"McDonald’s Was Our Lifeboat"

An Uong's family made the immigrant journey from Vietnam to Glendale, California and writes a touchingly complicated love letter to, of all places, McDonald's:

"At home, our family of four gathered around the coffee table as I unpacked the sandwiches one at a time. I went for the McChickens, preferring breaded chicken breast to shrunken beef patty. Peeling apart the damp wrapper revealed a toasted bun, lightly peppered chicken, shredded lettuce, and mayo — a combination that still tugs at my appetite today. My dad’s favorite was the cheeseburger, though he scraped off each pickle slice before taking a bite. By the end of our McDonald’s meals, there was always a small mound of pickles in front of him. My mom and brother were less picky, eating both without complaints. We never ordered sodas at McDonald’s, because according to my parents, why spend more when the 99 Cents Only Store sold 2-liter bottles for less? Plus, McDonald’s didn’t serve our favorite, orange Crush.

The Dollar Menu was a tradition most Sundays, especially when our supply of Vietnamese ingredients was low and we were still planning our next bus trip to Chinatown. We went once a month with our metal cart in tow, and since no one in the family knew how to drive (no one does still), the 20-minute trip turned into an hourlong journey from our corner of the San Fernando Valley toward Downtown Los Angeles, where Chinatown awaited us with more familiar grocery stores and food stands. My family settled in Glendale when I was 4 and Kenny still hadn’t been born, and a part of me has always wondered how our lives might have been different if we had moved to Chinatown after arriving in America."

Questions of what makes one type of food more "authentic" than another are always loaded, so I love how this story complicates the idea that trashy American fast food can't sometimes become, in fact, its own kind of a much needed cultural embrace.  Read the whole thing, of course.