The pre-judgments we make, and what happens when we are dead wrong about them

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My college friend who is in town this week is here with her boyfriend of 1.5 years. Her boyfriend is originally from India, did graduate work and work in New York for about nine years, and now lives in the Phoenix area. Given that he spent almost a decade living in New York City (different areas of Brooklyn), he knows it fairly well and told my friend he knew where to go and what the best places to eat were. My friend, who is also food obsessed, knows that I am food obsessive with both finding places to eat and cooking. So of course, she reached out to me for my recommendations for specific areas they’d spend time in. After I gave her a handful of recommendations for one or two neighborhoods, I sent her my entire NYC Google Map, which I am constantly updating (yes, really, pretty much every single day something is being added, edited, or removed at least once). This list, as of today, has 761 places across all five boroughs; yes, that’s right: all five boroughs. And when he saw her refer to this mysterious food map that I’d created, he got a bit jealous.

“What, are you really referring to your friend’s food map? her boyfriend said, rolling his eyes. “She lives in the Upper West Side. What would she know about Brooklyn food? Don’t you remember I lived here for nine years! I know the good spots!”

My friend was quick to put him in his place (I love this about this friend; she never fails to call out bullshit when she hears it and delights in telling people when they are wrong). “Umm, you clearly don’t know Yvonne at all,” she retorted. “She goes everywhere and knows all the places all over New York City. This list has over 700 spots across all the boroughs! Have you been to all these neighborhoods?! Plus, you moved away four years ago; a lot has changed since then!”

His friends they were staying with made similar comments, trying to dismiss anything that someone like me living on the Upper West Side could suggest. My friend was annoyed because she kept saying she wanted to eat Asian food, but all those friends did was take them to Italian-adjacent and American foods places. “I can eat this food in Phoenix!” she grumbled. “I want ASIAN FOOD!” Somehow, her preferences went mostly unheard.

While her boyfriend’s eyes did widen after he heard the 700+ spot comment, he still was not convinced. He wanted to box Chris and me into the “Upper West Side” box, as in, if we live here, we must not know much about any neighborhood outside of where we live (or work)… because why on earth would anyone want to leave their neighborhood and see other areas? And this is where he was glaringly, glaringly dead wrong about us.

On Wednesday when they mapped our address to come over for dinner, he immediately saw the Google map label that said our building was a “luxury building.” He looked at my friend and said, “Who the hell are these people?” And when he got to our lobby, checked in with the doorman, and went up the elevator, he made more comments like this, in shock and confusion of who the hell we were and what the hell we did for a living that would allow us to live in a “luxury building” like the one they’d be hanging out in for the next nearly five hours.

So over the course of their time at our place, somehow all his assumptions were proven wrong — about Chris, about me, about what it means for people like us to live on the Upper West Side of New York and what that may say about who we are as individuals and what we like, dislike, and believe in. He ate my food. He drank Chris’s whisky and wine. He laughed at our commentary and banter and engaged with us. He had a good time and felt like himself. And on their hour-long commute back to his friend’s place in Brooklyn with my friend, he said he liked us a lot and perhaps the greatest praise of all you can give to your girlfriend’s friends: “They’re my kind of people.”

It’s always fun when assumptions are proven wrong, isn’t it?

The Halloween surprise package for Kaia that made mama’s heart swell

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One of the friends I was planning to see while in San Francisco in August ended up having to cancel last minute. Her brother, who lives with her, had tested positive for COVID, and given their proximity, she figured she could possibly also have it and didn’t want to risk spreading it. I was really sad to not see her since that would mean I would not have any chance to see her in 2025 outside of this. But I knew she was just being prudent. A few days later, she actually developed COVID symptoms so bad that she had to take a few days off work, so it was a smart call in the end. The last thing I would want to deal with is having COVID again after my 2022 experience with it. Plus, the following week Kaia would have started Pre-K, and we wouldn’t have wanted her to miss her first days of preschool.

My friend told me that she had all these gifts she had gotten for Kaia that she’d originally planned to give us in person, but given she wasn’t going to see her, she would send them. She messaged me this week with the tracking number, and it arrived today. When I opened it, I was a bit overwhelmed with how many things were in here, plus the sheer variety of gifts: A Disney picture matching set, a wooden Peppa Pig dress up kit, a Halloween spooky sticker face decorating kit, three Halloween themed books that include Peppa Pig and Pookie (by Sandra Bounton), a card for Kaia wishing her a happy Halloween and apologizing for not being able to see her in person when were in San Francisco, plus some matcha and cookie treats (for Chris and me) from her recent Japan trip.

I laid out all the gifts and took a picture of them together. And then, out of nowhere, I suddenly felt like my heart was swelling. I smiled looking down at all these presents so thoughtfully chosen and purchased by my college friend for my sweet baby, and it just made me feel this intense sense of gratitude and joy. First, I knew that my friend took time (and spent money) to choose all these gifts; they were not hastily thrown together. Second, I was positive Kaia would love all of them. And it just made me feel so happy, so grateful to know that I have a friend this thoughtful, and that my Kaia Pookie would be so happy about these gifts. In the book I just finished reading, The Book of Joy by the Dalai Lama and Desmond Tutu, they mention the concept of “mudita,” which is a Buddhist term for being happy for others’ happiness. It is a Sanskrit word that translates to “appreciative joy” or “sympathetic” joy and involves delighting in good fortune and happiness of others without jealousy or envy. Mudita is considered one of the “Four Sublime States” or immeasurables in Buddhism, along with loving-kindness, compassion, and equanimity (it is the opposite of schadenfreude, which is the feeling of pleasure at another’s misfortune). In the moment I opened this package, it was like mudita swept all over me. I just couldn’t stop smiling and thinking about happy this would make my baby.

I also just felt this overwhelming sense of gratitude for the friends I have. My college friend visiting this week showered Kaia with special presents especially curated just for her — super sparkly, colorful, and blingy. Then, this second college friend basically did the exact same thing via mail. I’m so touched that after all these years, not only are they still my friends, but they think of my little daughter and want to give her things that will delight her. Before I had Kaia and became a mother, i’d always heard of the term “heart swelling,” but I never knew what the feeling was like. And now that I have her in my life, it’s like my heart swells all the time — at things she says, does, and learns, and also seeing how much love, kindness, generosity, and grace those around us shower her with.

College friend is in town and immediately makes nice with Kaia

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One of my college friends is in town this week for her cousin’s wedding, and she’s brought along her boyfriend of the last 1.5 years. We haven’t seen each other since her second wedding, which happened in March 2017. Since then, she’s had a baby and been through a pretty nasty divorce. Her baby is now 6; mine is almost 4. A lot has changed in both of our lives since we last saw each other in person. But it felt so good to stay connected to her all these years and finally see her again. She said she was excited to see me again, but honestly even more excited to finally meet Kaia. And of course, she made sure that Kaia would like her right away by coming and bearing gifts for the little Pookie.

My friend showed up with a glittery rainbow purse, sequined, multicolored unicorn slippers, and a set of rainbow pencils. Kaia was smitten almost immediately and wanted all the things. She usually doesn’t want other people in the room when one of her parents is reading bedtime stories with her. But with Ellis, she insisted she sit with us while reading on her bed. This was definitely a first: Kaia doesn’t even really like it when Chris’s parents are there at bedtime. So clearly my friend did something right. It was fun to see their smooth interactions and how my friend entertained Kaia, but with an adult-like conversational approach.

Kaia asked multiple times if our friends would stay or go home. And I said that they’d go home, but maybe if we’re lucky, she can see them again. Kaia said she definitely wanted to see them again.

Spicy cumin beef at home

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It may have been college when I learned that in areas like Xinjiang and Xi’An, China, that cumin paired with red meat like beef and lamb is common. The very first time I had cumin lamb I am actually unsure of. But when I first went to Xi’An Famous Foods in its original dinky stall in the Golden Mall in Flushing, Queens, way back in August 2008 (shortly after I moved to New York), my mouth and my brain were excited. I got lots of tingles from the liberal use of freshly ground Sichuanese peppercorns. I tasted a strong hit of cumin from the cumin lamb in the cumin lamb burger. And the hot and numbing noodles were lip-smackingly delicious.

I am not sure how it took over 17 years for me to finally pair cumin with meat at home, but here I am this afternoon, between work and calls, casually braising a pot of spicy cumin beef. The entire apartment smells like cumin. I can even smell it on my bathroom towels (I forgot to close all the doors, which really I should have known better to have done… but it slipped my mind).

After two hours of braising and reducing the braising liquid, I fished out a piece of beef and cut into it with a fork. It was fork tender, hot and numbing, and perfect. After my milk bread victory just a couple days ago, I felt even more self-satisfied knowing that my first attempt at spicy cumin beef over wavy knife-cut noodles (previously sun-dried) would be a success. I’m having an out-of-town friend over for dinner tomorrow with her boyfriend, and I’ll be serving this with kao fu (Shanghainese style seitan and mushrooms), Sichuanese spicy cucumber salad, blanched yu choy, and finishing with a French apple cake to welcome in autumn. I’m so excited!

Japanese milk bread, take two

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During the height of the pandemic, I saw so many recipes that either were for Japanese milk bread or included Japanese milk bread that I decided to try to make it. Unfortunately, lines at the grocery stores were long, and almost all milk bread recipes require bread flour for increased protein and gluten formation. I had only all-purpose flour and didn’t really want to line up just to get bread flour, so I tried my hand at making this with just all-purpose flour. Well, it didn’t turn out great: the dough got over proofed, it looked lopsided, and finally, the texture, while good, was nothing like the feathery, airy-light poofiness that makes Japanese (or Hokkaido) milk bread so famous. I had made a bread loaf, but it certainly was not anything that resembled a real Japanese milk bread loaf. I felt sad and decided I’d revisit it later when I got my hands on bread flour.

Then fast forward about five years (long wait, but a lot happened since then, including IVF and Kaia Pookie!). Earlier this year, I was able to get King Arthur bread flour on sale at Whole Foods, which I originally used to make two batches of hot cross buns. I knew another recipe I wanted to try out again was Hokkaido milk bread. And this time, I was properly equipped: I had the bread flour, the instant yeast (versus the dry active yeast, which would require an annoying extra step of scalding the milk), plus milk powder (which I originally bought and used to make gulab jamun nut bread). On Sunday night, I made the dough with the tangzhong, which is an Asian (people argue whether it was Japanese or Taiwanese first) bread making technique where a small portion of the flour and liquid (usually milk and water) is cooked into a paste before being added to the main dough. This pre-gelantinizes the flour’s startches, which then allows them to absorb more water. This ultimately results in a softer, more tender dough and bread that stays fresh, light, and fluffy for a longer time compared to bread without the tangzhong method. I proofed it overnight in the fridge. Then in the morning, I rolled it out and into my bread pan. I wasn’t sure if it rose enough or why it didn’t seem to rise at all in the fridge, but the recipe did note that this dough would not double (like most yeast doughs) when rising. When I checked the dough in the pan after an hour, I did see that it filled out the pan, so that was good news that my yeast was doing its job. I brushed it with milk, then baked it for about 32 minutes, and out came this gorgeous, poofy, lightly golden brown milk bread loaf. It already looked and smelled so much better than the one I attempted five years ago.

I sliced a couple pieces off my milk bread loaf for lunch for Chris and me, and I had mine with guava jam. To be totally honest, I felt so self satisfied when cutting into the loaf and seeing the crumb, and even more so when I took my first bite. It was like the perfect milk bread: feathery, airy, light, a tiny bit sweet, and pillowy. And even better: it was 100 percent homemade with no artificial ingredients or preservatives. And when I think about it, it really wasn’t that tedious to make at all, especially when you factor in doing the first proof (rise) overnight in the fridge. Making bread always gives me a high level of satisfaction, and even more so when it’s a bread that has been a challenge in the past. I will definitely be making this again soon!

I love people who read

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Today’s plans changed pretty drastically once I found out the AFSP OOTD walk was postponed, so I ended up having a lot more free time than I’d planned for. I did a bit of cooking during the day, and later in the afternoon, I messaged our neighbor friend and toddler who we spent time out with last Sunday to see if they wanted to hang out. We went from the play room to their apartment and then back downstairs to the lounge room over the course of two hours. For the most part, the kids were able to play together independently without involving us, and us two adults were able to chat about everything from travel to language learning/acquisition to one of my favorite topics: books! One thing (of many) I miss about being in a school environment is talking about what people around me are reading. I don’t have a lot of friends who read a lot — maybe just two or three who actively read and can always say they are reading something. But I love when I learn that people read, and I love it when people ask me what I am reading (which then means I can ask them what they are reading and potentially get book recommendations that I otherwise would not have known about or even considered). What we choose to read says a lot about us, and at its most surface level, it shows that we are curious and want to learn more about things that are not just ourselves.

I told her I was currently reading the Dalai Lama and Desmond Tutu’s The Book of Joy. But this past year, I read a lot of historical fiction about the Vietnam (American) War, the Cultural Revolution in China, and the Partition of British India into Pakistan and India. In the book about the partitioning of British India into Pakistan and India, one of the book’s main characters makes commentary about how ridiculous, stupid, and inward looking American news media is. During that period in the mid to late 1940s, she was studying and then working in the U.S. as an immigrant from India, and it was virtually impossible for her to learn anything that was happening in her home country despite the massive changes, cultural/religious violence, and India becoming independent. What she learned that was actually happening in the country was only through letters that came (much delayed) from her family. Sadly, this is not quite far from the truth today: U.S. media is always so focused on… what’s happening in the U.S., ally countries of the U.S. It’s always about what happens here, and if you want to learn about anything happening in other countries, it’s 100 percent on you. We talked about the media, and that transitioned into how she’s been working on her French, and one way she gets better in her French language acquisition is by reading… graphic novels! I was so intrigued when I heard this; I know no one who reads graphic novels. The last graphic novel I read was when I was in high school, and it was Persepolis, a book often compared to Art Spiegelman’s Maus. While Maus tells the story of World War II through the lens of the author’s father, who was a Polish Jew and a Holocaust survivor, Persepolis tells the story of the Iranian Revolution through the lens of the author herself and her own experiences. When I told her this, she told me that Persepolis (in French, its original published language) was next on her list! She reminded me what I learned during my four years of French language and culture in high school: graphic novels aren’t a big thing (they are barely known at all!) in the U.S,, but in France, they are huge. There are entire bookstores devoted to graphic novels in France, and they are truly considered (and some are even priced as) works of art! She said it was easier for her to follow a graphic novel and improve her French than an actual novel (very difficult for obvious reasons), and not only was she able to enjoy the art and the story, it helped her improve her language skills. This almost made me want to read Persepolis again. I even have a hard copy of this book at my parents’ place.

After our time ended together and I had to get Kaia back home for dinner, she thanked me for our time together and said that while she’s happy that Kaia and Hugo love each other so much and get along well, she’s even happier that she met me and that we’ve gotten to know each other well over the last few months. I would agree; she has definitely surprised and intrigued me in ways that get my mind thinking more. That is the true beauty of friendship and getting to know others who grew up completely differently than you.

The Nor’easter that postponed this year’s AFSP Out of the Darkness Manhattan walk

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On our Wednesday evening Walk committee call, everyone was wondering about whether we should be postponing the Manhattan walk this Sunday given the weather report citing a Nor’easter on its way to us. For those who are not located in the northeast of the U.S., a “nor’easter” is a large-scale extratropical cyclone in the western North Atlantic Ocean. The name comes from the direction of the winds that blow from the northeast. Usually, storms like this go for over a hundred miles and can result in flight delays/cancellations, as well as large wind and flooding advisories. Every time you hear about this in the news, it’s probably a good idea to stay indoors and not be walking along a waterfront in lower Manhattan. On that evening, we said we would still have the event, rain or shine… until the city came to us and strongly advised us to postpone the walk until November 9 due to wind and flooding advisories. Since the Walk would be on the waterfront at Pier 16/17 at the Seaport, it was just too risky to put all of our volunteers and walkers in a potentially messy weather situation. It was likely a good call; I wasn’t sure how many people would come with the nor’easter in the weather report. Plus, this is actually Columbus Day/Indigenous People’s Day weekend, so many people who would have attended the walk were already planning to be out of town. We’ll be in town November 9, so when our co-chair called to let me know, I told him we’d still be at the postponed event next month.

All I could think when I saw the weather reports about the impending nor’easter was: how ridiculous is it that I’ve been participating in this same walk for the last 12 years, and this is the first year that weather is a problem. There were only two years when I was not physically there: the first was 2020 when the walk was completely virtual due to COVID-19 precautions. The second time was in 2022 when Chris and I had a communication snafu, and he booked an autumn Delaware road trip the same weekend as the Manhattan walk. So the one year I finally join the Walk committee and am officially volunteering at the event, it gets postponed due to weather. Oh well – c’est la vie.

Either way, we still had our usual Saturday outing. We spent the grey, drizzly day in Park Slope indulging in handmade campanelle pasta, a number of Chinese-French fusion pastries at our beloved Breadivore, and then admiring all the Halloween decorations already up at many of the neighborhood brownstones. Once the weather cleared up a bit later in the afternoon, Kaia spent time running and climbing at the huge Washington Park Playground in the ‘hood while I explored the tents at the fiber (yarn!) festival surrounding it. I’m still happy the walk is postponed as opposed to cancelled. I’m proud of the two TV segments I got to be on to represent AFSP and share why I walk. So regardless, this year’s participation is definitely a win for me personally — and the walk hasn’t even happened yet!

When OMNY card fails, mass pandemonium erupts, and two teenage boys save the day

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I went to pick up Kaia from school this late afternoon, and as usual, I walked her one block over from her school to the Grand Street B/D subway station so we could head home. Before I even got into the station, I knew something seemed off: there were huge crowds of people trying to get in. When we descended the stairs, something seemed very, very wrong: all of these people were trying to scan in with their OMNY cards to get through the turnstiles, and it just wasn’t working. All I saw were error messages and red flashes, indicating the turnstiles weren’t letting people in. I observed several people ahead of me, who tapped their OMNY cards so many times and failed that they gave up and just tapped their phones to pay because that looked like the only thing that worked for people. People were complaining loudly that OMNY cards weren’t being recognized; the MTA guy behind the counter was doing zilch to help (and sadly, even if he wanted to, he’d likely be powerless to help). I wasn’t sure what I was going to do. Everyone ahead of me only scanned in and got through because they tapped to pay. And I did NOT want to tap to pay. Chris already mentioned that OMNY had an outage earlier this week, which resulted in him having to renew our weekly pass one day earlier. We hate losing out on money we spent. When I finally reached the front of the turnstile, my card did not work. It wasn’t even registering that something was being scanned. I tapped it at least 10 times, and still nothing.

Kaia had no idea what was going on, so as per usual, she ducked under the turnstile ahead of me and started heading towards the stairs to the uptown track. I called out to her to wait for me. She kept looking back to see what was going on and even asked a few times, “What happened?” I continued calling out to her after tapping another 10 times (no exaggeration) to please wait for me. But then when I poked my head over to see her, I noticed there were two teenage boys — they could not have been any older than 15 — who were hovering over her and telling her to wait for her mommy. One of them tapped her shoulder and said, “You can’t go! You have to wait for mommy to come.” I was immediately so touched; they were watching over Kaia because they saw that I didn’t get through with my card, and they were concerned for her safety. I yelled out to thank them, but then also told Kaia to come back with me so I could figure out the card and not have to inconvenience the boys from getting to where they needed to go. She initially pouted but came, and then the boys went down the stairs to wait for the train. Maybe on the 21st or 22nd tap, my OMNY card finally (and luckily) registered, and I was able to get through. When we got down to the stairs to wait for the B/D going uptown, I saw the two boys again and thanked them profusely for looking out for Kaia while I was occupied. They waved me off and commented on how cute Kaia was.

As a person living in New York City for over 17 years, I have always believed that the vast majority of people here mean well and look out for others. I’ve had countless times when people have been incredibly kind to Kaia and me, and it’s always given me a little more faith and hope in humankind. Usually, though, when these kind moments have happened, it’s always been other adults, both men and women. But in this instance, it was two boys who were either pre-pubescent or just going through puberty who really shocked me with their maturity and concern. I don’t know who their parents are or what communities they have grown up in, but I just felt this deep gratitude to whoever raised them to be kind, caring, concerned citizens of the world. I wish I could have shared this story with their parents or caregivers, but I hope whoever they are that someone is telling them that they are doing a truly amazing job; their boys are truly good humans, and I have a feeling they will grow up to be truly good, well meaning men.

CBS News New York Livestream covering the AFSP Out of the Darkness Manhattan walk this Sunday

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After the live segment the AFSP Manhattan walk co-chair and I did on Saturday, we were informed yesterday that they’d like us to come back for the CBS News New York live stream. It was a bit chaotic in the last 24 hours because the date and time of recording kept changing; we weren’t sure if it was going to be filmed today or Friday. Plus, the volunteer manager and I (the ones who were asked this time) both have day jobs obviously, so we had to coordinate our work schedules on top of the changing filming schedule.

I arrived at the CBS Studio at 9:45 this morning and waited for our volunteer manager to arrive. When he did, we noticed that they had just sent the interview questions about thirty minutes before. And when we finally started recording at 10:15, I realized that the questions were not exactly what was shared. I was a bit thrown off and stumbled a little bit during one of my answers, but eventually picked myself up and kept speaking. I kept thinking to myself after: how funny it is that during the live segment, I spoke fairly well, yet during the pre-recorded taped segment, I stumbled! That was so annoying to me. We were reassured that because this was being taped and not airing live, we didn’t need to worry about any stumbles, that they would cut/edit it so we all looked and sounded good.

When we finished our segment, the director stopped filming. Cindy Hsu, the news anchor who interviewed us, is also on the board of AFSP, and she was really great to work with. She was warm and friendly as soon as we got on the stage. We made some small talk before and after about AFSP and our families. She took photos with us and also did a cute little social media video for each of us on her phone.

CBS News would also be present at the walk on Sunday, likely interviewing AFSP volunteers and participants every hour starting at 9am, and our executive director asked that I also speak with them there. I figure that will be a lot more ad hoc and casual since it will be at the event, and so I don’t have any pressure to look or feel polished. All in all, both TV experiences this week were completely unexpected a month ago, and it was a fun way to mix up my usual week to week routine. Now, I can always look back on this and say that I was on live and pre-recorded TV!

Parent-child events at school, and the disappointment when a parent does not come

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When Kaia started going to her current school, the admins let us know that about once a month, they’d have events where they’d invite parents to participate. It could be arts and crafts, story telling/reading, or holiday/seasonal events like Mid-Autumn Moon Festival, Thanksgiving, or Lunar New Year. For some events, it would be a “lottery” as to which two caregivers could come. Other events would be open to all parents. When they told us this, I figured we would make sure to go to all the major events, and the “lottery’ events, we’d occasionally throw our hat in. I’m lucky that my job is flexible enough for me to do this.

Well, our school isn’t the best at planning ahead. With Mid-Autumn Moon Festival this past Monday, we were told just the Friday before that they’d host a moon festival tea inviting all caregivers in the late morning Monday. I had just asked the admin about this the day before, and she told me they weren’t planning anything. So it was really frustrating to hear that this was happening so last minute. I had already planned a Monday afternoon dentist appointment, and Chris had his calls lined up, so neither of us would be able to go with such little notice. In a class of three, both of Kaia’s other classmates had a parent or grandparent come. When I brought Kaia home Monday early evening, Chris asked her who came to the tea. She reported back (in full, complete sentences) that, “Aidan’s dad came, Bobby’s grandpa came… but no one came for me.” And then she kept repeating that “no one came for me” over and over and over. And I just couldn’t help but “awwwwwww” at that. I did feel a little bad, but it was just too last minute! And of course, you can’t really explain that in terms that an almost-four-year-old will understand.

I still remember going to the Lunar New Year performance and party last January, and one of the kids was crying almost the entire lunch period because he saw almost every other child had a caregiver come for them, but no one came for him. And I felt so terrible. I hoped that Chris or I would always be able to come to these events to support our Pookie Bear. And then, this happened where Pookster got so upset that “no one came for me.”

The mom guilt is real. But Pookster eventually got over it (we think) because Chris offered her an All Naturals jelly belly. So there’s that.