Author Archives: Yvonne

Fragrance testing with my Kaia Pookie

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After last weekend when we had a social engagement Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, we also had a bit going on this weekend given that I had a scavenger hunt Saturday afternoon, plus dinner and a show with Chris and friends after. But I got some quiet respite today on Sunday since we had zero plans, and that’s exactly what I wanted after last weekend. The only thing on my calendar was a Hep B booster shot at the pharmacy a couple blocks away in the afternoon. Other than that, it would be yoga in the morning for me, some light vegetable prep and cooking, and time with the Pookster.

Pookster really didn’t want me to go to get my vaccine by myself; she insisted that she come with me. So even before I grabbed my purse, she already had put her shoes on and was standing in the doorway waiting to go with me. So, we went to CVS together. She stood by and held me while she watched the pharmacist give me the HepB vaccine (it’s a tiny bit painful since the needle is thicker). I even saw her wince when the needle went in, and she had this clear look of pain/sadness that swept over her face after. Once the pharmacist cleaned up, put on a band-aid, and left, Kaia looked at my arm and squeezed me close.

“Mama, does it hurt?” she asked me, looking fearful.

“It’s okay, Pookie!” I insisted to her. “All done now. Want to do something special and fun you’ve never done before?”

Her eyes twinkled, and of course, I am sure she thought about candy or ice cream. But no, I had different plans.

I was reading about some different “natural” fragrances that were available at Sephora, but I hadn’t made the time to go test them out until today. I brought her into the store, and she immediately voiced her disappointment. “I don’t want to be here — there’s nothing special here!” she whined. I told her that she would be able to smell some special things, and she loves smelling things!

We got to the fragrance wall, and we tested out about 10-12 different fragrances. I made a game of it, asking her which one smelled like what. And Kaia got really into it. She said one smelled like roses. Another smelled like apple. Another perfume smelled like vanilla — “Oooh, yummy!” And one she really liked was like a peach scent!

“Can we eat this?” she looked at me, with a huge smile on her face.

“No, Pooks, this is just for smelling,” I told her, tapping her nose. “This is to put on your body to smell nice. Everyone wants to smell nice! You know how I always say you are ‘fragrant’? This could help Mama be fragrant!”

Sometimes, I look at her and I still cannot believe she’s growing up so quickly. This little Pookster is starting kindergarten in September, which is crazy to me how time flew. Doing these seemingly little but new experiences with her at every stage of her development always makes me happy because I love seeing how her face lights up and she realizes how fun something is that she wasn’t sure about. I knew she would like this even when she got mad — she always loves sniffing things. Smelling is adjacent to tasting, and she’s a taster!

Birthday scavenger hunt and “teamwork”

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A friend of mine celebrated his 48th birthday last Wednesday. This year is also his toshiotoko year, which means that he is a Year of the Horse baby, and this 48th birthday is the horse year! In Japanese culture, toshiotoko is considered lucky, while in Chinese culture (it’s called ben ming nian), it’s considered unlucky. Given his wife is Japanese from Japan, he thought he’d bring back group birthday celebrations and host a scavenger hunt and dinner for this zodiac birthday year. Unfortunately, I couldn’t make it because I’d already made dinner and show plans with other friends before I knew he was hosting this event, so I was able to go only to his scavenger hunt.

I wasn’t really sure what to expect from the scavenger hunt, so I tried to go in with an open mind. The last time I did one, I was in Atlanta hosting one for a customer, and well, it wasn’t done very well. My friend chose this company called Watson Adventures, which is rated very highly on multiple review platforms, plus by many large corporate clients who do scavenger hunts as team building activities. Our host Corey was really friendly and animated; he explained everything very thoroughly and was fun to work with. We split into two groups, and for about 90 minutes, we roamed the West Village area with very detailed instructions on which direction/street to go on, where to turn left or right, and what types of monuments or markers to look for. New York City’s history is so rich; pretty much every single street has some interesting factoid about it. The West Village is particularly famous for all of the great artists that have come out of it, so I got reminded of this during this experience.

While working with my three teammates on the scavenger hunt, I also got reminded pretty quickly of how passive aggressive and dismissive people can be of others based on absolutely nothing. We had one person on our team who would make annoying remarks constantly. I had a feeling I wasn’t going to like her when she went down the line of our group to inquire what we all did for a living and where we worked (because this was definitely integral knowledge in winning the scavenger hunt). One thing we could do to get bonus points was to take photos of our team at certain landmarks around the neighborhood, but we had to be doing specific actions or poses. I wasn’t sure if “team” meant it could just be part of the team, or it had to include all of us. I was the team leader, and I also ended up becoming the de facto photographer.

We had to pose to create numbers, and I was trying to selfie all four of us, which was really awkward. I decided not to be in the photo because we just would not all fit, and I mumbled out loud, “How am I supposed to do this?” And Ms. Passive Aggressive (PA) said, “Well, you can take the photo!”

I glared at her. “I am taking the photo and trying to figure out how to get all of us in it,” I said in a steely tone back. “Not sure if that was obvious to you.” She zipped her lip.

Then, we got to an awkward point of the location questions where we were walking on Minetta Lane, but we had to turn on Minetta Street (gotta love this about the West Village). The question context explicitly said the plaque we needed to look for was on Minetta Street, not Minetta Lane. None of us could find it. We were stumped and kept walking back and forth on Minetta Street. Ms. PA was hell bent that we read it wrong (even though we were all reading from the same damn screen) and insisted that the plaque was on Minetta Lane.

“It says Minetta Street,” I said to her multiple times, along with the two other teammates. “It is not Minetta Lane! We are reading from the same description!” She kept refusing to leave Minetta Lane and kept telling us we were wrong to turn on Minetta Street — just like the scavenger hunt directions said.

We eventually did find the plaque, which was actually removed (we had to report this) — on Minetta Street. She said nothing when we found the real home of the plaque.

In friend groups, as in work settings and offices, all it takes is one bad apple to ruin things for your enjoyment. But luckily, once that Minetta Street incident happened, the two other teammates and I banded together and basically ignored most of what Ms. PA said — which also meant we won the scavenger hunt. There were multiple times if we listened to her that we would have gotten dinged for incorrect answers, so it was good that we toughened up and just decided we were deaf to her. That’s what it takes to win sometimes.

Resume writing, interviewing, and the job market

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I’m currently in my sixth year at my current company, which for me and most people in my generation, is a long time to stay at one employer. Before I worked at my current company, my longest tenure at a single place was four years, three months. That sounds kind of sad when you share this with people like my parents, who worked at their respective companies for 20-26-plus years. But in our generation, most people tend to switch jobs every two to four years. There’s no real incentive to stay loyal to one company because there’s zero promise at 99 percent of work places of things that my parents got to benefit from, which is… a pension. A pension is this mythical, beautiful thing of bygone days for most people in my age range. Plus, if you get a “merit-based raise” of about 2.5 to 3 percent staying at a current company, but could get 15 to 20 percent more by switching jobs, most people will choose the latter.

Over the years, I’ve had many prospective employers reach out to me via LinkedIn and direct email, asking if I was open to to roles. For the first couple years during the pandemic, my mind was not there at all: I had just started this role in the midst of the pandemic. I was trying to get pregnant (then got pregnant, and finally had a child), and was completely immersed in the early days of learning to raise a tiny human on less-than-optimal levels of sleep, while also pumping milk around the clock. I’ve had former colleagues reach out to see if I’d jump ship for their organizations; I told them I just wasn’t ready to even consider. My main focus was making sure my child had everything she needed to grow and thrive, and I liked the stability of knowing I had a decent job and the flexibility to maximize time with my child. But unfortunately, “stability” is not a real term in today’s workplace. Things are changing a lot pretty much every day, especially with AI taking over. I can’t really take for granted whatever feeling of “stability” I may erroneously be harboring in the back of my mind. So, I’ve leveraged the power of AI to help me update and revise my resume, do potential new company research, and help get me back in the game and mindset of being on the market, if even just casually for now. There’s really nothing I hate more than looking for, applying to, and interviewing for new roles — the vulnerability that you have for putting yourself out there, the idea of “selling” oneself, the uncertainty that it all brings because you never know what the corporate politics are at any given organization, or how well you will or will not get along with new colleagues you’ll need to collaborate with. But given it’s been almost six years, I probably do need to challenge myself more — get my brain working in different ways again, and stop staying within my comfort zone. Plus, I have the burden of needing to provide a steady income and health coverage for my entire family, so resting on my laurels in a state of flux is not the smartest thing to do.

The anxiety I am feeling of doing all this is real, though. I feel very rusty, out of practice, and need to carve out time to really reflect on my work accomplishments over the last six years and how I want to showcase that to a bunch of new strangers. Plus, I have to be more forward looking with all things AI. I guess this is what it’s like to be “out there” in the wild in 2026.

“Always learning”

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Even when you’ve been around people close to you for years and years, you never really fully, completely know anyone. Everyone has thoughts they keep to themselves, desires that are never discussed either because they don’t want to, they’re afraid to, or they don’t think anyone around them wants to hear about it. I’ve thought a lot about this in relation to pretty much anyone around me: my husband, my parents, my closest and longest standing friends, and friends I’ve made in the last several years. Sometimes, we get surprised when we hear someone likes something, and then we almost have this feeling as though we’re offended that we didn’t know it before. It’s a funny feeling or thing to hear. It has been more than once when I’ve heard Chris’s brother exclaim that he had no idea Chris liked x thing, or that their mom did whatever activity she did and he had no idea. I’ve also heard my friends express slight annoyance when they’ve found out that I did something they didn’t know about, or that I liked something else they were unaware of. What is unspoken when all these sentiments are expressed is, “Hey, I thought I knew you better than I did! I cannot believe that this is true about you… because I did not know it to be true!”

A friend wrote in my birthday card this year, “I’m looking forward to always learning more about each other.” And it was a sincere thought because although we’ve known each other for almost five years now and have had lots of conversations, I know for a fact that every time I see and chat with her, I learn something new about her (at least, new for me) that is interesting and/or unexpected. Just yesterday, she told me that before she got into research and writing, she thought she would be a painter; she was even enrolled at the School of Visual Arts and painted a lot in her late teens. I had no idea about this; it came up out of nowhere because she was texting me about interests she had earlier in her life that she’d like to revisit in the near future. But what that reminded me about was that I also really like art, and I miss learning about it and going to museums. The timing of this text conversation was kind of funny because I started thinking more about art since Saturday when we went to our friends’ house, where she had an inordinately large collection of very eclectic and beautiful prints and paintings from all over the place; all were framed, many were on walls, but even more were still on the floor, waiting to be hung up. And while we still do go to museums when we’re traveling, it’s a bit harder now with Kaia running around everywhere and preventing me from fully appreciating the art or reading all the descriptions.

So she suggested that when I come back from upcoming travels that we go see the Frida and Diego exhibit at the MoMA. And that excited me because I love Frida Kahlo (I am okay about Diego Rivera – that damn womanizer). And that sent me down the rabbit hole of looking at what other exhibitions are at the MoMA. This was when I learned about a temporarily exhibit about Wifredo Lam, a Cuban artist of Afro-Cuban/Chinese descent who stated that his art was “an act of decolonization.” His work is very Picasso-esque, but even more colorful and intense.

So, in my existing group of local friends, I’ve discovered very recently they are into art. And that means I now have people I can go see art exhibits with. Wee. We really are always learning about each other.

An unintended mini gymnastics show at the Chinese bakery – by me

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Running around after a tiny human is one of the many responsibilities you take on when you become a parent. And well, Kaia isn’t so tiny anymore and becoming bigger and bigger each day; she is a little human figuring out exactly how capable she is of everything, whether that is how fast her legs can take her, or how much she can manipulate her parents (usually me because I am the softie in this house). Yesterday morning when Chris took her to school, Kaia got envious when she saw several classmates be brought into the Chinese bakery next door to her school. She asked Chris if she could also have a bao; he immediately said no. And apparently, she immediately decided that she’d try to get her mama to take her after school when it was pickup time.

That is pretty much what played out: When I went to pick her up at 5pm, she asked if she could go to the bakery. I said I didn’t have any cash (half lie), so we couldn’t go. Kaia insisted that she “just wanted to take a look.” But then she started running around the place to stay out of my reach. And then we ran in a few circles… and then something happened that I did not quite predict. I got very unlucky and slipped on a part of the floor that was wet. And the fall was… quite memorable in that I got probably an inch away from doing the splits. To be fair, I am a pretty flexible person. In my natural state, I am approximately three inches away from truly, properly being able to do the splits. But, when this is pushed upon you because you have slipped or gotten into a compromised position– man, that hurt like crazy. As I tried to break the total split moment, I twisted my leg and banged my right knee pretty hard on the floor, so much to the point that I was limping the next block to the subway station.

Kaia had no idea what was wrong. She saw that I fell, but she had no idea what I was feeling. I told her that I hurt myself in the bakery, and it was because I was chasing her around. And I told her that my knee was hurt and I’d likely have a bruise on it today; so no more running in the bakery. She seemed a bit solemn and said nothing when I said this on the subway ride home yesterday.

This morning when I woke her up, she remembered. One of the first things she said to me after getting out of bed was, “Can I see your bruise?” while pointing at my right knee. Just so that everyone is aware, it’s actually not as ugly as I thought it would be: it’s a very faint green color.

So, yes. Pregnancy can be painful at times; I had really bad pregnancy sciatica for several very frustrating days around the 30-week mark. Childbirth, especially unmedicated as it was for me, was the most pain I’d ever experienced in my entire life. And well, apparently, the physical pain from having a child never quite goes away because it comes back in moments like these!

Rediscovering the glory of cooking with fresh lemongrass — all because of a very sharp knife

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At most, I cook with fresh lemongrass two to three times a year. You can’t buy it at a regular grocery store; if I need it, I pick it up from Hong Kong Supermarket or my Vietnamese market in Chinatown. There’s really no substitute for fresh lemongrass: it is bright, fresh, almost sweet, with very floral, minty, almost gingery and herbaceous notes. When you eat something with lemongrass, it stares at you in the face; subtlety is not a characteristic of this herb. Although I love this herb, I’ve historically found it really annoying to deal with. The edible part of the stalk is very hard, which means it can be difficult to cut, even with a sharp knife. If you look at guides for how to cut lemongrass, some of them even say that you should consider resharpening your knife after cutting lemongrass because the damn stalk can dull your blade!

But alas, with my fancy Shun knife that was gifted for my birthday, I have a super, duper sharp knife now. So when I picked up two lemongrass stalks to make some grilled Vietnamese lemongrass beef patties, I wondered how much easier it would be to cut these with this new knife. And lo and behold, this crazy sharp knife made a massive difference: not only did the knife slide through the tough stalk quicker and smoother, but every cut felt so easy! Who would have thought that the knife would truly make all the difference when it came to cutting this delicious herb?

So I finely minced the lemongrass and threw in some other aromatics, fish sauce, oyster sauce, black pepper, and some sugar. I added the minced beef, mixed it up, created meatballs, then flattened them for quicker cooking on the pan. And once I was done cooking, I took a bite of one of the meatballs: Yum. The lemongrass flavor was just singing! Few things beat this flavor for me. My new mental note to self is that I will definitely be cooking with lemongrass more often now that I have this knife, which has greatly improved my handling of literally tough ingredients like this herb. It really is true: oftentimes, your equipment makes all the difference when cooking!

Pupusas and sourdough conchas in Woodside, Queens

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I didn’t have any external meetings today, so I decided to meet up with a friend who is currently not working for lunch. Given she lives in Port Washington, we usually like to meet “halfway” in Queens somewhere. This time, we chose Woodside, which is getting more and more exciting from a food perspective by the minute. When I open my Google Maps and zoom in on Woodside, the first things I see are a modern Mexican bakery, a Salvadoran made-to-order pupusa shop, a Bolivian restaurant, and a Filipino bakery-cafe. Who could possibly not want this level of variety in a single neighborhood?!

We met up at a nondescript pupusa shop called Ricas Pupusas & Mas with just a few tables. When I arrived at 12:15, no one else was there, and no one else came until the time my friend and I were leaving at around 2:30. Our pupusas were made to order: super soft and oozy on the inside, with a really nice slightly crunchy griddle texture on the outside. With a nice tangy curtido (sour, fermented cabbage slaw), these were perfect little bites. Every time I have pupusas, I wonder how anyone could possibly not like them — they’re so perfect and satisfying. And even if you don’t eat meat, you would definitely be deeply satisfied by the ones with the refried beans, cheese, or the loroco (edible green/white flowers native to Central America).

Afterwards, we stopped by Masa Madre, which I’ve had on my list for a while. They’re known for their sourdough conchas pastries, which are Mexican pan dulce (sweet breads) that are soft and fluffy on the inside, with a crunchy, shell-patterned sugar crust on the outside. Frankly, conchas can be hit or miss: the worst ones have zero crunch on the outside and are too dry on the inside (especially without a coffee or tea in hand!). The best ones are airy and light on the inside, with a faintly sweet sugary crust on the outside. The vanilla and chocolate conchas at Masa Madre are unique because they are actually made of sourdough, so naturally leavened, which is not the norm. And when you bite into it, you can totally tell the difference with the crumb: it’s a lot fluffier and more pillowy. Now that I’ve had this sourdough concha, I am not sure that I can go back to any old commercially leavened concha anymore. They may be ruined forever for me by Masa Madre’s cloud-like sourdough conchas.

The friend who came with me also picked up two conchas to bring home. Before the day had ended, she said she had already eaten BOTH of them (and shared some bites with her two kids). That’s how good these babies are!

The elusive chai I keep chasing in NYC

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Ever since I had my very first sip of chai as a high schooler, I was in love. There are many delicious hot drinks you can have, but I think chai — the Indian spiced milky tea, not just tea, is one of the most comforting ones. There was a period several years ago when I splurged a bit and would buy The Chai Box chai (their Punjaban Party blend is my all-time favorite!), but that ended up becoming very expensive. So, I decided to start trying to blend my own. It’s actually worked out pretty well: I’ve gotten to the point where I add just enough ginger, cardamom, fennel, and clove to my tea (mostly CTC, with a little Ceylon BOPF) and have been able to replicate the exact flavor I want. The chai is always double boiled; it’s not chai to me unless it’s double boiled. And I add about half a teaspoon of sugar per cup of liquid to help even out any bitterness that comes from the tea being so vigorously boiled.

Unfortunately for me, I have yet to identify a single place in New York City that makes chai the way I want it. I’ve found places in Melbourne that do it with the flavor I want, but not here. Kolkata Chai, which has expanded quite a bit, is good, but the flavor is still not the way I want it. The flavor I am chasing is like the one we had all over India, which definitely leans toward Punjabi style chai, like The Chai Box’s Punjaban Party blend. The biggest problem is that the chai made at shops all over here are just too strong on the cinnamon. Cinnamon is fine in chai, but I find it very overpowering to the point where I pretty much never add it to my own at home. I want a dominant ginger and cardamom flavor, first and foremost, with fennel and clove humming in the background. That’s my perfect cup of chai.

While I was at my friend’s house yesterday, she made all of us chai. She said it was mostly ginger, with a “hint” of cardamom. And it was absolutely delicious. I would personally prefer more cardamom, but I was just extremely thrilled and touched that anyone would take the time to double boil chai for me. In that moment of sipping it with the strong flavor of freshly grated ginger, it suddenly dawned on me that this was the very first time anyone has taken the time to double boil chai for me — ever . And I just felt so much gratitude in that moment.

Today, I took Kaia out on a play date to the Brooklyn Children’s Museum with our neighbor friend and her son. We had lunch together at an Indian-ish cafe nearby that I had been wanting to try. Even though I had that delicious homemade ginger chai yesterday, I still wanted more chai today (well, I want it every day, but that’s not realistic). So I ordered the signature masala chai at the cafe. It came out… and once again, it was too cinnamony. It was not as cinnamony as the last place I went to for chai in the Lower East Side, but it was just too much cinnamon. And then someone topped it with even more ground cinnamon just before it was handed to me! Can these places please stop doing this…?

I will keep trying and searching because I refuse to give up hope that my perfect cup exists out there in some shop in New York City. But in the meantime, I will also continue making my own perfect cup of chai at home about once a week. I deserve that little time for myself to indulge.

Hanging out in a real house in New York City

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Other than the Sambal Lady’s almost-annual backyard cookout event, Chris and I have never really been in a real house in the city limits of New York. I’ve been to some very spacious, near palatial condos and co-ops owned by much older Wellesley alums when I used to attend college alumnae events more often, but even then, they were still apartment buildings — not standalone houses. I know no one who owns a brownstone or full-family house in New York City. If someone I know owns a house nearby, it’s likely in Staten Island, Long Island, Westchester, or New Jersey. To date, no one I personally know, am related to, or am friends with owns a real house in New York City. People can barely afford apartments here, so who can really afford a standalone house?

Today, for the first time in my almost 18 years of being here, I visited a friend at her actual house that she moved into about 1.5 years ago, just shortly before we met. She invited the three of us over for a close friends get-together, which we subsequently found out was for one of the friend’s birthdays. The home is a standalone house in Prospect Lefferts Garden, Brooklyn — a four-bedroom, three-bath home with backyard and a backyard patio. There are four levels in the home, and before they moved in, it was gut renovated with mostly new flooring and appliances. As we got the house tour and I marveled over all the interesting fixtures, paintings, and knick-knacks in the house, I just kept thinking how impressive it is that they own a real house in New York City. They have clearly done well for themselves, and I could see their personalities and little touches of each of them all over the home. It felt very welcoming and homely.

One of the questions I asked my friend, given that previously, she’d always lived in an apartment, was obvious (at least, for me): how the heck do she and her husband manage the cleaning? I live in a two-bedroom, two-bathroom apartment in Manhattan, and I already find the cleaning so infuriating: I wipe the dust off the toilet tank in the beginning of the morning. By the end of the day, if I were to run my finger across that same tank surface, there would be a tiny layer of dust! The dust is just never ending in New York!

Prior to moving to New York, she lived in various countries, and her family always had hired help. She was never expected to clean; the most she said she ever did was make sure clothes were removed from areas like her bed or sofas. So she said the answer was obvious: hired help! Every other week, she has a housekeeper come and spend almost the whole day cleaning the house, from top to bottom, floor to floor. She said it would be completely untenable otherwise because they’d just be constantly cleaning everything.

The more house, the more cleaning; I know that sounds a bit crazy that I’d think of that first, but this is what happens when you have an anal-retentive clean person looking at the sheer size of this space…

When your child-free friend befriends your child

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I invited a friend over for dinner tonight. She’s about to start a new job, so her schedule will soon no longer be as flexible as it once was to hang out with me. Plus, she wanted to try some of my fancy Chinese vinegars I got from Mala Market before forking the money over to buy some for herself, so I thought it would be a good time to have her over. I made Malaysian chicken satays with peanut sauce and sliced cucumbers, coconut rice, a Vietnamese cabbage salad, steamed beets, and roasted Georgian eggplant rolls with walnut paste (with my khmeli suneli!). It was a pretty tasty pan-Asian meal that everyone enjoyed.

Even though my friend is child-free and has pretty much decided she doesn’t want kids, she actually really enjoys spending time with littles. Not too long ago, she actually taught muay thai to young kids (mostly elementary school through high school) age, so she says she really enjoys the energy and honesty they bring. She says she enjoys kids, but just doesn’t want any of her own — that’s fair enough and pretty easy to understand. My friend spent a good amount of time entertaining Kaia before our Lunar New Year party began a couple weeks ago, so Kaia still remembered this auntie, and was very excited that she was coming over for dinner. Kaia practiced some martial arts moves with our friend, and also made sure she got her cardio workout in by chasing her back and forth in the apartment. Kaia was so pooped by the time our friend left that she passed out within minutes. The next morning, she kept asking about this auntie — how she got home, where she went, etc.

I’m lucky that most of my child-free friends genuinely enjoy spending time with Kaia and humoring her demanding, occasionally princessy side. A lot of people around my age complain about the child-free friends they have, saying they don’t want to spend time with their kids and just don’t enjoy children at all. I get that. But it’s also nice when your friends accept that your child is part of your life, and sometimes, hanging out with you also means by default at times, they’ll also have to hang out with your kid. I love that Kaia is building these relationships with my friends in my life — she has no idea how lucky she is to have so many aunties and uncles, not blood related, who care about her so much.