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Eater
05-08-2025
- Entertainment
- Eater
Mexican Asian Fusion Is One of North America's Signature Cuisines
In early 2009 in Los Angeles, there was no food experience more exciting than Roy Choi's Kogi truck. You'd wait in a long line in a dimly lit parking lot with a menagerie of trendy people, some of them drawn by the truck's latest Twitter post or Jonathan Gold's review in LA Weekly, others stumbling out of a nearby bar. Then you'd order too many tacos and stand next to your car to eat, perching your sagging paper trays of Korean Mexican fusion on the trunk. The truck felt new and surprising, and the big flavors demanded attention. The cheese oozing out the sides of the kimchi quesadilla rounded out the fermentation, while the salsa roja on top amplified the gochugaru. The blend of Korean and Mexican chiles in the salsa coaxed complementary flavors out of the punchy marinade on the kalbi. Funky one-off specials, like pork belly tteokbokki or the Kogi Hogi torta, constantly introduced new combinations. Leaning on the strengths of Mexican and Korean cuisines, Kogi probably would have worked if the food was only a novelty. But it also tasted definitively of Los Angeles. Choi (and his partner, Philippines-born, California-raised chef Mark Manguera) put many facets of his life into Kogi, including his training in fine dining, his rebellious spirit, and his Korean heritage, but most of all his experience growing up in LA, where Koreatown abuts several predominantly Mexican American neighborhoods. Choi's cooking prioritized innovation, but it still smacked of home. 'I think it became a voice for a certain part of Los Angeles and a certain part of immigration and a certain part of life that wasn't really out there in the universe. We all knew it, and we all grew up with it, and it was all around us, but the taco kind of pulled it together,' Choi told Terry Gross in a 2013 interview on Fresh Air. 'It was like a lint roller. It just kind of put everything onto one thing. And then when you ate it, it all of a sudden made sense, you know?' Kogi, parked in Venice, California, in 2010. Ted Soqui / Corbis / Getty Images Choi tapped into culinary histories that run deep in the American Southwest and California, where immigrants coming north from Mexico built lives alongside immigrants crossing the Pacific from Asia. (Kogi wasn't the first in the U.S. to serve food at this cultural intersection; spots like Avatar's, which has been serving Punjabi burritos in the Bay Area since 1989, are notable precursors.) But the truck marked a turning point for Mexican Asian fusion as an enduring cultural passion among interconnected communities. Over the last 16 years, Korean Mexican fusion has spread all over the country; in Portland, Oregon, and Austin, Texas, bulgogi burritos now seem as natural as coffee and chili, respectively. A legion of chefs have also popularized all kinds of Asian Mexican fusion, serving birria ramen, halal carne asada, and furikake esquites. Years before the term 'chaos cooking' entered the conversation, these restaurants created cuisine that was fun and different, blending foods from distinct cultures in ways that make emotional sense, even when they sound far out on paper. And chefs keep finding new ways to capture how Mexican and Asian foods crisscross in the U.S. and in diners' hearts. Asian immigrants have been forming communities in Mexico, from the La Chinesca neighborhood of Mexicali to Mexico City's Pequeño Seúl, for decades or in some cases centuries. Chefs in these areas naturally adapted their cuisines to local ingredients and dishes; in the process, they started unpacking some of the natural affinities across cuisines that would grease the wheels of fusion projects well into the future. To Cesar Hernandez, associate restaurant critic at the San Francisco Chronicle and a street food aficionado, it makes sense that items like tacos and burritos became go-to formats for fusion cooking over the years. 'They truly are blank canvases for whatever. They play well with other flavors,' he says. Hernandez also points to the common ingredients that unite Asian and Mexican cuisines. 'A lot of these cuisines love citrus. A lot of these cuisines love chiles. And when you can coax those flavors out with the other cuisines, that's when it really works.' For Rhea Patel Michel of Mexican Indian fusion restaurant Saucy Chick in Pasadena, California, the connection between these foodways is elemental. Her background is Gujarati Indian, and her husband Marcel Rene Michel is Mexican American. In combining their cuisines, they found a natural synergy in ingredients like cumin, citrus, rice, and legumes, but they also discovered a connectivity of spirit. 'It's generous, it's vibrant, it's dynamic, and we were really energized by what it could look like,' to bring their food together, Patel Michel says. The Picoso Roll at the Sushi-lito food truck in Tucson. Nick Oza/Eater When chefs in historic Asian communities in Mexico couldn't get access to ingredients from back home, they often developed fusion dishes out of necessity. But the clearest progenitor for many contemporary projects might be Sinaloan sushi, created in Culiacán, Mexico, not out of necessity but creative conversation within the restaurant community. Japanese immigrants to the area, in Mexico's Sinaloa state, started opening sushi restaurants around the late 1980s, often hiring Mexican chefs. But it wasn't until those chefs left to open their own spots, bringing their own ideas and style to sushi — and building on recent sushi inventions from the north, like the California roll — that the genre really developed its modern personality. One foundational operation, Sushi-Lo, brought sushi out to the streets in a cart, and introduced the modern classic, deep-fried mar y tierra (surf and turf) roll filled with carne asada and shrimp. Today, Sinaloan spots both in Mexico and the U.S., like Culichi Town, tend towards extravagance, incorporating aguachile, plantain, beans, melted cheese, jalapeños, or Hot Cheeto dust. And the cuisine only went further when it jumped from Sinaloa to neighboring Sonoroa, edging its way toward the U.S. 'Sonoran-style specialists are more like sushi bars attached to a Wingstop,' writes Bill Esparza, 'with menus touting fried chicken wings and fried potatoes covered in melted cheese alongside the calorie-rich sushi.' Alongside Culichi Town — which has 12 locations in the U.S., including in Dallas and Las Vegas — Sonoran sushi can be found all over the American West, but it especially thrives in Tucson, alongside terroir-defying, cross-cultural icons like the bacon-wrapped Sonoran dog. Unlike contemporary fusion restaurants of the '80s and '90s that became reviled for carelessly throwing together half-assed hybrid dishes and wearing culture as costume, the impetus for Sinaloan and Sonoran sushi wasn't colonial. Even as chefs tended toward monchoso, a sort of thrilling overindulgence, their fusion remained rooted in mutual respect and open collaboration. Neither culture was being absorbed or assimilated, trod on or lifted over the other. 'Mexican food is not fucking precious,' Hernandez says. 'People in Mexico are the first to break the rules. It's part of the tradition.' Roy Choi at work at his latest project, Taco Por Vida, in 2024. Rebecca Roland/Eater That spirit has persisted in Kogi and the projects that followed, even as restaurants spread beyond the Southwest, more Asian cuisines entered the conversation, and chefs developed all kinds of fusion. Almost immediately following Choi's success, chef Bo Kwon created Koi Fusion in Portland, Oregon, in 2009, bringing Pacific Northwest style, a lighter touch on sauces, and an eye for local vegetables to the cuisine. In 2010, Señor Sisig launched as a Filipino Mexican food truck with sisig burritos and tacos, citing Kogi as major inspiration. That same year, the Korilla food truck in New York pushed rice bowls alongside tacos and burritos, drawing winding lines and mostly stellar reviews. Along the way through the many mid-2010s pivots at Mission Cantina in New York, chef Danny Bowien served Mexican kimchi, avocado sashimi, and a Chinese burrito special featuring mapo tofu or kung pao pastrami. More recently, Taqueria Azteca in New York rolled out phở birria, Phở Vy in Oakland, California, unveiled bò kho quesabirria tacos, and Baysian in nearby San Leandro whipped up Filipino queso-adobo. Back in LA, Holy Basil offers Thai-style prawn aguachile, while New York-born Baar Baar serves birria-influenced tacos with Kashmiri duck and tostadas with tuna bhel. Hernandez is especially excited about chef Sincere Justice's Tacos Sincero pop-up, born in Oakland in 2022. The chef draws on his experience growing up in LA's San Gabriel Valley (which has large Mexican and Asian American populations) to create eclectic dishes like a konbini-style egg salad tostada, calamansi tinga, and a saag burrito. '[Justice is] a real student of 'I want to try different shit and present it in these formats,' using tortillas and tostadas,' Hernandez says. 'He and a couple other folks are keeping that [multicultural cooking] alive.' All of it is constantly evolving, even within individual restaurants. At Saucy Chick, the Michels are always creating new dishes, like birria de chivo that incorporates masala spices, halal carne asada marinated in amchur and coriander, and esquites amped up with fenugreek and turmeric. Along the way, something surprising has happened during all this R and D. '[I've been] digging deep with my mom and my dad, [asking,] 'How do we make this dal?' or 'How do we make aloo?'' Rhea says. 'I've found myself getting even closer to my culture.' 'Kogi came at that right moment,' Choi told Mashed in 2020. In the midst of the Great Recession, the truck offered accessible, boundary-pushing cooking. 'People couldn't afford to go out all the time. People were struggling, lost their jobs, looking for what their next meal could be. And then this funny little beat-up truck came along, serving this delicious little taco.' The team's creativity and hustle helped them nail the tenor of the early social media era. During Twitter's ascendance, the Kogi team tweeted their locations and specials in real time as the truck rolled around town, drawing mobs of fans wherever they went. 'It felt like a scavenger hunt when we needed some sort of positive direction,' Choi told Mashed. Online appeal has remained an important piece of Mexican Asian fusion, clear in dishes like birria ramen (or 'birriamen'). Generally said to have been invented by chef Antonio de Livier at the Mexico City restaurant Animo, birriamen builds on the internet popularity of the Tijuana-style stewed beef dish. It might be made with instant noodles or higher-grade stuff, ramen broth or consomé, stuffed into tacos or piled onto vampiros — but in almost every case, it's big and bold and attention-grabbing, making it ideal for social media feeds. Aguachile at Holy Basil in LA Wonho Frank Lee/Eater But in other ways, Mexican Asian fusion no longer resembles Kogi's scrappy street food operation, especially when it starts climbing into fine dining territory. At Michelin-starred Los Félix in Miami, the tétela is filled with Japanese sweet potato, the esquites get a hit of basil furikake, there's miso-grilled corn with fish, and corn dumplings come with scallions and trout roe. Anajak Thai Cuisine's Thai Taco Tuesday, a pandemic-born lark, grew into a signature experience; dishes like a carnitas taco and a sashimi-style yellowtail tostada with nam jim-salsa negra marisquera topped with papaya salad powered the restaurant to national acclaim. Today, fusion dishes show up at restaurants that are nominally neither Mexican nor Asian. Birria dumplings appear on the ever-changing menu at San Francisco icon State Bird Provisions, while Chicago restaurant Mfk serves suzuki crudo on a tostada with both guacamole and sambal. This cuisine is everywhere now. It's not uncommon to see culinary combinations at an airport, the Taco Bell Test Kitchen, or floating up beneath the gaze of social media's Eye of Sauron. It has been in the mainstream for more than 20 years, practically forever in the modern food era, fully engrained into the way we eat. Alongside other types of third-culture cooking, Mexican Asian cuisine has largely shed the stigma that fusion picked up in the '90s. Chefs once chafed if their food was labeled fusion. Now, the pendulum has largely swung back. For Hernandez, it's a generational thing; the old distaste has fallen by the wayside as new chefs and new diners have come into maturity. 'Fusion' is just a convenient shorthand for what so many are doing: transforming culinary building blocks, wherever they come from, to create something new — and awesome — from the parts. Hernandez brings it back to a conversation with Justice of Tacos Sincero. As much as the chef's food reflects his upbringing, the specific labels just aren't important anymore. 'Whatever people want to call it, it doesn't matter,' Hernandez says. 'It just has to bang.'
New York Times
16-07-2025
- Politics
- New York Times
A Founding Father of NPR Worries About Its Fate
Perhaps no one has played a bigger role in shaping public radio in the United States than Bill Siemering. He came up with NPR's mission statement, 'National Public Radio Purposes,' more than a half-century ago. He co-founded 'All Things Considered,' its flagship show, and created the program that would eventually become 'Fresh Air.' He has also testified before Congress — the same body that is weighing a proposal, known as a rescission request, to strip more than $500 million in annual funding from public media. Voting on the cuts could happen as soon as Wednesday. Over the course of three interviews, including one at his home near Philadelphia, Mr. Siemering, 91, said that cutting that money would put a 'unique, invaluable cultural resource' at risk. 'Imagine the silence without it,' he said. Here is what else he said about the looming threats to a system he helped create. This is edited for length and clarity. Over the decades, public media has defended itself many times from defunding attempts using the values, principles and vision that you helped establish. It feels now that defense is faltering. I'm wondering what you think has changed. Want all of The Times? Subscribe.
Indianapolis Star
06-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Indianapolis Star
Meet IndyStar local news editor Shari Rudavsky
It takes a staff of dedicated journalists to bring you the news from around Central Indiana. In this feature, the Indianapolis Star introduces readers to our newsroom staff — or, rather, we let them introduce themselves. Up this week is Shari Rudavsky. Local news editor for entertainment and business 2004 Meeting strangers who tell me that IndyStar has had an effect of any sort on their lives. That impact may range from trying a certain restaurant, changing their outlook on an issue or leading them to take action, all based on something they read either in our physical paper or online. I staunchly believe that the role of journalists consists of informing our community about the issues that matter in our lives and bring us together. Read, walk, do the New York Times Wordle, Spelling Bee and crossword puzzles. "Naked Eye" by Luscious Jackson. Yep, you've probably never heard it. "Be yourself" — the last words my father said to me with the wish I pass them on to my son, his only grandchild. Can I just take over for Terri Gross, queen of the NPR show "Fresh Air," when she retires? My first job out of college was at Penthouse magazine. Seriously, I worked for Omni magazine, a now-defunct science magazine, as an editorial assistant, and Omni was published by Penthouse. Every morning I walked by a huge photo on the wall of Bob Guccione with a topless "pet" on his lap. Not a Tweet and not the meanest (because I did write about abortion for several years so had unspeakably mean comments hurled in my direction), but years ago an IndyStar reader wrote to tell me that I needed to do something about my eyebrows. I earned my first money pairing socks for the family laundry at the generous salary of "a penny a pair." Since my family only had three people in it, my first full dollar was earned babysitting.
Yahoo
05-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
'Star Wars' Star, 73, Says Carrie Fisher Told Him to Get Over Himself
'Star Wars' Star, 73, Says Carrie Fisher Told Him to Get Over Himself originally appeared on Parade. Star Wars star Mark Hamill, 73, shared that his late castmate Carrie Fisher, who famously portrayed Princess Leia, told him to embrace his role as Luke Skywalker. Entertainment Weekly reported Hamill discussed his relationship with Fisher, who died in 2016, during a June 2025 interview on NPR's Fresh Air. According to Hamill, Fisher reprimanded him for not explicitly naming Star Wars in his playbill bio when he starred in a Broadway show. Hamill said Fisher said he needed to stop taking himself so seriously. "She came to see a Broadway show of mine. And in the playbill, in my bio, I listed all my theater credits and at the end it said, 'He's also known for a series of popular space movies,'" said Hamill during the interview. "And she goes, 'What's the deal? How come you don't mention Star Wars?' And I said, 'Well, I want to show that I have a resume that includes extensive theater credits.' And she said, 'Hey, get over yourself. You're Luke Skywalker. I'm Princess Leia. Embrace it.'" Hamill said he understood Fisher's point of view. "And I kind of saw what she meant, you know, because you say to yourself, 'What territory do I occupy that no one else does?' So she was someone that sort of put it in perspective for me," said Hamill. He said, however, that he does have a "disconnect between the current fans" because he believes Luke's story is over in the Star Wars franchise. He clarified that he is "always grateful for George [Lucas] for letting [him] be a part of it" and appreciates Star Wars fans. "I mean, if it weren't for the fans, I wouldn't be here. And so I'm grateful to them. They know details I have never heard of... Like I say, it was an important part of my life that's now over," said Hamill. Hamill said that he isn't interested in returning to the Star Wars franchise in a May 2025 interview with ComicBook. "We never expected it to become a permanent franchise and a part of pop culture like that. But my deal is, I had my time. I'm appreciative of that, but I really think they should focus on the future and all the new characters," said Hamill to the publication. 'Star Wars' Star, 73, Says Carrie Fisher Told Him to Get Over Himself first appeared on Parade on Jun 4, 2025 This story was originally reported by Parade on Jun 4, 2025, where it first appeared.
Toronto Star
24-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Toronto Star
I went to camp for one week when I was nine. I didn't expect it would lead to many more summers — with no end in sight
I was about nine years old when I decided I wanted to go to sleepaway summer camp for the first time — even though I still crawled into my mom's bed most nights. The idea came up during a Girl Guide meeting. I don't remember exactly what was said, but I remember making up my mind that I was going. Having been a Spark, a Brownie, and then a Girl Guide, camping wasn't new to me. But I'd only ever gone for a weekend at most — and my mom, one of our group leaders, was always by my side. This time would be different. Our leaders didn't come to summer camp with us, which meant I'd be going it alone. Still, I'd had so much fun during our weekend getaways that I pushed my worries aside and signed up. My mom really committed by sticking me on the coach bus from Yorkdale Shopping Centre to camp two-and-a-half hours away instead of driving me up. Amazingly, neither of us cried. That first week away from home — filled with lake swims, rock climbing, hikes, campfires, games, skits, dancing, and endless off-tune singing (literally: This is the song that never ends. It just goes on and on, my friend …) — opened me up to a world I'd only dipped my toe in before. One night, our counsellors told us we were going on a stealth mission. We put on dark clothes and snuck our way to the mess hall at the centre of the camp's grounds, crouching and crawling along until we made it to the basement entrance. The counsellors went inside while we waited and came back with an ice cream sandwich for each of us. We sat under the stars, grinning and swearing to keep our not-quite-midnight snack a secret. Looking back, I'm sure the whole thing was planned. But at the time, sitting there with my cabin-mates, it felt thrilling and real — like we'd pulled off something big together. Fresh Air Fund I drove my family to Drake's Bridle Path Mansion in a desperate bid to distract them. Turns out, the real attraction was nearby Sunnybrook Park became a refuge for editor-in-chief Nicole MacIntyre's family, rekindling their The next summer, I had so much fun that I called my parents asking to stay an extra week — the longest I'd ever been away from home. I kept returning, summer after summer. Some years, I even chose camp over a birthday party with friends at home. One of my most vivid camp memories is from my last summer there, on the night of a camp-wide game. A pickup truck was hidden somewhere on site, and whoever found it first would win. Counsellors were scattered across camp, ready to 'penalize' us if they caught us, which added to the excitement. I'm usually not one to take these games seriously — I never expect to win — but that night I found myself army-crawling through the dark again. I'd lost the friend I came to camp with at some point in the night and my jeans were ruined with mud and grass stains, but I found the truck nestled in the trees separating two fields. I climbed in and laid on the horn while I hooted and hollered, signalling that the game was over. I hadn't won anything but bragging rights, but the way I felt in that moment was unmatched. With fond memories of my summers at camp, I got my first job as a day camp counsellor the summer I turned 16, spending every day with the youngest kids of the group, trying to recreate the experiences that were so formative for me. I returned to that camp when I was in university, this time as a photographer, because I couldn't think of a more fun and rewarding way to spend summer, even if it meant long-days in the hot sun and humidity — and that first summer back, frequent sanitizing and tan lines from my face mask. Serena's camp site set up from a trip to Balsam Lake Provincial Park last summer. Serena Austin / Toronto Star Though I've aged out of the summer camp environment, I still love camping: the challenges that come with trying to pack without forgetting anything (which I've never accomplished), pitching a tent, starting a fire and cooking in the dark, the silliness you can get up to once freed from internet access and the beauty of nature. Coming from a Black family where being outdoorsy isn't the norm and getting dirty was to be avoided, I'm the only one that's tried camping and can say it's something I truly enjoy doing, but my early introduction to the activity broadened my perspective and has given me an appreciation for the outdoors that's still with me and that I want to share. One day, I hope I'll be able convince my family to come camping with me. In the meantime though, I've gone camping each summer over the last three years, challenging myself to visit more campsites with more friends and loved ones each year. This summer, I'm especially excited to introduce a group of high school friends to camping for the first time — and I hope they'll fall for it the way I did. Summer camp gave me so much more than just a place to play — it gave me friendships, confidence, and a sense of independence. Every year, thousands of kids in Toronto have the chance to experience that feeling, thanks to programs like the Toronto Star Fresh Air Fund. If you can, supporting those efforts helps make sure more kids get to find their own special place away from home — just like I did. DONATE NOW The Toronto Star Fresh Air Fund How to donate: Online: To donate by Visa, Mastercard or Amex using our secure form. By cheque: Mail to The Toronto Star Fresh Air Fund, 8 Spadina Ave., Toronto, ON M5V 0S8 By phone: Call 647-250-8282 Tax receipts will be issued. FOLLOW US ON SOCIAL: Instagram: @torontostarchildrenscharities Facebook: @thetorontostarchildrenscharities X: @TStarCharities LinkedIn: The Toronto Star Children's Charities TikTok: @torstarchildrenscharity #StarFreshAirFund
