No Monster in the Mission :: ¡Basta Ya!
Historic March, Rally, and Festival
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Nothing Like This Has Ever Happened Before http://ow.ly/XOhsW
SF Housing Activist-Poet Tackles Gentrification in Verse http://curbed.com/archives/2015/08/12/san-francisco-housing-activistpoet-tackles-gentrification-in-verse.php
Tech-Sector Salaries and Commercial Rents Keep Going Up http://sf.curbed.com/archives/2015/12/03/techsector_salaries_and_commercial_rents_keep_going_up.php
“One pan. 10 minutes. Countless OOHHs and AHHs,” read the message on one side of the cardboard box. “#DinnerSolved,” proclaimed its other side. The solution it contained was a platoon of individually packaged, par-cooked ingredients for sweet potato and black bean enchiladas. Resting on a bed of ice packs and swaddled by insulated foam panels, it was the meal I’d ordered from Gobble, one of the Bay Area’s burgeoning number of subscription dinner-kit services.
Before trying Gobble, I’d spoken with its founder, Ooshma Garg, who had explained her company’s MO: “We cook just enough so you feel there’s just enough cooking for you to do. You can end up with an exquisite, perfectly made meal that we’ve assured for you.” In other words, it’s the culinary equivalent of assembling an IKEA nightstand. Cooking Gobble’s enchiladas amounted to opening the plastic bags and containers holding the individual components—premade filling, Spanish rice, salsa roja, a few corn tortillas, cotija cheese, and fresh cilantro—spooning the filling into the tortillas, and sticking it all in the oven for a few minutes.
“Exquisite” isn’t the word I’d use to describe the result, which was tasty and inoffensive in the manner of above-average cafeteria food. But that was fitting, I suppose, since I didn’t feel like I’d actually done any cooking. And that, in effect, is the idea at the core of the growing dinner-kit industry, which got its start, tellingly, in Sweden with the 2007 debut of a service called Middagsfrid (which roughly translates to “the calm that you feel when you sit down and have dinner after a long day”). It began gaining traction in this country a few years ago with the launch of companies like Blue Apron and Plated, both of which posed a virtually identical value proposition: Give us your credit card information and we’ll do the grunt work.
What “cooks” get, in effect, is dinner concocted with just enough some-assembly-required exertion to yield a wee frisson of DIY satisfaction. As someone who enjoys cooking, I am inherently skeptical of these companies. But even my somewhat freakish love of grocery store aisles doesn’t fully account for my knee-jerk dubiousness. It’s also a reaction to what George Packer memorably described in the New Yorker as the mission of Silicon Valley’s hottest tech startups: “Solving all the problems of being twenty years old, with cash on hand.”
The dinner-kit companies may be peddling to time-strapped working people up and down the class ladder, but their real customer base is a cohort with a surfeit of disposable income and an undying need to streamline the crap out of modern life. So it’s no surprise, then, that Silicon Valley investors are funding subscription-dinner kit startups as fast as they can demo their product, each promising a personalized spin on the concept. There’s Gobble, which was founded in 2010 as a sort of dinner matchmaking service for chefs and customers and now delivers precooked components for what Garg calls “Michelin-level meal[s] that you could never have made yourself through your own skills.”
There’s seven-month-old Sun Basket, which employs former Slanted Door chef Justine Kelly and an in-house nutritionist to create lifestyle-specific meals (paleo, gluten-free) that emphasize organic ingredients from local farms and, in founder Adam Zbar’s words, “export California value and bounty” to users. Three-year-old PlateJoy, which has $1.7 million in funding from investors as diverse as SherpaVentures, Foundation Capital, and Jared Leto (!), is likewise focused on healthy cooking. Its founder, Christina Bognet, clarifies, “We are a technology-enabled personalized-ingredient startup that uses algorithms to make you healthy,” which translates to bags of organic ingredients delivered directly from Whole Foods, along with recipes.
Meanwhile, 10-month-old Din uses precooked dinner components, like Gobble, but differentiates itself with mostly organic and locally sourced ingredients and recipes from restaurants like Bar Tartine and Tacolicious. By doing the prep work, explains Din cofounder Emily Olson LaFave, “We’re empowering people who are scared of it not working out.” Fair enough. But there’s something a little contradictory about these elevator pitches, which ostensibly extol the virtues of a home-cooked meal while presenting cooking as a source of stress and unhappiness akin to purchasing a used car. Bognet describes planning and cooking healthy meals as “just too complicated,” while Olson LaFave recalls analyzing cooking’s “pain points” as part of her research.
Granted, cooking may be this anguishing for some people. And it’s plausible that these services have the potential to help more such kitchen apostates across the country cook dinner. Still, cutting through the varying layers of startup bombast (at one point, Garg described Gobble as “lifesaving”), I was left with the question I have about most of the apps and web-based services supposedly created to simplify our lives: How exhaustively do we need to be spoon-fed (in this case, almost literally)?
And while we’re at it, here’s a riddle: How many ziplock bags does it take to negate a company’s claim that it cares deeply about organic/local/sustainable/environmentally conscious food? At this point, complaining that tech startups are turning us into teething infants incapable of handling surprise or discomfort is about as useful as complaining about the amount of sand on a beach. Although none of the companies I spoke with would disclose their subscriber numbers, the growth of their sector speaks to the fact that a significant number of people will pay for the privilege of having someone else do their planning and precooking for them.
I do like that some of these startups appear to be serious about reducing the amount of trash that typically accompanies dinner kits: PlateJoy delivers its ingredients in a grocery bag and uses a waste-reduction algorithm to cut down on unused food; Din packages its goods in a reusable (and returnable) tote lined with disappearing dry ice; and Sun Basket employs recycled blue jeans as insulation for its boxes, which customers can likewise return. A more compelling question for me, though, is where this is going, or could go. Food, after all, is basically analog, a massive market that hasn’t yet been impacted by tech.
Garg, who believes that we’re moving inexorably toward “a delivery culture around commodities,” goes so far as to predict that “all commodity goods outlets, including takeout restaurants, Walmarts, Targets, Blockbusters, and grocery stores, will cease to exist. The only infrastructure worth existing for the consumer will be built around a unique consumer cultural experience like a movie theater or theme park or Michelin-starred restaurant.” Setting aside the fact that Blockbuster’s demise is a fait accompli, maybe that’s what bugs me: Implicit in Garg’s forecast is the belief that something like buying groceries and planning a meal isn’t a worthy experience, and that a restaurant needs a Michelin star in order to be deserving of existence.
Growing up, I got arguably more quality time with my parents from grocery shopping than from going to the movies or watching TV together; it might not have been the most entertaining endeavor, but it was ours, and it had value. I’m sure plenty of families would readily outsource their meal planning (provided they could afford to), but I’m also sure that delivery culture has about as much chance of making us happier as partially built Nornäs drawers from IKEA do. And that’s not even taking into account the convenience economy’s dark underbelly, with its army of low-paid workers who labor to make life easier for the relatively affluent.
Ultimately, I’d be less skeptical of the dinner-kit industry if #DinnerSolved meant putting healthy, easily prepared food in the hands of the less fortunate. I realize that’s not going to make anyone a billionaire, and that it’s unfair to judge these companies for what they aren’t. A lot of their food is actually pretty good. But those entrées would be easier to swallow if they didn’t often come with a side order of baloney.
One of the most compelling features of San Francisco neighborhoods is that they are built to a human scale. Ignoring the latest monstrosities of course, as you walk around any neighborhood in the city, you don’t feel dwarfed by the buildings you pass. You can see into the shops on the ground floor and can even see into the windows of the flats above. You feel more connected than removed from your environment. But being at human scale, sometimes you can walk past someplace for months, if not years and never even notice that it’s there. Sometimes these little holes in the wall house the neighborhood’s most precious hidden gems. When discovered, they can make you a part of the fabric of the neighborhood, and you feel somehow more connected, more special than before. This is a partial list of some of the Holes in the Wall that are better known to me, because they are pretty much all from my neighborhood, and for whatever reason I am sharing them with you. There were two or three that I selfishly kept off the list because I like them as-is and don’t want them to change. While some of these could really use some new customer traffic. I have also included some that are not in my neighborhood but are so great that I couldn’t not mention them. We will probably continue this list in the near future so if you have any well deserving holes that you would like to include, please send their info to the email address at the end of this article.
ColorBox Salon– 510 Church at 17th. This tiny hair salon is easy to walk past and never realize the tremendous amount activity that happens just within. The whole place (no pun intended) is just a buzz of frenetic energy of girls laughing, doing hair, chatting, doing more hair, more laughter, feeding treats to all the neighborhoods that walk past and more hair and laughter.
M and L Market- 691 14th Hands down the best Pastrami Sandwiches in the city. Where 14th meets Market (south side). Rumor has it that they might be closed for good, but I am hoping they are just on another extended vacation.
Art Shades-698 14th Across the street from M and L, this is really a hole in the wall. But the shades they produce are incredible and well worth a look or two.
DENTAL OFFICES OF STEVEN ADAME AND RAUL MONTALVO 773B 14TH STREET- The cutest and most inviting Dental Offices ever
Boynton Court- a few doors down from the dentists, according to maps, this is a street.
Golden Natural Foods and Golden Produce- 130 & 172 Church St These are the biggest holes in the wall on the list, but considering the behemoths across the street that they have to compete with, they qualify. In these two stores, both on the same block and owned by the same family, you will find better products than at Whole Paycheck on Market, and these products are the same price or less than inferior products at the scary Safeway across Church.
Montano Shoe Repair 199 Guerrero at 14th- A hole in the wall you might never notice, but the work is superb and the prices are great
Michael Bruno- 267 Market- This store has been here forever, and has an extremely loyal clientele. Come visit this store and find out why.EXPLORE SAN FRANCISCO HIDDEN GEMS: NEIGHBORHOOD HOLES IN THE WALL
Yamo 3406 18th- 8 Stools at a counter and three Burmese ladies behind the counter cooking like nobody’s business. There is usually a line, and the stools are usually full with a line out the door. Ordering to go from the sassy ladies is a sure bet.
Dearborn Community Garden Dearborn and Bird Streets. 45 garden plots on a former Pepsi Bottling Plant parking lot. If the gate is open then visitors are welcome to come in and enjoy paradise and listen to the birds.
Holes in the Wall Outside of my Neighborhood
Cordon Bleau 1574 California Street- Vietnamese Food. A few stools at the counter and a couple tables, nothing fancy but the food is to die for
The Sword and the Rose Noe Valley-85 Carl Street Your one-stop-shop for Magic, Stones, Candles, Rune, Tarot, Incense, Readings and a delightful garden.
Aria Korean American Snack Bar 932 Polk Street. A great place for KFC (Korean Fried Chicken)
And of course: The Hole in The Wall Saloon 1369 Folsom– A little gay biker bar with friendly bartenders, a diverse crowd, and rowdy music.
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