PieBox photo by James Ransom/Food52; Picnic Time photo courtesy Food52
How to keep your cookies, pies, and cakes pristine from one place to the next
Broken crusts. Smushed frosting. Cracked cookies. Tucking your homemade sweets into tote bags and wondering if they’ll survive the subway (or stop-and-go traffic) can make a person wonder why they signed up to bring anything to the holiday office party in the first place. To ease those concerns, we’ve rounded up some bags, carriers, and containers endorsed by pros who cook and carry baked goods all the time. If you want the whole package to look good, consider these tips, but if keeping your hard work intact is all that matters, here’s what to get.
Box your pies
“I think the reality is that good packaging and taking care when you’re transporting things is really important,” says Alex Levin, the executive pastry chef at Schlow Restaurant Group in Washington, DC. Levin, a 2015 Eater Young Gun, also runs a Thanksgiving pop-up bakery, which means he thinks a lot about how to package pies to ensure his customers open the box to find a pie that’s perfectly ready to be reheated, without any mess.
Levin suggests packing pies in cardboard pastry boxes, which come in a variety of sizes, including options for cakes. “If you need to move them around and drive them in a car, you can put them right in your trunk, or into a bag, and not worry that there’s going to be a problem, because they’re securely set up well in that box,” he says.
Maya-Camille Broussard, the founder of Chicago-based Justice of the Pies, uses pizza boxes for pies and tarts. “[They fit] in most 10 x 10 grocery tote bags, and the cardboard construction provides a sturdiness that allows me to stack the boxes as well,” she says. If you’re looking for something reusable, but still under $10, consider the no-frills pie keeper from the Container Store.
Secure cakes in a collapsible carrier
Diana Jeffra, a food stylist based in Virginia, uses a collapsible carrier for cakes. This one, available on Amazon, also includes removable inserts for two rows of cupcakes. In a pinch, Jeffra has also used cardboard boxes, modified to fit the cake. “If you have a box that is the right diameter, you can cut it down to a more manageable height using scissors or a utility knife, and then cover the open top with foil,” she says.
But how you secure the cake inside the carrier is probably more important than which carrier you use. If you’ve frosted your cake atop a cardboard round, Jeffra suggests placing a damp paper towel on the base of the cake carrier to create some traction. Otherwise, the cardboard and the cake might shift, which puts the icing at risk. To further avoid frosting damage, Jeffra will sometimes decorate the cake upon arrival at a location. While it’s not possible for every situation, moving the cake unfrosted means you can use paper towels or a tea towel as a buffer inside the carrier.
Contain cookies in a tin or box
Jeffra typically packs smaller baked goods in a parchment paper-lined tin that she can leave with the host. She also plates cookies and covers them tightly with plastic wrap or packs them in reusable plastic storage containers. “You want the box or whatever you’re using to be tight enough to [the cookies] where stuff doesn’t slide around,” she says. “And you don’t want too much of a gap in there, because then stuff will fly everywhere.”
Consider eco-friendly options
If you’re trying to reduce your plastic and disposables usage, consider wood or canvas carriers. Broussard says her favorite pie carrier is Àplat’s reusable canvas tote, which has a zero-waste design, in addition to being “cute and stylish.” The wooden containers by Pie Box come in different shapes and sizes to accommodate cakes, pies, and cookies (and are recommended by Molly Yeh, host of Girl Meets Farm). If you’re willing to spend a little more, you could invest in a basket that holds up to two pies.
Choosing the right container is only half the battle
Unless you can keep the box in your hands and walk carefully to your party, you’ll need something else to get your secure baked goods to the destination. Tote bags are one solution. Levin suggests a canvas beach-style bag for hauling boxed baked goods; Jeffra is a fan of Planet E totes, which she keeps in the trunk of her car. This $34 insulated potluck tote is more of an expense than the free bags you have stuffed all over your home, but it has lots of extras — like an exterior spoon holder — to keep potluck supplies together.
If you’re driving to your party, the pros recommend taking special care to find a flat surface in your vehicle, like the trunk or behind the front seat. “Don’t put your pies on the car seat; always place them on the floor of the car so that it will stay leveled,” says Broussard. If you’re stowing baked goods in the trunk, Jeffra suggests surrounding them with heavy objects, to discourage any extra movement.
Plotting out every step of transportation may feel a little obsessive, but as Levin says, “There’s nothing worse than working so hard on something and then it doesn’t look quite right. It’s an investment that’s well worth it.” After all, protecting your sweets from damage is really about protecting yourself from disappointment.
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The World’s Biggest White Castle Is Coming to Disney World’s Backyard
November 27, 2019
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Photo by Roberto Machado Noa/LightRocket via Getty Images
Plus, a gaming headset that feeds you chips and more news to start your day
Cinderella’s palace at Disney World’s Magic Kingdom will soon get some competition as White Castle plans on opening its biggest location ever in Orlando as early as next year.
The restaurant will be 4,500-square-feet and located at the Village at O-Town West, a new development near Disney World and Universal Studios with a boardwalk, restaurants, shops, condos, and a “clear lagoon-style water body.” In a statement about the $1 billion property, developer Chuck Whittall stated, “It’s important that we have special restaurants. We’re going to create a boardwalk that goes all around the water, so people can go there, go to a restaurant, go to a bar, and listen to live music — just to have a place to really spend the evening at.”
An evening that includes a visit to Florida’s first White Castle since the 1960s. The Orlando Sentinelreports that the location will employ “about 145 people,” but “company officials did not announce any other possible locations in the state at Monday’s event.”
Sure, Disney World might still be the most magical place on Earth, but do they sell Crave Cases? Your fave Mickey could never.
Here’s one woman’s harrowing first-hand account of working at Boston Market over Thanksgiving. [Delish]
Did you know there’s a gaming headset that feeds you Pringles? Am I wearing it right now? I’ll crunch never crunch tell. [Engadget]
Mutton is planning a big comeback. It should try dressing as lamb. [NPR]
The effects of the multi-state romaine lettuce E. coli outbreak, stemming from Salinas, California, continues to spread — some 67 people across 19 states have been affected. [NYT]
With delivery reigning supreme, some restaurants are offering discounts to customers willing to dine in-house. [NBC News]
Your store-bought olive oil could be swill! [Roll Call]
Finally, may we all be blessed with a romance as passionate as the one Henry Winkler has with a post Thanksgiving sandwich:
CAN NOT wait until Friday ... the next day sandwich on Wonder Bread...with crispy stuffing , Mayo , Ocean Spray
Cranberry and TURKEY .. O MY
Bring cash because you’re going to need to make a quick exit, you monster
The world of dining and drinking is an obstacle course wrapped in a labyrinth wrapped in a logic puzzle — it’s full of pitfalls, gray areas, and bewildering questions that really shouldn’t even be questions (How do I find the bathroom?) and yet, somehow, are. Fortunately, your friends at Eater are here to help:Life Coachis a series of simple guides to the arcane rituals of modern dining. Have a question or a quandary you’d like us to tackle?Drop Life Coach a line.
Breakups are the absolute worst. There’s crying, hyperventilating, questioning, yelling, and wailing — which is why you never want to share this experience with the public. That especially goes for restaurants where people are trying to enjoy a meal.
There’s an urban legend going around Twitter that a couple went out to a fancy restaurant one evening, and the woman thought she would leave with an engagement ring on her finger, but the man had another idea. He broke up with her, and the dining room mistook her distraught crying for tears of joy and erupted in applause. This story also happens to be a plot twist in Legally Blonde, so who knows the validity of the tale.
It’s really shitty to break up with someone in a public dining space. But sometimes, you might feel like it’s the only real option. If you insist, there are a few things you can do to lessen your soon-to-be moniker as “that asshole who broke up with me in my favorite restaurant, and now I can never go back.”
1. Sit at the bar
Beyond ruining your partner’s evening/week/month/life, there are innocent bystanders involved in this situation — namely, your server. As you break the bad news before the entree arrives, there could be tears and tension. It’s already awkward for you, the deliverer, to navigate, but your server is just trying to take your order and clear your plates.
Not only is it uncomfortable for staff and everyone around you, but when you plunk down at a two-top, you are renting space in someone else’s place of work. When I was a server, I once witnessed a breakup between the appetizers and entrees, and the couple proceeded to cry it out for two hours, not only making it tense for everyone around the table, but losing me a much-needed profitable turn on the seats. A seat at the bar allows your date to make a quick exit and save face or a chance to stay and drink the memory of you away with less disruption to the flow of the dining room.
2. Earlier is better
There’s never really a good time to deliver this sort of news, but if one must pick an opportune moment to end a relationship in restaurant, do it during the drinks portion of the meal before any orders are taken. Your date can decide to throw that martini at you and leave or suggest you take the discussion elsewhere. It’s difficult to fathom anyone being so well adjusted that they would willingly stay and have a meal after having their heart broken.
3. Avoid high-end restaurants and bars
It would be terrible to allow your date to get dressed up and leave their home thinking they’re about to have a nice evening out, when in actuality they’re about to get dumped. If it’s the sort of place where normal people would go to get engaged (think: romantic, white tablecloth spots), then you really don’t want to break bad news over bread there.
Fast-casual at a slow time of the day could work. You don’t want to go when it’s busy and risk your date screaming obscenities loud enough for the children to hear. Buffets would be awkward. Sushi is too easy to hurl at your head. Italian is too romantic. Don’t even think about French. Soul food will be of no comfort. Pretty much, you’re left with fast food. At least if you broke up over Shake Shack, your partner could take their burger with them.
4. Go to their neighborhood
Don’t make your date go out of their way to get to you, if you’re just going to dump them. If you make your partner schlep it downtown, when they live uptown, then you better have a car waiting when they storm out on you. Pay for their Uber. It’s the classy move.
5. Bring cash
The best way to ensure a quick exit is to settle up in cash. There’s nothing more awkward than waiting around for a card to get swiped. Bring enough money in the right sized bills to close out your tab quickly and get the hell out. If your date decides to stay, you can leave them money for the tab or taxi.
6. Leave a large tip
Spontaneous breakups happen. Sometimes we can control the specific venue. But no matter where you sit, no matter which restaurant you visit, remember to tip BIG. After all, you just made the evening weird for everyone. No, really, even the dishwasher heard that you are a jerk.
7. Never go to that restaurant again
Sorry, you’re banned. The staff remembers what you did. And especially don’t bring your new date. That’s just tacky.
From the Editor: Everything you missed in food news last week
This post originally appeared on November 23, 2019, in Amanda Kludt’s newsletter “From the Editor,” a roundup of the most vital news and stories in the food world each week.Read the archivesandsubscribe now.
I’m going to be off for what I feel like is the true start of the holiday shopping season: Black Friday. So I present to you, one week early, my personal holiday gift guide. It contains no discounts, no cookbooks, and a $50 pineapple. Enjoy.
Things to consume
Worth-it splurges:
- $60 (plus shipping!) is kind of a stupid price to pay for pastry, and I’m not sure I love anyone enough to do it, but this kouign amann from Manresa is one of the best things I’ve ever had.
- The omakase strawberry better get in line because I’m already smitten with the original luxury fruit, the Maui Gold Pineapple. There’s nothing as delightful as getting a duo of these on your front porch in the middle of December.
- $70 (includes shipping!) for two bottles of a non-alc apertif from bartending genius John deBary? More than you’re used to paying for a zero proof drink, perhaps, but it is quite the thoughtful gift for your sober-curious or definitely-pregnant friends and lovers.
Affordable delights:
- The guy behind a New York bing chain Mr. Bing came to an Eater event, hunted me down, handed me a jar, and demanded I try his chili crisp. Unusual marketing practice but it got him a customer. I now put it on every damn thing I make and am treating it as my go-to stocking stuffer.
- Milk Bar’s peppermint pretzel snap cookies are only appropriate for your friends with outrageous tastes in sweets. They are my personal kryptonite but I bet 75% of people will find them over-the-top indulgent.
Things to read
- Never the wrong move: a subscription to cool food-and-wine-focused indie mags. My faves are Jarry and UK-based Noble Rot.
- I have no idea if this casserole carrier is any good, but I’m getting it for myself for this holiday season.
- This spatula is going in my stocking and my mom’s stocking.
- And I haven’t baked with the new Great Jones “Holy sheet” sheet pan but I held it and looked upon it this week and have decided to buy it for myself to cheer up my kitchen. (Feel free to email me in a month to see how it is.)
Bonus baby pants
- I’m trying to be the person who invests in higher-quality clothing but can’t bring myself to do it for kids. Thus: fruit pants for my babes.
If you have food-focused gifts in mind for you and yours, please share them with me. I’m always looking for more ideas.
Jenny Zhang’s entertaining and alarming exploration of the “ethically and environmentally dubious race-to-the-bottom culture of deals and never-ending shopping” through the lens of the air fryer.
Review: Gotham Bar & Grill may have a brand new chef but it still feels very dated.
Say hello to the the most talked about food item in certain Bay Area food circles: the quesabirria.
You don’t have to go to Amazon if you want deals on cookware this Black Friday.
So for our company cookie day, I need to bake something that is interesting enough that it stands out, easy enough that I can not screw it up, and delicious enough to beat some very intimidating bakers. This, this, or this? Or something else entirely?
The man who publicly decried Indian food on Twitter could have stopped there. He did not.
Twitter can be a good website if you’re looking to respond to a joke that turns out to be several days old thanks to the algorithm, or if you are someone who enjoys harassing women from an anonymous account with a Pepe avatar. Fall outside of either camp, and you likely recognize Twitter as general cesspool, where good thoughts and opinions get swallowed up and human centipede’d by our unspoken collective agreement to ruin everything with our own terrible opinions. Conversation prompts quickly devolve into bad responses, which then devolve even further, sometimes even resulting in — horror of horrors — an op-ed in USA Today.
The most recent example of this comes from Tom Nichols, opinion columnist. In response to a prompt by a baseball commentator named Jon Becker — “Please quote tweet this with your most controversial food opinion, I love controversial food opinions” — Nichols tweeted, “Indian food is terrible and we pretend it isn’t.”
Understandably, Nichols’ tweet was met with pushback, with critics fairly pointing out that India is a country with over 1.3 billion people, 29 states, and seven union territories — all with their own unique cuisines. “Indian” food could mean a litany of things. Some also took issue with Nichols’s use of “we,” as it begs the question who exactly “we” consists of. The royal we? His friends? Everyone? Simply meant or not, it does indeed play into a colonialist mindset that assumes Nichols’s point of view is shared by everyone. As goes the punitive justice of Twitter, Nichols was dragged for saying something ignorant. If that amounted to justice in the real world, that would be the end of it. Unfortunately, Nichols was only just revving up his bad idea vroom vroom wagon and on Tuesday published an op-ed headlined, “I tweeted that I couldn’t stand Indian cuisine and started an international food fight.”
It’s clear that Nichols is proud of himself. First he recounts the initial “good-natured” responses he received from his peers and even celebrity Padma Lakshmi, who tweeted, “Do you not have tastebuds?” But how he differs between good-natured and “unhinged” seems tied to how important he deems his critics:
Other well-meaning but misguided people listed dozens of dishes made in the many regions of India and suggested that if I tried them all I would see the light. I doubt it: I have been dragged along to numerous Indian restaurants in the United States, and I even went, on my own, to one of the top Indian restaurants in London on the recommendation of a friend and asked the waiter to guide me. I didn’t like any of it.
Others, however, saw a darker motive behind my inclusion of the expression “we pretend it isn’t.” I was accused, in various states of unhinged fury, of playing into stereotypes about Indians and furthering a history of oppression. One woman raised Churchill and colonialism and the treatment of Indians in the British Empire.
If Nichols feels unfairly maligned by reactions to his tweet, he does little to refute them, instead pointing out that he’s tried Indian food more than once — in fact, he’s been to “numerous” Indian restaurants in the U.S. AND one in the United Kingdom. (Looks like we’ve got the next Anthony Bourdain over here!) Furthermore, he says, “I was serious only in trying to tweak the pretentious foodies among Americans whom I often suspect of suffering through meals they don’t like for the sake of saying they are engaging in ‘authentic’ cuisine.”
It’s not abnormal for people to read something on Twitter in bad faith; it’s practically the norm. However, this is not one of those instances. Nichols knows that because he is the only bad faith actor here. It becomes more and more evident as the writer devotes inches to how the reaction to his trivial tweet indicates a failing on the part of society, but entirely fails to explore his own role in it. Does he believe anyone actually cares whether or not he likes Indian food? I sure don’t, particularly as I have no plans to dine with him. But phrasing it as a statement (“Indian food is bad”) instead of an opinion (“I don’t like Indian food”) was intentional and meant to stir people up, resulting in what he opines as our current state of affairs: “Planet Seinfeld arguing over nothing.”
This type of behavioral pattern — you get to say something controversial, and rude, then anyone who responds similarly is “unhinged” and reactionary — speaks to something far more dangerous than the pettiness of “Planet Seinfeld.” It’s what creates the delineation of who gets power (and space in a national newspaper) and who doesn’t; of whose opinions are valuable and whose are valueless.
Based on the argument he puts forward in his op-ed, I’m sure Nichols would say that I’m taking this far too seriously, but to that I say: Please, shut up. I don’t mean always. He’s a professor of national security affairs at the Harvard Extension School and surely has lots of valuable knowledge to impart on the world. He’s even written a book called The Death of Expertise, which considers how “all voices, even the most ridiculous, demand to be taken with equal seriousness, and any claim to the contrary is dismissed as undemocratic elitism,” an argument that I find sometimes fair and other times not.
What also contributes to this cacophony of ridiculous voices is the rush we dummies have to validate our own world views and opinions when, again, we could just shut up. Sure, Nichols said something tremendously stupid when he tweeted, “Indian food is terrible and we pretend that it isn’t.” We all say stupid stuff every single day and I’ve probably said a dozen dumb things in this very blog. One way to get through it, however, is to learn to shut up, an ability we all have and should practice more. No one needed a follow up on why Nichols had every right to say Indian food is terrible. Of course, he did. And everyone who replied had the right to call him a doofus who — maybe unwittingly — is perpetuating a European colonialist mindset that assumes it comes from the most objective place when, in fact, it’s anything but.
So it’s something good to remember: Whether you’re expressing a simple bad food opinion or running headfirst into controversy, shutting up is always an option. An option I will take right now.
‘Star Wars’ Instant Pot Gets Us Closer to an Entire ‘Star Wars’ Kitchen
November 26, 2019
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Williams Sonoma
What other appliances can the Disney property take over?
The launch of Disney+ show The Mandelorian, and the introduction of baby Yoda, has brought upon us the latest round of Star Wars obsession, with plenty of product tie-ins to aid the fandom. Last month, Le Creuset introduced a line of Star Wars-branded cookware, including a C-3P0 dutch oven and a Porg pie bird. But if you’re torn between wanting to use a Star Wars casserole dish and needing to braise ribs quickly, a new line of Star Wars Instant Pots is here.
Available exclusively at Williams-Sonoma, the line includes Darth Vader, R2D2, BB8, Stormtrooper and Chewbacca options. They’re currently available for pre-order, and will become fully available December 13. They’re part of Williams-Sonoma’s whole Star Wars kitchen line, and scrolling through, there appears to be no kitchen appliance that hasn’t been outfitted in the Disney property’s aesthetics. Wake up with a Darth Vader toaster! Snack with an R2D2 popcorn maker! Drink away the holidays with Death Star ice molds! However, none of these products quite infuse the essence of their characters with the duties they’re meant to perform. Give me a BB8 ice cream maker that rolls around as it churns! Make me an actual trash can droid!
Michael Jordan’s Chicago Steakhouse Exploits ‘Space Jam’ for a $27 Burger Combo
November 26, 2019
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The ‘Mike’s Secret Stuff’ features a burger with barbecue braised pork belly, pickled onions, dill pickle, stout mustard, butterkäse, and aged cheddar
From dough whisperer Chris Bianco’s latest project to gooey Chihuahuan quesadillas on heirloom flour tortillas, here’s where to eat in Arizona’s Valley of the Sun
Phoenix is at the nexus of one of the fastest-growing counties in America. As the city has changed, the restaurant scene has evolved too, driven largely by homegrown restaurants expanding to new locations and treating diners to new concepts.
Once a land of citrus and steaks, the metro area has become an engaging home to a diverse range of cuisines. In the sprawling desert city and its surrounding towns, notable recent openings have landed all over the gastronomic map. There’s a seafood joint built on harpoon-caught swordfish (Chula Seafood Uptown Plaza), a butcher-smoker-chef plating wild riffs on classics (Hush Public House), and a giant downtown biergarten from one of the country’s strangest and most progressive breweries (Arizona Wilderness DTPHX).
As it continues to grow, morph, and expand, metro Phoenix constantly surprises diners with new places to eat and drink. Here are the restaurants to get excited about right now.
You Could Cook With David Chang If You’re Willing to Give Your Nana’s Secret Recipe to Airbnb
November 26, 2019
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University of Gastronomic Sciences
The short-term rental company wants to send 100 cooks to Italy, where they’ll meet David Chang
Airbnb has spent the last few years wanting to take over your entire vacation. What started as a short-term rental service has now expanded into “Experiences,” where tourists can join up with locals for things like walking tours, farmstays, and cooking classes. Now, to further cement Airbnb as your one-stop-shop for vacations (assuming you provide your own plane), the company is opening a contest in which the winners get a trip to Italy, and to cook with David Chang.
Airbnb is looking for the world’s 100 best home cooks, who will be “whisked away next summer to a UNESCO world heritage site in Pollenzo, where they will learn to refine their family recipes alongside a host of culinary experts, including Momofuku chef and founder, David Chang (and his mom, Sherri!) at Slow Food’s University of Gastronomic Sciences (UNIGSSG).” In a press release, Chang said home cooking allows people to “break down cultural barriers,” and “I’m honored to join Airbnb in this search for the world’s best home cooks and I’m excited to support each of their culinary endeavors firsthand alongside one of the best home cooks I know — my mom.”
Thanks for your input on these food debates @Airbnb is searching for passionate home cooks that make recipes into the next big thing—go to https://t.co/8m4yqfgUHm. Mom+I will see you there #AirbnbPartner
Applying for a spot involves writing a personal essay about the applicant’s passion for cooking and submitting a family recipe that presumably proves you are indeed an accomplished home cook, both of which Airbnb will be granted perpetual, worldwide rights to “transform, edit, modify, reproduce, distribute, sub-license, transmit, publish, communicate to the public, broadcast, perform, display, or otherwise use” any way they want even if you don’t win, so look forward to Nana’s beloved date cake recipe becoming #content. Winners will not only cook with Chang, they will also “attend at least one (1) entrepreneurship training” with Airbnb, and receive instruction on how to pair their cooking with their entrepreneurial skills so they can “turn their culinary passions into income.”
Airbnb is understandably popular: renting one is often cheaper than staying in a hotel, and it gives any vacation the veneer of authenticity. So the expansion into experiences designed to make a traveler feel like a local rather than a gawking tourist fits perfectly into the brand. But Airbnb has also been facing some controversy recently. Vice writer Allie Conti was recently contacted by the FBI after publishing a piece on her accidental discovery of a nationwide Airbnb scam, though the company has since promised to change its verification policies based on her reporting.
Airbnb also continues to face criticism for its hand in gentrification, making it easier for landlords to move long-term rentals to short-term rentals and contributing to rent hikes. Various state and city governments in the U.S. have attempted to put more regulations on services like Airbnb, and 10 European cities have asked the EU to further regulate Airbnb, after the European Court of Justice stated that Airbnb was a digital platform, not a lodging provider. So Airbnb is probably looking for more ways to make itself inextricable from the tourism market.
David Chang isn’t the only recent celebrity Airbnb partner. The company also recently launched a “nationwide search for America’s Biggest Planners.” Winners receive “an in-person lesson in spontaneity from Author, Activist, and Spontaneity Aficionado Busy Philipps.” According to an October report on The Information, the company’s “operating loss more than doubled in the first quarter to $306 million from the year-earlier period, previously undisclosed financial data shows, a result in part of a sharply increased investment in marketing.”
Disclosure: David Chang is producing shows for Hulu in partnership with Vox Media Studios, part of Eater’s parent company, Vox Media. No Eater staff member is involved in the production of those shows, and this does not impact coverage on Eater.
How Nigeria’s Hero Lager savvily entangled itself with the ideals of a secessionist leader — and built a brand in the process
The 11-pointed star beams yellow, orange, and red, and from its place upon a dark green background, the pull is irresistible — especially since it calls from the label of a green, 60-centiliter bottle containing alcohol. That sun, which rose but never glowed for too long, means a lot to Mitchel Emeka, a manager with a transport and logistics company in Lagos. “Not like I am too keen about Biafra,” says Emeka, referring to the state that broke away from Nigeria in a succession attempt in 1967. “But seeing the rising sun on it, and learning that it is brewed in the [southeastern] town of Onitsha, hooked me.”
This beer, Hero Lager, is consumed around Nigeria, where bargoers and those drinking at backyard parties down it mostly from bottles, enjoying its hoppy and slightly bitter taste. Perhaps more important than its social function, though, is the fact that Hero Lager has become an inspirational symbol in Nigeria since it was launched in 2012, tapping into positive associations with the southeast region’s loyalties, struggles, traditions, and tastes — a beer for locals, by locals. According to Lagos-based beer industry analyst David Mafison, the brand enjoys a certain “‘this is our own’ factor, which makes other brands seem alien,” he says. What helps it even further is its “association with Igbo culture and nationalist sentiments, [which] played a key role in helping the brand usurp pre-existing brands in the East.”
At another bar in the southeastern town of Nsukka, photo and video journalist Alphonsus Ogili had just finished a bottle of Hero Lager. “When I look at this bottle it reminds me of our heroes that fought for Biafra, especially Ojukwu,” he says. Across plastic tables on the bar, Hero rested alongside other drinks. “The war has ended, but another war is here with us — demands for self-determination are still there.”
In May 1967, seven years after Nigeria’s independence from Britain, military officer Chukwuemeka Odumegwu Ojukwu declared the Eastern Region’s secession from the rest of the country. The move was in response to a series of military coups that fueled ethnic rivalries and resulted in the deaths of tens of thousands of Igbo people; Ojukwu’s breakaway region was deemed the Republic of Biafra. Ojukwu’s act led to a bloody civil war that lasted until January 1970 and resulted in the deaths of more than 1 million people in the eastern region, primarily from starvation, fighting, and disease.
The war’s outcome nonetheless, Ojukwu was widely seen as a regional hero for daring to challenge the federal government: Throughout his life, in much of Nigeria, Ojukwu was celebrated for standing up for the country’s southeastern region and its predominantly Igbo population. (Ojukwu went into exile after the war ended, but returned 1982 when former president Shehu Shagari granted him an unconditional pardon.)
When Ojukwu died November 2011 at the age of 78, his casket, covered in a Nigerian flag, was flown around the country and to his birthplace, Zungeru in northern Nigeria. He was buried in March 2012 in his hometown of Nnewi with full military honors. Former president Goodluck Jonathan and his wife, Nigerian author and Nobel laureate Wole Soyinka, former Ghanaian President Jerry Rawlings, and other governors and politicians were among the crowd at his funeral, which took place about 20 kilometers away from Onitsha — a city that happened to be home to a burgeoning brewery.
In February 2011, London-based beer giant SAB Miller Plc (now part of Anheuser-Busch InBev) invested an initial $100 million to build a brewery in Onitsha, the commercial hub of the southeastern state of Anambra. The brewery would officially open in August 2012, on the banks of the 4,100-kilometer Niger River, and coming in the wake of Ojukwu’s burial, the brewery christened its flagship beer “Hero.” The heroic branding was hammered home even further with a label featuring a rising sun, a reference to Biafra’s flag, a horizontal tricolor of red, black, and green with a rising sun in the middle.
Given the timing and symbolism, Igbos believed that “Hero” referred to Ojukwu and almost immediately nicknamed the beer “Oh Mpa,” which in Igbo means “Oh my father,” in honor of the secessionist leader. It sold for 150 naira (roughly 90 cents then), below the price of major beers dominating the market. It was common to hear people asking their friends and relatives, “Have you had Oh Mpa?”
“Hero made people literally mad when it came into the market,” Emeka says of the craze. “This is because the beer was made in our region, by our people for our people.”
His friend, Chidiebere Kalu, chimes in. “When it came, it was a mania,” Kalu, an aspiring musician, says. “It gave us a sense of belonging; this is our own. Drinking it felt like you’re playing a role in Igbo struggle.” The beer quickly became popular in local pubs, bars, restaurants, lounges, clubs, and inns throughout Igboland.
According to Igboke Onyebuchi, project manager of Advocacy Partnership for Good Governance in Enugu, a city in the southeast, the brewery has savvy to allude to the fallen leader. “The brewer localized the brand and it gave the people a sense of ownership,” he says. “The brand has a common story with our history and struggle; we find ourselves and our cause in Hero Lager.”
As more Igbos accepted the brand, demand forced the producer to invest an extra $110 million to increase its Onitsha brewery’s capacity, expanding it from 700,000 to 2.1 million hectoliters in 2014.
That sense is still strong today. Almost 50 years after Biafra surrendered, calls for independence have only grown louder with each passing decade. People in the region say they are marginalized and punished for trying to secede. Several secessionist groups have emerged since 1999, including the Movement for the Actualisation of the Sovereign State of Biafra (Massob), Biafran Zionist Movement (BZM), and, more recently, the Indigenous People of Biafra (IPOB), which started in 2014 and has huge support among young generations of Igbos.
Renewed demands for self-determination — often in the form of peaceful protests and hoisting of the Biafran flag — have led to killings, torture, arrests, and detention. Massob’s leader, Ralph Uwazuruike, was detained and later released on several occasions. In October 2015, Nnamdi Kanu, the director of Radio Biafra and a charismatic leader of the IPOB who has a dual British and Nigerian citizenship, was arrested on treason charges before being released “on medical grounds” in April 2017. In September 2017, the Nigerian military declared IPOB a terrorist organization and raided Kanu’s home. His month-long disappearance fuelled more anger. A video of him praying at the Western Wall in Jerusalem was widely shared online a month later, confirming he was safe and out of the country.
On a recent sweltering Tuesday afternoon in Onitsha, Radio Biafra aired on a cable-powered TV at a roadside bar and store in the Awada neighborhood. A phone-in program came on around 1:40 p.m., just after the Biafran anthem played. The presenter talked about “senseless killings” in Nigeria, calling the country a “mess.” Three of the five men in the bar were drinking Hero Lager.
“When Biafra comes, we are going to have a direction of our own,” a man in the bar says, a bottle of Hero resting between his legs. The bar’s owner says she sells up to 20 plastic beer crates of Hero, at 12 bottles a crate, per week.
For Hero, maintaining its reputation among consumers requires becoming immersed in what makes them tick: Hero retains a strong presence in local cultural celebrations. “Everything about their advertising is usually promoting Igbo culture,” says Onyeka Okoro, who manages Favor Royal Bar in Enugu. “Hero is giving the other beer drinks a big gap in our bar: Nka bu nke Anyi [this is our own].”
“The first time we brought Hero here three years ago and hung a banner to announce the arrival, many Igbo people filled our bar,” says Obinna Eze, manager of a bar in the Yaba district of Lagos. Eze adds that he sells about 60 Hero beer crates per week, up from about 40 crates in 2016.
For the brewer, the race to remain in the consumer’s consciousness is an ever-evolving triangle in which innovation and aggressive marketing hold sway. In May 2018, Hero Lager was knighted with a new “red cap” crown cork to mimic the red cap worn by respected chiefs and elders in Igboland, which serves as a symbol of respect, achievement, and social recognition. It was during this event that the Obi of Onitsha, the city’s traditional leader, bestowed the beer with the title “Mmanya ejiri mara Igbo.” Literally translated, this means “the beer that identifies Igbos.”
For several decades, Nigeria’s beer market has thrived on an oligopolistic structure in which Heineken’s Nigerian Breweries (NB Plc) holds more than 60 percent of the market share and London-headquartered Diageo Group’s Guinness Nigeria controls over 25 percent, according to United Capital Plc, a Lagos-based financial and investment advisory. The makers of Hero Lager, Intafact Breweries, came third, with 7.3 percent share.
In late 2016, Anheuser-Busch InBev, the world’s largest brewer, acquired SABMiller for over $100 billion. With the acquisition, Anheuser-Busch InBev became a majority shareholder in SABMiller’s subsidiaries in Nigeria, and later merged them into International Breweries Plc, making it Nigeria’s third-largest brewer with a combined capacity of 5.7 million hectoliters. In 2018, International Breweries completed a new $250 million plant in the southwestern town of Sagamu, its largest in the continent outside South Africa. International Breweries now has four plants across Nigeria, and offers a range of alcoholic and non-alcoholic beverages including Budweiser, Hero Lager, Castle Lite, Grandmalt, Stella Artois, and Eagle Stout.
Investment in the local beer industry remains attractive thanks to Nigeria’s growing population — about 200 million inhabitants and rising — coupled with an expanding middle class, rapid urbanization, and a currently low beer consumption per capita of 11 liters a year.
Proving that it understands its market — and in a play to stay regionally relevant — Hero’s brewery recently launched a campaign called “Echefula” — which roughly translates to “Never Forget Your Identity” — to promote cultural heritage and values, and to push for more appreciation of cultural traditions, a consideration that’s top of mind for many Nigerians: Recently, Igbo rappers Tobechukwu Ejiofor (known as IllBliss) and Owoh Chimaobi Chrismathner (Zoro) released an eponymous single extolling Igbo cultural traditions and exhorting listeners not to forget their cultural identity.
Since August, the campaign’s banners have sprawled across pedestrian bridges on the expressway in Onitsha and on walls in Enugu. Billboards loom large over streets in Onitsha, Enugu, Asaba, and on the outskirts of the Nigerian capital Abuja; a towering billboard with “NEVER FORGET YOUR IDENTITY” and #ECHEFULA written on it sits on the bank of the Niger River, adjacent to the brewery where Hero is made. There’s no better time to start a campaign like this, especially with older generations lamenting that younger people are losing touch with Igbo traditional culture and its language.
Hero’s brewer took the Echefula campaign a step further by introducing The People’s Hero, a 10-week reality TV show to celebrate the “richness and beauty” of the Igbo ethnic group, Tolulope Adedeji, marketing director at International Breweries Plc, told Lagos’s national newspaper, The Nation.
Auditions were held in the southeastern cities of Owerri and Enugu to select some 20 contestants out of a pool of about 2,000. They would engage in singing, acting, dancing, and spoken-word poetry to help judges rate their understanding of Igbo culture. A total prize of 10 million naira (around $28,000) has been earmarked for the winner and two runners-up.
Though competition continues to increase and Hero battles for dominance with other cheaper beers, its affinity with the culture and the Igbo cause still makes it a favorite.
“Everything about Hero Lager reminds me of home,” says transport and logistics manager Emeka, who is from the town of Nsukka. “I am drinking it now and will continue to take it always.”
Linus Unahis a Nigerian journalist who mainly writes about global health, conflict, conservation/environment, and development. Adetona Omokanyeis a documentary photographer based in Lagos, Nigeria. Fact-checked by Claire Bryan
California Hits In-N-Out With a Million-Dollar Lawsuit for Allegedly Starting a Wildfire
November 26, 2019
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Plus, Papa John is sad again, and more news to start your day
In-N-Out’s mystery property was allegedly covered in dry grass, making it a literal hot bed for a forest fire
California’s Department of Forestry and Fire Protection (Cal Fire) is suing In-N-Out Burger for $1.3 million after a fire allegedly broke out on one of the burger chain’s properties in 2017. However, the fire wasn’t some kind of grill accident gone ultra-awry — Cal Fire is alleging that it started on a rural property owned by In-N-Out near San Luis Obispo and Arroyo Grande.
According to the lawsuit (via Vice), the “Huasna fire” burned 245 acres over four days in September 2017. Cal Fire claims a piece of hot machinery on a lawn mower ignited the dry grass on the In-N-Out property, resulting in a fire that spread rapidly. The lawsuit also alleges negligence because of the “dry annual grasses and scattered brush, which created a receptive bed of flammable vegetation.” Cal Fire is suing to cover the costs of fighting the fire, and Vice reports that it has attempted to recoup the money directly from In-N-Out, but with no success — hence the lawsuit.
The property reportedly has three houses on it, and is valued at just under $3.7 million. In-N-Out’s uses for it are unknown.
And in other news...
John Schnatter, the “John” in Papa John’s Pizza, says that their pizza has gone downhill since he left the company. Does Papa John think the secret ingredient is racism? [NYPost]
Plot twist: It turns out that the executive director of the Chick-fil-A foundation (which handles charitable donations) donated to the presidential campaigns of Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama, which is causing consternation among the right-wing blogosphere. [Fox]
McDonald’s has to pay out $26 million in California over an array of labor issues, including restricting employees’ breaks and making them launder their own uniforms. [Reuters]
Salt, Fat, Acid, Heat author Samin Nosrat has a new newsletter, with recipes and everything. [Twitter]
Enjoy this historical deep-dive into the Jell-O mold. [NYT]
Twinkies-as-cereal is now a breakfast food you can eat. [WaPo]
You can get yourself a whole Thanksgiving turkey from Popeye’s. Verdict is: it’s spicy, a little dry, but pretty good. [Dallas Observer]
Inua is one of Tokyo’s new two-star restaurants. | Inua [Official]
The city still has more stars than any other
The latest city-specific dining guide from French tire company Michelin is also its most twinkly: Michelin’s 13th guide to Tokyo includes 226 restaurants with Michelin stars, more than any other city, including one new three-star restaurant, three new two-star restaurants, and 20 new restaurants with one star.
After more than a decade with two Michelin stars, Michelin awarded kaiseki restaurant Kadowaki a third star in the 2020 guide. The addition brings Tokyo’s three-star total to 11, down from 13 last year. Sukiyabashi Jiro Honten (the Jiro of the famous documentary) and Sushi Saito were dropped from the list because they stopped accepting reservations from the public, making them too exclusive even for Michelin.
Among the new two-star restaurants, kaiseki restaurant Ginza Shinohara is the only selection serving traditional Japanese cuisine. Inua, the Scandinavian-inflected tasting menu from Noma’s former head of R&D Thomas Frebel, joins Noma in Michelin’s estimation with two stars. Prisma, now the only Italian restaurant in Tokyo with two Michelin stars, rounds out the new additions to the category.
According to Michelin, the new one-star restaurants, along with 35 new additions to Michelin’s affordably priced Bib Gourmand category, represent 17 different cuisine types. Michelin also notes in its announcement post that the guide highlights more female chefs than in previous years. However, of the 25 restaurants led by women in the guide, only three are in the starred categories.
Although Tokyo still has more Michelin stars than anywhere else with 226, the number has shrunk in recent years. In 2018, there were 234 starred restaurants, up from 227 the previous year; but in the 2019 guide there were 230 starred restaurants, and now, four fewer than that. Click through for the full list of Tokyo’s Michelin stars.
‘Addams Family Values’ Is the Perfect Thanksgiving Movie
November 25, 2019
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Unlike some more serious Thanksgiving films, the cult classic dismantles the whitewashed notions of the holiday
Welcome toThe Reheat, a space for Eater writers to explore landmark (and lukewarm) culinary moments of the recent and not-so-recent past.
Thanksgiving is a controversial American holiday that, when put on film, can easily misfire as we see in so-called classics like The Mouse of the Mayflower, the 1968 animated TV special that relied heavily (if not entirely) on racist stereotypes and a prettied-up version of the 1621 harvest that brought together the indigenous Wampanoag and British settlers. When done right, a film or TV Thanksgiving scene approaches the tradition more analytically or skeptically, either from a historical standpoint or by delving into the awkward familial dynamics that are often magnified by the holidays. See, for example, Ang Lee’s moody masterpiece The Ice Storm (one of the best dinner scenes of all time) and John Hughes’s bittersweet comedy Planes, Trains, and Automobiles. Also at the top of the pile? A Thanksgiving movie that’s not actually a Thanksgiving movie at all. Cue the harpsichord and finger snaps because we’re talking about Addams Family Values.
In the 1993 macabre masterpiece, a sequel to the first live-action Addams Family movie, Gomez Addams (Raul Julia) and his wife, Morticia (Anjelica Huston), celebrate the arrival of baby boy Pubert. When siblings Wednesday — the role that launched Christina Ricci’s incredible career as glamour goth — and Pugsley (Jimmy Workman) suffer from a bout of jealousy and try to kill the Pubert several times, Gomez and Morticia hire nanny Debbie Jelinsky (Joan Cusack) to keep the kids in line. What they don’t realize is that she’s a serial killer who marries rich bachelors and murders them to collect their inheritances. When she seduces Uncle Fester (Christopher Lloyd), Wednesday becomes suspicious of her intentions. To maintain her cover, Debbie has Wednesday and Pugsley shipped off to a summer camp.
Camp Chippewa is supposed to be a place “to learn, to grow, and to just plain have fun,” but it’s the exact opposite. Wednesday and Pugsley act and look nothing like the other campers, the majority of which are preppy blondes with racist, ignorant worldviews — that are unfortunately shared by their parents and the camp owners, Gary Granger (Peter MacNicol) and Becky Martin-Granger (Christine Baranski). Wednesday and Pugsley remain outcasts throughout the summer, refusing to participate in group activities, including the Grangers’ Thanksgiving play. The Grangers and other campers, led by mean girl Amanda Buckman (Mercedes McNab), decide to “make an example” out of them. They lock them in a cabin isolated in the woods and make hem to watch heartwarming Disney movies until they’re cleansed and “normal.” (Forced assimilation under the guise of helping sounds... vaguely familiar.) Wednesday and Pugsley give in — or so they think! — and Wednesday even agrees to play Pocahontas, a historical figure with no connection to the first Thanksgiving, in the big show.
On the final day of camp, the children perform the Grangers’ Thanksgiving play, which is, of course, a racist account of the first Thanksgiving. The pilgrims are played by Amanda and her clique of friends. As Pocahontas, Wednesday leads the other camp misfits — the campers of color, the ones with hebraic features not erased by rhinoplasty gifted by rich parents, and those with disabilities — as Native Americans to the Pilgrims’ feast. After Wednesday presents Pugsley, the turkey, as a gift to the Pilgrims (“I am a turkey. Eat me!”), she snaps back into her authentic self and deviates from the script to deliver a truly great speech.
Thanksgiving is synonymous with harmony — a day to “celebrate a seminal event in American history,” Gary Granger says when he introduces the play — but Wednesday’s revolt refutes the myth at the core of the holiday. She calls attention to the painful historical truth about this country’s relationship with its Indigenous people, that their land was stolen and they were forced to live separately, in poverty, while European settlers reaped the benefits: “Years from now, my people will be forced to live in mobile homes on reservations. Your people will wear cardigans and drink highballs. We will sell our bracelets by the roadsides. You will play golf and enjoy hot hors d’oeuvres.” While Addams Family Values explores the rigid dichotomy between “us” and “them,” Wednesday’s speech turns the spotlight on it. It’s an iconic moment and a reminder that America’s first Thanksgiving isn’t really the heartfelt celebration our textbooks and children’s books made it out to seem.
The uprising that follows turns the Grangers’ and fellow campers’ own preconceived stereotypes against them. “Remember, these savages are our guests,” Amanda, in character, says at the beginning of the scene, explaining to her acolytes that the Native Americans lack a European education and “shampoo.” Wednesday then introduces herself as a friendly “Chippewa maiden,” before getting... not so friendly. After breaking down the hypocrisy of the play and Thanksgiving in general, Wednesday concludes, “And for all these reasons, I’ve decided to scalp you, and burn your village to the ground.”
Since its inception, The Addams Family has never been politically correct, exactly. It’s subversive and silly, known for challenging cultural norms: reading cartoonist Charles Addams’s original work, which first appeared in the New Yorker in 1938, is like taking a trip through the looking glass as it pokes fun at the nuclear American family. You could feasibly argue that Addams Family Values isn’t a Thanksgiving movie. It takes place in the summer and the Camp Chippewa plot is only one half of the movie, Wednesday’s riot lasting less than five minutes on screen. The characters certainly don’t sit down for a turkey dinner (would the Addamses even eat Turkey anyway?), but it’s dazzling how quickly and effectively Wednesday’s speech provides viewers with a righteous dissection of the holiday.
So this Thanksgiving, go forth and feast but consider viewing Addams Family Values after dinner to reflect on the complicated history of the holiday. And hey, if a little education is not enough reason to watch this beloved classic, there’s always the “Eat Us” song that precedes Wednesday’s speech, a spectacular showstopper of giant dancing turkeys singing in unison: “Eat us cuz we’re good and dead!”
How ‘Calming’ Drinks Like Recess, Made with Adaptogens and CBD, Took Over the Beverage Aisle
November 25, 2019
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The love child of the anxiety economy and the wellness industry, a new category of beverages promises a calming antidote to the unease of modern life
When I saw the pastel pink can of Recess sitting on the counter of a cafe in Southampton’s Parrish Art Museum, tucked between the blood orange Sanpellegrino, lime LaCroix, and a plain old plastic bottle of water, I was surprised: It was the first time I’d seen the brand outside of New York City’s fancier bodegas and grocery stores. It had apparently followed the crowds out to the Hamptons for the summer. “Does anybody buy this?” I asked the cashier. I was jonesing for an old-fashioned espresso myself, not the promised relaxation of a sparkling water infused with hemp extract and adaptogens, or stress-mitigating plants used in herbal medicine.
“They do, and I drink one every day,” she told me. “I don’t know if it works, and I wouldn’t actually pay $6 for it, but it’s free.”
Each can of Recess — available in the flavors blackberry chai, peach ginger, and pomegranate hibiscus — bears a label reading “calm cool collected.” It claims to be, essentially, chill in a can, and it is far from alone in sending the message that drinking this one weird beverage is a surefire way to calm the fuck down.
Entire display cases are now devoted to beverages created in the wake of the so-called anxiety economy that has blossomed in recent years. Typically dressed in soothing pastels that set them apart from the bold primary colors of a Coca-Cola or Red Bull, they are exemplars of millennial-targeted branding, with an Instagram-friendly aesthetic that targets overworked young women seeking out brief moments of “self-care” as an alternative to traditional medicine. Beverages of this ilk, like Recess, Cha Cha Matcha, Dona, and Kin Euphorics, get their purported powers in part from ingredients often tied to herbal medicine, and bank upon a cultural moment when people are more likely to look for emotional health in a bodega refrigerator than to take the time (or funds) to look for professional help.
It was Benjamin Witte’s own participation in the “anxiety economy” that led him to launch Recess in 2018. The company’s founder had been using a CBD tincture to deal with his stress, a treatment that he says made him feel more balanced and even-keeled.
“While CBD was effective for me, the user experience [of] putting oil under your tongue a few times a day is not a great one,” Witte says. So the idea of adding hemp extract to a beverage seemed like the logical next step. CBD is what’s known as a functional ingredient — a bioactive compound that can, like caffeine, be added to many things, and, as importantly, be commodified. The resulting product was a response to the gap Witte saw in a functional beverage market already brimming with energy drinks, Gatorade, green tea, and kombucha. “There would be an opportunity to create new formulations and applications,” he says of his epiphany. “And then kind of most importantly, build a brand on top of that.”
Witte sees Recess as just the beginning of that brand, one that will target millennials (whose anxiety, the 31-year-old says, is “literally in our own heads”) through editorial content, merchandise, and “experiential,” a marketing term that just means in-person events.
The CBD space has remained rather unregulated, and the research on it has been minimal at best; it is especially inconclusive when it comes to the question of whether CBD reduces anxiety when ingested through food or drink. When I broach the topic of drinks whose ingredients include CBD and adaptogens with Sarah Corbett, a practicing herbalist and the co-founder of the “small-batch apothecary” Rowan and Sage, she isn’t impressed. “At best, it’s savvy marketing and maybe a relaxing afternoon; at worst, it’s a waste of your money,” she says. Because really: Can chill be canned?
The “wellness” drink exists along a continuum whose origins can be viewed on the shelves of health food stores, where Bragg apple cider vinegar drinks, numerous kombucha brands, and shots of ginger and ginseng contain simple, recognizable ingredients that adhere to Michael Pollan’s various adages about eating real food. These drinks are of the hippie old school, offering earth-bound health with the promise of a smoother bowel movement or a quick recovery from a seasonal cold. GT’s kombucha lists one of its primary ingredients as “100% Pure Love!!!”
But where the older generation of wellness drinks promised bodily restoration, the newer crop — made not by hippies but self-styled beverage market “disruptors” — sells mental peace and clarity with buzzwords used to describe ingredients that supposedly make your brain work better and help your body adapt to stress. They attempt to appeal to millennials with pastels or language about “nootropics” or “adaptogens,” ingredients purported to (respectively) improve cognition and help the body deal with stress.
The “wellness” label has been attached to all sorts of beverages. It was 2016 when the turmeric latte, or “golden milk,” began to appear widely on cafe menus and the Guardian noted its global availability. As the food writer Khushbu Shah wrote, selling drinkers on turmeric’s anti-inflammatory properties signaled a clear Columbusing of an ingredient once maligned in the West. “For many years, turmeric struggled to break out of its reputation in the West as a curry ingredient that left fingernails stained with its pungent yellow hue,” Shah observed. “Now, with its new name and presentation … the drink is a hot commodity.” Dona, a Brooklyn-based beverage company, began making chai concentrate in 2014; its founder, Amy Rothstein, got into the beverage industry through her interest in the spice industry. Her emphasis on single-origin sourcing echoes the fascination around antioxidant-rich Japanese matcha, which began rising in popularity in latte form in the U.S. around the same time. Buoyed by Instagram, it continued to propagate through small chains like Chalait, Maman, and Cha Cha Matcha.
It was also in 2016 that Laurie Penny wrote in the Baffler about wellness as a capitalism-driven ideology: “The wellbeing ideology is a symptom of a broader political disease,” she wrote. “The rigors of both work and worklessness, the colonization of every public space by private money, the precarity of daily living, and the growing impossibility of building any sort of community maroon each of us in our lonely struggle to survive. We are supposed to believe that we can only work to improve our lives on that same individual level.”
The individual level is where wellness products come into the picture; it’s Witte’s “anxiety economy,” built upon what he describes as “[products] we’re starting to take in our bodies, as well as lifestyle choices designed to help us kind of take back control.”
Taking back control is, ironically, why, around the same time, millennials had begun to question the concept of “chill” — at least as it applied to women, whose emotions have always been a subject of fascination, scorn, and marketing dollars. Writer Alana Massey’s 2015 viral essay “Against Chill” described shedding, once and for all, the expectation of men and society at large that women contain their emotions and desires:
To the uninitiated, having Chill and being cool are synonyms. They describe a person with a laid-back attitude, an absence of neurosis, and reasonably interesting tastes and passions. But the person with Chill is crucially missing these last ingredients because they are too far removed from anything that looks like intensity to have passions.
That seemed like a watershed moment for women’s ability to be emotionally honest in public and private. But then, the 2016 political landscape and Instagram’s endless need for pretty, curated content helped give birth to the market for pastel canned beverages, along with places like Chillhouse, a Manhattan destination for “modern self-care” where you can buy inner peace through manicures, facials, massages, and a $7 “Chill Me Out” latte that is full of adaptogens but no actual espresso.
While Dona founder Rothstein hasn’t made explicit claims to consumers that her new line of canned sodas — available in flavors like turmeric honeybush and juniper lime — will chill them out, both Cha Cha Matcha and Kin Euphorics loudly echo Recess’s marketing strategy. The former’s canned beverages are an extension of their cafes, which launched in New York City in 2016 and have since expanded to LA. The company was born the year after its founders, Matthew Morton and Conrad Sandelman, traveled to Japan to source ceremonial-grade matcha. Their idea was to repackage it as a chill caffeine alternative, something they did in brightly colored cafes that were presented as the opposite of “pretentious” coffee shops, says Michael McGregor, the company’s director of brand marketing.
McGregor says that Cha Cha Matcha doesn’t consider itself a wellness brand, but its recently launched line of canned iced teas — with pastel hues and flavors like activated charcoal matcha and ginger turmeric — hits all of the aesthetic and ingredient marks of the wellness beverage genre. And McGregor recognizes that people seeking “chill” might pick up a can along their journey to anxiety reduction. “‘Chill’ is a big part of contemporary culture, probably for a lot of reasons,” he says. “I feel like we’re living in a time of high anxiety and as an antidote to that, people are looking for all sorts of ways to calm themselves, whether that be yoga, adaptogens, or more exercise.”
Kin Euphorics, meanwhile, embraces “wellness” with enthusiasm; born and still lodged firmly in the nightlife realm, it is, per its website, “All Bliss, No Booze.” Like Recess, the company launched in 2018. Its “Chief Euphorics Officer,” Jen Batchelor, says its big inspiration was her desire to go to the bar and have fun without intoxicants. “I was also just sort of seeing the detriments and destruction of alcohol for so many women in my life at that time,” she says.
Batchelor has a history in the wellness business and has studied ayurvedic medicine. Her last venture involved working with hotels to create wellness amenities for guests “beyond just, like, a dusty yoga mat in a closet,” Batchelor says; they included meditation with Deepak Chopra, built-in Pelotons, and “minibar cleanups” that removed the usual junk food. Some hotels’ practice of offering “red or white” upon check-in, regardless of the time of day, was one of the common examples of casual alcohol consumption that piqued Batchelor’s interest in changing the mindset of drinking to unwind (a strategy that the cannabis industry has also adopted).
Kin has actively — not just aesthetically — zeroed in on women; the brand, its website says, “believes in a night where social isn’t sinful and self-care doesn’t stop at sunset.” The equation of alcohol with “sin” brings to mind diet language — the use of “guilt” and “naughtiness” to shame women for seeking pleasure. During our phone call, Batchelor told me that the husband of one of her brand ambassadors likes to see her crack open a can of the drink at night — because, she said, “he knows he’ll get lucky.”
Although it’s a new-wave beverage, Kin’s messaging echoes retrograde ways of thinking about women’s behavior. Batchelor conveniently couches it in her concerns for women’s hormone and cortisol levels — which Kin claims are balanced through its blend of the adaptogen rhodiola (a threatened medicinal herb, as listed by the International Union for Conservation of Nature), GABA, 5-HTP, citicoline, and tyrosine (nootropics). Hibiscus, gentian, and licorice are also added.
Both Batchelor’s language and Kin’s marketing echo the wellness industry’s more general efforts to appeal to women. Amanda Mull, a writer who covers consumerism, has noticed how wellness brands specifically target them, whether they do so explicitly in their messaging or not. “I think that wellness as the consumer industry we know now was created as a way for health and weight-loss brands to market their products as ‘lifestyle’ experiences for women,” Mull tells me.
Over the last decade, she says, an explosion in social media marketing and “changing social narratives around women’s bodies” created problems for marketers peddling weight-loss shakes and diet pills. “Many of their traditional consumers were starting to tire of hearing such explicit messages around losing weight at all costs, and products that can’t be proudly displayed on Instagram by their users can’t be as easily introduced to young women,” Mull says. “That’s how we got to the point where wellness products, including matcha and euphorics and CBD sodas, are all sort of blandly pretty and pastel, and they come with promises of vague-but-wholesome health effects. Balance, calm — nothing too active or aggressive.”
Both Kin and Recess build their own promises of vague-but-wholesome health effects on adaptogens, ingredients that usually have a place in the realms of herbalism and naturopathy. When combined with soothing colors and winsome fonts, they are effective in selling “calm” and “bliss” — or “chill” — words that encapsulate these companies’ respective definitions of wellness. The question is why people, namely women, need to be sold these feelings, to the tune of more than $4 trillion.
Writer James Hamblin asked that question in a 2018 Atlantic piece about the Wellspring festival, which brought together yoga, celebrity speakers, and activities like CBD oil massages. He noted that while the wellness movement “in theory” democratizes access to health by cutting doctors and costly for-profit health care out of the equation, a ticket to that specific event was $1,000. Rare, too, is a yoga or meditation session that costs less than $15, which is actually low when one considers that a therapy session in the United States can easily cost upward of $100. Canned beverages promising chilled-out herbs could seem like the missing piece of the democratizing-wellness puzzle, but a four-pack of Kin Spritz is $27 and a six-pack of Recess costs $29.99. Chill isn’t cheap, which is what makes it good business, but it’s also elusive and ill-defined.
That’s why herbalists like Corbett, of Rowan and Sage, are dubious. Corbett’s practice involves talking to clients about what is bothering them, physically and mentally, and providing lifestyle and movement practices, herbal supplements, and dietary plans. She places a strong emphasis on “food as medicine.”
“We’re in a resurgence of green allopathy these days,” Corbett says, referring to the treatment of symptoms with “natural” quick-fix medicinal products. “One of the biggest things that consumers don’t understand about herbalism is that to actually get an effect that you want to get, you need to be taking a therapeutic dose and you need to be taking it probably for a long period of time. So one can of adaptogenic tea isn’t going to make a difference for you if you’re experiencing the symptoms that they’re actually indicated for.”
Corbett says that a company selling an adaptogenic beverage reached out to her recently, but when she asked them about their sourcing methods, they promptly “ghosted” her, leading her to question the product’s integrity. And although she’s pro-cannabis, she doesn’t use CBD in her practice because she doesn’t agree with the practice of isolating a single component from a plant; in many cases, she says, certain products function as Band-Aids applied to the root cause of a problem.
Recess’s packaging doesn’t mention CBD. Instead, it advertises its use of “hemp extract,” which can comprise multiple cannabinoids, including CBD. Each can of Recess contains 10 milligrams of broad-spectrum hemp oil — and this varying nomenclature points to the layer of semantic confusion spread on top of the murky legalities surrounding CBD. It is still unclear what the 2018 Farm Bill did and didn’t legalize regarding industrial hemp production, and it’s illegal to add CBD to food and drink both on the federal level and in New York City specifically. Current science is dubious on the potential impact of CBD, and there’s evidence that the placebo effect may also play a role in patient outcomes. That’s something mainstream science and herbalists like Corbett agree upon.
“If someone is feeling anxious and they want to take CBD, it might help them in the moment. But why are they anxious?” Corbett says. “Is it a psychological imbalance? Is it that they’re really deficient in B vitamins, or they’re not eating enough protein, or all of these other things that they might never discover if they just get hooked on a trendy supplement?” She is adamant that these beverages are an “exploitation of plants for profit,” and later adds that “there’s so much we can do before we bring in supplements and herbs. So someone just wants to eat something tasty, fine, but know what you’re getting. Have a reasonable set of expectations.”
And there’s not enough known about how to scale products that use medicinal herbs, some of which are threatened. Not even kombucha has been immune to marketplace exploitation: Coca-Cola recently invested $20 million in Health-Ade, while the PepsiCo-owned KeVita Master Brew Kombucha is just a sparkling water combined with probiotics, added sugar, and flavorings that provoked a class action lawsuit about the definition of “kombucha.” And in a dispute stretching all the way back to 2012, a Massachusetts beverage company sent herbalists into a tizzy by trademarking the name of a well-known and openly shared recipe known as fire cider; it eventually lost the case.
The business of “wellness,” whether old- or new-school, continues to boom, arguably thanks in large part to the anxiety economy, the high cost of health care, and our accompanying desire for easy (and affordable) fixes to big problems. Patterns that began in the tumult and stress of 2016 could reach even greater heights with next year’s presidential election, creating new avenues for capital that appeal to generational and gender-based fears. All that intensity could have the “wellness ideology” coming for us all, one $5 beverage at a time — because even if chill can’t be canned, it will be commodified.
But that’s only if solutions to generational anxiety continue to be packaged as individual consumer choices, ripe for plucking off a shelf or ordering online. With kombucha and fire cider, one sees the possibility for “wellness” in the form of freely shared recipes made with grocery-store ingredients or the SCOBYs offered through Facebook fermentation groups. Perhaps sticking to tried-and-true community-based recipes for health was the chill we needed all along.
Alicia Kennedyis a writer based in San Juan. Bijou Karmanis an artist and illustrator living in Los Angeles. Fact checked by Kelsey Lannin Copy edited by Emma Alpern
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