June 23, 1998 |
Eddy Warman beams at the appetizer just placed before him at his restaurant, Girasoles, a trendy hangout for Mexican politicians. Grabbing a spoon, the public relations executive stuffs the crunchy, brown morsels into a soft taco. "This is like caviar," he gushes. But the $11.50 dish, a favorite of senators and expense-account executives, is hardly an imported delicacy.
April 6, 1998 |
Reacting to steady growth in the nation's Muslim population, suppliers of consumer goods from meat to cosmetics are moving to meet a growing demand for products that comply with Islamic dietary laws. In Los Angeles and Orange counties, where an estimated 400,000 Muslims live, the number of grocery stores specializing in Islamic food, known as halal--an Arabic word meaning "permitted"--have doubled over the last three years.
CALIFORNIA | LOCAL
December 25, 1997 |
The masa was ready. A large bowl of thick cornmeal dough that holds together tamales and generations of Mexican families sat on the table, ready to be molded into the traditional Christmas staple. The meat had been slowly boiled, the chiles cooked and seasoned. The cornhusks were soaked in warm water, the rough leaves giving way to soft and translucent wrappers.
April 19, 1997 |
Sitting in his sleek Melrose Avenue restaurant, Tommy Tang piles pieces of curried chicken, meekrob noodles and sprigs of fresh mint onto a bed of romaine lettuce, rolls it and dips it into a vinaigrette sauce. "If you eat Thai food every day, you automatically lose weight," says the chef and restaurateur in between bites. "I can eat like a pig and never gain weight."
CALIFORNIA | LOCAL
March 1, 1997 |
It's not often one sees collard greens and chicken empanadas on the same plate. But then, that was the whole point. On Friday, the last day of Black History Month, staff, students and parents at Hillery T. Broadous Elementary School culminated four weeks of observance and study with a multicultural food and dress festival in the school's auditorium. "It's a way to bring the community together and to appreciate each other's cultures," said Broadous Principal Calvin Lloyd.
January 17, 1997 |
Without knowing it, you might be among the millions of Americans burned by David Tran. And if so, you probably liked it. A diminutive, balding man who comes to work in coveralls, Tran is known to few beyond his family and 15 workers at his Rosemead hot sauce factory. But his fiery red sriracha (sree-rah-chah) relish, packaged in a green-topped clear-plastic squeeze bottle that looks like it was meant to hold glue, has captured the hearts and minds of spicy-food fans from Fresno to France.