Homemade food: So under appreciated

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Since Kaia was a baby, I have been pretty maniacal about the food she has eaten and making sure the majority of what she is eating is homemade, made from scratch, and wholesome/healthy-ish. Then again, I suppose that even before her, I was maniacal about all that for myself. We really are what we eat; I believe that statement inside and out, and so I want to make sure that Kaia is eating mostly whole foods most of the time. Working from home and not needing to go into an office has made this very possible for us. If I had to be an an office four or five days a week, this definitely would not work out as well for us.

I remember during the early newborn days when cooking tasks that I consider basic and routine, like mincing garlic, seemed like such an annoying chore: that is how most people view cooking who do not like to cook. Every single additional step or ingredient is a chore, an annoyance, an inconvenience! So when I look back at my childhood and realized that almost every single night, Ed and I had something different to eat, something new, something homemade, I really think it was a true feat on the part of our mom (my dad only cooked occasionally, and it was more a hobby for him). She worked a miserable 9-5 job in an office five days a week, yet somehow managed to have dinner on the table ready for us by 6pm (she was also maniacal about getting on the express bus back home from downtown San Francisco!). Today, I just think that’s insane — real mom magic! I even told my mom this when I went back home in August. She half smiled and shrugged. “I have to take care of my family,” my mom said in response. It’s really that simple to her.

So when I made butternut squash soup today, which ended up becoming part of tonight’s dinner, Kaia whined and said she didn’t like it even before she had a bite. And all I could think was… ugh. Kids are inclined to be this way, to whine and whinge and decline things they don’t know or haven’t tasted. Their moods change with the wind. But she has no idea how much effort went into this soup: the bones-in-the-freezer saving, the Instant Pot pressure cooking, the (whole!) butternut squash needing washing, peeling, cutting, and cubing — just some of the steps to begin. That last part is such a chore that many people who eat butternut squash do not do any of that prep. They skip straight to the “buy butternut squash peeled and cubed” step (which I have never done even once in my life!). Then there’s the cutting and roasting of the carrot and squash, the dicing of the onions, more garlic slicing, sauteing and browning, simmering, BLENDING in a real blender (yes, really!). And then you end by simmering for a last time and adding extras like spices, a splash of milk, cream, or additional stock. THEN, IT IS FINALLY DONE. These autumnal soups are a labor of love; most soups are. But really, all homemade dishes are a labor of love that not everyone can appreciate, even in adulthood.

In the end, Kaia ate the whole bowl of butternut squash soup. She whined, but we could tell she enjoyed it. I am waiting for the day when she has other versions of food out there in the wild, and she comes home and tells me she prefers my version. I am still waiting patiently and eagerly.

Kaia’s first ring pop… and real lollipop experience

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After Kaia finished a bunch of English and 75 percent of this week’s Chinese homework today, I told her that as a reward, she could pick one piece of candy from yesterday’s trick-or-treating stash and eat it. Of course, she chose one of the two ring pops she got — this time, the “blue raspberry” one. She licked and sucked it and giggled and shrieked throughout. And as I watched her greatly enjoy this massive sticky ring on her finger, it dawned on me that this was her first real lollipop experience; she’s never had one before. She’s watched many other kids have them, but she herself has never enjoyed one. I showed her a mirror so she could see how blue her lips and tongue were turning from the blue ring pop, and of course, it completely delighted her. Kaia knows that we don’t allow candy, so this truly is a very special, very rare “treat” for her. She savored it until the very, very last lick. It was really cute for me to watch her enjoy and savor every bit of that teeth-rotting thing.

It’s funny to think about how permissive my parents were about my sugar consumption when I was the same age. I got to eat plenty of candy, chocolate, and ice cream all the time; I suppose my grandma didn’t help because she also had a sweet tooth, and she’d let Ed and me eat whatever she was eating. Then, she’d indulge us further by buying us candy at the corner stores nearby. We especially loved “sour power,” or the sugar-coated sour belts; even thinking and writing about them now still makes my mouth water a bit. My parents never brushed my teeth except with water until the age of 5 because I was so fussy with the toothpaste, so my mom just gave up (I think it’s a safe bet to say that my dad never attempted to brush my teeth… ever). Then I ended up with three cavities at my first dental visit at 5 years of age — what a surprise! So when I tell my mom that Kaia doesn’t get candy or almost any sweets unless it’s a shared dessert, she thinks I am being far too strict.

Well, times have changed. We need to protect our child’s teeth and physical health for long term benefits. We know a bit more now about the dangers of overconsumption of sugar versus back then. And so, it actually makes me feel quite proud to see how Kaia self polices herself with sweets, and how she knows what foods we approve (and don’t approve) of. I hope she keeps this up.

What Halloween and trick-or-treating means is very different depending on where you live

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Halloween means different things to different people across the U.S. (and world). I have some colleagues whose streets completely shut down in the suburbs for neighbor-sponsored parties of bouncy castles, haunted houses, games, food, and drink. Friends in San Francisco go house to house trick or treating, with some of their neighbors even redoing their garages for a mini-haunted house experience. Some go to adult-only Halloween parties where everyone dresses up. Others go to different neighborhoods to see what kinds of candy and fun will be available to them. Until I moved to New York, I had no idea that high-rise, doorman buildings like ours did their own version of trick or treating: they would have participating residents sign up for their unit and time slot they’d welcome trick-or-treaters, Some buildings even do their own lavish decorations in their entrances and lobbies as I’ve seen a few times this year.

In the last two years, we took Kaia trick or treating just in our building. Two years ago, she didn’t quite understand what she was doing, but went along with it. Last year, she understood she was getting candy every time we knocked on a door and she said “trick or treat!” This year, when I said we’d go trick or treating on W 69th Street between Columbus and Central Park West, she didn’t quite understand what this meant. When we started leaving our building at around 4, she got confused and said to me, “Mama, I thought we were going trick or treating?”

“We are going, Pooks!’ I exclaimed to her. “We’re going outside, to 69th Street, to trick or treat there! And then maybe we can see some of your friends, too!”

I chuckled. It dawned on me in that moment that to date, Kaia’s only concept of “trick or treating” was just in our many multi-unit building, going unit to unit, up and down the elevator. Her puzzled face transformed into a big grin when she said, “Aww, okay! I thought we trick or treat in our building?” I had to clarify for her that there are many, many ways to trick or treat, and in our building is just one of them! This was becoming a real adventure for Kaia Pookie, as she’d never before gone trick or treating outside the building!

She got so excited as we got to West 69th Street and saw all the decorated brownstones and businesses; the entire street was shut off to car traffic with cops all around. She loved going to front doors and saying “Trick or treat!”, with pretty much everyone passing out candy also elaborately dressed up. (She avoided the skeletons, though, and was not a fan of them!). Her favorite was this guy who had spray painted his entire naked body, from head to toe, bright green; he was wearing white shorts while passing out candy. She kept giggling afterwards. “He’s so funny!” she shrieked to me after as we ran along up and down W 69th Street.

I tried and failed to get in contact with some of her classmates’ parents; everyone seemed to be running behind, and Kaia was quickly getting tired. We waited at the end of the crowded block for at least 15 minutes before I had to call time and tell her it was time to go back to our building. She kept saying she was tired and wanted to go back… but she also said she wanted to trick or treat at our building. So we hit every unit, and she got excited every time someone opened a door for her to yell trick or treat. And just like last year, she was not super happy whenever someone laid out a bowl of candy instead of allowing her to ring their bell and see her. There is one exception to this, though: one neighbor left out a massive bowl of candy, with RING POPS! Kaia got so excited. I didn’t even realize she knew what those things were. She grabbed two and started giggling hysterically. “I GOT TWO RING POPS” she kept saying over and over to the next floor.

Halloween this year was quite fun for all of us, though it wasn’t the group trick-or-treating I had envisioned with her new classmates. Maybe next year we can be more organized. But either way, the day ended well, with Kaia laying out all the candy she got from trick-or-treating on the rug and telling me which of them were her favorites. My sweet baby is growing up super fast… I cannot believe this is already her third time trick or treating!

“I don’t want you to come to my Halloween party!”

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Since preschool, Kaia has had many moments when she does not necessarily want her parents there. Sometimes, she insists on walking and holding hands with her classmates. Sometimes, she doesn’t greet me at all at pickup, shoves her backpack into my stomach, then keeps walking. This is all “love” when taken for granted, right? I suppose it starts at an early age!

This morning when Chris and I told her we were coming to her school for the Halloween parade and class party, she started whining immediately and kept saying over and over, “I don’t want you to come!” I actually came to the class 45 minutes early to help the class parents set up the Halloween party activity and party treats. So when Kaia was coming back from her other class and saw me, she immediately looked away, pretending not to see me. This is what love feels like with school-aged kids, eh?

The Halloween parade and party were a lot of fun; I got to meet some parents of Kaia’s class I hadn’t previously met, and we got to chat and get to know each other. I even had a pretty lengthy discussion with one of the classmates’ grandparents, who was in town visiting from Singapore. She got so excited when I not only told her that we are planning to go to Singapore at the end of the year, but also when she realized I could speak Chinese (the other parents volunteering don’t speak Chinese). So I had some unexpected time practicing my basic Mandarin. That was a bonus for me. I had a quick chat with Kaia’s homeroom (Chinese) teacher, who told me that Kaia’s focus on Chinese stroke was improving a lot in the last couple weeks; this was news to me, I told her, because every night of doing homework was a cry fest and a repeat shouting of “I don’t like homework! I don’t like it!” in both English and Chinese!

A friend of mine also came to see Kaia for the class party, and then afterwards when after-care started, we went to catch up at a nearby cafe. This was when Kaia suddenly wanted her parents: I went over to her to tell her I was going out with my friend and that I’d pick her up in a couple hours. Chris was already out the door at that point. Kaia grabbed my leg and suddenly said she wanted to come with us with her big sad puppy-dog eyes. The teachers ended up having to console her and gently pull her off my leg…

So, that’s love from your kindergartener. They want you when they want you, and when they don’t want you, they… ignore you and pretend you don’t exist. Love comes in many forms, as I am constantly reminded….

Sub Rosa Bakery en route to the airport

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As soon as I learned I was going to Richmond, Virginia, for a work trip, I immediately looked up Sub Rosa Bakery to see if I could do a pre-order to pick up en route back to the airport on my last day. During our Labor Day long weekend trip back in September 2023, Chris tried to take us here, but we failed: the line was just way, way too long. And to be frank, it seemed a little crazy to come from New York City to a much smaller city like Richmond and wait in line for bread and pastries! But Sub Rosa is a special place: they have their own stone mill in-house to freshly mill their grains into flour right before baking. They have a wood-fired masonry oven like the old-school ones in Europe, so the flavor is a lot different: it’s supposed to yield a different texture and flavor than most commercial bakery ovens. And all of their breads (except the ciabatta) are naturally leavened — real sourdough! And for some specialty, seasonal items, they make their own cheeses from scratch. The owners are a brother-and-sister-baking duo with Turkish roots, and you can definitely see the Turkish influence on the menu.

I made a mental note to place my pre-order two days before the pickup date. I set it for about three hours ahead of my flight so I’d have ample time to pick up. I stopped by Union Market a few blocks down for a cold brew coffee and yogurt for breakfast, plus a breakfast burrito to eat at the airport for lunch. Then, I walked over to Sub Rosa, bypassed the tiny line of four people, and headed straight to the back shelves to pick up my super big bag of goodies! I pre-ordered the sesame light rye sourdough loaf, the rosemary sea salt pide flatbread, a sour cherry pistachio croissant, a mini quiche (had a quiche craving!), and the beef borek. When I took the bag to the outside tables to inspect my goods, I counted and realized that they had thrown in an extra pistachio croissant on the house for me; I LOVED this place already, and I haven’t even had a single bite of anything yet!

I got upgraded on my flight back, so I wasn’t that worried about having this big brown bag with me. But when the first class flight attendant saw my bag of goods, she asked me if I’d like to store it in her flight attendant closet at the front. Of course, I said yes, and then we chatted about Sub Rosa. Since she makes frequent overnight stops in Richmond, I told her she had to go! She wrote it down and promised to go next time. And she wasn’t even the first person who asked me about my bag of goodies: when I went through TSA, one of the security people peered into my bag and asked where the pastries were from. I told him they were from Sub Rosa and were going back to New York City with me. He immediately grinned and told me they were worth bringing back because Sub Rosa is amazing!

Upon coming back, I sliced my bread loaves and took a bite of the sesame light rye sourdough: so good, so sour, amazing spongy texture. The pistachio sour cherry croissant was good, but to be honest, not as “wow” as the Radio Bakery croissants here. And the beef borek was flaky, savory perfection. This was the best thing to come out of this Richmond work trip, hands down!

Traveling for team building

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I’ve been in Richmond, Virginia, for the last two days, for some internal work travel. The purpose of the trip was framed as “team building,” as two companies merged together. Lots of changes have been happening internally that have been confusing, frustrating, and ill planned and communicated. We also semi recently had a layoff. So needless to say, morale hasn’t been great, so this trip was meant to help with that and help build culture and a sense of “togetherness.”

On Tuesday, we met up at a co-working space in downtown Richmond, where we had a conference room booked for two hours. We spent no more than ten minutes on this central “team building” activity, where we had to piece together a Lego building just so. Then, we spent the next hour and ten minutes, voicing our complaints, in a very structured and subtly coded way, about everything that was wrong with our roles, our team, cross-functional team collaboration, our management, and the company/product. After that was done, we were “released” and told to get ready to go bowling. We went to neighborhood bowling alley, ate some pizza, wings, and fried buffalo cauliflower. A lot of my colleagues had way too much to drink. As for me, I left at around 9:15 and was sleeping by 10:30, as I was still set on hitting the gym this morning, which I did!

As my friend who works in tech says, the problems that people in tech have are so far removed from the reality of most everyday people with “regular” jobs. The fact that most of us took flights and had paid hotels (and a daily stipend for food/ride shares) simply for a “team building” Lego activity that lasted ten minutes can sound pretty preposterous to someone who doesn’t work in our industry (and what could sound even more insane is that we had a fixed budget for our evening activity of bowling and subpar dinner, and thus could not afford a “real” team restaurant dinner, yet somehow there seemed to be no limit on the alcohol spend that night…).

Another friend, who is a retired middle school science teacher, told me she was recently out with another retired teacher for lunch around the Embarcadero in San Francisco. It was the middle of a weekday afternoon, and they saw tons of young people walking around. “We were wondering, ‘Shouldn’t they be working?’ Such a different life than a teacher…'” she had messaged me.

There are a lot of stupid, completely senseless things we have to deal with when working in tech: ridiculous politics, bureaucracies, “products” that don’t work but we need to sell and support, toxic and/or unrealistic management. But we also get luxuries that so many do not get: flexibility to work from home, work wherever we want, whenever we want, relatively good benefits and perks, and higher than average pay. If we want, we can take a longer lunch in the middle of the workday and make up for it later in the evening. We have the flexibility to go to a doctor’s appointment or hair cut in the middle of the day and just move some meetings around. All of my dog-owning colleagues take their dogs on multiple walks during the day from home, no questions asked. And we accept it as part of “work-life.” As a teacher, you’d never be able to do this.

There’s no such thing as the perfect job. There’s always a give-and-take situation with every company, every role, every single thing you do in life. So we just have to maximize what we have for what we really want and what matters to us.

Gratitude for friendship

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The older you get, the harder it is to make friends. The odd thing is that I’ve probably made more friends since the pandemic than before that in my entire time in New York City. Part of it was because I was just more intentional about finding qualities I liked in people and pursuing them (almost like platonic dating).

Fundraising for AFSP has oftentimes felt like a just-me endeavor. I’ve been lucky to have friends come join me at the walk some years. Chris has always accompanied me. Since Kaia has been around, she’s been dragged against her will. This year, I had three friends join the walk; two of them even recorded my speech, which has enabled me to share this with friends, family and colleagues. The fact that I have friends who care enough to come to this walk with me at all show me that the best people in your life will show up for you when it really matters.

I have a more distant friend who has donated every single year. And with her donation, she always writes me a really sweet, heartfelt note. This is part of what she wrote me this year:

“Each year, you find a way to capture the lingering effects of the loss of a sibling to suicide. Each year, the story is a little different as your life evolves, as your child’s life evolves, and yet the empty place in your heart left by Ed’s tragic death remains. It is not static, but changes shape and form as the things in your life show you all the different angles from which his light could have shined brightly. We see in our mind’s eye the Ed that might have been, the proud brother, the doting uncle, maybe even the fellow parent?

When I first began donating, I did it mostly for your sake, and the horror I felt regarding the way others in your family reacted. It is truly as you say: Silence and stigma help no one! My psychiatrist says, though it’s hard to witness, their reaction is not uncommon. What a wonderful contrast we have in you, and in the whole “Out of Darkness” concept.

Now I feel that I donate for you AND for Ed. Each year your portrait of him, painted with your heart, has made this person I never met more and more dear to me, and I look forward to spending this time with him through your words. I’m knowing him as he was, but also who he IS, as he lives again through your words and actions. What a man he must be, to inspire such loyalty in his sister!”

How lucky I am to have friends who not only show up for me, but also take the time to write such thoughtful messages.

An interview with a NYC story teller

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A few months ago, the executive director of AFSP NYC asked if I’d be interested in featuring my story about why I walk at the national level. I’m an open book and am happy to find ways to help others, so I said that I’d be willing to participate. Fast forward to this last week, the AFSP head of social media reached out to schedule time before the walk at Pier 16/17 to meet with David Eng, a New York City-based videographer and story teller, to discuss why I walk and why I fundraise with AFSP. He would be producing videos showcasing personal stories of why people walk, and they asked me to sign off on some release forms so that they could post these videos publicly.

I kept looking at his name and wondering why he sounded so familiar. I quickly looked him up on Instagram and discovered that he’s actually done the food videos for Banh and Kopitiam, some of my very favorite restaurants in the city. I actually already knew his work and really enjoyed it. I was a little nervous, thinking, wow, he’s interviewed and featured people who run some of the best businesses in the city, and now, he’s just sharing my (Ed’s) story?!

The head of social media found me, and we chatted while we walked over to David staking out some good recording spots with indirect light. I asked David about his Banh connection, and we geeked out over Vietnamese food for a bit; he was incredulous that I’d actually seen his Banh video since he said it was from over three years ago. He has since stopped doing food stories because they are very chaotic and stressful due to restaurant scheduling/hiccups. Now, he focuses most of his work on social media (for Banh Anh Em!!) and on telling human stories of real New Yorkers — like myself.

They had given me some prompt questions ahead of time to get my thoughts organized before the interview. But the interview itself ended up being a lot more thought-provoking and emotional than I had imagined. David was a really great, sensitive interviewer. He asked me a lot of questions that I don’t believe I’ve ever been point-blank asked before about Ed, about my journey toward healing and helping others.

One question he asked me, which I know no one, not even any therapist or close friend has asked, is, “If Ed were here today (assuming he’s still not alive), what would you say to him?”

I paused for a while on this. I didn’t tell him this, but I write Ed a letter on this blog for every birthday of his, every anniversary of his passing. So I do “speak” to him as though he’s in the other world, heaven, whatever you want to call it. But this question I suppose hit differently because this was a live conversation, in person, and I have never been asked that face to face by anyone. It’s a hard one.

I partially shared this, but not all my thoughts (no one has time for all of it). This is what I would say:

I love you. I miss you so, so much. I hope you are proud of everything I’ve accomplished, everything I’ve done to help others in your name. I want you to know that you didn’t die in vain, you did not die for nothing, that I’m doing everything with the little power that I have to keep your legacy going. Every person I can support and help — I do it in your honor and to keep your memory alive. You may not be here anymore, but in my heart, you are always, always living on in me. I have not forgotten you; I will never forget you. I will try to live my best possible life and do right by people because that’s what you would have wanted for me, for Kaia. You will always be a part of me — the best part of me. Your life mattered. It still matters.

AFSP New York City Out of the Darkness Walk at Pier 16/17: “Why I walk”

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Today was the day of the AFSP New York City Out of the Darkness Walk. This is my 13th walk, and my 12th in Manhattan. It was likely one of the largest turnouts for the walk I’ve seen in years, which was great to witness. Three friends came to support me for the walk; two of them even recorded most or all of my speech, which I was grateful for. It’s also my second year serving on the walk planning committee. As part of my role on the committee and given I have been the longest involved fundraiser/walker for this walk, I was asked to give a brief speech during the opening ceremony about why I walk. So, I wrote this speech below and delivered it this morning. I think overall it went well. Chris held up Kaia in his arms so that she could watch me speak. Chris thinks that Kaia would rate it a 3/5 stars, though, because she started squirming in his arms after less than halfway through…

Good morning, everyone. My name is Yvonne Wong. This is my 12th New York City Out of the Darkness Community Walk.

Every year, I walk for my big brother, Ed. Ed was one of the kindest, most generous people I’ve ever known. I always remember how he used to shower me with gifts for my birthday and sometimes would even get me a “welcome home” cake when I’d come back to San Francisco. 

I lost Ed to suicide in July 2013, after a long struggle with depression and anxiety. I was living here in New York City. He was in San Francisco, 3,000 miles away. I often felt helpless, and I didn’t know where to turn for support.

When I lost him, I was overwhelmed by guilt, anger, and grief. I couldn’t understand why he had to die. I struggled to understand why his suffering hadn’t been taken more seriously.

In searching for answers, I found AFSP. Here was a place where people spoke openly about suicide and called it what it is, suicide, where there was room for my grief, my anger, and my questions. Through AFSP, I found people who understood, and a community I could turn to.

I also found a way to keep honoring Ed. I began sharing his story through fundraising and community events. And year after year, I kept telling it.

Then, something I did not expect started to happen. People started reaching out: friends, colleagues, acquaintances, and even complete strangers. They shared their own experiences of loss and struggle. And many told me I was the very first person they had ever opened up to.

That… has stayed with me. By telling Ed’s story, I was helping make room for other people to tell theirs; I was creating a safe space for them. What began as a way to honor my brother became a way to connect with people whose pain I might otherwise never have known about. And in those connections, I found some healing of my own.

Today, I’m proud to serve on the New York City Walk Planning Committee as a volunteer and fundraiser. This community has given me a way to keep showing up for Ed… and for other people who need understanding, support, and hope.

I can’t bring my brother back. But I can keep saying his name. I can keep listening when someone is ready to talk. And I can keep working toward a future where fewer families experience this kind of loss. 

That is why I walk. I walk for Ed. I walk for the people who have trusted me with their stories. And I walk for anyone who is still carrying their grief or their struggle alone… so they can find what I found here: understanding, connection, and hope.

If that’s you, I’m so glad you’re here. You belong here. And you don’t have to walk alone. Thank you for walking with me.

Back to back kids events in a single day

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We were invited to a joint birthday party of Kaia’s classmates today, so we knew we would take her. But then her school also decided to host a Halloween fest later in the afternoon, and we thought it would be good for community building (and for Kaia) if we went to both. It seemed like a lot for us, and highly unusual given our usual Saturdays, but we do things to make our child happy, right? The birthday party would be at a large kids indoor play space from 11:30-2:30; the school’s Halloween fest would be held just blocks away from us from 3-5pm. Time was tight. And I told Chris that I was always envious of other friends with kids and how they attended preschools and schools with a strong sense of community/friendship. I wanted that, too. So now that I have it, I should take advantage of it by going to most of these events that I am here for, right?

“Well, there goes my Saturday,” Chris grumbled as Friday approached and he knew we would be forgoing our usual Saturday food crawl.

He doesn’t really mean to grumble, though. Chris enjoys socializing, and we have a pretty decent group of parents in our kindergarten class. We’re still getting to know everyone and their personalities. We’re also still discovering who we get along better with than others.

I would say that almost two months into being at this school and interacting with the parents in our class I have met, I have definitely identified people I jive with more than others. There are the people who are very thoughtful and insightful; some seem to have views and perspectives that mirror ours; some are more analytical (and anal) than others; some show they are always thinking about how others perceive them; some are trying to get into higher level parents association positions at the school; some are trying to do everything within their power to increase the school’s enrollment; one is definitely a complainer all around. So far, it’s a good mix of parents and it feels comfortable.

In the meantime, Kaia seems to be identifying friends who are her favorites or “best friends,” though, and sometimes, they change by the day. It sounds like a typical girl thing of this age range. Chris got her this book from a used book store last week called The Invisible Boy, and with its theme, we’re trying to teach her to try to be friends and play with everyone. You never know who you might get along with unless you branch out. (Adults are a different story, but hey, she’s not even five yet!).