The greatest thing about spring’s arrival is that I know warm weather and travel for pleasure are just around the corner. The worst thing about spring’s arrival is that I know that my favorite winter squashes will no longer be available, and that instead, the only squashes to be seen at the farmer’s market or any grocery store will be summer squash… which I have never enjoyed and think are some of the most boring things to eat in the world. I’m somewhat scarred by a summer squash I once bought for soup that I pureed and later discovered was more bitter than actual Asian bitter melon. I ended up throwing the entire soup away because I found it inedible. That was a huge waste of effort.

So today, I bid farewell to winter by cooking butternut squash for the last time. Granted, it’s the last day of March, which means we’re technically already in spring, but I made a dish on my to-make list that I’ve been wanting to do all winter: butternut squash Mac and cheese made with my own pureed and roasted butternut squash, with Banza chickpea pasta shells.

I don’t do pasta that often at home, nor do I do pasta bakes, but this baked pasta with a broiled end was enough to make me re-think how seldom I do this. It was relatively simple and didn’t even require that much work, yet it yielded a very satisfying and filling result.

Tonight, we went to the Women’s Project Theater in the Upper West side to see the show Hatefuck… or Hatef**k, or Hatefk, depending on how able you are to digest profane language. The show tells the story of a very intense and opinionated literature professor who accuses a best-selling novelist of trading in anti-Muslim stereotypes in exchange for fame and fortune. They are both Muslim of varying degrees, but despite their initial clashing, they end up finding themselves attracted to each other. The play begs the question of… how much are you willing to do in order to have your voice heard? How far are you willing to go in order to be paid well and “respected,” even if that means portraying your own people in a way that is not actually true?

There’s a very powerful scene where the professor and the novelist are yelling at each other, and the novelist says to her that people of their color do not have the right to complain about things like sexual harassment or mistreatment, that that is what only white people have the luxury and privilege of doing. They have to take every chance they get and suck up everything else because they have no choices, and that given that white people have the majority of the power in the world we live in, sometimes you have to accommodate and pander to what they want in order to have your voices heard, because otherwise, who will give you the chance? Your own people don’t have the power to give you that chance, but the white people do, so are you really going to pass that rare opportunity up?

That was probably one of the most depressing scenes I’ve seen in theater in a long time… Because it is so true.

Luke’s Lobster has become itself a mini chain not just here in New York City since I’ve moved here, but has expanded even beyond New York. You can now find a Luke’s Lobster that is walking distance of my company’s office in the financial district/South of Market area in San Francisco. It is no longer unique, and in fact, now, it is ubiquitous. So when colleagues at work say that they are doing a group order for Luke’s Lobster on Fridays, most Fridays, I opt out, but today, I decided to include myself… and was partially in regret at the end.

The rolls are small and a bit sad, even if the bun is quite tasty and well buttered and toasted. And while the lobster is coming from Maine, it never feels as exciting to have a lobster or a crab roll in a place where the lobster or crab isn’t actually from. Having them in places like Maine, Nova Scotia, and Prince Edward Island actually felt special because you knew that these little crustaceans were caught and cooked locally. They were cheaper because of it, too. Here in New York, you’d never trust any fish or crab from the water around here.

And then, as I thought this, I had a pang of guilt given my privilege for having traveled to all these lobster and crab destinations. But then that begged the question of: why should I feel guilty at all about this when I’m surrounded by a bunch of other privileged people in tech at the same lunch table who earn good money, have solid jobs, and have even more insane benefits? Is that guilt even warranted at this table?

I was one of the very last people hired on my team about two years ago who just had to do 1:1 interviews as part of my interview process, so no mock business reviews or presentations were required of me. Instead, after I started and had to go through product certifications, the final round of my onboarding was a mock business review meeting with fellow colleagues on my team, who would critique my presentation, discovery, and mock interaction with them as though this was a real customer meeting.

I’m pretty grateful for the fact that I didn’t have to do that because now, as someone who is interviewing potential candidates, I am truly pained watching prospective employees do mock business presentations. Thinking about the amount of prep work, Powerpoint finagling, and practice in public speaking makes me want to crawl into a ball and hide under my sheets. It’s not like I have an issue with presenting or speaking in meetings; it’s rather that the idea of a “simulated” or “mock” meeting drives me crazy. There are so many hypotheticals that go into the evaluation that you could easily get rated poorly when you actually did a great job, and vice versa.

Also, there’s a lot of randomness on our side, too, as the people who are evaluating. We have to make up “facts” on the spot to actually make this a meeting where conversations happen. This is when I have to catch myself from laughing or smiling too much because we’re literally lying as we go.

I met my friend for dinner tonight at the Canal Street Market, where we shared steamed rice noodle rolls, ceviche, and shaved ice. While I am not completely a fan of food markets for the sake of food markets, especially when a lot of food markets nowadays tend to be extremely expensive, Canal Street Market does a pretty good job of having reasonable price points and a varied selection of food. It’s not just Asian food here — they even have a token salad stall and a ceviche stall.

I thought about Joe’s Steamed Rice Roll, which I shared two of with my friend tonight, and which I just had a couple weeks ago in their original location in Flushing. It makes me happy to think about these small food businesses that started so small and humble in Flushing, and having made it and attracted endless lines and waits, have moved into Manhattan and even have their own branding. That reminded me of how big Xi’an Famous Foods has become, as well, also having started in a tiny food stall in a nondescript basement in Flushing. When there’s nothing else, there is still hope for good and delicious food.

Our friends in Sacramento came to visit this week and came over for brunch today. Even though it’s been a year since we last saw them, not a lot has changed for us. We’re still doing the things we always do: living in the same apartment, experimenting with different recipes in the kitchen, eating out, theater, work, work travel, and fun travel. On their end, while they’re fully settled into their new home they bought in Sacramento, it’s been a lot of family life for them given they have family nearby, and not as many friends. They haven’t spent as much time looking for new friends because most of their out-of-work time is either spent with each other after work or with family on weekends. Family time really is their social time now.

For myself, I don’t really mind not being that close to any family. I guess I have one cousin in New York, but he’s not a desirable person to spend social time with. I kind of like that when we visit our family in San Francisco and Melbourne that it feels like a special time because we’re not always there. You’re no longer special and prioritized when you live in the same place with someone, right?