Entrepreneurs have always been drawn to the food scene, especially where other cultures were concerned.
As far back as the late 1800s, food peddlers were ubiquitous on New York’s Lower East Side. Food cart owners set up next to L stops in Chicago, feeding office workers as they rushed by.
More recently, cities all over the country have witnessed the food truck craze, although restaurant groups in some places fought hard to keep them out.
Lately, however, the spotlight has been on pop ups. Think of them as food stands, like the ones you might find at a street fair or festival.
Only, these are far more creative than the roasted corn, lemonade or cinnamon spiced almonds you’d find on a summer afternoon.
Inside The Pop Up World
This wave of chefs without kitchens is creating its own lively food scene, promoted on social media, attracting a loyal and diverse crowd of diners, young and more mature, willing to try just about any cuisine.
The events here take place at a group of brick-and-mortar places, many of them serving alcohol. They don’t serve much food, however, and are happy to offer the pop ups’ menus to their customers.
The pop up vendors bring their audiences, who buy drinks to go with their food, and everybody gets attention, the pop ups and the hosts. Some of these vendors have serious culinary chops; others are making career transitions without having to work in a formal kitchen.
I’ve spent the past few weeks meeting some of the most active participants in Ann Arbor’s pop up scene, who have brought a new aspect to a town that was already food crazy. And if this is the future of dining, we are all in for some delicious experiences.
Thai Inhmathong grew up in her mother’s restaurant, Siam Square, which Vasanna Inhmathong ran for 22 years. She took a detour away from the culinary world to attend Eastern Michigan University, and then work on automotive marketing accounts at two Detroit agencies.
It was not a good fit. “I found myself working way too hard for something that didn’t mean anything,” she told me recently. “I was so stressed and anxious every single day,” and she felt that she had no creative freedom.
Finding freedom making dumplings
During the pandemic, she realized how much she enjoyed cooking, and last year, she began making dumplings.
Thai sent the word out to friends that she would accept special orders and deliver the finished product. As news of her home dumpling business spread, Thai found herself one weekend with orders for 12,000 dumplings.
At that point, she decided to see whether she could sell commercially, and in November she joined the Ann Arbor area’s pop up scene, dubbing herself Basil Babe.
Almost overnight, Thai became the center of a group that includes vendors such as Lucha Puerco, Guadalupe, Chef G., Pizza Replicator, and Detroit Brad. New entrants regularly are signing up for the traveling circus. (That’s her with Lucha, aka John Moors, in the photo.)
You can find a pop up in Ann Arbor or Ypsilanti almost every night of the week, and often during the day on weekends. The pop ups limit themselves to a few dishes, and when they sell out, their day is over.
“It’s a really fun scene,” Thai says. “You never know where the next pop up is going to come from, and when they do, we all support them. I would honestly rather go to a pop up, than a brick-and-mortar, because I know how much love, effort and attention goes into that one night for them.”
It would be easy to dismiss pop ups as a hobby for the participants, but some of the vendors are taking in as much as $6,000 a gig, depending on the type of food and the location.
To be sure, they have to pay for their ingredients and staff, invest in equipment, and sometimes pay the minimal fees that their hosts charge (York collects $50 for each event). But beyond that, expenses are minimal: the main cost is in time and creativity.
Due to her warm response, Thai has been able to quit her day job, and now participates in pop ups several times a week. She has a standing event on Wednesday nights at Cultivate Coffee and Tap Room, whose owner, Sara Demorest has been an enthusiastic supporter of pop up chefs.
Sara has even invested in Side Biscuit, the chicken wings take out place in Ann Arbor that was recently launched by Jordan Balduf, a veteran of the pop up scene and a big brother to many pop up vendors.
More to learn
Thai can see herself following in his footsteps, and her mother’s, someday — maybe sooner rather than later.
Along with being sold at pop ups, her dumplings are also available in the freezer case at York, the Ann Arbor beverage shop and cafe whose owners have served as advisors to many of the vendors.
Still, she isn’t ready to make the leap just yet. “I need to be more confident in my product. I know there’s so much room for improvement,” Thai says. “And sometimes, I have imposter syndrome because I never had a professional culinary background.”
In my view, Thai is way too modest. As a dumpling connoisseur, I’ve been known to set down my suitcase as soon as I get to New York City, and place an order from my favorite Asian restaurant.
Her dumplings are as good as many of those I’ve tasted in the big city, and her determination and enthusiasm are just what any restaurant investor would look for in deciding whether to become a backer. Says Thai, “I don’t think you need all this culinary experience to love and be able to make food.”
I’m also impressed by her activism. After the shootings in Atlanta whose targets were largely Asian women, Thai jumped started a local movement to fight Asian hate, launching a t-shirt sale with the slogan, “Love the people like you love their food.”
Follow her on Instagram at @basilxbabe. She’s regularly posting her pop up schedule and the schedules of the other area pop ups, so you can keep track of the Ann Arbor scene. Keep an eye out for them in your area, too.
Epicurious Takes A Bold Stand On Beef
When Gourmet Magazine folded a few years ago, its disappearance fueled the rise of Epicurious, a Conde Nast food website offering extensive coverage of trends and techniques. I’ve written for it a couple of times, and have found it a must-follow to keep up on things across the culinary world.
Last week, Epicurious disclosed that it is no longer writing articles involving beef. It actually made the decision last year, but announced it in the wake of Earth Day. Instead of beef stories, it has been writing more about different types of dishes, especially those that are vegetable based.
“We know that some people might assume that this decision signals some sort of vendetta against cows—or the people who eat them. But this decision was not made because we hate hamburgers (we don’t!),” wrote David Tamarkin and Maggie Hoffman.
“Instead, our shift is solely about sustainability, about not giving airtime to one of the world’s worst climate offenders. We think of this decision as not anti-beef but rather pro-planet.”
I think it’s a great move: commercially raised beef is terrible for the earth, and reducing or eliminating our consumption of conventional beef is a step we can take to cut back on methane emissions, as well as improve our own health.
Sustainably grown beef is a different matter, and like Epicurious, I’m not going to question anyone who dines on a burger or enjoys some bulgogi. I have cut beef out almost completely, although I still eat some meat.
But the pro-beef brigade is outraged. Epicurious’ social media pages have been flooded by beef bots, criticizing the website’s move and declaring their loyalty to cattle and cows. The Washington Post dubbed the move a stunt.
It’s been kind of funny, in a way, to see the comments sections of the most innocuous Epicurious posts overwhelmed by beef lovers. I hope that Epicurious’ team is finding the humor in the bombastic reaction to their sensible move.
Meanwhile, recipes with beef are widely available elsewhere. Nobody’s going to go hungry because Epicurious took its stand. But, it is making a contribution to the debate. Even if you remain a carnivore, it’s worth thinking about how much meat you eat.
“Ever since my mom died, I cry in H Mart,” Michelle Zauner wrote in the New Yorker in 2018. I knew just how she felt. I lost my mother in 2015, and sometimes find myself welling up in tears when an unexpected memory crosses my mind.
Michelle has expanded her New Yorker essay into the memoir that everyone is talking about.
Crying In H Mart is about the relationship that Michelle had with her mother, and the journey that she took from being the only Asian-American kid in her school in Eugene, Oregon, to her grandmother’s tiny apartment in Seoul, and into restaurants and the music world. Food is beautifully woven throughout the book.
(H Mart, in case you aren’t familiar with it, is a chain of trendy Asian supermarkets. I used to shop at the one in Cambridge, Mass. We don’t have one in Ann Arbor, but we’d be a perfect market.)
Michelle nursed her mother through pancreatic cancer, and H Mart might be too difficult a book for someone who has recently lost a parent or a loved one. But it’s a musical journey, too (Michelle actually became a singer-songwriter).
If your emotions are tender, I’d recommend digesting it in small amounts, like the dishes in a Korean banchan.
Crying in H Mart is bound to become a motion picture, and I hope that some of the same wonderful actors of Korean cinema that we’ve gotten to know in the past few years will be cast in this heart-breaking tale.
The link goes to our friends at Coutelier, who just got in a supply. (Check out their spring sale while you are there, too.) When your book arrives, get some Kleenex and be prepared to be moved.
Christos Anesti To Our Greek Friends!
Today is Greek (and Orthodox) Easter. Sending warm greetings to our friends at Mia Kouppa and to everyone who is celebrating.
Looking forward to the day when we can safely travel - to Billie and Helen’s family homeland of Greece, and to Montreal, my family’s ancestral home, where they now live. In the meantime, explore their recipes and enjoy some wonderful Greek cuisine.
Kalo Pascha!
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Stay healthy, get the vaccine if you can, keep wearing a mask and see you next week