A Culinary Hub in the Global City: Diasporic Asian Foodscapes Across Scarborough, Canada

Food, Culture & Society An International Journal of Multidisciplinary Research

ISSN: 1552-8014 (Print) 1751-7443 (Online) Journal homepage: http://www.tandfonline.com/loi/rffc20

A culinary hub in the global city: diasporic Asian foodscapes across Scarborough, Canada

Camille Bégin & Jayeeta Sharma

To cite this article: Camille Bégin & Jayeeta Sharma (2018) A culinary hub in the global city: diasporic Asian foodscapes across Scarborough, Canada, Food, Culture & Society, 21:1, 55-74, DOI: 10.1080/15528014.2017.1398471 To link to this article: https://doi.org/10.1080/15528014.2017.1398471

Published online: 21 Dec 2017.

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A culinary hub in the global city: diasporic Asian foodscapes across Scarborough, Canada

Camille Bégin and Jayeeta Sharma

Culinaria Research Centre, University of Toronto, Toronto, Canada

ABSTRACT KEYWORDS This article examines the role of late twentieth-century transnational Culinary hub; ethnoburb; migrants to Canada in transforming Scarborough into a culinary hub global city; migration; with global and Asian resonances—a place where dense affective, Scarborough; Toronto; sensory, social, cultural, and economic networks of foodways overlap Asian; diasporic; pedagogy; foodscapes and combine to create place-specific diasporic sensescapes. The primary research questions are: How does such an Asian culinary hub emerge and function in the transnational and diasporic setting of a contemporary global city and how do citizens’ negotiations of its mobile foodways constitute the hub, and act as its archive? To locate answers for these questions, the authors engaged with long-term collaborative research among academics, students, and community stakeholders connected to the Culinaria Research Centre of the University of Toronto.

Somewhere in time Scarborough became what it is today, a city with huge apartment buildings, rambling subdivisions, indoor shopping malls, a multicultural society full of lots of new and interesting tastes and smells and sounds. (Scarborough Public Library 1997, 14) In this article, we analyze the ethnoburb of Scarborough, through its longue durée historical evolution, from an indigenous gathering-place, to a nineteenth-century colonial agro-town- ship, into a Toronto suburb famed for its vibrant Asian foodways. We examine the role of late twentieth-century transnational migrants from Asia in making Scarborough into such a culinary hub—a place where dense affective, sensory, social, cultural, and economic networks of foodways overlap and combine to create place-specific diasporic sensescapes. Our primary research questions are: How does such an Asian culinary hub emerge and function in the transnational and diasporic settings of a global city? How do citizens’ negotiations of its mobile foodways constitute the hub, and act as its archive? To locate answers, we engage in collaborative research that involves academics, students, and community stakeholders connected to the Culinaria Research Centre of the University of Toronto, a center committed to exploring Scarborough foodscapes. Our work develops a two-pronged research methodology that builds upon contributions of the historical craft to recent theoretical innovations in food studies. First, this research

CONTACT Jayeeta Sharma [email protected] © 2017 Association for the Study of Food and Society 56 C. BÉGIN AND J. SHARMA is inseparable from its location in the diverse urban neighborhoods of the Greater Toronto Area (GTA), which include Scarborough.1 The classroom of the Culinaria Research Centre acts as a dynamic research space where students, many of whom self-identify as diasporic Asian-Canadians, enact everyday place-making through assignments that involve consum- ing, cooking, talking, watching, reading, and writing about food. Coursework produced a new awareness among students of a family meal’s complex constituents, whether the labor of shopping, chopping, or cooking, or the hybrid cultures it marked, from a farewell meal in Hong Kong, to a Tamil father’s birthday, to a Chinese Canadian Thanksgiving. Students also conducted interviews with diasporic Asian residents of the Malvern neighborhood, a connection facilitated by our community partner, Malvern Action for Neighborhood Change (MANC). This is an advocacy group established under the auspices of the United Way in 2008 (with city and state support) to facilitate resident-led community development, especially in the area of food security.2 That collaboration produced a number of digital story-telling projects where students focused on Asian foodways, migratory life-stories, and facilitating food business strategies among Malvern home-cooks. Building such dialogic interactions constitutes an “ongoing process of dialogue and sharing”; it is engaged scholarship that aims to empower diverse collaborators during, and beyond, our work together (High 2009, 13). Second, we create a series of maps and visualizations that capture both transnational flows of culinary knowledge and the anchoring of diasporic foodways in suburban ethnic malls, restaurants, and homes. One of the projects we explore in this article builds on visual documentation gathered in the 1990s by the Multicultural Society of Ontario (MHSO), a GTA community group committed to documenting ethnic identities.3 Our project continues this work to build a new visual archival collection. The maps resulting from this and other projects are anchored in dynamic and multi-voiced practices of history that shed light on the networks that animate urban diasporic foodways. They show how the culinary hub becomes both center as well as passageway around a global city (Yeoh 2006). These mapping projects allow us to follow the historical rise of diasporic Asian foodways from the built environment of apartment buildings and shopping malls that replaced Scarborough’s forests and farms to the globalized and diasporic culinary circuits that engage its postmodern households. Our article begins with an introduction to the longue durée history of Scarborough’s landscape and its evolution from an Indigenous territory, to a British-dominated rural periphery of nineteenth-century Toronto that was gradually transformed, due to the impact of international migration, into a twenty-first-century ‘ethnoburb’ with a pronounced Asian character (Li 1998). We start our explorations of the latter aspect through the examination of Chinese malls in the Scarborough neighborhood of Agincourt, using a blend of urban history, visual studies, and digital humanities methodologies. We move on to a discussion of migrant food histories created by student co-investigators with the assistance of MANC. The article ends on a theoretical intervention that elaborates on the implications of the concept of culinary hub; and a call to scholars to further explore the historicity and mobile dynamism of global city foodscapes via trans-disciplinary conversations involving a variety of academic and public interlocutors. FOOD, CULTURE & SOCIETY 57

The many histories of Scarborough: commons, farms, ethnoburb To understand the vibrant present of the Scarborough ethnoburb, many of whose citizens are former refugees, migrants, or hyphenated New Canadians, it is important to consider at the outset the longue durée histories of its habitat, and its indigenous and settler inhab- itants. First Nations people inhabited the Greater Toronto region for at least 11,000 years, but scholars rarely used to connect the urban landscape and its resettlement with the urban landscape’s indigenous and ecological pasts, which remained confined to archaeological reports. This has changed as environmentally minded historians recently began to explore how, from very early times, the broader Toronto landscape functioned as a borderland whose lake, rivers, and peninsula acted as a dynamic zone through which indigenous communities moved, foraged, traded, and interacted, a gathering-place role which continued in later centuries, albeit in different form and with different protagonists (Bonnell 2014, xxvi; Freeman 2010). The land upon which Scarborough eventually arose was successively inhabited by Paleo hunter-gatherers and Archaic-era foragers who subsisted on abundant water and landed commons. The centuries before European contact were dominated by corn-growing Iroquoian peoples but ecological pressures led to their virtual desertion by the fourteenth century. In their place arose farming groups of Huron (Wendat), Seneca, and, eventually, the hunting-gathering Mississaugas who became embroiled with French fur-traders and eighteenth-century British colonial settlers (Bonis 1968, 30–35). Scarborough received its name when Elizabeth Simcoe, wife of the first Upper-Canada Lieutenant Governor, remarked in 1793 on its beaches’ resemblance to the Yorkshire port of that name. Such settler naming narratives became widely disseminated in the nineteenth century as part of an agenda to legitimize imperial lineages of dominion, resettlement, and rule over allegedly vacant space (Bonnell 2014). The same agenda explains the “complex, drawn-out, contested, and ethically murky process” of the so-called “Toronto Purchase” of 1787–1805 when the British claimed ownership of the land that is now the GTA (Freeman 2010, 41). Several Mississauga chiefs had hoped for a long-term, symbiotic relationship through which they could obtain food in the hungry season as rent for their erstwhile commons (Smith 1981). That hope was not to be. Just a few years after the Purchase, a trickle of Scottish farming migrants moved into Scarborough, erasing lengthy indigenous histories of forests, commons, and trails. By 1867, the year of Canadian Confederation, two-thirds of the country’s population was British in origin, as were its place-names. The Scarborough neighborhood of Agincourt received its nomenclature from the famed English victory over the French by King Henry V in 1415. Malvern was named after a prestigious English spa, although its settlers were Scottish farming migrants (Eadie 1973). Since much of the non-white world faced exclusionary legal barriers to enter Canada, it was inevitable that British and European settlers dominated Scarborough’s foodscapes until revised Canadian immigration policies during the 1960s eased racial restrictions. These new policies triggered another type of resettlement and a major restructuring of the region’s demographics and foodscapes in which Asia played a major role (Knowles 2007, 152). Nineteenth-century Scarborough’s agrarian communities such as Agincourt and Malvern prospered, partly due to their location at a strategic Ontario crossroads close to the United States, and partly due to state-bestowed infrastructure such as railways, but their pace of change remained slow until the mid-twentieth century. Agincourt was, until the 1950s, “a village composed of a small cluster of stores flanking Glen Watford Drive. A pharmacy, 58 C. BÉGIN AND J. SHARMA hardware, an A&P supermarket, and community swimming pool” (Scarborough Public Library 1997, 17). Neighboring Malvern’s Scottish character was signaled by the annual Burns Nights public dinners. This lasted until the 1950s when the Canada Mortgage and Housing Corporation began the expropriation of farmland to build a “model community” of affordable apartments as an affordable alternative. Demographic, spatial, and cultural changes began to affect Canadian cities from the 1960s, a combination of the North American post-World War II urban boom, and the easing of racial and geographic barriers on immigration policies. In Scarborough, streets of neat houses and apartment buildings flanked by commercial and industrial establishments rapidly replaced the pastures of yore. A local historian contrasted the 1950s bucolic landscape to the 1960s with its “great plazas, lit with brilliant neon lights [and] thronged with thousands of shoppers” (Bonis 1968, 209). This was not only a spatial, occupational, and generational shift, but one where the category “ethnic” appeared more and more in reference to Scarborough. The same year the first residents of Malvern’s “model homes” moved in, a reporter highlighted the “growing pains” of Scarborough’s “postwar boom town,” describing it as “an ethnic melting pot community with solid walls of concrete apartment towers along major arteries and six-lane arteries that become traffic bottlenecks everyday at rush hour” (Coleman 1972, 5). Prior to 1945, Toronto possessed ethnic enclaves and was in certain areas a polyglot city, but remained overwhelmingly British in terms of the origins of its people, attitudes, and the dominance of the English language (Harney 1985). This British character was even more pronounced for pre-war Scarborough since polyglot groups such as Italians, Chinese, Slavs, and Jews, part of the massive sojourner and settler flow to North America that began after 1885, moved into downtown city wards with greater commercial and industrial opportunities than rural Scarborough. However, after the Second World War, descendants of European migrants started to move into Scarborough, attracted by its inexpensive new housing stock. Such transformations accelerated from the 1960s, as global and national demographic and cultural shifts rapidly transformed the human and urban landscapes of Canada. In 1962, after decades of exclusionary legislation, Canada removed race and national origin as barriers to immigration. Its Immigration Act of 1976 introduced a points system that allowed immigrants across the world to apply for landed status. The impact of these policy changes is evident in that while 87% of newcomers in 1966 hailed from Europe, by 1970, 50% arrived from other regions (Knowles 2007, 211). In 2001, the top four source coun- tries were China (16.10%), India (11.11%), Pakistan (6.13%), and the Philippines (5.15%) (Knowles 2007, 274–276). By 2006, 43% of Toronto’s population was non-white (Fong, Nora Chiang, and Denton 2013). Starting with a trickle in the 1960s and steadily from the 1980s, Scarborough became home to migrants from around the world, many from South East Asia, East Asia, and South Asia, the British Caribbean, and former British-ruled East Africa (Schofield, Schofield, and Whynot 1996). During the 1980s, an important contingent of these migrants arrived under the newly launched business immigrant program, a program tailor made for the geopolitics of post-colonial East Asia and its aspirations for passport insurance (Ley 2003, 2013). For instance, the uncertainty of Hong Kong’s return to China, slated for 1997, served as a strong push factor into Canada (Wang and Du 2013). Hong Kong became the single FOOD, CULTURE & SOCIETY 59 most important source of immigrants between 1991 and 1996 (Preston and Lo 2000). Scarborough attracted many of those newcomers, and they in turn decisively changed its built landscapes and culinary cultures. Geographer Wei Li first coined the term “ethnoburb” to explore ethnic residential, business, and institutional clusters in suburban neighborhoods of large metropolitan regions (Li 1998; Vaz and Arsanjani 2015). While earlier migrants had settled in urban ethnic enclaves and moved into ethnically mixed suburbs only after they accumulated the economic and social capital that allowed them to aspire toward “structural assimilation” for their chil- dren, starting in the 1980s, migrants to North America increasingly moved directly to the suburbs (Alba et al. 1999). Wang and Zhong (2013) refined the ethnoburb concept for the Canadian context, underlining their role as “incubators for societal change” (18) and their multi-ethnic character: by 2006, visible minorities, the largest proportion from Asia, made up more than half the population in 79% of Scarborough’s census tracts. The transformation of Scarborough into an Asian-dominated ethnoburb cannot be sep- arated from larger demographic, social, and economic trends that affected the entire city of Toronto, especially in regard to the poverty and food insecurity that disproportionately afflicted urban newcomers. From the late twentieth century, the anchoring of both immigration and poverty in the city’s inner suburbs arose as a persistent trend. Despite the much-publicized influx of Hong Kong capital, the vast majority of the Scarborough ethnoburb’s residents were not business migrants, far from it. A study of the period between the 1970s and the 2000s reveals the growing polarization of incomes in Toronto. In 1970, 66% of Toronto’s neighborhoods were middle-income, a proportion that decreased to 29% in 2005. Significantly, the percentage of immigrants grew in areas of below-average earnings over the same period from 41% to 61% (Hulchanski 2010). If ethnoburbs are “suburban ethnic clusters of people and businesses” (Zhou 2009, 81), then food businesses and foodways lie at the core of their economic and social life. Across the ethnoburb, food plays a key role in expressing, living, and remodeling identities and livelihoods. Translocal ties of family relationships, business links, and food supply trigger the formation of what Lahiri, after Low, dubs “translocal sensescapes of urban memory”’ (Lahiri 2011, 856). We can reflect on the sensescape that arises out of one student’s food story of her displaced Tamil family who moved as a result of civil war from an upper-class existence in Sri Lanka to a middle-class life in the GTA. A key point in this narrative became the structural shift in provisioning from Jaffna neighborhood markets where house- wives accompanied by servants purchased fresh provisions every day to the family’s use of Scarborough discount supermarkets (Figure 2). “Every week I see her [the mother] going through a stack of flyers, deciding where we can purchase ingredients for her curries in the most cost-effective ways using Price Match.”4 Figure 1, which highlights the necessary automobile journeys to big-box supermarkets involved in Scarborough provisioning, reminds us of Sen’s description of stores as “nodes within a regionally reticulated landscape of ethnic spaces” linked up by automobile networks (Sen 2012, 217). The automobile network can often act a barrier to access, especially for migrant populations, as shown in this food story where the mother’s absence of driving skills made her dependent on her husband or daughters to complete the household’s culinary provisioning. Even as food shopping often remains a gendered and generational task, the ethnoburb demands that new skills be attached to it. 60 C. BÉGIN AND J. SHARMA

Ward 39: Scarborough-Agincourt

Ward 41: Scarborough-Rouge River

Ward 42: Scarborough-Rouge River (Malvern)

University of Toronto Scarborough (UTSC) Campus Dragon Center on Glen Watford Drive Malvern Family Resource Center

Figure 1. Scarborough, Toronto, Ontario. ©esri.com.

My mother always completes all of the shopping and then my dad or myself go to pay for the groceries and help pack up and unload them. It boggles my mind how she learnt how to do this all so quickly, as stores in Sri Lanka are more so like open markets and vary drastically from No-Frills and Walmart.5 On the student’s map of where her New Canadian family shopped, destinations ranged from discount mainstream outlets that they visited every week for basic groceries to the Tamil- run Yarl supermarket where they occasionally stocked up on Sri Lankan vegetables such as drumsticks, okra, etc. and made bulk purchases of spices such as cumin and coriander. Her data, and that of other students, revealed how car culture, the mall and supermarkets had almost entirely taken over provisioning. The multi-spatialities of the culinary hub therefore do not exclude the anchoring of food deserts in the interstitial spaces of the network: Despite FOOD, CULTURE & SOCIETY 61

Figure 2. From markets to supermarkets, a Tamil family’s evolving shopping habits from Sri Lanka to Canada. http://neeela.weebly.com/. ©Culinaria Research Centre. Reproduced by permission of the Culinaria Research Centre. abundant access to world foods in supermarkets, the absence of car mobility can create situations of food insecurity. That the university students failed to strongly make that point is an indicator of the relatively privileged middle-class status that their generation enjoyed, but subsequent exposure to other Scarborough residents went some way to redress this.

Agincourt: the emergence of a Chinese culinary hub In our efforts to understand how Scarborough evolved into a car-dependent culinary hub, faculty and student researchers began to study Chinese-owned businesses in the northwest- ern Scarborough neighborhood of Agincourt (Figure 3)—sometimes derogatively dubbed “Asiancourt” due to its high density of Chinese malls (Lai 1988). Our team explored how a fourth Toronto Chinatown started developing there in the mid-1980s, a new Scarborough version of the older Chinatowns in the historical downtown. Though the majority of early Chinese migrants settled on Canada’s West Coast, the first Toronto Chinatown appeared in the 1900s, when, despite racialized immigration policy, at least a thousand Chinese lived in Toronto. It was a tiny concentration of grocery stores, tourist geegaw-sellers, churches, barbers, restaurants, and community associations. Only in the post-World War II years, when immigration restrictions gradually loosened, did the number of Chinese immigrants to Toronto increase, especially after 1967. Although the 62 C. BÉGIN AND J. SHARMA

Figure 3. Dragon Centre, Agincourt, Scarborough, c.1991, 2013. ©MHSO. Reproduced by permission of the MHSO. ©Culinaria Research Centre. Reproduced by permission of the Culinaria Research Centre. oldest Toronto Chinatown was destroyed in the 1960s, its new downtown Chinatowns, along Spadina Avenue and Gerrard Street East respectively, offered thriving commercial sections. By the end of the twentieth century, the Gerrard Chinatown was undergoing a slow push from gentrification while the Spadina one was re-adapting as a tourist destination. They became a cultural focus for what was now an increasingly dispersed, expanding, and complex community. From the 1980s onward, newer, differently structured Chinatown clusters located in the Scarborough inner suburbs emerged (Chan 2011; Lai 1988). By the FOOD, CULTURE & SOCIETY 63 mid-1980s, approximately 40,000 Chinese Canadians lived in Scarborough, 25,000 of these in the Agincourt area (Goldenberg 1984). By 2011, 72,070 persons of “Chinese ethnic” origin lived in the area (National Household Survey 2011a, 2011b). From the 1980s, suburban plazas and malls developed to cater to this expanding population and as investment targets for migrants arrived in the country under the business immigrant program, especially in the “investor” stream. Under this stream, newcomers needed to have a minimum wealth of half a million dollars and, in Ontario, invest a minimum of $250,000 for three years in a Canadian venture (Knowles 2007, 231–233). Immigration policy shaped the built environment of Chinese-owned malls: units became a perfect investment for business immigrants. The resulting malls had a unique economic structure: they were, in majority, organized as condominiums rather than leased out and their units tended to be on the small side (Wang 1999). Asian business immigrants’ model of urbanity was not the parochialism of a preserved Chinatown, but, rather, one that favored vigorous returns from new urban developments (Ley 2013). Agincourt became an early example of such development. In 1984 Chinese Canadian entrepreneurs Henry and Daniel Hung bought a former roller-skating rink, tucked away behind an existing strip mall, and transformed it into a new shopping space that they called the Dragon Centre (Yung 1998). By late 1987, over a dozen Chinese malls were in business in Agincourt, and continued to expand northward into the city of Markham throughout the 1990s. To map the rise and evolution of Agincourt’s Chinese malls, we used visual archives col- lected by community activists and urban scholars of the Multicultural Historical Society of Ontario (MHSO). In the early 1990s, they experimented with a new approach to document histories of migration and the evolution of ethnicity with a methodical documentation of storefronts. The sole suburban neighborhood in this project was one at the intersection of Sheppard and Midland Avenue, the heart of Agincourt, which was dubbed “Scarborough Chinatown.” Researchers realized that a new type of ethnic neighborhood, an ethnoburb, vastly different from the ethnic enclaves of downtown Toronto was rising to prominence. In 2013, we digitized the MHSO photographs, geo-located them, and visited the same 13 malls (in particular the Dragon Centre, Cathay Plaza, the Mandarin Mall, Pun Chun Plaza, Pearl Mall, and an unnamed strip mall at 25 Glen Watford Drive) to visually record the evolution of the ethnoburb’s foodscapes. Both photographic time series were then tagged and made available on an interactive map.6 The irrigation of highways around Agincourt facilitated the growth of malls that shoppers from throughout the GTA could conveniently visit. With the arrival of Chinese businesses, existing malls transformed from local shopping areas to regional centers, becoming culinary hubs for the growing suburban Chinese population that patronized establishments such as East Court Restaurant and Agincourt Garden Restaurant (both at 25 Glen Watford Drive) or Mandarin Food Bazaar and Yau Lung Kee Restaurant in the Mandarin Mall at Sheppard Avenue and Brimley Road. A key characteristic of those Chinese malls that made them crucial to the development of Scarborough as an Asian culinary hub was their use of food businesses (rather than big-box stores) as anchors with 25–50% of the mall’s surface dedicated to restaurants and groceries stores, such as Tai Cheong supermarket in the Dragon Centre. High density of food businesses means increased traffic and a high need for parking spots for consumers who linger over their meals and for staff, who tend to be more numerous and offer a greater diversity of skills than in other shopping malls (restaurant managers, head cooks, line cooks, waiter and waitresses, etc.) (Preston and Lo 2000; Wang and Zhong 2013, 19). 64 C. BÉGIN AND J. SHARMA

This re-shaping of Agincourt into an Asian culinary hub met resistance from older residents and business owners. Disputes about so-called unfair commercial competition, the demands upon parking spaces, and large numbers of weekend shoppers marked the early days of the Dragon Centre and resulted in several episodes of escalating racial tension. The neighborhood’s new businesses triggered fears among longtime locals that their daily shopping needs would go unfulfilled (Preston and Lo 2009). A photograph of a zoning change application notice posted in front of a strip mall across from the Dragon Centre reveals the type of neighborhood change that had older residents up in arms (Figure 4). Some malls, like the one at 25 Glen Watford Drive and the nearby Dragon Centre, had a regional catch- ment but, because they were located off small streets, ended up jamming weekend traffic, accelerating local tensions (Abbate 1984). During May 1984, the overwhelmingly white Central Agincourt Ratepayers Association held a public meeting attended by hundreds during which racialized comments such as “let them learn English” proliferated (Chan 2011, 156; Goldenberg 1984). In August, hate literature was stuffed into mailboxes even as abusive night-time phone calls repeatedly awoke residents. A municipal report written later that year noted: … some perceive that the shopping malls in Glen Watford Drive are potential health and fire hazards. Some white residents feel that the shopping malls have turned the area into a tourist spot, thus creating unnecessary noise and congestion of people in a traditionally “peaceful community.” (Mayor’s Task Force 1984, 6–7) In response to the racialized undertones of such “perceptions,” the Federation of Chinese Canadians in Scarborough arose to provide a united platform for the community. Its rep- resentatives participated in the newly created Mayor’s Task Force on Race Relations as well as the Multicultural and Race Relations Committee of the Human Services of Scarborough (Yung 1998, 270–280). When the Task Force released its report, it described the racial tensions over the previous year and noted that:

Figure 4. Photograph of a strip mall across the Dragon Center in Scarborough Ontario, 1991. The land was set to evolve from “community commercial and residential” to “commercial mixed use to permit a mixed a mixed residential–commercial development.” ©MHSO. Reproduced by permission of the MHSO. FOOD, CULTURE & SOCIETY 65

It is important to consider the present economic situation, which has been largely recessionary in the past few years. The established white businesses in the area have not been in good shape for a while and are constantly threatened by the unstable economy. In contrast, the new Chinese enterprises in the area are booming. This contrast is creating a rift along racial lines between these two factions of the business community. (Mayor’s Task Force 1984, 6–7) Chinese entrepreneurs redeveloped declining local strip malls into regional shopping nodes that did not compete with existing shops, as many locals had alleged (Preston and Lo 2009). Similar dynamics of change and conflict, and the creation of new suburban culinary hubs, were replicated further north when the cities of Richmond Hill and Markham joined Scarborough over the 1990s and 2000s, as the GTA’s new suburban “Chinatowns” (Preston and Lo 2000, 2009; Qadeer 1997; Zhuang 2013). As Agincourt’s demographics continued to evolve in the early 2000s, food security became an ever more important issue. By the 2000s, the original Agincourt malls became less prominent as Toronto’s Chinese economy expanded into a thriving “multinuclear” phe- nomenon (Fong, Wenhong, and Chiu 2007). In parallel, the Chinese Canadian population shifted from a majority of Cantonese-speakers originating in Hong Kong to Mandarin- speakers arriving from provinces of Mainland China (Ward Profiles 2006). This expanding newcomer population, whose income base was lower than that of earlier groups, successfully began to advocate on the issue of food security with the help of churches and non-profit organizations. Twenty-first-century Agincourt continues to field occasional land-use tensions over the construction of condominiums even as it has grown into a heterogeneous and dynamic food scene that ranges from Chinese mall restaurants and supermarkets to food banks and community vegetable gardens (Agincourt Community Services Association Annual Reports 2008–15).

Voices from the culinary hub Our article proposes the notion of a “culinary hub” as a tool to explore the nature of the interactions between the global city and the people who live, work, and consume there. It is a concept born out of our work in Scarborough that can be further expanded on through research and pedagogical initiatives anchored in engaged scholarship that aims at empow- ering its research participants. In this section, a further examination of student research into the Scarborough ethnoburb and diasporic Asian foodscapes leads us into a concluding discussion of what the culinary hub concept has to offer toward studies of food and cities. The course “Cuisine and Society across Global Asia” is taught annually by one of the authors at the University of Toronto’s Scarborough campus, as a small-group undergradu- ate seminar open to upper-level students from the humanities and social sciences. During 2015, every student of this elective course identified with one or other of the GTA’s Asian Canadian groups. They acknowledged that this identification had a major role in attracting them to the course, as did its focus on studying cuisines, and its professor’s identity as a New Canadian who was born in South Asia. Very much like the contributors to Steven High 2009 volume on shared authority, we found that “in transforming the classroom into a collaborative environment … the distance between professor and students ‘shrinks’” (High 2009, 26). The course is community-based and asks that students explore their and their families’ culinary stories and migration experiences as well as participate in community partnerships. In 2015, the community partner was MANC, whose major aim was to promote food security and neighborhood engagement among Malvern residents (Abbate 2009). 66 C. BÉGIN AND J. SHARMA

The course started with research into the changing social and cultural profile of Malvern from its nineteenth-century pastoral landscape to a 1970s “model community” where Tamil, Urdu, and Cantonese were to become the top three home languages (City of Toronto 2006 Malvern Priority Area Profile). In the process, students studied how expanding populations of such Scarborough neighborhoods quickly outstripped services supplied by the city government (Caledon Institute of Social Policy 2005). Starting in the 1970s, Scarborough acquired new notoriety when the press routinely depicted immigrant neighborhoods dominated by visible minorities from Asia and the Caribbean as the new Canadian face of urban poverty and gang violence, often revealing racialized bias (Wente 2004). Archival and oral history research showed how Scarborough’s Asian Canadian newcomers actively resisted such negative portrayals, as when as a young Tamil woman passionately rebuked a reporter: “My Malvern is so not your Malvern. You hear the word and think murder. I think home, and a good one” (Parthasarathy 2008). We examined how such neighborhood pride could coalesce into collective action as when, in 2008, the newly formed MANC worked with community members to develop a Resident Action Plan, which identified neighborhood priorities: food security, parent and civic engagement. When our student teams began collaborating with MANC, its food security activities included three community gardens, cooking and gardening workshops for adults and youth, a community orchard, summer community markets, and plans for a new urban farm. Students conducted interviews with Malvern residents, alongside research with family members. A first assignment asked them to write about a memorable meal with their family. The focus was to be: what, where, with whom, as well as the ingredients and labor that constituted the meal. After the students researched and wrote their pieces, they discussed how this exercise had made them newly aware of the diverse food elements of the ethnoburb that helped create the meal, whether supermarket shopping, or preparing food with a range of kitchen tools from spice-grinders to pressure cookers and rice cookers. Occasions ranged from a Hong Kong farewell meal for Canadian migrants, to a birthday in a Tamil Canadian household, to a Goan Canadian Thanksgiving. Each student chose an occasion that showcased the specific foodways of the particular Asian Canadian culinary culture where they placed themselves, whether the vegetarian curries preferred for a Tamil Hindu auspicious meal cooked by an extended family in Scarborough, the hot-pot tradition typical for a Northern Chinese family get-together, the Goan Catholic Christmas dinner cooked by a grandmother and a mother for second-generation offspring, or Indo-Mauritian accompaniments to Thanksgiving turkey. Student investigations into the foodways of the Scarborough ethnoburb were greatly enhanced by a community partnership that enabled them to interact with Malvern’s Asian Canadian residents in order to collect and archive their stories of food, migration, and settlement alongside those from their own families. They found it particularly meaningful when they managed to juxtapose different classed, ethnic, gendered, and generational experiences.7 One student, for instance, prepared a first food map that portrayed the journey of her father, a Cantonese-speaking working-class immigrant who managed to make a modest culinary career starting as a humble Chinatown cook in the 1980s, and becoming a Scarborough banquet restaurant manager some thirty years later (Figure 5).8 Her second map focused on the food and migration stories of a Malvern immigrant who trained as a food industry professional at the renowned Pusa Agriculture Institute in India but who could find work only as an electronics repairman in Toronto of the 1970s, lacking the industry FOOD, CULTURE & SOCIETY 67

Figure 5. A Chinese Canadian father’s histories of migration and food work, c.1980s–2000s. ©Culinaria Research Centre]. Reproduced by permission of the Culinaria Research Centre.

Figure 6. From Punjab to Malvern, 1947–2000s. ©Culinaria Research Centre. Reproduced by permission of the Culinaria Research Centre. connections on which his Chinese counterparts or later generations of South Asian migrants could depend (Figure 6).9 Other students interviewed Malvern residents about their food journeys and aspirations, such as the talented home cook whose culinary repertoire ranged across Goa, Dubai, and Canada, and who nurtured the dream of becoming a food professional. She felt that, “Working with UTSC and sharing my Goan heritage … gave me the platform to imagine where I could take my catering business” (UTSC Partnerships Report 2015, 11). Mapping global journeys was in itself a collaborative journey that demanded engagement and trust from all: students, families, community members, and faculty. This was facilitated around shared meals, conversations, and by a commitment to bring the result of the students’ work back to the community. For students, their realization of the place that foodways played in their family and community history arose through the investigation of oral histories, whether with parents or Malvern community members. The classroom and research process encouraged them to understand food as good to think, to map, to tell. 68 C. BÉGIN AND J. SHARMA

In the classroom seminars, students not only learnt aspects of their family’s diasporic histories that were hitherto unrealized, but also how those connected with those of their class- mates from different ethnic backgrounds. This experiential learning and co-investigative research allowed them to comprehend the global and local context of culinary hubs in a manner that derived from individual experience, but went beyond it. Aside from MANC, our team made contact with other neighborhood organizations that focus on food security and identified them as partners for later iterations of community research into the culinary hub. Several have emerged in the Scarborough ethnoburb, such as the Agincourt Community Services, the East Scarborough Storefront, and the Mornelle Community Hub. Collecting the stories of students and community members has been central to our for- mulation of the concept of the culinary hub. It builds on recent interventions concerning global and globalizing cities, as well as the networks and flows that inhabit and constitute them. Brenda Yeoh (2006) reminded us that the city is often represented as an economic node or hub, a centrifugal point for the collection of resources, a crucible of ideas and innovation, the locus of imagined communities, and a source of identity and security. But, historically, the city as hub has always existed within interconnectivities comprising all manner of linkages and networks. Even as such systems of flows were a major component of what sustained and generated urban space, the translocal and transnational mobilities that constitute the global city disrupt the assumption of an urban space as a centrality, as stasis, as a gathering together, as permanence. Our notion of a culinary hub owes much to Yeoh’s analysis that cities are as much spaces of flows as they are spaces of place. Our work is also informed by Michael Smith (1998), who characterized the global city as an endless interplay of differently articulated transnational networks and practices best deciphered by studying the agency of the local, regional, national, and transnational actors that shape and sustain those transnational networks and their attendant practices and out- comes. Arjun Appadurai (1990) had already argued that the central problem of global interactions was the tendency to view them through a rigid dichotomy between cultural homogenization and cultural heterogenization. In its place, he proposed the notion of an ethnoscape as an elementary framework for exploring disjuncture and differences across the global cultural economy. Appadurai characterized an ethnoscape as the landscape of the people who constituted the shifting worlds of global flows: tourists, migrants, refugees, exiles, guest workers, students, and other mobile groups and persons. The classic phrase by Benedict Anderson (1983), “imagined communities,” was extended so as to term these eth- noscapes as the building blocks of imagined worlds, that is, the multiple worlds constituted by the historically situated imaginations of persons and groups spread around the globe. The concept of culinary hub is a response to food historian Jeffrey Pilcher’s recent call to explore “culinary infrastructures” (Picher 2016). This concept, rooted in historical analysis, combines the analysis of physical infrastructures such as grain elevators, the cold chain, or storage facilities with the analysis of the production of knowledge, symbols, and meanings inherent to any food culture. In the global city context, Pilcher invites us to consider how the infrastructure of suburban roads, malls, stores, but also of global distribution networks and housing intersects with the production of knowledge, symbols, and meanings reflective of both global trends and local exchanges. Building on Pilcher’s demonstration that culinary infrastructures constitute and are constituted by nodes within a larger system of physical and symbolic linkages, we posit that the hub is where diasporic culinary infrastructures overlap to create a site-specific food culture and sensescape. FOOD, CULTURE & SOCIETY 69

A growing literature on diasporic foodways focuses on site-specific food culture to the- orize eating in the global city as an exercise in “everyday multiculturalism” (Wise and Velayutham 2009, 2011, 2013), in “eating-together-in difference” (Duruz and Khoo 2015), or “intercultural sensual life” (Highmore 2008, 396). Our findings seek to simultaneously engage with and interrogate these notions of cosmopolitan commensality as our student researchers show us that the culinary hub is not only a place where people “eat together” but also one where food insecurity exists in different forms within the ethnoburb’s multiple foodscapes that are, at first glance, characterized by abundance and diversity. The living archives of the ethnoburb shows how members of different community groups may not interact together as much as live, or eat, side by side, just as different foodways might coexist in the same strip mall and apartment building, but rarely interconnect. Finally, we are engaged with the call from urban geographers such as Loretta Lees (2003) for an approach where ethnographic methods go hand in hand with critical theory that pays attention to action agendas in the form of in-depth participatory research. Our research has taken us from the neighborhood to the archive to the classroom to the community and back again, as we employ digital, mapping, and oral history methodologies and co-participatory investigation to advance an urban and culinary lens on diverse ethnocultural and historical processes. Our academic home at the Culinaria Research Centre shares this overarching philosophy to study food with the community, to create and sustain a public forum around food and foodways for faculty, students, their families, and communities. To develop a co-participatory research agenda on global Asian foodways in Scarborough, a key strategy has become the utilization of digital media and technologies, with a specific interest in developing maps that can capture both the local anchoring and the global reach of diasporic foodways. Maps and map-related objects have historically been a powerful form of communication because they intersect the human perceptual understanding of place with a conceptualiza- tion of the reality (MacEachren 1995). “Other geographies” are increasingly being mapped in new and different forms (Kriz, Cartwright, and Hurni 2010). One such form is that of a food map. Food maps can run the gamut from bodily maps to neighborhood maps, to immigration and work-history maps, to commodity flows or even store plans (Atkins 2005; Marte 2007; Sen 2012; Wise and Velayutham 2013). Our multi-authored and socially engaged research projects seek to explore several of these modalities to produce a series of maps at different scales. Our evolving mapping practice of the culinary hub aims at cap- turing the multidirectional, rather than centering character of global/globalizing cities and the overlapping diasporic culinary infrastructures that flow through it. As generations of students and researchers enter the culinary hub classroom—both the physical lecture hall and the metaphorical space in which we learn together—layers of “deep data” accumulate on the map. In a widely circulated blog post, MIT’s Otto Scharmer wrote that deep data is used to make people and communities see themselves. Deep data functions like a mirror: it makes you see yourself—both as an individual and as a community. He contrasts it with the vast majority of big data that operates at a surface level, in the form of data about others, what they do and say (Scharmer 2014). Yet, the two do not necessarily need to be in opposition: deep data connects the power of generalization at the heart of big data with the particularity of sensory and memory-triggered information. It is attuned to the strength of both and can make visible layers of multisensory knowledge and culinary 70 C. BÉGIN AND J. SHARMA infrastructures, both physical and symbolic, networked through urban environments. It marries census demographics with intimate connections, taste memories, and oral histories. By engaging different actors through different sets of data and disciplines, we aim at offering layered, multi-voiced exploration of the making of a suburban culinary hub. This will mean plotting dense, thick, local maps. The notion of thickening the map is more than a handy culinary metaphor. Reminiscent of anthropological Geertzian thick description, it is also inspired by recent work in digital humanities and the city that aims at creating “Hypercities”: “a real city overlaid with thick information networks that not only catalyze the present but also go back in time to document the past and go forward to project future possibilities” (Presner, Shepard, and Kawano 2014, 6). Then, the digital platform can be used to “richly contextualize digital information, preserve individual memories, and, perhaps, most ambitiously, begins to undo historical erasures and silences” (Presner, Shepard, and Kawano 2014, 107). Thick maps are dynamic, never finished, and kaleidoscopic.

Conclusion Our project starts as one of visual documentation and digital mapping and moves into the realm of historical storytelling where we aim at offering communities with a platform to tell their stories of the culinary hub through digital and other means. Food scholar Jean Duruz recently remarked that a thorough collaborative history and ethnography of diasporic foodways involves not only “eating-together-in-difference” but working together (Duruz 2014). We have chosen to do so in the classroom by recognizing our students as co-investigators with shared authority. Students serve as an important access point into diasporic networks both through their families and through the engagement of local community -groups. This methodology means a slow (as in “slow food”) research process as our commitment and work with community organizations starts well beyond the moment of the interview and the seminar and grows beyond the scope of a historian’s traditional work to engage in finding active solutions to ensuring food security in the ethnoburb. In 2016, we participated in a project that facilitated food business strategies among Malvern home-cooks by giving them access to the UTSC kitchen facilities and weekly farmers’ market to establish their catering businesses while students set up their social media presence (UTSC Community Partnerships Report 2015). We identify a need for greater engagement between urban studies, digital scholars, and food studies scholars. Doing so successfully will require developing new ethnographic methodologies that allow shared storytelling and that harness collaborative digital tools to expand our perspective on what it means to eat and work together in the city’s evolving sensescapes of difference. We identify digital mapping as one of these tools as it allows us to unveil the relevance of histories and foodscapes often under-considered, from the growth of suburban ethnic malls to the life-work of a parent who is a restaurant worker, and in conjunction with oral histories and urban data collection, to document translocal ties of taste and memories. With students and community members as co-investigators, we con- tinue to curate research projects that map Scarborough as a culinary hub and make these narratives, often told within the family, available to the community at large as interactive visual and textual collages of roots and routes. We hope that our community and student co-investigators’ subject locations, as well as their stories, will prove valuable material for urban and food scholars as they explore how food and cities connect, bridge, attach, divide, and speak to people and communities. FOOD, CULTURE & SOCIETY 71

Notes 1. In 1998, the former City of Toronto was amalgamated with five other neighboring cities, including Scarborough. The term Greater Toronto Area (GTA) refers to the post-amalgamation City of Toronto as well as neighboring cities, and, increasingly, to commuter towns from where many students and workers in Scarborough and Toronto commute on a daily basis. 2. For more information on MANC, see, https://www.facebook.com/Malvern-Action-for- Neighborhood-Change-ANC-261903287255021. 3. Founded in 1976 by the migration and ethnic studies historian Robert F. Harney, the MHSO mandate is to collect, conserve, and chronicle histories of migration and the evolution of ethnicity, especially through oral histories. 4. Transcript of class assignment, available from authors; see also: http://neeela.weebly.com/ 5. Transcript of class assignment, available from authors; see also: http://neeela.weebly.com/. 6. The project can be seen here: https://www.utsc.utoronto.ca/digitalscholarship/culinaria/ mapping-scarborough-chinatown 7. The combined data for the 2015 Fall course can be consulted here: https://www.google.com/ fusiontables/DataSource?docid=1Notecgii7ubXM-eSTYrDDmsstb3ZRqFSSUauamD_#row s:id=1 8. See the Full map here: https://www.google.com/maps/d/u/0/viewer?mid=1iwJksqJ_MLPJN riRGWpvyLyzc60 9. See the full map here: https://www.google.com/maps/d/u/0/viewer?mid=1gh18hfwHJfPHn2L 5GL7ys1Kps4E

Acknowledgements The authors would like to thank the Digital Scholarship Unit at the University of Toronto Scarborough Library for its help with various digitization projects and student training, especially Lydia Zvyagintseva and Kim Pham. They are grateful to Adrian de Leon and Fateha Hossain of the Culinaria Research Centre, as well as Juneeja Varghese, Wynette Tavares, Raafia Siddiqui, Dania Ansari, Alex Dow, and the resident members of the MANC for their role in facilitating the Culinaria–MANC partnership. They acknowledge the crucial role of the student co-investigators who took part in this research via their participation in the GASD71 classes of 2014-15. A number of Culinaria student projects are available at: http://www.utsc.utoronto.ca/culinaria/student-project-showcase.

Disclosure statement No potential conflict of interest was reported by the authors.

Notes on contributors Camille Bégin is a public historian and a lecturer at the Culinaria Research Centre at the University of Toronto Scarborough. Her book, Taste of the Nation: The New Deal Search for America’s Food (University Press of Illinois, 2016) won the Association for the Studies of Food and Society 2017 Best Book Award. Her research on food and the senses in North American history explores the relationship between taste, race, and place to understand how past sensory experiences shape how we eat today. Jayeeta Sharma is an Associate Professor of History and Food Studies at the University of Toronto. She is cross-appointed to the Department for the Study of Religion, and the Asian Institute. Her research examines circulation and mobility, family and gender, families and foodways across local, imperial, and postcolonial spaces. The author of Empire’s Garden: Assam and the Making of India (Duke/ Permanent Black, 2011), she is writing a book on global circulation in the Himalayas, and researching another on cookbook public cultures. She is on the editorial board of Global Food History, the editorial collective for Radical History Review, and edits the Empires in Perspective Routledge book series. 72 C. BÉGIN AND J. SHARMA

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