Having lived in three major metropolitan areas that have a decent sized Asian population, I have been quite spoiled when it comes to having Asian food nearby. I would always read food blogs of writers of Asian descent and how they relocated from a place like New York or California to a place that considered bok choy an exotic vegetable, where getting Indian spices like fenugreek seeds or coriander powder is at least an hour’s drive away; they would have massive nostalgia for being able to have these precious ingredients so close. Why would they relocate from what they loved so much? I always thought to myself.

At Wellesley, whenever I craved Chinese or Vietnamese food, Boston or Cambridge was just a quick 40-minute bus ride away. In San Francisco, you don’t even have to go to Chinatown to get Chinese food, as “mini Chinatowns” popped up in multiple areas, from Clement Street in the Richmond District to Irving, Noriega, and Taraval Streets in the Sunset. Here in New York, Manhattan Chinatown is a quick subway ride away from us; Flushing Chinatown is always a favorite destination of mine, but that leaves out Elmhurst’s budding mini Chinatown, Sunset Park in Brooklyn, and multiple Asian business studded streets of the Bronx. But without going to any of these so-called Chinatown-type areas, East Village, “Curry Hill” (Lexington in the 20s), and Koreatown (32nd Street between Broadway and 5th) are all extremely accessible and provide multiple options for Asian ingredients for home cooking. That doesn’t even include the random Japanese grocery stores that are sprinkled throughout the city.

Now, I have a slightly similar feeling to those relocated food bloggers I used to wonder about. Being in quarantine due to COVID-19 has made me feel more trapped than ever before when it comes to accessing foods and ingredients I want. While we are very lucky and have a full pantry, not to mention a packed fridge and freezer, there are always things I’m going to crave that are not going to be easy to get because Trader Joe’s, Whole Foods, Morton Williams, or Western Beef is not going to have the right market for Asian vegetables like water spinach/morning glory/kong xin cai, or dou miao/pea shoots. If I’m near the end of my beloved shiitake mushrooms, I can’t just hop on the subway ride down to Chinatown to get another bag of them. When I want to make Chinese taro or radish cake, well…. that just isn’t going to happen unless I can source Chinese radish or taro from a grocer that is willing to do delivery to my zip code. When Chris’s aunt posted on my YouTube channel, saying that she was still waiting for my mapo tofu video, I responded and told her it was nearly impossible to get the correct Sichuanese broad bean paste (pixian bean paste actually made and imported from Sichuan province!) that was needed to make authentic tasting mapo tofu during a time of shelter-in-place, so until I was able to source it, I wouldn’t make it a video for it because it just wouldn’t be right.

Some people probably would think I’m crazy to say that I am craving different vegetables right now because we don’t often associate “cravings” with vegetables. We usually associate it with comfort foods, which are normally carby, bready, meaty, fatty, filling. But I actually am having them now. My biggest craving is definitely for water spinach, as it’s one of my all-time favorite vegetables. I would really love to have yellow chives now. I would love to get my hands on some Thai basil and steam some gai lan / Chinese broccoli. But… these things will have to wait.

Once upon a time, I really was spoiled and super privileged to be able to have any of these above items and more pretty much a quick subway ride away. I felt like I could get nearly anything I wanted whenever I wanted, with the quantity I wanted. Now, that luxury has been taken away, if only temporarily. So when I finally do get my hands on some water spinach, I will hold it like it’s gold and chew it just a few more times to savor it all.

Once upon a time, in a land and time far away, the idea of having a million dollars seemed like a big deal, like really really big — so significant that when you finally reached that amount, you could label yourself a millionaire. Wow, I’m a millionaire! Yippee!

That time, at least, for “middle class,” white-collared professionals, particularly ones living in particularly expensive and dense areas such as New York City or the San Francisco Bay Area, has ended. Now, what does a million dollars buy you — a crappy, dilapidated two-bedroom apartment in San Francisco, crawling with roaches and full of lead-filled paint? A one-bedroom apartment on the Upper West Side? Is that what you would consider “rich” today?

It’s a depressing thought. I used to always imagine I’d have a comfortable house, maybe four or five bedrooms, with a huge backyard where I could plant fruit trees, endless flowers, and have a section just for vegetables. When I was young and dreamt of that, the idea of money and building wealth wasn’t top of mind. I didn’t know the real worth of a dollar then. I don’t really want that anymore, but I do still wish I had some outdoor space. Who has that while living in New York City?!

Now, in a time of the Coronavirus pandemic, the idea of “richness” to me has changed in meaning. Now, I think about being rich in terms of food and toilet paper. Tonight, we had a third delivery from Mirchi Market, an Indian/Pakistani grocery delivery service, now a standard delivery for us during this period, and when Chris opened up the boxes, I marveled at all the fresh fruit and vegetables, the dosa batter, even the Indian mixture snacks he got. I especially widened my eyes when he unveiled an entire flat box of 16 beautiful yellow mangoes, fragrant from being nearly ripe.

I was so excited. “We’re rich! We’re rich! Look at all these mangoes!” I exclaimed. We’ve had to store some of the mangoes in our coat closet, and as a result of this, as the days have passed and they’ve slowly ripened, when I open the closet, I am immediately greeted by the floral, sweet perfume of their juices nearly oozing out.

This is what it means to be rich, to have so many gorgeous, delicious, sweet mangoes that you don’t even know where to store them all; to have a freezer so full that you have to hesitate before considering adding yet another frozen item to your shopping cart while at the grocery store; to not make another dish until you have more free space in your fridge. This is what it means to be rich right now.

Since I was young, I’ve always loved birds, especially since I was a proud owner of a particularly cheeky and smart parakeet. Traveling to different parts of the world, particularly in Southeast Asia, Brazil, and South Africa, was eye-opening in that I finally got to see some of the most colorful birds I’d ever seen before. In South Africa, I remember the moment while on a safari, we saw the bird that Zazoo from The Lion King was named after, the red-billed hornbill; this bird had at least a dozen different colors on its vibrant feathers and was quite the looker!

But without really thinking about it, right here in New York City, a concrete jungle, exists over 270 different bird species that come and go in Central Park. While pigeons, sparrows, and American robins, and blackbirds are common sightings throughout, other lesser known beautiful birds flock all over the park, particularly in the springtime when it is mating season. I didn’t realize at least half a dozen different sparrow species existed, nor did I realize that there are endless swallows all over Central Park. Very briefly, I was able to spot a cute and plump barn swallow, noted for its deep blue coloring all along its back, a white breast, and a reddish-orange throat. I’ve also seen at least four different wild finch species, ranging in brown and white colors to even red, blue, and yellow. And somehow, what they all have in common is that their preening looks top notch, as though they are extremely healthy, and they are all quite plump and fat! What the heck are they all eating?

I’ve also had the time to observe them taking their sand baths to help with their preening and shedding excess oils on their feathers. It’s quite a sight to see them fluff up and bury all parts of their bodies into areas that are quite sandy and dusty. I suppose this is what you miss during the daily hustle and bustle, even when you are taking the occasional stroll through Central Park. You miss moments in nature like these. But I guess now I can appreciate them more during my daily walks there, listening to podcasts and observing others around me, jogging or taking their own casual walks, masks on face.