the tasting menu at Zama, and its the only choice you'll have to make.

BY DYLAN GROSSMANN Photo by Jean Park

Y

ou walk into an art museum, a gallery, a concert, a comedy show, a play, and you turn your brain off. You give up the nuisance of choice and submit your senses totally to the experience in front of and around you. When you participate in Zama’s chef–tasting menu, you do the same thing. It's less of a meal and more of an experience. It's an art form.

I'm greeted by the sleek and dimly lit restaurant, a long thin space headed by an impressive and lively sushi bar. I snap out of my reverie when I hear Michael Jackson’s “Billie Jean” humming from above. The waiter places the $65 tasting menu on my table for inspection. Trying to truly give up the reins of my meal, I glance down and tell my waiter I'm in. That’s when the real experience begins.

Each of the seven courses, plus dessert, is brought out about every five minutes.

The meal starts with a kaiso salad—seaweed

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topped with shrimp, bonito flakes, and a refreshing vinaigrette. For a considerably small portion, it's filled with flavor. The vinaigrette enhances the flavor of the seaweed, complemented by the salty crunch of the bonito flakes.

Second is the tuna usuzukuri: a beautiful presentation of thinly sliced big–eye tuna truffle, ponzu, and soy–marinated wasabi stems. Despite the heavy nature of truffle, the melt–in–your–mouth tuna is simultaneously rich and refreshing. The uncut, carpaccio–style sheet of fish is certainly beautiful, but an awkward thing to eat.

The third dish, a rock shrimp tempura wrap, is disappointing in presentation—two floppy pieces of bibb lettuce flanked between a small portion of tempura shrimp and veggies—and in taste. The tempura is so heavily breaded that the cauliflower and shrimp pieces are indecipherable. However, the meal continues smoothly when the sashimi sampler arrives: a trio of hamachi ponzu, yuzu miso salmon, and kampachi tataki (two pieces each). The hamachi ponzu, garnished with jalapeño, is my favorite part of the meal—so dynamic in flavor as the sweetness of the fish is cut by the spice of the jalapeño.

I'm also impressed by the intentional nature of the salmon. It has a strong yuzu flavor, a thick cut of fish that feels almost like fatty tuna on the palate; you immediately get the yuzu, but as that taste disperses, and just the salmon is left on your tongue, the flavor neutralizes.

The fifth course is the tender, hamachi tataki–seared yellowtail over three pieces of tempura avocado maki, with a divine red yuzu pepper sauce. The sauce, the roll, and the warm yellowtail (hit with a blowtorch) provide the perfect medium between rich, smoky, and sweet flavors—a delicious piece, with an even more gorgeous presentation.

Course six presents five pieces of nigiri from standard o–toro, king yellow tail, and salmon toro, to more adventurous baby pink snapper and branzino belly. The quality is excellent, the fish having no punchy flavor, nor the fishy aftertaste all too common in the states. Having experienced omakase before, I know to clear my palate after each piece with pickled ginger, which is as fresh and

high quality as the fish.

The final course is a very outwardly unimpressive soy paper hand roll. Internally though, it's filled with flavor. The spicy shrimp tempura is paired with eel and an accompanying eel sauce that leaves me confused as to why they aren’t served together more frequently. The complementary flavors laid upon the warm rice are the perfect cap to a fantastic meal. I'm overwhelmingly full when they bring out the dessert: black sesame and coconut mochi. Again, it's an impressive pairing of flavors, with the decadent umami of black sesame lifted by the light and sweet coconut.

For $65, I'm astounded by the impressive quality, portion, and presentation of this meal. Not only do I walk out completely satiated, but I feel like I had experienced more than a meal; I experienced an atmosphere.

Tasting menus allow you to turn your brain off and lean into your senses during the dining experience, and a wonderful experience it was. The $65 tasting menu at Zama was one of the best culinary decisions I've made—and it’s the only one I had to make that night. J

TL;DR If you're at all indecisive, let the culinary artists at Zama do the heavy lifting for you.

Location: 128 S 19th St. Hours: Sunday through Thursday 5 p.m.–9 p.m; Friday and Saturday 5 p.m.–10 p.m. Open for lunch Monday through Friday 12 p.m.–2:30 p.m.

Price: $$$

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DINING GUIDE

Wilder: What is New American cuisine?

This restaurant in Rittenhouse tries to define it.

BY KYUNGHWAN LIM Photo by Kyunghwan Lim

W

hat is New American cuisine? If we were to break down the phrase on its own, it suggests an offshoot of the burgers, hot dogs, and fries that we all know and love.

However, from the perspective of the average restaurant–goer, “New American” denotes the hauteur of upper–class dining: minuscule portion sizes, blasphemous culinary fusion, and difficult French pronunciations.

So when I visited Wilder, a Rittenhouse Square restaurant that brands itself as “New American,” I half–expected Big Macs and Twinkies deconstructed into a multicolored baguette.

However, the joint firmly sticks its roots in traditional cuisine while not compromising the “New” in “New American”—a combination that’ll have guests coming back week after week.

As soon as I enter Wilder, I notice that the interior design was like an ecosystem. The dining space teems

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with picturesque plants in the backdrop of ocean–blue accents and cheetah print. Lighting is minimal with exceptions made for dim candles and string lights that mimic the rhythm of the night sky. All of these elements combine to form a dining experience that’s not only intimate between individual guests but also between guests and their food. Wilder’s vibrant environment mirrors the natural environment from which humans take sustenance from.

For the appetizers, the waiter enthusiastically suggests the burrata and pears salad along with the scal-

lop crudo “dip & chips.” The former introduces sweetness into my salad– tasting vocabulary. The majority of the flavor originates from the pears of which there are two kinds in the dish: the soft Seckel pear and the crunchy Asian pear. The combination of these fruits with the creamy burrata cheese takes the spotlight from the chewy watercress, with the dish reminding me more of a smoked brie with honey rather than a bona fide salad. However, I’m not complaining—it's delicious.

On the other hand, the scallop crudo presents an interesting juxtaposition of two flavors. The left side of

the plate features a brininess brought out by the raw nature of the scallops that is pitted against the crunch of the honey nut chips on the right side.

What results from this unlikely pairing is a scuffle between the elements of ocean and earth.

I can only appreciate those two dishes for just a few seconds before I'm confronted with the main course. I’d ordered the night’s house special—the wild boar shank—on a whim, but the mammoth size of the chunk of flesh and bone sticking out from a sea of grits and vegetables was nothing to be trifled with. I begin with the plate as I pulled the bone right off the meat, the aromatic wine sauce dripping from its sinews. The grits and potatoes added even more creaminess to the overall texture which made the dish comparable to the vibe of the soft rock that was playing in the background:

smooth with just a little bit of funkiness.

As for the dessert, I opt for their selection of sorbet—I'm intrigued by just how good Wilder can make something as simple as frozen scoops of fruit. Although I could go on and on about the apple cinnamon and lemon basil flavors, they couldn’t beat the pineapple coconut. Only a select few pieces of food have ever rendered me speechless, and this scoop of sorbet now claims its place among those rare and remarkable experiences. The pineapple’s acidity perfectly balances the overt richness of the coconut in what I would call a match made in heaven.

Heralded by a dazzling neon sign on its exterior, Wilder is truly a must–visit restaurant if you are ever around Rittenhouse. Its wild aesthetics are rivaled by its even wilder food—a testament to its namesake. J

TL;DR Wilder makes New American sexy again.

Location: 2009 Sansom St. Hours: Monday through Thursday 11:30 a.m.—10 p.m.; Friday 11:30 a.m.—11 p.m.; Saturday 11 a.m.—11 p.m.; Sunday 11 a.m.—9 p.m.

Price: $$$

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DINING GUIDE

Pedestaling Plants at Pietramala Pietramala's owner and staff are innovating new ways to think about the restaurant industry

BY LILA DUBOIS

“I

Photos by Kaveen Harohalli

didn’t come to Philly to open a restaurant. It just kind of happened,” says Pietramala’s chef and owner Ian Graye.

Just over a year old in the Northern Liberties neighborhood, the vegan restaurant’s close–knit team of cooks, house staff, farmers, fermenters, and foragers have made it their mission to put plants on a pedestal.

Stepping off the Market–Frankford Line, a minute or so from Spring Garden Station, anyone would be lucky to stumble into the warm heaven of a green suede Pietramala booth.

Here, you might start with Golden Beets slathered in homemade vegan mayonnaise, topped with caraway seeds, a dark leafy bed

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of sour chard, and a few precious potato chips sliced paper thin. Then there’s the Market Lettuces, a glorious pile of everything bright, crunchy, and crisp: watermelon radish, chicory, fennel, popped spelt, all under a tangy vinaigrette. You'd bet money there was blue cheese in there, but actually that’s the garlic, fermented in–house, and cashew cheese, fermented by a local brand to perfection.

Then the mains will arrive. Smokey cabbage, cooked over coal until so tender you can pull it apart, and served bathed in sauce and oils ringing of celery (which Pietramala has you eating like you’d never expect), mizuna, and horseradish. Or you get the

Maitake Mushroom, likely picked just that morning, crisp on the outside and meaty– fresh on the inside. Or the Maltagliati, hearty durum wheat pasta glazed beneath sungold tomato sauce. The plate is golden and sweet and acidic—you might even decide their chicken of the woods mushrooms are better than chicken.

Beside you, an open kitchen hums with the Pietramala team moving in effortless rhythm. It’s a pace reminiscent of the RUSH tunes they blasted during prep.

The hum, the hard work and happy conversation, the heat of stewed tomatoes and well–fed customers, the vines snaking the exposed ducts, ceiling, and warm brick

walls—everything in the space moves in perfect harmony.

While the opening of Pietramala was unplanned, spontaneous might be better thought of as serendipitous.

“We’re making it work, and I think people are liking it. I just want them to come here, have a good time, and maybe have their eyes opened a little to what you can do with just vegetables and plants.”

But perhaps equal to their mission of making good food, Pietramala grew out of that collective post–COVID–19–pandemic reckoning with low pay, long hours, and general mistreatment in the service industry.

“I was like, ‘Do I really want to go back and work for people like this?’ So that was a big push for me to try to make a space for people to be creative and be themselves and be human beings, rather than these machines that only obey.”

When this ideal workspace didn’t exist, Graye figured, why not make it himself?

This streak of self–sufficiency extends into the rest of Graye's work as well. Miso, among other things, are fermented in house. Small, local vendors and farmers are hand picked.

The menu relies on no meat substitutes.

“We’re making these things from scratch so we can control the quality of everything that we use along the way and make sure that it meets our standards.”

This methodology applies to Graye himself, who started without experience 12 years ago at a restaurant where his friends worked.

He rose from dishwasher to chef to lead chef to sous chef to head chef in just over the course of a year and a half, teaching himself through observation, cookbooks, and practice.

His dedication is the kind that comes innately to those who have found their calling.

From the delicate plating, to thoughtful produce purchases, personally foraged mushrooms (thanks Max! He’s their on–hand expert in that arena), and firm handshakes from Shaq (the head of house)—this is the passionate work of a team that enjoys what they do.

As for the place of veganism in modern restaurants, Graye states, “I think just in, maybe, the last half decade, we’ve seen a

huge leap forward. There’s been more of a focus across the board of people wanting quality, and wanting to know the providence of their ingredients, what they’re paying for.”

It’s Graye’s invocation of providence that makes me pause. I’m thrust into the divine and I suddenly realize that this is what he's been working towards the entire time.

Whether consciously or not, he handles the plants he serves with a reverence that borders on spirituality, fully devoted to each step of the process. Everything he does pays tribute to the inseparability of food and nature, of food and perfection of the wild, native, real.

While I can’t be certain where he stands on the larger higher powers at play, it is clear that Graye believes in the higher power of plants, good food and working alongside one another to make it. He believes in Pietramala.

“We built this and we’ve made it our home. I just want to keep working and make sure my staff is happy and that people are eating well.”

Then, true to his humble nature, Graye puts it even simply: “I mean, I’d just like to stay open.” J

TL;DR This intimate vegan restaurant based in the Northern Liberties focuses on local Philly produce and providence.

Location: 614 N 2nd Street Hours: 5 – 9 p.m., Tuesday through Saturday Price: $$

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P RD II NN TI N G / / GLUEI GD AE C Y

Fishtown’s Finest Kalaya is the Thai Restaurant to Beat This popular Thai kitchen still wows with a moody ambiance and consistent family–style dishes.

BY MOLLIE BENN Photo by Thu Pham

I

t is no secret that Kalaya is one of Fishtown’s best restaurants, and it’s for good reason. Chef Chutatip “Nok” Suntaranon has been serving Thai food to the northern Philadelphia neighborhood since April of 2019 and has received much acclaim while doing so, including the winner of the Best Chef Mid–Atlantic James Beard Award.

The food is bound to impress, and for what you’re paying for, Kalaya definitely delivers in both culinary experience and ambiance.

For a well–hyped, high–end dining place such as Kalaya, expectations are fairly high. And although it’s a bit on the pricier side, the experience makes it worthwhile. A moonlit, candle–light aesthetic accompanies my nighttime visit, and though there isn't a single table or bar seat empty, the service is beyond attentive.

Seated in the middle of the restaurant right next to giant pots of towering greenery, we have an optimal view of

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the place. Though not completely visible, the kitchen faces out toward the patrons, and lined up in front of the expo are numerous waitstaff. Though the lights are dim, pockets of glow are scattered across the restaurant and a turquoise hue shines through the bar.

Bright colors accent much of the decor as well as the food.Kalaya’s menu lays out its various options with the assumption that the dishes will be shared family style. Its offerings include dumplings, appetizers, salads, curry, stir fry, larger entrees, and a number of sides. For the most part, the food arrives as soon as it's ready in hopes that it will be enjoyed in phases or a loose course style. The menu also has a variety of beverage options and many tables around us are enjoying specialty cocktails or frozen beer with their meal.

To begin, we're served the gui chai, a garlic chive rice cake with spicy and sweet soy sauce. The crispy, warm

cake is tasty enough by itself, but with the sauce, the filling square absorbs its spicy kick. Much of Kalaya’s dishes are on the spicy side, and this dish offers a more gradual introduction to what’s about to come.

Next, we receive an order of jui guay dumplings. The dish consists of five pink and green doughy rice cups topped with a dollop of minced shiitake mushrooms and bamboo shoots. The dish also comes with the sweet and spicy soy sauce, though the dumpling has its own hint of spicy flavors. The rice cups provide a nice neutral but cute base for the salty mushroom mixture. My preconception of what a dumpling could be is challenged uponlooking at the petite, colored cups, but the payoff is tasty and satisfying.

Though our starters are a great entrance into Kalaya’s fun, intricate plating style and rich spice profile, the prik king jae served as our main dish definitely takes the cake. Accompanied by jasmine rice and a side of cabbage with fish sauce

and palm sugar (kalum tod nam pla), the prik king jae is made up of crispy tofu, long beans, and peppers in dry red curry. Not quite the spiciest dish on Kalaya’s menu, the curry still brings a kick which pairs well with the sweeter cabbage. After the previous courses, it doesn't take long for the curry to fill me up, though the server is helpful in packing up the rest that couldn’t be finished.

It isn’t often that I’m able to make the trek to Fishtown or that my wallet can support the menu’s options, but the Kalaya experience is definitely worth the journey. With wonderful service and ambient decor, Kalaya is perfect for a date or even just a celebration with friends.

Its equally gorgeous and delicious dishes also provide a hip dining experience.

And weather you’re deathly afraid of hot food or feel as if nothing you eat is spicy enough, Kalaya is almost sure to have something around your range. Just make sure to bring a group to enjoy the food as it is meant to be eaten: family style. J

TL;DR Kalaya is one of Philly's best bets not only for Thai cuisine, but for ambience and aesthetics as well.

Location: 4 W Palmer St. Hours: Sunday through Thursday 5 p.m.–10 p.m; Friday and Saturday 5 p.m.–11 p.m.; Open for lunch Saturday and Sunday 11 a.m.–2 p.m.

Price: $$$

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DINING GUIDE

Philly’s Beating Heart of South Asian Cuisine

Virasat Haveli is the one–stop shop for all of your South Asian comfort food cravings.

BY PRERNA KULKARNI Photos by Andrea Barajas

W

ith the Indian festival of Diwali right around the corner, the perfect way to celebrate is to savor the rich delicacies of India. Fortunately for Penn students, Virasat Haveli couples delicious South Asian food with a warm, lively ambience that is sure to fill your heart with comfort as it did mine.

Virasat Haveli directly translates to the Hindi phrase “a mansion of culture and heritage."

Upon your first steps into the restaurant, you will begin to see the ways in which it lives up to its name.

As manager Jodhe Budha Magar welcomed me into the restaurant, I am also greeted by melodious Indian classics and the tantalizing fragrance of spices. I can't help but notice the vibrant, multicolored umbrellas alongside clay pots fashioned into lamps hanging from the ceiling, illuminating a gigantic map of India that displays various foods across the country’s many states.

“When people come from east to west, they see the map and can say: 'This is my place, this is the history, this is the food,’" Magar replies when I ask him about the map. And indeed, I am able to recognize the sweet balls of Rasgul-

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la over West Bengal, where my mother was born, and the savory, crepe–like dosas of Maharashtra, where my father was born.

As we sit down to eat, Magar’s thoughtful sentiment remains a common theme throughout the rest of the afternoon. The first dish we order is the Chole Bhature, the most popular menu item, according to Magar.

When asked if we want the dish prepared spicy, we reply “Heck yes!” and I am so glad that we do. The familiar onion and spice– heavy aroma signals to me that the chole is nearing our table, and immediately, my

mouth waters in anticipation.

The chole, a spicy chickpea curry, is usually served with bhature, a flaky, fried bread that melts in your mouth. As I scoop the chickpeas onto the bread and take my first bite, flavors ranging from cardamom to turmeric to chili peppers explode in my mouth. “It’s like we’re tasting colors,” our photographer comments.

And of course, we can’t skip the butter chicken, which is Magar’s favorite dish to prepare (and eat). Virasat Haveli spins a delicious Punjabi twist on its butter chicken, characterized by a lightly sweet deep orange curry sauce

that fully submerges tender cuts of chicken.

We pair the butter chicken with my favorite, garlic naan, a soft buttery bread coated with garlic and cilantro that compliments the spicy chicken perfectly. Near the end of our visit, Magar kindly takes us to the kitchen, where we have the opportunity to meet the chefs and see the tandoor in which the naans are prepared—Virasat Haveli prepares all of its breads fresh.

Virasat Haveli employs four chefs from different regions of South Asia, including Bangladesh and Nepal. Magar, a co–founder of the restaurant, is Nepali himself, and his partner, Jagmeet Singh, is from Punjab.

In addition to the classic Indian fare we ordered, Virasat Haveli also features a variety of dishes from other South Asian countries. The restaurant’s Indo–Chinese dishes include gobi Manchurian, which is crispy cauliflower tossed and coated in a sweet and spicy sauce, and chicken momos, which are dumplings stuffed with chicken and herbs.

Virasat Haveli strives to be inclusive of all of

its customers, as all of the menu items are Halal and there are several vegan and gluten–free options.

Since its founding in 2019, Virasat Haveli’s main mission has been to bring people together. Even the layout facilitates community: Long, rectangular tables meant for large parties line the left side of the room, while smaller, square tables line the right side.

This leaves a big gap of space in the middle of the restaurant, from the door all the way to the back, creating the appearance of a dining hall. Magar points out that many events are held here, and that performances are meant to be made in this space, whether they be dance sequences for graduation parties or heartfelt speeches given by loved ones at a birthday dinner.

Through its space and food alike, Virasat Haveli demonstrates the beauty of South Asian culture, the ability to bridge gaps with animated music, festive tapestries, and passionate conversations shared over comfort food that warms the soul. J

TL;DR Make a visit to Virasat Haveli for South Asian dishes that'll warm your belly and your heart.

Location: 4051 Market St. Hours: Tuesday through Sunday 11:30 a.m.–9:30 p.m., Closed on Mondays Price: $$

NOVEMBER 2023

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DINING GUIDE

Savor Authentic Brazilian Delights at Picanha Steakhouse A culinary journey to Brazil in the heart of Center City

BY LUIZ A LOUBACK Photos by Luiza Louback

F

ew things define Brazilian cuisine as distinctly as a love for steakhouses.

But for me, a born–and–raised Brazilian, a “churrasco” is much more than a meal—it’s a culinary spectacle. In it, an array of meats is expertly skewered or placed on a spit, resembling a delicious rosary of flavors charbroiled to perfection. It's an art form unto itself. Over the years, I've enjoyed numerous churrasco meals with loved ones, whether indoors or outdoors, and it has always been a joyful celebration.

In recent years, the Brazilian churrasco experience has transcended borders and is now widely cherished in many parts of the world, including the United States.

Brazilian steakhouses, often referred to as "rodízios," have found a dedicated following among food enthusiasts in the United States. An example of the popularity of this food in Philly is Picanha Brazilian Steakhouse. With locations in Center City, Northeast Philadelphia, and even one in New York, it features over a dozen rotisserie grille meats and signature items served

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right at your table by rodízio gauchos.

The appeal of Brazilian steakhouses lies not only in the mouthwatering offerings but also in the unique dining experience.

Picanha preserves Brazilian barbecue skills and culinary techniques, reproducing genuine Brazilian hospitality and the overall experience of an authentic churrasco.

When you visit the restaurant, you can expect to be treated to a continuous parade of succulent, skewered meats, such as sirloin, filet mignon, lamb chops, and sausages, expertly carved and served tableside.

Guests are provided with a small disc, typically green on one side and red on the other. When you're ready for more, you turn the disc to green, signaling to the servers that you're ready for another round of meaty delights. When you've had your fill, you simply turn it to red. Along-

side the meats, there is a long buffet filled with traditional Brazilian food. At Picanha, you can encounter farofa (toasted cassava flour), vinagrete (Brazilian tomato slaw), white rice, beans, and even feijoada (a black bean and pork stew). And of course, don’t forget to order Guaraná, a typical Brazilian soft drink, to accompany your meal. This all–you–can–eat style of dining allows you to savor a variety of flavors and cuts, ensuring a new gastronomic adventure with every visit—the combinations are endless.

The churrasco experience is about savoring every bite at your own pace while enjoying the conviviality of those around you. Picanha Steakhouse, open every day of the week, provides an ideal setting for celebrating various occasions with family and friends. The restaurant boasts a spacious,

well–lit interior adorned with a wooden bar and a wine cellar. Adding to its charm, the decor features road plaques adorned with the names of famous Brazilian streets and states, creating a comforting and elegant atmosphere at the same time.

What sets the churrasco experience apart is the interactive and communal aspect of the meal—it’s meant to be shared.

Upon entering Picanha, you're greeted by a Brazilian mural adorned with the Brazilian flag and the word "HOME" below it.

This, to me, encapsulates the essence of the food—it feels like home. Conversing with the Brazilian waitstaff, speaking Portuguese, and savoring dishes that remind me of Brazil, it's an experience that immediately transports me back home.

Churrasco is a celebration of food, friendship, and the rich culinary heritage of Brazil. Whether you're indulging in a classic churrasco feast in Brazil or at a Brazilian steakhouse in the United States, you're in for a memorable culinary journey. So, raise your fork, prepare to turn the disk, enjoy the amazing flavors, and revel in a delightful celebration. Here's to the taste of Brazil, no matter where in the world you may be.

J

TL;DR Hit up Picanha with your besties to feast on festive and traditional Brazilian fare.

Location: 1111 Locust St. Hours: Monday–Friday, 11:30 a.m. to 10 p.m.

Saturday 11:30 a.m. to 10:30 p.m. Sunday 11:30 a.m. to 9 p.m.

Price: $$

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C U LT U R E / / F I L M & T V

Spaghetti & Romance The power of love and food on film

BY EMMA HALPER Illustration by Melody Zhang

T

o say “food is a love language” has become a one–liner spoken ad nauseam, but it cannot be denied that some foods truly do create feelings of warmth, comfort, and love. Filmmakers clearly understand food’s connection to love, specifically the correlation between eating noodles and falling in love.

Captured countless times in some of cinema’s great love stories, these scenes showcase that the power of pasta and the power of love are not mutually exclusive phenomena.

Lady and the Tramp (1955), dir. Clyde Geronimi, Wilfred Jackson, and Hamilton Luske There are few images in film more recognizable than Lady and Tramp barrelling towards their first kiss as they eat the same string of spaghetti. The spaghetti is essential to the scene, as no other food, or any other pasta for that matter, could so amusingly and convincingly lead two to fall in love. Lady and Tramp become so immersed in their delicious bowl of spaghetti that neither realizes the one string of pasta is leading them to actualizing their romantic spark. Once their lips do meet, there is a mutual recognition of the changed dynamic in their relationship that might not have happened without that magical bowl of pasta. The scene is so beautifully animated, and perfectly captures the innocence and sense of discovery associated with first love that Lady and Tramp experience.

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The Apartment (1960), dir. Billy Wilder Billy Wilder’s classic The Apartment explores the complexities of love and romance, using an apartment, a broken compact mirror, and some tennis racquet spaghetti. In one scene, the irresistible Jack Lemmon is cooking dinner for Shirley MacLaine, the tortured beauty and object of Lemmon’s unrequited affection. As he cooks spaghetti, he pulls out a tennis racquet which he uses to strain the pasta, leading to a hilarious exchange between the two (MacLaine: “You’re pretty good with that racquet.”

Lemmon: “You should see my backhand!”). It's a charming scene that shows why Lemmon is a massive star, and how his sensibilities (and his spaghetti) ultimately win MacLaine's heart.

Heartburn (1986), dir. Mike Nichols Heartburn, an adaptation of Nora Ephron’s semi–autobiographical novel documenting the collapse of her marriage, is full of biting, sometimes vicious humor, not to mention a genuine sadness about a woman falling out of love with her cheating husband. However, the film also showcases how Rachel (Meryl Streep) and Mark (Jack Nicholson) fell in love before it all fell apart, including it’s best scene in which Rachel and Mark sit in bed and share spaghetti carbonara. The two eat the pasta out of a huge bowl as if there’s no camera filming them, chit–chatting about what’s on TV, and finding a rhythm with one

another that seems once–in–a–lifetime.

It’s a scene that spotlights the small, intimate moments that define relationships, filled with effortless realism and charm that make you believe that with spaghetti carbonara, two people could truly enjoy spending their everyday lives together.

In the Mood for Love (2000), dir. Wong Kar–Wai Wong Kar–Wai’s moody masterpiece In the Mood for Love may not feature spaghetti and meatballs, but the scenes of its protagonists consuming noodles are as thrilling and romantic as all the other entries. In the film, the unfulfilled passion between Su (Maggie Cheung) and Chow (Tony Leung) is seen in their subtle exchanges, as they work together and share the mutual betrayal of their spouses having an affair while sharing noodles. Their feelings are never acted on, but in moments like these, when they share noodles, they clearly also share a deep connection that is both beautiful and heartbreaking to watch.

Brooklyn (2015), dir. John Crowley Brooklyn, starring the magnificent Saoirse Ronan, is the type of film filled with uninhibited romance and sentimentality that doesn't really get made anymore. In Brooklyn, Ronan’s character Eilis has just immigrated to Brooklyn from Ireland. Feeling extremely homesick, she meets and falls in love with Tony, an Italian–American, who could not be more different from her. In preparation for meeting Tony’s family, her boarding house friends teach Eilis how to properly eat spaghetti, while playfully yelling “splash!” anytime Eilis doesn’t perfectly twirl her pasta on her spoon. Filled with Ronan’s overwhelming charm and sincerity, the scene perfectly encapsulates the nerves around meeting your boyfriend’s family and wanting to impress them, as well as a whole–hearted attempt to learn about a world other than yours, which was more–than–common for many intercultural relationships formed in New York in the '40s and '50s. The scene also has an incredible payoff in a subsequent moment where Tony’s family all watch carefully as Eilis nails her spaghetti twirl. J

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The Grand W Unified Theory of Food Films

And the reason behind the explosion of movies and TV shows set in the kitchen recently.

BY ADEN BERGER Graphic by Insia Haque

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hy are filmmakers so obsessed with food? The past few years have seen a dramatic rise in the popularity of movies and TV shows set in the kitchen: The Bear, The Menu, Burnt, Boiling Point and The Taste of Things are just some examples. Why has this niche genre exploded? In this article, I will answer that very question and present my Grand Unified Theory of Food Film, a five–part theory as to why the Food Film has become so popular.

Before we start, I think it’s important to define the Food Film. For this exercise, I am only considering movies and TV shows that are both about the process of making food and largely set in a kitchen. The Bear? That counts. The majority of episodes of the show take place mostly inside the restaurant and even those that don’t are about the process

of making food. What about something like Phantom Thread, a film where food plays a large role in the plot? No, Phantom Thread, though a masterpiece, does not qualify as a food film as it is not about the making of food. Neither does something like Pig, a film very much about the restaurant scene but one that does not take place in the kitchen.

While Pig is a movie about food, it’s not a Food Film.

Now, with definitions out of the way, it’s time for the theory. Part one is quite simple: Food looks good on screen. At its most fundamental level, film as a medium is about making enticing images, and there are few images that look better than a world renowned chef cooking delicious food. It creates a base level response in the viewer. The advantage of setting a film

Any high– intensity job will create the space for thrills, but the kitchen is a confined space where the heat literally gets turned up.

or TV show in a kitchen is that images of food being cooked can be woven into the act of storytelling, like extended shots of a sizzling pan or a boiling pot between sequences of action and dialogue. These shots don’t even have to be particularly complex or expensive.

This leads to the second part of my theory: Movies and TV shows set in the kitchen are cheap to film. As CGI continuously increases production budgets, shooting a chef cooking a steak is an inexpensive way to gain easy production value. All the aforementioned food projects have budgets below $30 million dollars, which, in the film world, qualifies them as small.

Why pay an exorbitant amount of money to film a battle scene or animate a spaceship when you can simply put one person

next to a pan and just let him cook? Every executive in Hollywood understands that the key to making money in today’s world is to keep budgets low—the food film is one of the easiest ways to do that.

Part three of the theory answers the question of "why now?" For food related projects, you only need one key location. This is particularly notable as a lot of these projects were shot during the COVID–19 pandemic, when productions needed to be as contained as possible. Inevitably, this led to a ton of boring lockdown dramas in an apartment. However, executives also realized that studios could set most, if not all, of a film or TV show in a high intensity kitchen. That’s significantly more interesting and just as cost effective, and it’s not a coincidence that this genre exploded during and directly following the pandemic.

Part four of my theory goes as follows: Kitchens are great sources of drama. Any high–intensity job will create space for conflicts and thrills, but the fact that the kitchen is a confined space where the heat literally gets turned up makes it the per-

fect metaphor for any dramatic narrative.

Want to tell a story about work–life balance? The kitchen has you covered. How about a critique of aristocratic art culture? The kitchen works for that too. Or a romance of two people bonded over their shared love of an art form? The kitchen is the place to tell any kind of story that you want, and therefore, food film can encompass any genre. The Menu, for example, takes more of a horror approach while The Taste of Things is a romantic drama. The kitchen is a canvas for any kind of filmmaker to paint on.

And the reason for that? Well, that’s part five: The chef is the perfect stand–in for the artist. Do you know who likes to make art about themselves? Artists do.

They can’t help it. The issue, however, is that watching art on screen is oftentimes incredibly boring. Watching someone draw isn’t as interesting as seeing the final product. Likewise with the filmmaking process. No one wants to see how the sausage gets made and watch a director painstakingly tinker with camera angles until they find the right one. Watching a chef cook, however, is interesting. It’s action–packed and unpredictable, high stakes and relatable at the same time.

Everyone, to some degree, can cook. And when you’re watching a world class chef on screen, there's a sense of attainability that's absent when you’re watching a master painter. Filmmakers love portraying the struggling artist on screen because it’s something they relate to. Viewers, at the same time, like watching chefs on screen because they’re relatable as well. The chef, thus, is the perfect on–screen artist.

And there you have it. The Grand Unified Theory Of Food Films. Was this all a waste of time? Probably. Did I watch too many movies about food to prepare for this article instead of studying for my midterms? Of course. But now the next time you watch a film or TV show set largely in a kitchen you’ll be able to turn to your friends and loved ones and explain to them why there are so many movies and TV shows like this. And they’ll probably look at you like you’re crazy. J

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EGO You know that one senior who never fails to bring a smile to everyone’s face? Who always has the craaaaziest stories? Who you’re going to miss so much when they graduate? It’s time to give them the recognition they deserve. Ego of the Week seeks to showcase seniors, not for their grades or other fake academic construct, but for who they are as a person and the joy they bring to the people around them!

Nominate your favorite Penn Seniors for Ego of the Week!