Lifestyle
Where Do Your Spices Come From?
In 2012, Ethan Frisch was working for a development organization in Afghanistan when he saw a vendor selling wild cumin at a local market.
“I thought I knew my way around spices,” said Mr. Frisch, 38, recalling his experience at the market in Badakhshan Province. “But I had never tasted anything like this.”
Mr. Frisch had worked as a cook in London, where he attended graduate school for international development, and in New York, including time at Tabla, the fine-dining Indian restaurant by the chef Floyd Cardoz and the restaurateur Danny Meyer. He started bringing bags of cumin home to New York to share with friends in the restaurant industry, garnering rave reviews with each taste. He realized that there was a market for spices sourced directly from farmers.
In 2016, he started Burlap & Barrel, a single-origin spice company, with his friend Ori Zohar. The two had collaborated years earlier on Guerrilla Ice Cream, a roving ice cream cart that served flavors inspired by political and activist movements. Mr. Zohar came from a business background, working in marketing and advertising, and helped found a tech start-up that shut down in 2017.
Mr. Frisch put his life savings — about $20,000 — into starting the business. He ran it out of his one-bedroom apartment in Queens, cold-calling restaurants and showing up to kitchens with a backpack full of spices to give chefs a taste. He built up a base of spice suppliers, using skills and connections he developed while working with the Aga Khan Foundation on rural infrastructure projects in Afghanistan, and doing logistics for Doctors Without Borders in Jordan.
For years, Mr. Frisch and Mr. Zohar flew overseas to stock up on inventory, returning with duffel bags full of cardamom, cumin, nutmeg and more. They would bring back enough spices to “fund the cost of the trip,” Mr. Frisch said. (“I had some funny conversations with the customs officers,” he added.)
In 2019, Burlap & Barrel embarked on its first chef collaboration: a line of masala spice blends with Mr. Cardoz.
After Mr. Cardoz died from Covid-19 in March 2020, his wife, Barkha Cardoz, continued to work with Burlap & Barrel, releasing the blends in October 2020, in honor of what would have been Mr. Cardoz’s 60th birthday. The company received more than a thousand orders that day — its biggest day of sales at that time.
The founders realized that there was “a way to connect a home-cook audience to a chef, through a spice blend,” Mr. Frisch said, and collaborations became a core part of their business. Amid the early months of the pandemic, Mr. Frisch and Mr. Zohar saw an increase in orders as more people made their meals at home.
In April 2023, another breakthrough moment came when they appeared on the reality TV show “Shark Tank.”
“It almost doesn’t even taste like conventional cinnamon — I mean, it’s, like, incomparable,” Gwyneth Paltrow, a guest “Shark,” said after trying the brand’s Royal Cinnamon variety from Vietnam.
Mr. Frisch and Mr. Zohar didn’t end up with a deal, but they gained publicity and a surge of new customers. In 2024, the company did about $9 million in sales, according to Mr. Frisch.
Over the years, they have collaborated with chefs including Marc Murphy; Ashleigh Shanti; Sohla and Ham El-Waylly, who are New York Times contributors; and the fashion designer and cookbook author Peter Som. Recently, they teamed up with Martha Stewart on a poultry seasoning, and with Jane Goodall on jars of honey from the Miombo woodlands of Tanzania.
Now, more than eight years later, what began as a scrappy passion project is a growing brand and social enterprise with big-name collaborations, home-cook devotees, celebrity fans and cameos in the background of the FX show “The Bear.”
The chefs Omar Tate and Cybille St. Aude-Tate, founders of Honeysuckle Provisions, an Afrocentric grocery and cafe in West Philadelphia that was named one of Eater’s best new restaurants of 2023, collaborated with Burlap & Barrel. They wanted to work with them, Mr. Tate said, both because of the sheer flavor of the spices, and because of their ethical and intentional approach to working with farmers.
“They make sure that the communities that they are sourcing from are respected — not just through the ingredients that are being extracted and that they’re exporting to make these profits, but they’re also redistributing that wealth to the community,” Mr. Tate said.
At Hani’s Bakery and Cafe in Lower Manhattan — a new spot from Miro Uskokovic, the former Gramercy Tavern pastry chef, and his wife, Shilpa Uskokovic, an editor at Bon Appétit — Burlap & Barrel’s Royal Cinnamon is used in their popular malted cinnamon buns.
The cinnamon “is the only one we’ve found that offers the right combination of strength and florality to stand up to all that cream cheese and butter,” Mr. Uskokovic wrote in an email.
“As a chef, the one thing that we have always lacked is any kind of traceability or any kind of transparency in spices, in herbs,” said Rick Bayless, the celebrated Chicago chef and restaurateur who specializes in Mexican cuisine. “When I found Burlap & Barrel, I wanted to get to know these guys and see what they were doing, because they were telling stories about who grew this cumin and who grew these peppercorns.”
Transparency and storytelling is at the heart of the business. As what’s known as a public benefit corporation — a for-profit company that focuses on contributing to a social good — Burlap & Barrel seeks “to connect smallholder farmers to high-value markets,” said Mr. Zohar, 39.
“Our business works because we’re paying the farmers more, which then allows the farmers to not just grow the spices, but they clean the spices, they dry the spices, they grind the spices, they prepare them for export,” he said.
The company now consists of 20 people, most of whom are contractors, and works with farmers in about 30 countries including Vietnam, Turkey and Guatemala, often helping with the logistics of the export process. The founders visit farms to meet the farmers and see firsthand the practices and products of each potential partner.
Shadel Nyack Compton, the owner and managing director of Belmont Estate, a family farm and tourist destination in Grenada, works with Burlap & Barrel to sell nutmeg and bay leaves. The farm — whose main crop is cocoa — has been in her family for 80 years.
In 2021, Ms. Nyack Compton found Burlap & Barrel online. She was looking for new business and wanted to work with a company that was interested in developing a relationship with farmers. “We want our story to be told,” she said.
“Spices represent a lot to a lot of different people,” Mr. Frisch said. “A spice jar becomes a way to tell a story, to evoke a memory, to teach about a culture or a cuisine, to give someone the opportunity to do their own cooking in a different way.”
Burlap & Barrel is unique, Ms. Nyack Compton said, because the company works to “establish this kind of equitable, transparent supply chain,” an approach she said is more often seen in the cocoa and chocolate space. With spices, she said, “it’s very novel.”
Julia Demaree Nikhinson/AP
A federal judge has blocked President Trump from adding his name to the Kennedy Center, saying that the Washington, D.C. arts complex was named for the late president John F. Kennedy. In a ruling on Friday, the judge also temporarily blocked the administration from closing the Kennedy Center for a planned two-year renovation that was slated to begin in July.
U.S. District Court Judge Christopher Cooper wrote in his ruling that: “The Kennedy Center’s organic statute makes crystal clear that the Center is to be named for President Kennedy, and it cannot bear any other formal name or public memorial based on the Board’s unilateral say-so. Congress gave the Kennedy Center its name, and only Congress can change it.”
A Kennedy Center spokesperson told NPR in an email Friday afternoon that it will appeal the decision. Roma Daravi, vice president of public relations for the complex, wrote: “We will review the decision carefully though the reality remains — the Center requires an urgent and significant restoration – a truth that even the plaintiff acknowledges. With $257 million secured by President Trump and approved by Congress, the resources are in place and we remain committed to pursuing every lawful avenue to ensure the Trump Kennedy Center is restored as a national cultural landmark for all Americans to enjoy.”
NPR has requested comment from the White House, but did not receive an immediate reply.
As part of his ruling, Judge Cooper ordered that all signage and online materials referring to the “Donald J. Trump and John F. Kennedy Memorial Center for the Performing Arts,” the “Trump Kennedy Center,” or anything similar must be removed within 14 days.
The judge also blocked, for now, plans to close the Kennedy Center for two years of renovations. Trump and the center’s current voting board members – all of whom were selected by the president, who also became chairman of the center last year – had planned to start the renovations in early July, just after the 250th anniversary celebrations. In his 94-page ruling, Judge Cooper called the renovation plans “murky,” and wrote: “None of the board members had sufficient information in advance of the March 16 meeting to make a well-considered decision to close the center.” The center has been winding down its programming and has already dismissed most of its programming staff.
Referring to a Truth Social post written by President Trump in February, the judge also wrote: “There was no ‘one year review of the Trump Kennedy Center, that has taken place with Contractors, Musical Experts, Art Institutions, and other Advisors and Consultants, deciding between’ complete and partial closure, as President Trump claimed.”
Cooper’s ruling resulted from a lawsuit filed in March by Rep. Joyce Beatty of Ohio, an ex-officio member of the Kennedy Center board whose voting rights there were stripped last year.
The ruling does not prevent the Kennedy Center’s board from a future closure, but the judge said that it should do so only after the board has “sufficient information to make a considered, independent decision, taking account of its obligation to both maintain and operate a premiere arts venue and its solemn duty to memorialize a fallen President.”
Three years after my second divorce, with the help of a dating app, I went on 53 first dates in one summer. Fifty-three times, I put on my first-date uniform (nice but not trying too hard), flat-ironed my hair and texted my date itinerary to my friend Karen to make it easier for the FBI to track my whereabouts just in case this was the internet date that finally went wrong.
I had a system. The system involved a spreadsheet. I kept track of what I wore and what stories we shared to avoid repeating myself in case there was a second or third date. There were exploratory follow-up dates, but it usually only took one to know.
The coffees and lunches and dinners of that season flicker in my mind like a rom-com video montage. There were some average dates, plenty of nice-guy, zero-chemistry dates, but a few stand out.
Here are the notables.
There was the extremely tall, minor league baseball player I met at BJ’s in Burbank. He said no more than four words to me the entire meal, but managed to chat up our waitress. I believe he walked me to my car and went back for her number.
The quiet and irritable TV editor I met at Guelaguetza on Olympic Boulevard. We ordered the chicken mole and chapulines. During the meal, he had a panic attack and excused himself to call his therapist. He actually told me this.
The experimental-video director with the white faux hawk I met at Go Get Em Tiger in East Hollywood. He spent the date in an hourlong monologue about his ex-wife Julia, stopping only to show me many, many photos of Julia.
A young man, originally from Phoenix, asked to meet at Soot Bull Jip on 8th Street. A struggling writer-actor-production assistant, he confided that he had looked up my name on Internet Movie Database and noticed that I was a producer. He then proceeded to pitch me an animated children’s show about singing giraffes. He also asked for a ride to Vons. I declined both.
The screenwriter I met at République who, based on his startling non-resemblance to his photo, had obviously posted a picture of someone else on his profile. He brought me three mixed CDs of music based on what he “knew” I would like. It was all Radiohead and Elliott Smith. I adjusted my dating profile because I was apparently coming off as depressed.
There was the nervous and uptight English tutor, with a script in turn-around and a famous roommate, that I met at a Starbucks in Koreatown. This guy corrected my grammar within the first five minutes of our introduction. Then, he proceeded to inform me that rather than be put off by this, I should be grateful for the new information so I could fix my error and not appear to be uneducated.
The trendy, bearded sports photographer I met for a late-night dinner at Fred 62 in Los Feliz. I had high hopes for this guy, and we made plans for a second date. But then things started unraveling once we realized I had already dated his younger brother.
There was also the suave (Hand kiss? Really?) and extremely tan French tennis pro I crossed La Cienega Boulevard for and met for lunch at Thai Vegan in Santa Monica. He was on a nonstop series of calls on his cellphone during the entire meal and then asked for a second date. I said, “Non, merci.”
When describing these guys to Karen, I used their identifying traits to label them. (Stalker Creep. Dude Looks Like a Lady. Mom Jeans Guy.) Like an FNG in Vietnam, it was better not to learn their names.
Due to a story he had shared with me via email, date No. 53 was identified as Naked Drummer. I tried to reserve judgment. Before Naked Drummer came to meet me for our first date, he called at the last minute and said the following:
“I want to recap. I just turned 30. I am currently living with my mother. I play guitar in an alternative folk band. I have a semi-crappy temp job at Disney with no benefits. I drive a green ’97 Plymouth Grand Voyager minivan that smells like weed. If you would like to change your mind about this whole dinner thing, now is your chance.” He described himself as tall, dark and tall.
For some reason, I broke many of my first date “safety rules” with Naked Drummer. I gave him my address. I let him pick me up. When he came to get me, I let him into my apartment. We went for dinner at Noshi Sushi on Beverly Boulevard. None of that is prudent behavior, and I do not recommend any of it except the chu toro.
Naked Drummer was a funny, smart, nice Jewish boy who had been touring in bands in that Grand Voyager since college graduation. On the first date, we bonded over takuwan rolls and our histories as teenage goths. My goth uniform included black Maybelline eyeliner I used a lighter to heat the tip with before application. His goth uniform included an olive-green trench coat he borrowed from his mom. We were a match made in Joy Division heaven. He confided he was an Insane Clown Posse Juggalo, I intimated I was in the Kiss Army. (We were both lying about those last two.)
Reader, I married him.
The author is a former writer, director and producer for television. She and Mr. Rosenberg live in South Pasadena. She’s on Instagram: @smacksy.
L.A. Affairs chronicles the search for romantic love in all its glorious expressions in the L.A. area, and we want to hear your true story. We pay $400 for a published essay. Email LAAffairs@latimes.com. You can find submission guidelines here. You can find past columns here.
Lifestyle
Poppy Liu wants to remind you how revolutionary I Love Boosters is : Bullseye with Jesse Thorn
I Love Boosters starts like a fun heist movie. There’s a gang of cool ladies from the Bay Area who steal clothes from high-end designers and sell them at a steep discount to their friends and neighbors. But I Love Boosters is also a Boots Riley movie. The film is surreal and bombastic, branching out in a thousand directions and traversing a dozen genres. So it can’t really stay a heist movie.
Poppy Liu drives that change more than pretty much any other character in the film. She plays Jianhu, a garment worker in China who joins the gang and brings with her a bonkers new wrinkle to the story. It’s a role Poppy was made for. She’s made her career playing confident, somewhat unhinged weirdos. She was cast in a lead role in the 2019 sitcom Sunnyside, had other parts on Better Call Saul, The After Party, and Hacks.
Liu joins us to talk about starring in I Love Boosters and the message that she hopes audiences take away from the film. She also chats with us about her upbringing in Minnesota, how she got into comedy acting, her role on Hacks, and much more.
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