gather round

The secret ingredient in Philadelphia's lauded food scene? The empathy of the locals behind it

- Osayi Endolyn

You could call it the perfect Philly afternoon. The weather at Franklin Delano Roosevelt Park one Saturday last spring was damp, drizzly, and gray, but no one at the Southeast Asian Market cared. There was too much-fresh-pressed sugarcane juice, papaya salad, charcoal-grilled chicken hearts on a stick, crab-fried rice, shave ice in countless flavors, and noodles upon noodles to be bothered by a little rain. Assorted languages flowed as groups of senior citizens and families with infants milled about the vendors. A quintuplet of teenage girls in black, white, and gray '90s-era hip-hop-meets-grunge outfits performed a choreographed dance to K-pop with age-appropriate enthusiasm on a covered stage. A vendor waited attentively as an elderly auntie adjusted her order from 15 to 17 to no, wait-she turned to consult with her friend and count heads-21 lumpia.

At the SEA Market, nationally renowned for its robust and accessible food culture, you shop by sight and scent; most visitors don't bother to find a picnic table lest they overlook the next delight. The venerable market, like the rest of Philadelphia's current food scene, is the outcome of decades of community building and a growing appreciation for the city's indie spirit. For curious travelers seeking to understand a city's story, the way it feeds itself-from what goes on the plate to cultural nourishment in all its forms-is a reliable place to start. In many ways Philly is at a crossroads. Philadelphians, like the rest of America, are confronting complex problems, and food is increasingly a platform for helping people made vulnerable by systemic issues rooted in racism and poverty. It is in part because of these challenges that Philly today is such a pleasurable and dynamic place to visit. Philadelphians in hospitality and the arts have mastered the ability to create spaces for everyone else.