（人們?cè)诩~約的G&J花店購(gòu)物）

It’s springtime in New York City’s Chinatown, and bright red tomatoes are stacked on a table outside Gary Liang’s store, just $2.99 a pound. A florist by trade, Liang started selling fresh vegetables during the pandemic to keep his business, G&J Florist, afloat, connecting directly with farmers in Pennsylvania and Maryland to create his own personal supply chain, including Swiss chard, Japanese sweet potatoes and Jerusalem artichokes.

這是紐約唐人街的春天，加里梁(Gary Liang)商店外的桌子上堆滿了鮮紅的西紅柿，每磅僅售2.99美元。作為一名花商，梁在疫情期間開(kāi)始銷(xiāo)售新鮮蔬菜，以維持他的企業(yè)G&J florist的運(yùn)營(yíng)，他直接與賓夕法尼亞州和馬里蘭州的農(nóng)民聯(lián)系，建立了自己的個(gè)人供應(yīng)鏈，包括瑞士甜菜、日本紅薯和洋姜。

“I started looking at a map,” says Liang, 45. “I drove to the farmers markets out of state and got to know people. I wanted produce that was really fresh and clean to bring back to the city.”

“我開(kāi)始看地圖，”45歲的梁說(shuō)?！拔议_(kāi)車(chē)去了州外的農(nóng)貿(mào)市場(chǎng)并認(rèn)識(shí)了一些人。我想把真正新鮮干凈的農(nóng)產(chǎn)品帶回城市?！?/b>

Now Liang makes a weekly eight-hour round-trip drive to pick up produce and fresh-off-the-farm eggs, continuing a Chinatown food purveyors’ time-honored tradition of cutting out the middleman — a practice that can be traced directly to the xenophobic policies that forced Asian immigrants to live in strictly separate communities, via the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882.

現(xiàn)在，梁每周都要進(jìn)行長(zhǎng)達(dá)八小時(shí)的往返車(chē)程，去取回農(nóng)產(chǎn)品和剛從農(nóng)場(chǎng)出來(lái)的新鮮雞蛋，延續(xù)了唐人街食品供應(yīng)商們沿襲已久的繞過(guò)中間商的傳統(tǒng)——這一做法可以直接追溯到1882年通過(guò)的排華法案所導(dǎo)致的仇外政策，這些政策迫使亞洲移民居住在嚴(yán)格分隔的社區(qū)中。

“These were people who weren’t accepted in American society,” says Valerie Imbruce, author of “From Farm to Canal Street: Chinatown’s Alternative Food Network in the Global Marketplace,” “so they developed a food system to support their own cultural demands, leveraging trust within their own social networks.”

“這些人不被美國(guó)社會(huì)所接受，”《從農(nóng)場(chǎng)到運(yùn)河街：唐人街在全球市場(chǎng)上的另類(lèi)食品網(wǎng)絡(luò)》一書(shū)的作者瓦萊麗·伊姆布魯斯說(shuō)，“所以他們開(kāi)發(fā)了一套食品系統(tǒng)來(lái)支持自己的文化需求，利用自己社會(huì)網(wǎng)絡(luò)中的信任?！?/b>

Just 80 years after the law was finally repealed, family-run food markets in Asian communities from coast to coast still offer high-quality produce, meat, eggs and fish at bargain prices, often using the same direct connections to farmers and fishermen established by earlier generations. It’s the children and grandchildren of the owners of those markets who are now considering how to honor those carefully developed supply chains while also expanding their customer base beyond the local Chinatown population.

在這項(xiàng)法律最終被廢除僅80年后，從東海岸到西海岸的亞洲社區(qū)里，家族經(jīng)營(yíng)的食品市場(chǎng)仍然以?xún)?yōu)惠的價(jià)格提供高質(zhì)量的農(nóng)產(chǎn)品、肉類(lèi)、雞蛋和魚(yú)類(lèi)，通常利用之前幾代人建立起來(lái)的與農(nóng)民和漁民的直接聯(lián)系?，F(xiàn)在，這些市場(chǎng)的主人的子女和孫輩們正在考慮如何繼續(xù)維護(hù)這些精心建立的供應(yīng)鏈，同時(shí)將他們的客戶群擴(kuò)大到當(dāng)?shù)靥迫私秩丝谥狻?/b>



（杰斐遜·李和彼得·李在47 Division Street Trading）

“In a lot of ethnic communities, you’ll tend to see products that are cheaper and higher quality than standard supermarket options,” says Jefferson Li, 30, who, with his father, Peter, runs his family’s meat shop, 47 Division Street Trading in New York. “These are people who are just one or two generations removed from agrarian societies, so there’s culturally an expectation of fresh food that’s going to be cooked today.”

“在很多族裔社區(qū)中，你會(huì)發(fā)現(xiàn)這些產(chǎn)品的價(jià)格比標(biāo)準(zhǔn)超市選項(xiàng)便宜，質(zhì)量更高，”杰斐遜·李說(shuō)道。他與父親彼得共同經(jīng)營(yíng)著家族的肉店47 Division Street Trading。他補(bǔ)充道：“這些人只是與農(nóng)業(yè)社會(huì)相隔一兩代，所以在文化上，他們期待當(dāng)天烹飪新鮮食物。”

Peter Li emigrated from China, where he learned to butcher, in 1985, eventually opening his own market and maintaining connections with friends who left the city to establish livestock farms. Building relationships with duck farmers on Long Island helped him create a market for Chinese barbecue across the community: “My dad and I can see a duck hanging in a window at a restaurant and tell you where it came from based on how fat or slim it is,” Jefferson says.

彼得·李于1985年從中國(guó)移民到美國(guó)，在那里他學(xué)會(huì)了屠宰技巧，最終開(kāi)設(shè)了自己的市場(chǎng)，并與離開(kāi)城市建立養(yǎng)殖場(chǎng)的朋友們保持聯(lián)系。與長(zhǎng)島的鴨農(nóng)建立關(guān)系幫助他在社區(qū)中打造一個(gè)針對(duì)中國(guó)燒烤的市場(chǎng)：“我爸爸和我可以看到一只鴨子掛在餐館的窗戶上，就能根據(jù)它的肥瘦程度告訴你它是從哪里來(lái)的，”杰斐遜說(shuō)道。

Social media brings new shoppers

社交媒體吸引了新的購(gòu)物者

But it was the frustration and fear of the pandemic’s early days that drove Jefferson to take to social media in an effort to bring business to his family’s store and help feed the local community. His pathos-laden Reddit post, by turns raw, funny and deeply personal, included lines such as: “$10 will get you something like 13 pounds of chicken drumsticks, plus a dozen eggs. Don’t like drum sticks? Fine, get something else, our prices are lower than your GPA and your parents’ expectations for you.”

然而，正是在疫情早期的沮喪和恐懼驅(qū)使著杰斐遜利用社交媒體努力為家族店鋪帶來(lái)生意，幫助當(dāng)?shù)厣鐓^(qū)解決食物問(wèn)題。他充滿情感的Reddit帖子，時(shí)而真實(shí)、有趣，時(shí)而非常個(gè)性，其中包括以下文字：“10美元可以買(mǎi)到大約13磅雞腿肉，再加上一打雞蛋。不喜歡雞腿？沒(méi)關(guān)系，買(mǎi)別的東西，我們的價(jià)格比你的績(jī)點(diǎn)和你父母對(duì)你的期望還低?！?/b>

Unsurprisingly, the post went viral. “I literally wrote it while I was sitting in the delivery truck,” Jefferson says. “I’d seen supermarkets charging $59.99 a pound for drumsticks. At first I thought, ‘Fine, I should do that,’ but then I thought about families like mine and the aunts and grandmas of people I grew up with. I didn’t want to be a scumbag.”

毫不意外，這篇帖子迅速走紅。“我當(dāng)時(shí)就是坐在送貨卡車(chē)?yán)飳?xiě)的，”杰斐遜說(shuō)?！拔铱吹匠匈u(mài)雞腿肉要59.99美元一磅。起初我想，‘好吧，我應(yīng)該這樣做?！髞?lái)我想到了像我家人一樣的家庭，以及我一起長(zhǎng)大的人們的阿姨和奶奶們。我不想成為一個(gè)卑鄙小人?！?/b>

The response was big, attracting non-Asian shoppers from outside the community, often groups of people placing orders of $400 or higher. Jefferson started adding signs in English, a novelty in a store that had only Chinese language signage. As the pandemic wound down, the big orders became less frequent, but the store has still seen more diversity in its customers.

反響很大，吸引了社區(qū)外的非亞裔購(gòu)物者，通常是一群人下400美元或更高的訂單。杰斐遜開(kāi)始添加英文標(biāo)識(shí)，這在一家只有中文標(biāo)識(shí)的商店里是一種新奇的做法。隨著疫情的消退，大額訂單變得不那么頻繁了，但這家店的顧客仍然更加多樣化。



（史蒂文·王和弗里曼·王在Aqua Best）

Steven Wong spent summers as a teenager on Martha’s Vineyard working in commercial fishing operations, learning about wind patterns and shouldering bags of seafood that weighed more than he did. Now 43, he and his brother Freeman, 47, are the second generation running the family business, Aqua Best, where a glistening whole branzino sells for $8.99 a pound, about $3 less than other fresh seafood purveyors around Manhattan, and fresh shrimp is at prices even lower than discount supermarkets.

十幾歲的時(shí)候，史蒂文·王夏天都在瑪莎葡萄園島從事商業(yè)捕魚(yú)作業(yè)，一邊學(xué)習(xí)風(fēng)向，一邊扛著比自己體重還重的海產(chǎn)品袋?，F(xiàn)年43歲的他和他47歲的哥哥弗里曼是經(jīng)營(yíng)Aqua Best家族企業(yè)的第二代傳人。在Aqua Best，一條閃閃發(fā)光的整條鱸魚(yú)售價(jià)為每磅8.99美元，比曼哈頓附近的其他新鮮海鮮供應(yīng)商便宜約3美元，而新鮮蝦的價(jià)格甚至比折扣超市還低。

“My mom instilled in us that you always go to the source,” Steven says. “So it was about building relationships with the fishermen to ensure freshness.” Owning a lobster pound in Canada is just one way that Aqua Best guarantees freshness and fair pricing for customers, ranging from Michelin-star restaurants to local seniors on a fixed income.

“我媽媽灌輸給我們的是，你總是要找到源頭，”史蒂文說(shuō)?！耙虼耍⑴c漁民的關(guān)系是為了確保食材的新鮮?！痹诩幽么髶碛幸粋€(gè)龍蝦養(yǎng)殖場(chǎng)只是Aqua Best向顧客保證新鮮度和公平定價(jià)的一種方式，顧客范圍從米其林星級(jí)餐廳到固定收入的當(dāng)?shù)乩夏耆恕?/b>

Providing the food Asians needed

提供亞洲人需要的食物

The supply side is deeply integrated into Chinatown communities, where the population originally had no access to the familiar ingredients, from bok choy to chicken feet, necessary for traditional recipes. Bo Bo Poultry, founded by Richard Lee in Upstate New York in the 1980s, focuses on raising Buddhist-style chickens, sold with the head and feet, specifically for Asian cuisines. They now sell their chickens in 37 states and Puerto Rico.

供應(yīng)端與唐人街社區(qū)緊密結(jié)合，原本這些社區(qū)的居民無(wú)法獲得傳統(tǒng)菜譜所需的熟悉食材，從白菜到雞爪都不例外。Bo Bo Poultry由理查德·李于上世紀(jì)80年代在紐約北部創(chuàng)立，專(zhuān)注于養(yǎng)殖供亞洲菜肴使用的佛教風(fēng)格的雞（指天然、自由放養(yǎng)的、不含抗生素的，以天然食物為食的雞），保留了頭和腳出售?，F(xiàn)在，他們的雞在37個(gè)州和波多黎各銷(xiāo)售。
原創(chuàng)翻譯：龍騰網(wǎng) http://www.top-shui.cn 轉(zhuǎn)載請(qǐng)注明出處


“The recipes that Asians use are different,” says Lee’s daughter Anita, 45, who joined the family business in 2001. “The chickens are older and the cooking methods are usually poaching or steaming instead of roasting, with ginger and green onion in the water. The meat needs to be more dense and flavorful.” Because Chinese immigrant communities tend to cook a lot, she says, it allows Bo Bo to keep prices competitive, even for a specialty product.

“亞洲人使用的食譜不同，”李的女兒安妮塔說(shuō)道，她于2001年加入了家族企業(yè)?！斑@種雞的年齡較大，烹飪方法通常是水煮或蒸，而不是烤，水里加入了姜和蔥。肉需要更加緊實(shí)和美味?！彼f(shuō)，由于中國(guó)移民社區(qū)通常烹飪量很大，這使得Bo Bo可以保持具有競(jìng)爭(zhēng)力的價(jià)格，即使是一種特殊產(chǎn)品。

There is a long history of Asian immigrants establishing farms outside of the cities where Chinatown communities were thriving. Yee Lung Kwong and his wife Yee Dong Shee moved with their four children an hour outside New York City to rural New Jersey in 1940, seeking healthier air while growing Asian vegetables to sell in Chinatown.

亞洲移民在唐人街社區(qū)繁榮的城市外建立農(nóng)場(chǎng)的歷史由來(lái)已久。1940年，鄺宜隆和妻子Yee Dong Shee帶著四個(gè)孩子，在距離紐約市一小時(shí)車(chē)程的地方搬到了新澤西州的農(nóng)村，他們尋求更健康的空氣，一邊種植亞洲蔬菜在唐人街出售。

“They had some basic farming knowledge, but it was mostly just trial and error,” says grandson Roland Yee, 45. The operation expanded to southern New Jersey in the 1950s, then the Yee family, including Roland’s parents, began farming 1,000 acres in Boynton Beach on Florida’s east coast in the early 1970s; Roland and his brother Ethan are now the third generation farming the land. The vegetables grown today — such as gai lan, yu choy and napa cabbage — can still be purchased in Chinatown produce markets, as well as across the country, at theme parks, on cruise ships, enjoyed by Americans of every culture.

“他們有一些基本的農(nóng)業(yè)知識(shí)，但主要都是試錯(cuò)，”45歲的孫子羅蘭·易說(shuō)。20世紀(jì)50年代，生意擴(kuò)展到新澤西州南部，然后，20世紀(jì)70年代初，包括羅蘭的父母在內(nèi)的Yee家族開(kāi)始在佛羅里達(dá)州東海岸的博因頓海灘耕種1000英畝土地；羅蘭和他的兄弟伊森現(xiàn)在是耕種土地的第三代。今天種植的蔬菜——比如芥蘭、油菜和大白菜——仍然可以在唐人街的農(nóng)產(chǎn)品市場(chǎng)買(mǎi)到，在全國(guó)各地、主題公園、游輪上也可以買(mǎi)到，這是各種文化的美國(guó)人都喜歡的。

For activist Jan Lee, a third-generation resident of New York’s Chinatown whose own father drove produce north from Florida in the 1940s when White truckers strictly controlled trucking routes, there’s a deep concern that shopping for affordable fresh food in America’s Asian communities is under threat from gentrification, as real estate developers buy up cheap buildings. “The Chinese community adapted because it was corralled into these ghettos,” he says, “but the survival and future of Chinatown is now at stake. How many mom-and-pop stores are going to be able to compete and sell low-cost food?”

活躍分子簡(jiǎn)·李是紐約唐人街的第三代居民，上世紀(jì)40年代白人卡車(chē)司機(jī)嚴(yán)格控制貨運(yùn)路線時(shí)，他的父親曾從佛羅里達(dá)向北運(yùn)送農(nóng)產(chǎn)品。對(duì)于簡(jiǎn)·李來(lái)說(shuō)，他深感擔(dān)憂的是，隨著房地產(chǎn)開(kāi)發(fā)商買(mǎi)下廉價(jià)建筑，在美國(guó)亞裔社區(qū)購(gòu)買(mǎi)負(fù)擔(dān)得起的新鮮食品正面臨中產(chǎn)階級(jí)化的威脅?！叭A人社區(qū)適應(yīng)了，因?yàn)樗悔s入了這些貧民區(qū)，”他說(shuō)，“但唐人街的生存和未來(lái)現(xiàn)在岌岌可危。有多少夫妻店能夠競(jìng)爭(zhēng)并銷(xiāo)售低成本食品?”

Vanishing storefronts and aging populations

店面消失和人口老齡化

Zoe Lin, a master’s degree candidate at Columbia University Graduate School of Architecture, has been examining the now 20-year-old data found in Imbruce’s “From Farm to Canal Street” research, noting decline that began in 2008 with the SARS epidemic and continued with Hurricane Sandy and unchecked gentrification.

哥倫比亞大學(xué)建筑研究生院的研究生佐伊·林一直在研究伊姆布魯斯的“從農(nóng)場(chǎng)到運(yùn)河街”研究中發(fā)現(xiàn)的現(xiàn)在已有20年歷史的數(shù)據(jù)，她注意到這些數(shù)據(jù)下降始于2008年的SARS疫情，并在颶風(fēng)桑迪和未受控制的中產(chǎn)階級(jí)化之后繼續(xù)下去。

“When I did on-the-ground ethnography and looked at historical Google street views,” says Lin, “I found that just 30 percent of wholesalers and 40 percent of food vendors are left in Chinatown. There is a very gentle balance and tension here, because these are vendors who are quite vulnerable because they didn’t choose to be in these forces but had to exist within it as immigrants or refugees.”

“當(dāng)我在實(shí)地做人種學(xué)研究，并查看谷歌歷史街景時(shí)，”林說(shuō)，“我發(fā)現(xiàn)唐人街只剩下30%的批發(fā)商和40%的食品攤販。這里有一種非常微妙的平衡和緊張，因?yàn)檫@些小販?zhǔn)欠浅４嗳醯?，因?yàn)樗麄儧](méi)有選擇加入這些力量，而是不得不以移民或難民的身份存在?！?/b>

Vanishing storefronts and aging populations — not just in New York City’s Chinatown, but in Asian communities across the country — are threatening a culture that has been consistently fighting against erasure for 150 years. The consensus among business owners and activists seems to be simple: If you value this community, then come buy great food at great prices, in a system built over generations against all odds.

店面的消失和人口的老齡化——不僅在紐約市的唐人街，而且在全國(guó)各地的亞洲社區(qū)——正在威脅著一種150年來(lái)一直在與抹除作斗爭(zhēng)的文化。企業(yè)主和活躍分子之間的共識(shí)似乎很簡(jiǎn)單:如果你重視這個(gè)社區(qū)，那么就來(lái)這里買(mǎi)物美價(jià)廉的食物，在這個(gè)歷經(jīng)幾代人克服一切困難建立起來(lái)的體系中。

“In Eastern cultures,” Jefferson Li says, “people are willing to put society as a whole before themselves as individuals. One brick doesn’t do much, but a thousand bricks can build a foundation. When you shop with us, you don’t just support one business, you support an entire community.”

“在東方文化中,“杰弗遜·李說(shuō),“人們?cè)敢鈱⒄麄€(gè)社會(huì)置于個(gè)人之上。一塊磚起不了多大作用，千塊磚卻能搭起地基。當(dāng)你在我們這里購(gòu)物時(shí)，你不僅僅是在支持一家企業(yè)，而是在支持整個(gè)社區(qū)。”