Making homemade chili oil after a long hiatus

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In the last year, I haven’t really made chili oil at all. This used to be something I’d do every few months to have something on standby that was spicy and delicious to drizzle on dumplings or plainer foods. But I suppose we had been spoiled quite a bit by being gifted chili oils and crisps from friends, as well as supporting small, local businesses here in New York City and in San Francisco by buying their chili oils. Last year, I found a delicious and well rounded Chinese-style chili oil I tasted and enjoyed from a farmers market in Fort Greene, Brooklyn. Then last August, we visited the San Francisco Ferry Building farmers market, where we got to sample a salsa macha that was so tasty that it compelled me to buy it and check a bag (over 100ml!) to go back to New York. Before I visited this farmers market stand, I had never heard of salsa macha before. It’s a rich, smoky, crunchy Mexican-style chili oil that originates from Veracruz. It usually uses various Mexican chilies like chile de arbol or morita, as well as various nuts and seeds. Given it has nuts and seeds as well as chilies, it definitely tends to to taste nuttier than the average Chinese chili oil.

I forgot how simple and quick the entire process is: add all the various ground chilies to a heat proof bowl, along with salt. The ground chilies I usually use are gochugaru (Korean chili flakes for flavor and the bright red hue), regular red pepper flakes for heat, and ground Sichuanese peppercorns. This time for variety, I also added a bit of silk chili flakes (the more sustainable version of Aleppo pepper). Heat up a cup / 240ml of neutral oil in a sauce pan along with some aromatics (I vary it up, but this time, I used a few slices of ginger, star anise, fennel seeds, and cloves). Wait until the oil reaches 325-340 F, then pour the oil through a strainer directly over the ground chilies. And voila! You now have freshly made chili oil in less than ten minutes. I usually wait about 30 minutes to an hour to let the oil fully cool, then I mix it and add it to a glass jar. The glass jar can be stored in the fridge indefinitely, but probably has the best flavor if consumed within a month or two.

I am still sniffing the bowl because it smells so good. I definitely need to do this more often. A year is too long to wait for homemade chili oil!

Kaia loves video calls… even the ones that are not hers

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Tonight, I was solo parenting because Chris was out with a friend. So after picking up Kaia from school, I brought her home to have dinner, clean up, play for a little, floss and brush teeth, get into her pajamas, and do bedtime stories. This is our usual Wednesday routine, just minus Chris. I realized that I had an AFSP Walk committee meeting tonight, the first of the season, and so I told Kaia that she needed to be in bed by 7:30 so I could start my call on time.

We did finish bedtime stories and the pre-bedtime pee in time. But the issue is that my child has massive FOMO, and she especially has FOMO when she knows other people will be around. So of course, she snuck out of her room multiple times while I was on this video call to make an appearance and look at everyone. A couple people noticed her and waved and smiled. And she watched as each person spoke and their mouth moved. And finally, I had to get off the call early because I really did not want her sleep deprived. Somehow, I managed to last 40 minutes.

I brought her to bed and cuddled with her for a bit at her request. And she had all kinds of questions: Who was the lady with the AirPods? Why was only one person speaking? What’s that person’s name? What are you talking about?

The one person speaking question is funny because Kaia is at her prime time of NOT understanding why only one person can speak at a time, and absolutely loves interrupting others (but hates to be interrupted herself. This sounds like most adults). So I had to explain to her that when there is a meeting or conversation happening, only one person can speak at a time so everyone can hear them. Each person has their turn to speak. Otherwise, if more than one person speaks, then no one is hearing what each person is saying, and therefore no one understands, and people feel frustrated. And talking over others is very disrespectful and just plain not nice. And in that case, why even speak or have the conversation at all? It’s pointless!

What was Kaia’s response? “Oh.” And then she did her usual head tilt, looked up, and then snuggled back up to me.

Maybe she understood. Maybe she didn’t. But very soon, she will learn the beginnings of conversations and how people must operate together to be effective. I mean… I’m still learning this and I am 40, so we all know this is a lifelong skill!

Eight more days of almost-daily access to Chinatown

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We knew the time was going to come, but as I get older, the time seems to pass by too quickly. After today, we have just eight more weekdays of taking Kaia down to Chinatown for summer camp. In September, she will be starting at her new K-8 school walking distance from us, and so there will be no reason to go to Chinatown every day anymore. It’s funny to think how just before she started 3K, part of me was dreading having to do this commute daily. But after a week, it just became part of our routine. And I loved having easy access to all my Asian groceries. I never had to plan in advance all my lists of sauces, condiments, produce, noodles, canned goods, etc., that I needed because on a whim, I could pick it up within just a few blocks of her school. I am really going to miss this, as I will also miss the convenient access to great restaurants that I relied on for Friday takeout. I will miss having easy access to Green Garden Village for last minute cha siu, roasted duck, crispy pork belly, and soy sauce chicken. I will also miss having Asian vegetables every single week. And for the summer time, no one does it better than the Vietnamese fruit ladies at Mulberry Street off of Canal for lychees, rambutans, longans, and other exotic Asian fruit we love.

I already started making a list of sauces and dried goods I need to stock up on before we end our daily trips to Chinatown. So far, I have already picked up replacement bottles of light soy sauce, fish sauce, and fermented bean curd. I put a bag of pressed five-spiced tofu in the freezer for future use. I also got some more dried noodles, canned bamboo shoots, and brown jasmine rice. I still need to get a new bottle of aged Shaoxing wine, medium grain white rice, plus extra dried and canned goods. And for backup freezer food, I need to pick up a bag of frozen pork/chive dumplings and several zongzi. There’s so much to stock up on!

Who knows — after Kaia starts at her new school, I may find a reason to take a trip down to Chinatown every other week or so just to buy groceries and takeout. Well, why not?

The protector of my baby tooth: Kaia

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This morning, Kaia woke up and promptly checked under her pillow for my tooth. Seeing that it was still there, she quickly grabbed it and brought it to my bedroom and proudly presented it back to me.

“I have your tooth, Mama!” Kaia exclaimed with pride and delight. “Here you go, Mama!”

In the evening, it was my turn to read bedtime stories and put her to bed. She asked me if she could keep my tooth for another night under her pillow. To see if she was really attached to my tooth, I told her she couldn’t have a usual toy to bring to bed and could either have the miscellaneous toy or my tooth. She hesitated for a brief second and said she wanted my tooth! She placed it in the exact same spot under her pillow and said she’d guard it for me.

Motherhood is all consuming in both mind and body. It can be completely exhausting and wipe out all your mind space. These little, random moments, the ones you could never foresee, are always the ones that surprise and get me, though, because they come from a place of pure curiosity, youth, and love. No one else would ever care that Kaia insisted on guarding and protecting my lost baby tooth for two nights in a row. But for me, my heart just gushed and I couldn’t help but squeeze her a little tighter when I gave her a good-night hug tonight because I just loved this so, so much. I love that she has this strong curiosity. I love that she cares so much. And I really love that she has a desire to take care of and protect. This is my sweet baby, slowly but surely growing up right before my eyes.

The baby tooth that persisted… and finally fell out today

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Dear Tooth 29,

We were together for so long, you and I. I got warned by my childhood dentist that if I were the average human, you’d stay with me and your opposite friend on the left side of my mouth, Tooth 20, until max, age 30, and then you’d both fall out. But you persisted! You never showed a smidgen of weakness or looseness… I thought that maybe, just maybe we could be together forever. Well, that was until tooth 30 decayed during pregnancy, requiring a root canal. And the root canal so close to you destabilized you, and alas, you became loose. That was in May 2022. Today is August 9, 2026. Since your foundation was destabilized, you stuck with me for another four years and three months. I kept thinking that you’d peace out sooner than that, but no, you tried to be as loyal as possible! I knew the end was coming very close when you completely uprooted on the inside of my mouth, and I could feel your teeny tiny roots sticking out every time I ran my tongue on the inside of my bite. So, I finally brushed my teeth tonight. And given you were squished in and not moving, I pushed you from the outside, and POP! Up you came! I loosened you from being wedged between the two neighboring teeth and out you came. A little blood came out, but not too much. The wound is fresh, still red, with a little hole there. But the tiring anticipation of waiting for you to finally fall out… is finally over. It was a bit anticlimactic, if I do say so myself. I had hoped that you would come out when I was in the comfort of my own home, maybe after flossing or brushing. And this is exactly what happened. A few weeks ago, I was scared that you might fall out at a work dinner — too much anxiety and stress there!

We had a long run together. I’m proud of how long you lasted. All dentists who have ever looked at my mouth feel the same. And well, Tooth 20 is still going strong, hanging out on the left side, the opposite side of my mouth from where you lived, firmly rooted in with its tiny roots in my gum tissue. I hope you will send it your best wishes to stay with me until my last breath. I really don’t need two holes in my gums, do I?

As for where you are now, I told Kaia that once you finally fell out that she’d be the first to find out and see you. And I kept my word. Chris finished reading bedtime stories to her this evening, and she asked me to come over for a good night hug and kiss. When I came over, I told her I had something interesting to show her. So I opened my mouth for Kaia to see. A big smile slowly crept over her face: “Your tooth fell out!” she whispered loudly. “Where is it?” I had you in the palm of my hand for her to see. She promptly picked you up, stared at you intently, and then tucked you under her pillow.

“My tooth!” she shrieked with joy. Well, sort of.

Now, she is wondering whether the tooth fairy will come visit her. I insisted that the tooth fairy would pay her a visit only when one of her own teeth fell out; she couldn’t lie and say this tooth was hers, even though it is a baby tooth! The tooth fairy will know!

Thanks for an amazing 40 years together. Okay, so maybe you came in when I was 1-ish year old and so we actually had 39ish years together if we had to be more precise, but the point is… thanks for sticking around for way longer than anyone thought you would. I will eternally be grateful. And Kaia is very, very grateful now to be taking good care of you under her pillow as she sleeps.

Sincerely,

Yvonne

Mourning for a version of a person that is gone

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I was at lunch yesterday with my friend, telling her about the situation with my aunt. I told my friend that when I was little, I was obsessed with my aunt. Ultimately, my aunt is the reason that I love baking because she was the person who spent quality time in the kitchen with me. She’s the person who always proactively asked me about what I was learning in school, what I was interested in, and actually wanted to know me for me. Although my aunt is genuinely a good person and always had been, I know part of her love and interest for me was because she looked at me as the daughter she never had. She had three sons when each time, she really wanted a daughter. So I got all the cute hand sewn dresses and hand knit clothes she intended for her own. I got showered with endless girly gifts and jewelry that she would have loved for her own daughter. But once I got older, and once she came back from being away in Boston for a number of years, she was almost a different person. She officially converted to being a Jehovah’s Witness. Her main concern was the congregation and her “brothers and sisters.” And since at that time, I was a pre-teen/teen, I was changing a lot, too. At that point, I was finally seeing with greater clarity all the dysfunction in my family with eyes wide open. I also realized that at this point, she rarely wanted to acknowledge anything that was ever wrong. I could never have a deep conversation with her. Maybe it was always the case that this was impossible, but when I was in elementary school, that never would have even entered my mind given I was so young and immature. But it always made me sad that we could never have a real conversation together. It was impossible and still is impossible for us to have any meaningfully deep conversation about anything. I don’t know if she is incapable of it or if she just actively avoids it. I guess I will never know; it will always remain a mystery to me.

I told my friend all this. She paused for a while and then looked up at me and said, “Wow. Do you think that some of this frustration is because you never really allowed yourself to mourn the version of her you loved that is gone?”

I didn’t know what to say to this. I suppose I never looked at it this way. It makes sense my friend would hear it this way since she’s a deeply feeling and empathetic person. I guess my friend is partly right: my aunt and I will never have that sweet, simple relationship we had when I was a toddler, kindergartener, or elementary school-age child, where it was easy and always just about baking, having fun shopping and doing playground outings, or enjoying treats together. But as I mentioned here earlier, I am not sure she was ever capable of having a deeper, meaningful relationship with me. So this second part is not a “loss” per se, but more something I wished we could have had that we just never did and never will have.

It reminded me of what my therapist said to me when I was pregnant and due to give birth any day. She told me that I should give myself the time, permission, and grace to mourn the relationship with my mom and dad I wish I could have had, but never got to have and never will have. It’s the same with my aunt: I do wish we had a different, better, and deeper relationship than what we have now. But this will never be. And we just have to work with what we have because c’est la vie.

Unusual dreams after an annoying week

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I told Chris the end of the aunt debacle. And he chuckled, saying that he anticipated I would have funny dreams last night as a result of all this. And well, he was right. Last night, I dreamt that I was at a hospital, watching at least half a dozen women all in labor and about to give birth. Somehow, I knew that all of them were purposely impregnated by the same creepy, cunning, and manipulative man. This guy’s intent was to spread as many of his sperm (and thus offspring) into the world as quickly as possible! And somehow, this man was so cunning that despite not being a doctor, he was posing as the obstetrician delivering every single one of these babies himself!

I was unclear what my relationship was to this man or any of these women. But I was watching all of this happen without any ability to effect any change whatsoever. So all I ended up feeling was angry, frustrated, and powerless. I guess that’s a good summary of how I feel with my aunt… and my family overall — most of the time.

The “family dinner” saga continues

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And, it did not end with my request to not have M come over. This is what she replied with:

“Sorry, I forgot about that. Can I come with my sister (not actual sister because in the Jehovah’s Witness cultish world, every person in the congregation is a sibling) because I am staying at her house?”

This desire to invite other people to all her meals will never, ever die, even when it’s to my house. Even when the house is owned by someone else, she still wants this random extra person to come. I don’t care that this person is housing my aunt in her place; I asked for my aunt to come over to my house for dinner. Why does this have to be so hard?!

I let the text sit for a day because I was having an irritating day at work, and I really didn’t want my pissy work temperament to transfer over to my aunt. Then, I did what most seemingly logical circa-2026 people do: I told ChatGPT Pro my situation and asked it to come up with a measured, firm, direct response that wasn’t passive aggressive or mad. And this is what it came up with, which I sent:

“Hi (Auntie) – I’m really looking forward to having you over on Sunday. I planned this dinner as a family-only gathering, so I’m not able to include additional guests this time. I hope you understand, and I’d still really love for you to come.”

A day later, she sent me a text saying that she is old, needs someone with her, and since I am coming to San Francisco at the end of the month, she will see me then.

To be honest, I was expecting this. She just needs to have a JW crutch with her at all times. She’s very capable of navigating the subway at her age. It would be an early dinner, and there would still be plenty of light out by the time she left here. So, as a last ditch effort, I told her that I would pay for her Uber ride to and from my house.

She still declined.

Now, we know what this was really about.

As Kaia said when she was an early toddler learning to speak, “ALL DONE!”

A family dinner that cannot ever just be a family dinner

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It doesn’t seem to matter who it is in my family, but everyone does something that truly, deeply drives me crazy. It reminds me of that Leo Tolstoy quote that you always see when it comes to families that was the first line of Anna Karenina: “All happy families are alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.” Dysfunction stems from a unique mix of human flaws, generational patterns, and unhealed wounds.

My aunt, my dad’s older brother’s wife, is currently in town, and she asked if we could get together while she was in New York. Of course I said yes, and several weeks ago, I asked her to come over for dinner this Sunday. She confirmed, and that was that. Well, that was not over, because out of nowhere today, she asks if instead of dinner at my place this Sunday that I go down to Manhattan Chinatown to meet her for dim sum with Chris and Kaia. I told her that wouldn’t be possible because of Kaia’s pre-scheduled extra-curricular activities. She then texts to see if Saturday dim sum would work; I replied back and said we already made plans.

I was getting more and more irritated with each response given we had already confirmed dinner at my place weeks in advance, and suddenly, she just wanted to change it. I know why she wants to change it: my aunt has this really frustrating habit of constantly inviting her random Jehovah’s Witnesses friends to almost all of our family dinners. It doesn’t matter if it’s just her son and family and me or all of the cousins and my parents, but she feels this urgent need to invite at least one to FOUR non-family people to any family meal. They are not part of our family, and they are people I will see once and completely forget about. Why does she constantly do this all the time? Even when I have explicitly asked her in the past when meeting for lunch in New York if it could just be us, lo and behold, she shows up with her New Jersey based friend I cannot stand called M, or one or two other random people I will have nothing to talk about with. M is a terrible person; she is a free loader. She makes sweeping, racist generalizations about groups of people she knows little to nothing about. And perhaps worst of all, M once explicitly said that “something was not right in the head” with Ed just years before he died. I truly wanted to punch her face in. And even after I confronted my aunt about how inappropriate and hurtful those comments were, she brushed me off, saying that M didn’t mean it that way and that I shouldn’t take it too seriously. My aunt has a true penchant for always ignoring serious issues and living a seemingly shallow life with no deep conversations ever possible. I told her I didn’t want M coming to any of our meals again. But of course, she ignored me and invited her anyway once against my wishes. We barely talked at that meal; I was PISSED. Part of the reason I wanted her to come over for dinner is to thwart any possibility of some random person showing up at my house because of her incessant “outside” invites.

So lo and behold, my aunt finally agrees over text to come for dinner at 5pm this Sunday. But the story’s not over because she has to text back: “Can I bring M with me, she wants to see Kaia.”

It’s like she’s deaf or suffering from amnesia that I strongly dislike this person. I simply responded back, “No, she is not invited. I have told you that I dislike her.” And I left it at that.

In the end, if she chooses not to come because of this, I truly don’t care. I’ve tried to be amenable and the “middle man” in too many of my family situations, and this is not a battle that I really feel strongly about. The level of delusion here is just beyond ridiculous. I do not want disrespectful, ignorant people in my house, and I am entitled to invite only who I want to my own house.

Donating whole blood for the first time

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The first time I tried to donate blood was at a blood drive on my college campus, so sometime between 2004 and 2008. I stopped by the tent and asked if I could donate blood. They asked me what my blood type was, and I responded that I didn’t know (frankly, I still don’t even know today because your healthcare providers cannot tell you without charging you out of pocket for that knowledge. Isn’t that insane?!). They told me that I needed to know my blood type to donate blood. This didn’t make any sense to me, as how many people actually know their blood type (and at college age?!), so I didn’t think much of it and walked away.

Then I met Chris’s brother, who frequently donated whole blood and now plasma. He has talked about it a number of times with me and posts about doing it on Instagram. His active blood donation made me reconsider it. But for some reason, it still wasn’t enough to actually get me on a blood donation website to really look into it.

So finally, I was reading the news last week, which said that the American Red cross declared a rare national blood supply crisis as donations hit a four-year summer low. The most urgent need is for those with a blood type O positive or O negative, but they really want all blood donations to increase. Given I have zero idea what my blood type is, I figured that maybe this was the final wakeup call to finally get my butt into a blood donation center. I am a healthy, physically active 40-year-old woman. They must need my blood, right?! So I looked up New York Blood Center, made my appointment for this afternoon, and went.

I’m not really sure what took me so long to do this — likely lack of prioritizing and just laziness. But regardless, I finally did it! I went in, filled out a digital questionnaire, then got called into a room so they could clear me for the blood donation. They took my temperature, blood pressure, and pricked my finger to measure my iron level. I cleared all three.

Then, they brought me to a very comfortable adjustable recliner chair and sat me down. They told me to expect that the whole blood draw would take anywhere from 5-20 minutes depending on how healthy and hydrated I was. And after the first sharp prick, it all seemed like any other blood draw I’d gotten… just that the needle was stuck in there longer. While hooked up, they also put a continuous blood pressure monitor on you to ensure you aren’t about to pass out. And as the blood gets drawn, this interesting little digital device called a Hemaflow scale that has a seesaw-like attachment moves back and forth, which serves as an electronic scale and mixer. The Hemaflow scale gently rocks the blood bag back and forth to thoroughly mix the fresh blood with an anticoagulant solution, which prevents clots and ensures accurate volume measurement.

Time flew really quickly — I was connected for just under five minutes when the machine beeped. The assistant looked at the measurement: I had donated 511ml of whole blood! That was much faster than I anticipated! They asked me to sit for fifteen minutes for monitoring to ensure I felt okay and wasn’t dizzy. Then to ensure my hydration, they offered me my choice of apple, orange, or cranberry juice (I chose the third option and saved some sips for Pookster at pickup). Finally as I left to go, they gave me instructions for what to do in the next day (no strenuous exercise for 24 hours, eat iron-rich foods), and let me know I could login to my portal in 2-3 days to check my blood type (YES, FINALLY!). They also said I could take as many snacks in the food area at the front to fuel myself on the way out. I grabbed two packets of cashews.

They told me I can donate whole blood every two months. But after I consulted with my therapist, aka ChatGPT Pro, I was advised that as a physically active, petite, menstruating woman that to donate whole blood on this schedule was absolutely not recommended, as it could severely deplete my iron stores. So it said that at most, I could schedule to donate whole blood twice a year. Though if my blood type matches needs, I could consider platelet or plasma donation, but that would require a bigger time investment — as in, 2-3 hours each visit. So, not a five-minute blood draw. I guess I will wait and see what my blood type is and go from there.

Now, I can finally check off “blood donation” from my list of things to do before I die. The next question, though, is how often will I continue doing this, and what variations (plasma?) might I consider in the future depending on my blood type?