Though operating within the Oberlin Student Cooperative Association, Brown Bag provides a unique alternative to traditional co-ops, because the workload expectation is one hour rather than five like at other OSCA dining options. It’s also a less expensive alternative to the college dining plan, designed particularly for students living off-campus or in village housing.

College second-year Elijah Freiman, a Food Coordinator with OSCA, spends his weeks communicating with vendors and farmers while acting as the point person for individual co-op food buyers who must order food weekly for each co-op. Freiman is also the OSCA president-elect for the 2023–24 academic year and has been a part of the team working on gauging and creating enthusiasm for Brown Bag.

“While it’s not a co-op in the sense that you’re not spending your meals with 80 of your best friends, there will still be a sense of community where, if a friend from another house is going to pick up their groceries and has a car, there will be an email list to communicate mobility barriers, for example,” Freiman said. “I think that, by joining a shared venture like this, there’s some buy-in, even if it’s less intense than the traditional co-ops. My hope and my belief is that there will still be some sense of community and shared obligation.”

With Freiman’s work primarily on the advertising side, College fourth-year and OSCA treasurer Hannah Humphrey has worked with the finer logistics, both financial and administrative. Humphrey was a Food Coordinator who worked with Brown Bag food buyers prior to the pandemic, making them a notable member of one of the last cohorts of people on campus to have experienced Brown Bag fully operational.

“[Brown Bag] probably had 100 people in it at one point,” Humphrey said. “We have to demonstrate [to the college] that we have a certain amount of interest in the co-ops each year … When we first brought back the coops in 2021 after the pandemic, I think there just wasn’t enough generated interest [in Brown Bag] and then last year when we did the lottery, a lot of people didn’t know whether or not they had off-campus housing or village housing, and those are the people for whom it’s advantageous to partake in Brown Bag [because] they have a kitchen that they can use at home so it’s more desirable for them to want to get groceries.”

Prior to this OSCA lottery, which closed March 1, OSCA. staff decided to push harder for reopening the co-op. Per the rent contract, OSCA was able to decide which pre-pandemic co-ops it would work to bring back for the following semester; it was just a matter of determining. Brown Bag’s budget alongside those of the other co-ops, a responsibility carried out primarily by Humphrey.

Brown Bag operated out of Old Barrows and Fairchild House, which was previously a vegan co-op before becoming Clarity, an AVI Foodsystems dining hall.  Dry goods were accessible in the former and refrigerated ones in the latter. OSCA’s lease with the College guarantees a refrigerated space as part of Brown Bag, so with the Fairchild basement now as an AVI dining hall, it’s up to OSCA to determine where this new refrigerator will be.

“If we open in [Old Barrows], we can rely on trying to get it that way, or we may try to use one of our existing fridge spaces,” Humphrey said. “In particular, Pyle [Inn], since [it] used to be a much larger co-op, if interest stays about the same, we might try to combine the two spaces because [Pyle] has fridges they don’t necessarily use right now and space that they have available. We have one of two pathways depending on the amount of expressed interest.”

By and large, the community within and outside of OSCA was thrilled to see “BBC” as an option on the 2023–24 lottery as an option. Most of Freiman’s advertising operated by word of mouth, where he worked tirelessly knocking on the door of each village house with another OSCA member.

“The main sentiment is that there should just be more options,” Freiman said. “There’s something to be said for autonomy in choosing what you eat and there’s something tyrannical about forcing people to be in a dining hall. OSCA is awesome, but it doesn’t work food-wise for everything, so I think Brown Bag is exciting as a true alternative.”

On one occasion, Freiman knocked on the door of someone who had just come out of the shower and was naturally surprised at first. After talking, they informed Frieman and his fellow door-knocker that they would fill out the lottery form immediately.

“There were some moments where it was like, ‘Why are you knocking on my door?’ because there’s not a lot of doorknocking in our sleepy town of 8,000,” Freiman said. “I would initially get some people feeling a bit uncomfortable. But then, a lot of the time, there was a complete 180 where they were like, ‘Oh! Brown Bag!’ We’ve gotten a lot of positive feedback — People have already told me things they want to cook. People can never help themselves from sharing recipes.”

Although the OSCA housing and dining lottery is now closed, the waitlist for next year opens March 4, meaning there is still a possibility to join Brown Bag Coop.

Gallery • 4 Photos

Abe Frato

Last Sunday, the Oberlin Student Cooperative Association hosted its annual Iron Chef competition. Named after the television cooking contest, the event invites all of Oberlin’s dining co-ops to compete against one another and invent a meal that must include a particular secret ingredient. This year’s secret ingredient turned out to be ginger, which was revealed Saturday at noon, giving the co-ops 24 hours to prepare their meals. The co-op chefs prepared the meals in their respective kitchens, then designated drivers transported the dishes to the Root Room in the Carnegie Building, where OSCA members filed in to try all of the dishes and await the announcement of the 2022 OSCA Iron Chef champion. After much deliberation, the team of Iron Chef judges made their choice, and Pyle came out victorious.

Double-degree first-year Max Kassoy: Sometimes I come when I’m with friends and they’re like, ‘I’m hitting up the [Rathskeller].’ And then I get here and I’m like, ‘Well, I’ve got a meal swipe; I might as well eat.’ But other times I come because I’m just hungry. I often eat dinner really early if I have a rehearsal and then I’m hungry after the rehearsal, so it’s kind of perfect. I’ll come and hit up Fourth Meal, and I feel like a happy man.

What would you do without Fourth Meal?

MK: I would be forced to eat really s**tty boxed DeCafé food, which I really don’t want to do.

Do you prefer DeCafé over the Rat for a late night meal?

College second-year Johnny Ragsdale: If I’ve got a meal swipe to spend, yeah. Last year, I would go to the Rat. If I was peckish, the Rat was my number one. The Impossible Burger was my go-to. I actually haven’t gone to Fourth Meal yet this year; I’m protesting.

Why did you prefer a late night meal at the Rat last year?

JR: Last year, the Rat had every option available until 11:30 p.m. It was great because you could get a veggie option, you could get anything you wanted, every single day. Now, they try to communicate what Fourth Meal has, but it is generally not super well communicated, and also it only has one option, which is not very inclusive of people who might want something vegetarian. It is nice to have options.

What are your thoughts on Fourth Meal?

Conservatory fourth-year Daniel Karnaukh: The food, most of the time, is pretty much what the menu says it is. If there are gyros offered, you’ll most likely get gyros, unless it’s that one Monday where they had avocado toast instead. Whether or not you will get your food at a hot temperature is much more of a gamble. I typically tend to come at earlier times, as there is a higher chance of the food being fresh and warm. I’ve seen stories on Instagram of undercooked wings, but I personally haven’t run into that. 

I like Fourth Meal now. It’s not perfect — the line is long, the food isn’t always hot, and they took away almost all of the seats and replaced them with lockers, but to be completely blunt, it’s the only thing we’ve got. And all of the people who work at the Rat are absolutely wonderful and are working super hard, so we can’t acknowledge Fourth Meal without mentioning the people that actually make it happen for us hungry students. It may be imperfect, but I’m grateful for Fourth Meal.

What is your favorite Fourth Meal meal?

Conservatory second-year Chris Leimgruber: “The gyros.”

Conservatory second-year Bradley Boatright: Really? Hm, okay.

CL: Yeah, I think so. I forget which other ones there are.

Do you disagree?

BB: I think so. I think I like the wings.

CL: OHH, the wings, the wings!

BB: There we go.

CL: “Yeah the wings, that’s true.”

College fourth-year Jocelyn Blockinger feels that The Feve has become too crowded. By the time 10 p.m. rolls around, she finds herself in a sweaty mass of strangers.

“I feel like I used to turn around and see friends everywhere but now I just don’t know anyone,” she said. “I’ve just lost my credit card and been berated by strangers after taking my sweet time in the bathroom too many times. Not to mention, I can’t rationalize waiting 30–45 minutes for a drink that I know will make my old, tired body unhappy in the morning.”

Blockinger says the Thursday after Long Island Night has become one of her least favorite days of the week. Maybe, for fourth-year students like Blockinger, weekday drinking has just lost its glamor. 

“I’m not myself,” Blockinger said. “My ‘hangxiety’ rages as I walk through King [Building] at 9:30 a.m., terrified to stop and talk to a passerby or, worse, a professor. The hangover just isn’t worth the experience. I blame it on the first- and second-years.”

Since Lupitas ended its weekly dollar-margarita deal, The Feve has become the town’s sole hotspot on weekdays. Coupled with the enforcement of ObieSafe policies at Splitchers, once the most popular destination on Wednesday nights, Long Island Night has now become the only place to grab a midweek drink with friends. While The Feve may have represented a sophisticated upperclassmen haven in years past, now it feels like the entire campus is vying for a table. 

College fourth-year Malcolm Seymour-Jones, who strictly orders a scotch-neat whenever he goes to Long Island Night, blames The Feve’s jam-packed atmosphere on the lack of splitching.

“Now that Splitchers doesn’t serve alcohol and ObieSafe requires students to wear masks inside, there isn’t a draw,” Seymour-Jones said. “Now, people just stay really late at The Feve instead of going to dance at The ’Sco. Long Island Night starts crowded and ends crowded. It’s packed; there’s just nowhere else to go.” 

Last week, Seymour-Jones, dead sober, got lost in a sea of second-years. His friends had to pull him out of the chaos. One of those friends, College fourth-year Milo Hume, said that was the moment he realized things had gotten out of hand. Although he wants to, he can’t bring himself to sympathize with younger students.

“I want to get it — really, I do,” Hume said. “But, at the same time, I don’t care that they don’t have Marg Night or that Splitchers isn’t as fun. That’s not my problem. I paid my dues. I cried at Splitchers. I got rejected at Marg Night. I’ve been there. And now it’s my Feve time, and I can’t let them ruin it for me. So to the young ones, I say: go get some frickin’ Orloff and go drink it in your frickin’ Kahn double. Pay your time. Pay your dues. And get off my Feve.”

Blockinger agrees, issuing a cry to revolution.

“This travesty is the result of poor choices and lack of underclassmen supervision,” Blockinger began. “This must end. Viva Lupitas! Fourth-years, we ask of you: why idly stand by and watch our traditions fall by the wayside? We must take action. We must reclaim Lupitas as our own. The tepid waters behind the bar at The Feve have tried their hardest to weather the freshman storm, though nothing could have prepared them for the rapture of peeling, fake Arizona driver’s licenses.”

Despite all this talk, rest assured you will see all of these people at The Feve come Wednesday. No one knows where the thrill has gone, but we all go every week, hoping to reignite the spark.

What do you think makes Thai food special?

I love all the food, but Thai food is different from American food. When you take one bite of Thai food, you get all of the flavors: spicy, sour, sweet, salty; you get everything on there. Here, when you eat one dish, you have so many things, with one bite, you get this flavor, and, if you want the other flavor, you scoop another piece, and you’ll get another flavor. Thai food is one bite, all the flavor. 

What does the mural on the front of the restaurant mean?

The chicken means good luck in Thailand. So the rooster is to say: “Hey wake up! There is Thai food here. Wake up to real Thai food. It’s not only phat thai here.” So I tried to present that this is what we really eat. The words mean: “With love from Thailand.” When I work, I work with spirit. I do it because I love to do it. I do it because I want to do it. I don’t do it because of money. I don’t do it because I have to do it, I never work because I have to. I work because I love to. That is why I’m happy and enjoy working. I really want to talk with people. I want to see people, because this is the thing I love to do. And I want to share it with people. I recommend that people come in and try the food here. I don’t want people to think that ThiNi Thai is the same as other Thai restaurants, where you eat only phat thai, green curry, red curry — I mean, that is such boring food in Thailand — we have food that is more fun, more flavor, and I want to share it.

Included in the other murals on the building are a Thai angel and a Naga serpent. What do those mean, and why did you choose them for the murals?

The angel is gesturing up to the word “food,” so I tried to present that this is food from heaven. This is heaven served, so you have to try it. Naga is everywhere in my hometown. It is a symbol in Buddhism, and people believe in respecting Naga as a powerful house or temple guardian that protects. And the rice fields, this is the culture from my hometown. When I was young, people used buffalo to plow the fields. They didn’t have engines; they didn’t have anything, just buffalo and a tool behind. Rice is very important. The lanterns represent the very popular festival in Thailand, [the] Krathong festival in November, where in the sky at night you would see like a million lanterns. Here [at ThiNi Thai] we try to present to be Thai. Every utensil that we serve, cup, spoon, fork, chopsticks. We even bought the charcoal and the grill from Thailand. All our seasoning is Thai brand.

Did you always want to be a chef when you were growing up?

Actually, I really don’t know about that so much. But I feel like I’ve loved to cook ever since I was young. I feel like cooking is relaxing to me. People like to meditate, but for me, it’s cooking that makes me concentrate. Like I try to separate, this is salty, this is sweet, this is sour, how am I going to combine them together? I just enjoy thinking about how long I’m going to cook my meat to make it tender. When I look, when I touch, I can see: This is good, this is awesome. I just love to make something. How I like to explain it — there are so many differences — but I feel like the way I cook and the way a doctor works is the same. The doctor uses a knife, and the doctor has scissors. Here we also have a knife and scissors. The doctor saves your life from accidents and sickness, but I save people from starving, from being hungry. As the doctor needs to stay clean, the same is true here. I love to clean everything. If you want fancy food, that means your kitchen has to be clean, nice, and beautiful. When people see clean, nice, and beautiful, that is what I mean by fancy food. For me, I need everything nice and beautiful, then the food can be nice.

You had a cooking school in Thailand. Could you tell me more about it?

Yeah, I started a cooking school by myself in Thailand. I love to share my passion. It was for small groups, like six people at a time. I wanted to say, “This is the way I do; this is the way I love,” and I tried to share that passion through my cooking school. It’s named Red Chili Cooking School. Before moving, I gave everything to my brother. But then COVID[-19] came, so we had to close down. But I still plan, maybe in the future, if I have a house, I’ll make a cooking studio in my house. I’ll teach people, maybe online, maybe Skillshare, if people want to do that. Just one or two people, I don’t need too much, and I’ll teach them how I do everything.

What other future plans do you have?

I have a plan with some of my chef friends in New York, and we were talking about how we can present Northern Thai food to the rest of the world, because the flavors are so interesting and different. We want to make a group where one month, two or three chefs come to my restaurant and cook northern Thai food together. People can buy a seat ticket and the food will be brought out to them. The next month, I would go to their restaurant. I would travel; I could see the food, and we would make a standard of the Northern Thai food with my chef friends. Another plan is to have a studio in my house and maybe put on YouTube videos where I cook with friends from different cultures. For example, we could do Thai and Mexican food together, Thai and Italian, whatever. Another idea is a class I will call Garden on the Table. I want to have a garden where we pick up fresh ingredients, like cilantro, and I’ll teach people how to use the whole thing. I don’t pick just the leaves. We will start from the root: we are going to use that for paste. The leaves we will use for garnishing. I will teach how to use the berry and the dried seeds. Everything will be from the garden and come to the kitchen. How to prep, how to cook, how to keep, and how to get all the nutrition and flavor from them, this is how I want to share with people. 

I’ll admit it: I’ve adapted this cake recipe from the King Arthur Baking Company Flourless Chocolate Cake Recipe — what a flour company is doing with a flourless recipe, I have no idea. My version tones down the original’s sweetness, but beware: this cake is not for the faint of heart. Prepare for an onslaught of chocolate. 

I preheat the crusty oven in my communal dorm kitchen to 375 degrees Fahrenheit, propping the door open and trying to crack all the windows — yes, even the screenless ones — but to no avail. I resolve to march on. Ironically, there is a silver lining to the lack of air conditioning in the kitchen of Burton Hall — the butter used to line the tin softens almost immediately. Grease a cake tin with your sweating butter and cut parchment paper to fit. When the paper is placed into the pan, smooth it down with some more butter. 

Dump the chocolate chips and butter in a bowl and microwave it until they melt into one gloppy conglomerate (if you’re afraid of radiation, leaving the mixture out to liquefy in the heat is an option). Transfer this butter-chocolate concoction to a mixing bowl, and then add the sugar,, vanilla, salt, and coffee grounds or espresso powder (the black coffee grounds from DeCafé worked surprisingly well). Next come the eggs, yet another novel DeCafé convenience. Mix them up and add the cocoa powder, continuing to stir until just combined. Pour the whole deal into your slicked-down pan and bake for 25 minutes, or until a toothpick can emerge as clean as it went in. Take the cake out and let it cool for five minutes. I like to take my cakes back to my dorm room for this interval, not only so I can submerge it (and myself) in the sweet relief of my army of fans, but also to discourage the sticky fingers of people on my floor. If the edges are stuck, run a knife around them, then turn it onto a serving plate. At this point you will probably freak out and wonder why the cake looks like it’s caving in. Relax. This is supposed to happen. Quiet your bloodlust for the dorm-baked goodie and let it cool completely before putting anything on top of it. 

You could just stop here. You’ve already created a masterpiece. If you’re fancy, sprinkle powdered sugar or cocoa powder on top (beware mouth-breathers, those fine little particles will stick like glue in your lungs). If you’re in for decadence, a super simple glaze doubles the cake’s richness and gives it a cool breath of moisture. All you need to do is combine chocolate chips and heavy cream in a bowl and heat it in the microwave for one minute and 10 seconds, depending on the microwave. Next, stir it and let it sit for five minutes, then stir again until it’s melted. Once the cake is cooled, pour the glaze on top and allow it to set for a few hours. At this point in the recipe, you may be on the path of a chocolate overdose — some whipped cream can serve as a valuable antidote. Though homemade whipped cream always reigns supreme, forgive yourself if you’re strapped for time and concede to buying some at the Oberlin IGA Foodliner. Dollop that sweet nostalgic Cool Whip on top of each individual slice, add a slew of raspberries for some brightness, and voila! You (and your floor, if you’re feeling generous) are ready to dig into your sumptuous, gluten-free, seasonally-inappropriate dessert.

Cake 

• ⅔ cup semisweet chocolate 
• ⅓ cup bittersweet chocolate 
• ¾ cup sugar 
• 8 tbsp unsalted butter, plus extra for lining 
• A pinch of salt 
• 1-2 tsps espresso powder or strong coffee 
• 1 tsp vanilla 
• 3 eggs 
• ½ cup cocoa powder 

Toppings 

• Glaze: 

• ⅔ cup semisweet chocolate 
• ⅓ cup bittersweet chocolate 
• ½ cup heavy whipping cream 
• Raspberries 

● 1 cup heavy whipping cream

Through the years, food has been a central feature of celebration for event organizers, vendors, and attendees alike, and Juneteenth celebrations see food acting as a means of connection, education, and comfort. Food truck owners stock their stations with soul ingredients that remind them of home, neighbors purchase meals for one another, children get their hands sticky with sweets, and strangers bond while waiting in line, eyeing the same dishes. 

Assistant Dean of Students Monique Burgdorf and Assistant Vice President for Institutional Research and Planning Ross Peacock enjoyed the festivities from a bench in Tappan, curled over a spread of mac and cheese, fries, and a sandwich from Cofield’s BBQ & More. 

“It’s one way to bring people together — food always brings people together,” Peacock said. “And with Juneteenth, you know that you’re going to get good barbeque. [Food is] not the reason to come but it’s a reason to come.” 

Peacock recalled an earlier interaction, when a passing stranger caught the scent of their meals and asked where they could get some of their own.

“It’s an icebreaker,” he said. “If we were just sitting here looking, it would be kind of weird, but if you’re eating, you’re engaging somehow.”

Sitting on the Memorial Arch is 20-year-old Patrick Knowles, who was born and raised in Oberlin and has attended  many Juneteenth celebrations throughout the years. We asked him how this event compared to other years’ celebrations. 

“For the circumstances that we’ve had in the past year, it went really well and I’m glad that everyone could make it out,” Knowles said. “With most events, I do look forward to the food but [that’s] not to say that’s the only thing that I focus on. I also want to focus on what the event is about and what it means for the people attending and the people involved in it.” 

Juneteenth — now officially a federal holiday — is a day of memory, grief, and celebration of Black emancipation in the United States. In 2004, the Oberlin City Council established Juneteenth as an officially recognized day of commemoration. Since then, the City has held a series of events each year, ranging from student-organized plays and block parties to parades down College Street and Maafa memorials in Westwood Cemetery. 

“Food is actually a really good way to get into culture and everything, [but] there aren’t too many cultural foods specifically tied to the event, which is a shame,” Knowles said. 

Other food vendors at the Juneteenth event included Otterbacher Bros Concessions and Gee Gee’s Kettle Korn, but for most of the day, event-goers flocked to Cofield’s for barbeque ribs,peach cobbler, sweet potato pies, and more. 

After a morning of preparation, Virginia and Lisa from Cofield’s BBQ spoke to us about their long-standing relationship with Oberlin Juneteenth — they have attended over a decade of celebrations. Virginia beamed as she recalled her favorite memories of the holiday and the importance of the learning experience it facilitates for her grandchildren. 

“Oberlin is a good atmosphere for you to bring your kids,” Virginia said. 

For Virginia, food makes the celebration festive. Both Virginia and Lisa commented on the uniqueness and diversity of Oberlin. They laughed while emphasizing the amount of macaroni and cheese they sell — a food they consider a staple of every Juneteenth celebration.

Down the road are longtime Oberlin residents Manuel Coleman and Barbara Coleman, who have been working for Gee Gee’s Kettle Korn stand and serving community events for about four years now. They have been attending Oberlin’s Juneteenth celebration for over 20 years. 

“Generally, a lot of the foods that they usually had [on] Juneteenth used to be soul foods — like ribs, chicken, wings, and barbeque,” Barbara said. “But it can be anything now because the culture has changed. [Cultural] foods aren’t necessary, you know, because everybody’s eating everything.” 

Unlike Virginia and Lisa from Cofield’s BBQ, the Colemans don’t return to specific foods when celebrating Juneteenth. To them, food is not the most important part of the holiday.

“It’s kinda like your Fourth of July,” Barbara said, “[Juneteenth] is like our Independence Day.” 

She spoke on the necessity of keeping Juneteenth alive through generations. 

“The new generation coming up, they may not remember,” she said. “They may not know anything about [Juneteenth] unless they get it from their grandmother or family member.”

Running a snack and candy booth is 12-year-old Precious, her three little sisters, and their mother. “Juneteenth is a day of gratefulness,” Precious said, speaking on how this day serves to commemorate African Americans who are struggling and feel that all hope is lost, and to remind them of the strength they hold. 

Precious believes in food’s ability to bring people out to have fun and reach deeper into their community. When asked about her favorite Juneteenth staple foods, she laughed and quickly said “Candy! It has to be sweet and it has to be good.”

Double-degree fifth-year Amber Ginmi Scherer is spearheading the event, which will feature music, poetry, and dance performances from student groups, individual students, alumni, and faculty. While Scherer has organized events before as the Conservatory liaison of Student Senate, the festival felt much more personal and urgent given an ongoing climate of anti-Asian sentiment coupled with the COVID-19 pandemic. 

This urgency culminated after the shootings on March 16 in Atlanta, GA, in which eight people, six of them Asian-American women, were killed. This blatantly violent act, coupled with Captain Jay Baker’s dismissive — and now notorious — response, awakened many Asian Americans like Scherer to the reality of how severe anti-Asian sentiment is in the United States of America. 

However, Scherer wanted to imagine something beyond a workshop or teach-int, moving away from what she described as “performative pity.” The Asian Cultural Arts Festival was then created as a positive, uplifting outlet for Asian students. Scherer was pleasantly surprised by the enthusiastic response to the pre-registration form and advertisements. 

“I thought, ‘I have to do something,’” Scherer said. “One thing, even, to try in my own way to celebrate and to be proud of [the Asian-American community], rather than just being marginalized. When given attention in the form of pity, I thought, ‘I don’t want that. I don’t like that.’ I want to do something different, and I want to do something that is focused on what Asians are actually doing and enjoy doing and are thriving while doing, so [the festival] was very emotionally motivated.”

College third-year Elise Steenburgh felt similarly motivated to act after the March 16 shootings. They found that infographics on Instagram oversimplified the issue and wanted a space to discuss the tragedy and ongoing anti-Asian sentiment in more depth. Finding none, Steenburgh decided to organize a Zoom meeting, which was held on March 19 and facilitated by Associate Professor of History and Comparative American Studies Tamika Nunley.

Afterward, Steenburgh was invited to speak at a teach-in hosted by the Comparative American Studies department along with College third-year Hans Chou. Steenburgh and Chou tried to present in a way which acknowledged that their perspectives were born out of personal experience, rather than universal treatments of the subject.

“Both of us [went] back and forth with a bit of imposter syndrome — like, are we even the right students to be talking at a teaching panel like this?” Steenburgh said. “But it was a very rewarding experience, being able to share my story and also hear the stories of the professors and faculty and work closely with them for that panel.”

From there, Steenburgh realized that AAA could be the platform to keep these conversations going with a larger group of Asian students. However, since AAA’s founding in the 1970s, the social and political contexts surrounding Asians in America have changed vastly. Steenburgh wanted to honor the organization’s legacy while updating its branding and accessibility for current and future generations of students.

“[The legacy] is something I’m grappling with because there is a type of nostalgia in the legacy, but when that overshadows the current experiences of students on campus, I think that means something has to change,” Steenburgh said. “And this is true for AAA; this is true for Oberlin as a whole.”

These changes included changing the name from Asian American Alliance to Asians in America Alliance. Steenburgh hopes that the new name keeps the organization’s founding spirit while including a wider range of students, such as international students and mixed-race or mixed-ethnic Asian students.

“We wanted the space to still be able to foster relationships between students of all Asian descent diaspora, no matter the nationality,” Steenburgh said. 

College third-year Noah Kawaguchi, who will be performing an original saxophone composition at the festival, appreciates this more inclusive move on the part of AAA.

“It’s intentionally a space for anyone who identifies as Asian in a broad sense,” Kawaguchi wrote. “This is not simply inclusivity for inclusivity’s sake, but also because having diverse voices heard is the only way for AAA to adequately serve the needs of the broader Asian community at Oberlin. And on a more individual level, I think community spaces that facilitate getting to know people of more diverse backgrounds help with finding one’s own identity.”

Over the past month, Steenburgh has reflected on how revitalizing AAA has helped them build relationships with people in new, supportive ways.

“Forging all of these working groups with different people has made me reimagine what it means to be in [a] relationship with others,” Steenburgh said. “That has been very, very impactful and very positive. Realizing that I have the support network in a way that’s not just emotional support and vulnerability, but support for my passions and what I want to get done.”

Kawaguchi also expressed his excitement for the return of AAA, which had helped him find community and navigate his identity after growing up in a small town in Ohio.

“I’m looking forward to the return of a space that was important to my own development coming into Oberlin,” he wrote in a message to the Review. “I’m also looking forward to this space being adapted and revitalized to serve the current needs of Asian Obies.”

Most of all, Scherer wants the Asian Cultural Arts Festival to kick off AAA’s revitalization by amplifying and celebrating the voices that have not had the chance to take center stage.

“We’re here,” Scherer said. “We are, in all of our own ways, unique and excellent at what we do. I want to be very bold and celebrate that.”

The Asian Cultural Arts Festival, hosted by Asians in America Alliance and Student Senate, will be held in Wilder Bowl on May 4 at 8:30 p.m. Those who are interested in attending can pre-register here. 

AAA will have its next meeting on Saturday, May 1, at 1 p.m. Interested students can also join the organization’s WhatsApp group. 

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

How did you start baking bread?

During summer quarantine, my sister was home, and we have a really good family friend who was doing a similar bread business in Denver. He gave us some ingredients and taught us how to make sourdough — it was something that we would do together.

How long was that time in between when you learned how to bake bread and when you realized you could make money off of it?

It was like … three weeks. I started baking in late July with my sister, and I hadn’t really baked a loaf by myself. Then she kind of gave up on the bread stuff — she decided it wasn’t her thing. But I did two days of selling bread in Denver just to see if it was working. Then I announced it on Instagram to see if people were interested in it at Oberlin, and I got a lot of positive responses. So when I got to Oberlin, I just started baking. I was lucky to have an apartment that had a kitchen.

Was it weird getting texts from strangers asking for bread, or did it help you get to know anybody? Were there any connections made through that?

It was surprisingly not weird. I’m a very extroverted person, and my first year I was constantly meeting new people. Going into my second year, I thought, “This is gonna suck — because of COVID, I’m never going to meet any new people!” But it was fun to meet new people through this bread experience. Part of the reason I was very excited about this is because I ate in a co-op my first year, and I have this thing about home-cooked food — food that’s cooked with love. I loved the idea of baking for people and hand-delivering it to them, of getting to meet them and knowing that they’ve enjoyed it when they buy more. 

Do you think you’ll keep trying new specialty breads in the future, or are you sticking to sourdough?

I got a bread book for Christmas, and I definitely want to try some different kinds of bread. I love ciabatta; it’s my favorite bread. I definitely feel like that’s something I’ll experiment with. The reason I think I’ll probably stick with sourdough is — I actually learned this from one of my bosses at Barefoot Dialogue — sourdough tastes different depending on who makes it. The flavor comes from the bacteria on the baker’s hands. I loved the idea that when I was baking with my sister, it was this mix of our two bacteria, and whenever I bake with someone, it’s a new flavor.

Wow. Obviously, that leads to me to think about COVID-19 — did you feel like you were being very safe? Were you ever worried about exposing customers through pickup?

I was definitely nervous about it, but I bake my bread at 500 degrees, so it would probably  destroy any viral matter that would have gotten on it during shaping or any other part of the process. I was also getting tested, so I definitely didn’t have COVID-19 when I was baking. I always wrapped it, so I never directly handed the bread to people; you got a wrapped one! They come with stickers too, which I love. I always met outside, which I thought was kind of nice, and it was a nice way to interact with people in a safe way. 

Yeah. I also feel that way. It’s funny to talk to you now, because all my experiences picking up bread from you happened in the middle of some other story. One time I was on a date, and I ran from the date and picked up bread and ran back. It wasn’t a first date, so it wasn’t that bad, but the guy thought it was very funny. Another time, I was going to go to Mass on the night that I came to see you, and I was all dressed up for Mass, wearing a chapel veil.

I remember that! I think you were probably my most interesting pickups because everybody else is kind of boring. They show up, they take their bread, and they leave. You always had a story, and I enjoyed it.

You talked about co-ops earlier and about homemade food. Did you know anyone who baked bread for the co-ops?

I ate in Pyle Inn my freshman year, and Pyle was actually the reason I came to Oberlin. My brother was in Pyle for three years at Oberlin. I never actually held a cooking position at Pyle — I think I only cooked twice. Two of my really good friends were breadmakers our second semester, but only for a month and a half before we got sent home. A lot of people ask if I’m going to be a breadmaker when I’m in a co-op next fall, and I don’t think so. Sourdough takes so long, and I don’t know how to mass produce it without taking over the kitchen for the whole day. I probably won’t take on a bread-making role in my co-op, but hopefully if I have a kitchen I will continue to sell bread.

Do you think this is a lifelong thing? Will you keep baking bread after you graduate?

Actually, funnily enough, my neighbor who buys bread from me weekly now, who’s an amazing breadmaker, asked me if this was my “career.” I was like, “I’m in college! I’m not making bread out of my parents’ house for the rest of my life.” Right now, what I’m envisioning is that when I’m old, I’ll be baking bread with my kids and things like that. My dream is — when I’m like 80 years old — to own a bakery in Italy and only sell sourdough. But it’s not really the career path that I expected to go down, and I still don’t really expect to be going down it. I do think it’s a lovely thing that you can do wherever you are, and it’s a lovely thing to bring to people.

Do you have any interesting stories about baking?

I think my favorite story about my bread experience was this one time that I bought a 50-pound bag of flour from Amazon. It was delivered to the mailroom, and I had to transport it from Wilder Hall all the way to Firelands Apartments. My lovely friend came and picked me up with her car, but then I had to carry it to the elevator and to my room. I had to take the bag and dump it into my plastic bucket that I keep all my flour in. It was an incredible workout, and it was the most pain I think I’ve ever been in, but it was a fun adventure.

(for incoming photo – Courtesy of Ella Newcomb — College second-year Ella Newcomb, better known as the “Sourdough Girl.”  )

Start at Catrina’s Tacos y Margaritas and split tacos al pastor. Adding pineapple to savory foods has long been a matter of controversy, but trying al pastor definitively settles the debate. The sweetness and acidity of the pineapple balance the spice and richness of the pork. Served together at Catrina’s with a side of rice and beans, you can’t go wrong. Three tacos, $10.25 + 20 percent tip. 

For your next stop, you’ll want to stroll down to the Arb at Tappan for their chickpea salad wrap. Fresh and savory and crunchy and soft and herby and rich, this delicious vegetarian offering from one of Oberlin’s newest restaurants is just really tasty. The potato chips are also good — but you’ve got a lot more eating on this tour, so be careful with your munching. Two halves, $7 + 20 percent tip. 

If you head west on College Street and turn down Main Street, you’ll find Bingo Chinese Restaurant. Here, I recommend ordering crab rangoon. It’s crispy and fried on the outside and soft and cheesy on the inside, and it basically tastes like a savory cream-cheese hug. Four pieces, $4.95 + 20 percent tip. 

After you leave Bingo, you’ll probably be a little tired. Weighed down by the delicious marriage of cream cheese and crab and fried, you deserve a refreshing pick-me-up. Get a coffee from Slow Train Cafe if you’re feeling sluggish, or an Arnold Palmer for something lighter. This author’s beverage of choice is a cold brew with oat milk or a sweet Albino Squirrel. Price is variable, but a drink tends to be around $5 + 20 percent tip. 

Leave through the back door of Slow Train to find yourself at the entrance to Kim’s Grocery & Carry-out. It’s time for pork buns! Rich and sweet, the soft pillowy exterior perfectly complements the decadently meaty filling. The kimchi dumplings are also a fabulous bite-sized offering if you want something lighter at this point in the tour, with their satisfying combination of flavors and textures. Two buns, $5 + 20 percent tip. 

For a sweet treat and even sweeter vibes, visit Blue Rooster Bakehouse. Feel free to choose a delectable baked good or two, because from their expansive and ever-changing options you’re guaranteed to find something you like. Still, with all the fancy new cake and pastry flavors, some classics such as the hummingbird cake or maple donut never fail to satisfy. The bakery varies their offerings, but expect to spend around $8 + 20 percent tip. 

Your journey could end here, and you would have had a perfect Oberlin food experience! But if you’re over 21…

You have the option to finish out the evening with a Rejuvenator cocktail –– Bacardi silver, pineapple juice, and 7Up –– and some tots from the Feve. Add some ranch or garlic aioli for dipping if you’re feeling nasty. At first, you won’t think you want the tots — but after a couple of Rejuvenators, you will. Trust me. Get both for $9 + 20 percent tip. 

The human body can only tolerate so much food — and moreover, the human wallet can only spend so much on a single elaborate outing. But there are many other delicious local restaurants to choose from, including Lupita’s Mexican Restaurant, Mandarin, Steel Magnolia, 1833 at the Hotel at Oberlin, Lorenzo’s Pizzeria, and ThiNi Thai. To check out more local businesses, visit the Oberlin Business Partnership here.