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Navigating the Armenian American supermarket: Part 2

A post yesterday kicked off an occasional series of informal guides to navigating the ethnic supermarket, the mega-store grocery chains catering to immigrants that have become a part of Southern California’s regional landscape as its immigrant communities have grown and evolved.

Guest blogger and L.A. comic Lory Tatoulian started us on a tour yesterday of Glassell Park’s Super King, part of a popular Armenian supermarket chain. We left off with Lory in the meat section, a part of which she reserves a special name for.

Photo by Lory Tatoulian

In the meat section at a Super King in Glassell Park, April 2011

(Continued from yesterday)

Then there is the science project section, which houses strange organs that look like they belong in a medical school laboratory.

These meats are for advanced carnivore consumers and are usually reserved for old Armenian men who classify the more bizarre the meat, the more delectable. In the early morning winter months is it not unusual to see Armenian men, dressed in business suits, huddled over a boiling vat of khash at Griffith Park while having a very loud conversation about world politics. Khash is a dense soup of beef tripe and trotters lavishly seasoned with garlic and also known to induce contentious conversation and cure a host of physical ailments.

Make sure to browse down the olive oil aisle and marvel at the copious collection that is imported from around the world. Noteworthy is the subliminal positioning of the bottles from the Middle East: Israeli olive oil is placed next to Lebanese olive oil and Armenian olive oil is next to Turkish olive oil, a proverbial homage to peace in the Middle East. All the countries that are at odds, living harmoniously together on the Super King shelf.

Drinking coffee and eating seeds are favorite pastimes of Armenians. It’s during these recreational activities that family issues are hashed out, world politics are argued and gossip is exaggerated and spread. Super King has an entire department dedicated to Coffee and Nuts. The sweet girl behind the counter is imitation Kim Kardashian, and she will guide you through the popular selections: salted pumpkin, lemon and squash seeds.

Armenian coffee is preeminent. The muddied coffee is poured into little demitasse coffee cups from a small pot called a jezveh. After drinking, flip your coffee cup over and “translate” the impressions left from the grinds. It is believed that one’s future is etched inside. It’s like reading a Rorschach test, except the readings result in exciting predictions, such as a letter from a faraway land, money, or marriage.

Sweet confections are the best compliment to the coffee. Try halva (a blend of tahini and crushed sesame) rojeeg (walnuts covered in syrup) or pakhlava, what’s also referred to as baklava.

Take caution, though, and stay away from the frozen grape leaves. And don’t buy the cold wax remover or the green tarragon soda.

Now that you have conquered your battle and filled your cart with the best of Indo-European booty, the real battle awaits: Getting out of the parking lot that is an endless sea of SUVs and German luxury cars.

This is when a return to the small Armenian market, with the same products, but more soul, seems alluring.

Navigating the Armenian American supermarket

As Southern California’s immigrant enclaves have grown and evolved, so have their grocery stores. The ethnic mega-supermarket is now part of the regional landscape, making it as easy to buy once hard-to-find products from around the world as it is to shop at Vons or Ralphs. Want banana leaves for Central American tamales? No need seek out a carnicería in Pico-Union any more. Southeast Asian sambal sauce? There are supermarkets that practically stock aisles of it.

All you need is a good guide. So this week, Multi-American is kicking off an occasional series of informal guides to navigating the ethnic supermarket. Your first guide comes from guest blogger Lory Tatoulian, a writer, comic and highly savvy Armenian supermarket insider. Welcome, Lory.

Photo by Lory Tatoulian

The produce section scene at the Super King in Glassell Park, April 2011

The Armenian spirit is big, and so is its belly.

As the Armenian population in Los Angeles has exponentially grown in the last fifty years, so have its supermarkets. Since the 1960’s, little bodega-type markets unobtrusively appeared in Armenian enclaves: Pasadena, Hollywood, and Glendale. For years, these small markets were the best-kept secret in Los Angeles, offering exotic Mediterranean groceries for dirt-cheap prices. A place where the cashiers called you hokis, a term of endearment that means “my soul.”

Then came Super King Markets, the loud and flamboyant response to a city that now hosts ten percent of the six million Armenians in the world.

This colossal warehouse grocery chain is bodega on steroids, featuring a dizzying assortment of industrial-sized jugs of olive oil, five-gallon buckets of tahini (sesame paste) and 20-pound bags of bulghur (durum wheat). Its the Costcoization of the mom and pop market which now draws Latinos, Asians and Armenians, all clamoring for the five pounds of cantaloupe for 99 cents.

When entering the Super King in Glassell Park, one should proceed as if competing in a sporting event. Your opponents are the little Armenian grandmas, dressed in black, who will push, prod and pull you away in order to get to those 10-cents-a-pound tomatoes faster than you can. They will dig through a bin of cucumbers with a Buddhist concentration, and then throw you a fierce look from the corner of their eye, as a warning to not even think about taking their plundered possessions.

Yes, these are the same sweet grandmas who nurture and love their children to eternity, but when it comes to buying groceries (especially at discount prices) their combative instincts kick in. Don’t be intimidated, use your metal shopping cart as armor and continue on your pursuit through the vertiginous aisles of low-priced goods.

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