In a compact strip-mall boba shop in Los Angeles County’s San Gabriel Valley, red tables line the wall. They could make for an intimate date, or half a dozen teenagers could easily squeeze around one, clutching their bobas with one hand and phones with the other.
The last time I was at this place, in the city of Monterey Park, it was pre-pandemic. I dropped in with a friend while we were waiting for a table at the dumpling spot next door. It was like walking into a popular bar, with people crowding tables, pop music blasting, and everyone checking out the menu. My friend laughed and pointed out that someone had written on the chalkboard menu, “boba and chill.”
This time when I ordered, the host asked for my preferred level of sweetness.
It is an important question. It goes to why many people love, and a growing number of others expected press concern, about boba drinks, or bubble tea as they are also called. Researchers have recently sounded the alarm, calling boba “a burgeoning threat to adolescent health,” one “akin to soft drinks.” And years before recent studies of the popular drink, one San Gabriel Valley advocacy group started a campaign called Rethink Your Asian Drink (RYAD), to raise concerns about boba’s sugar content.