Full service NYC building treats

Every holiday season, as we would normally get ready to leave for the Southern Hemisphere for Christmas, we partake in the annual tradition that all residents in a doorman building do, and we get ready to distribute Christmas bonuses to our staff to express our appreciation. Before I lived in a full-service building, I always thought this was an absolutely insane practice; shouldn’t these people get paid a living wage? Why should the residents be expected to tip them? Then, I moved into one of these buildings, and I realized how integral they are to keeping things running smoothly (plus, the question of what they should get paid… unfortunately has nothing to do with what I think SHOULD be reality, but it is what it is in this country and doesn’t look to be changing anytime soon).

In addition to tips, though, I also like to express appreciation by baking for the staff, so each year, I’ve made an assortment of quick breads and cookies to say thanks. I actually share baked goods throughout the year, but I do the most at one time during this time of year, and they always appreciate it and look forward to it. World peace (aka double chocolate sable cookies) have been on the bake list almost every year because they’re so simple and delicious, but this year, I also made chocolate chunk pumpkin bread and bacon cheddar scallion corn muffins. They all seemed to enjoy them; some even took seconds and thirds. I’d assume that’s probably another reason why most of the staff seem to really love us, and occasionally will go out of the way for us.

Because who can reject cookies, right? Food is the way to one’s heart.

Striped bass meatiness

Because I’ve mostly been buying barramundi from Australis via Whole Foods and Costco when on sale during the pandemic, I realize that this is pretty much the only white fish I’ve been eating this whole time. Australis likes to market barramundi here in the U.S. as “sustainable seabass” since barramundi are not in the waters around this country, yet somehow.. I seem to have forgotten what any type of bass tastes like. Well, another sustainable fish option came up on the sale list at Whole Foods a few weeks ago, and it was actually striped bass. So I picked up two packets of it and prepared it in a Thai green curry tonight.

I was really shocked at the texture; it was extremely meaty, way, way more meaty than the barramundi, which tended to be more tender and flaky. When I dug my fork into it tonight, it almost felt like I was tugging at meat skin.

“What is this?” Chris asked, as he ate the fish curry. I told him it was the striped bass from Whole Foods, and he expressed surprise, also saying that he thought it was meat because of the texture.

Well… I guess fish IS meat, right? Just meat of the sea?

Kuih Cafe

My husband likes to hold grudges. I still remember the time when he talked about wanting to eat Malaysian food years before we were a couple, and I quickly Yelped a few Malaysian options in Manhattan Chinatown and chose one for us to meet at for dinner. Needless to say, it was just okay at best, or in his words, “absolute shit.” He did not like any of the dishes and said that everything seemed more Chinese than it was actually Malaysian… which was pretty true. He was not happy with my choice and made sure to remind me of this incident years and years after it happened.

So now, whenever I suggest trying a new Malaysian spot that opens in New York City, he’s always… just a tad skeptical. But when I told him that Ronny Chieng, an actual Malaysian and comedian we love and respect, went there and had good things to say about it, he seemed convinced. So we went down to Chinatown this afternoon for our monthly massages, and I stopped by Kuih Cafe to pick up a few things on their limited pandemic-era menu. While waiting for my food, I chatted up the worker, and he said that they opened this cafe just a month before the pandemic. That must have been harsh. I felt so bad for them, and at the time time wanted to support them even more to ensure they stay afloat. I ended up getting nearly one of each thing on their menu: we got the nasi lemak, salty duck egg butter fried chicken, a few pieces of kuih, and a slice each of caramel kaya cake and burnt pineapple cheesecake. Since indoor dining has officially shut down in New York City and the cafe was too tiny for outdoor dining, we got takeout and took our food home to eat.

You probably don’t care what I think given what I wrote above, but I thought all of it was delicious. The briny fishiness of the nasi lemak was impossible to ignore. It tasted like we were in Southeast Asia again.

And the verdict from the husband? “Mm. Tastes homely,” Chris said between bites as I asked him what he thought.

“Homely” is a compliment from this critical Malaysian food eater. I’ll take that.

Cash as a gift in Asian households

When I was young, I always thought it was a bit odd that family members, other than my aunt who lavished gifts on me constantly, always gave me cash as gifts. It didn’t matter if it was Christmas, my birthday, or Chinese New Year (well, Chinese New Year is always cash…), but I always just expected to get cash. In my white friends’ and more Americanized Asian friends’ homes, everyone always gave… you know, real physical gifts as presents. They’d choose a shirt, a sweater, a piece of jewelry, a toy… something that they thought the receiver would like and appreciate. I always wondered why my parents didn’t take the time to think about some thing that I could potentially like and give it to me.

Looking back now as a thirty-something adult, I realize that this thought was truly immature and lacking perspective. I had no idea how good I had it then… at all. As an adult, I am still, until this day, given cash by my mom and my dad. My dad would just give it to me (he’s a man of few words, just actions, as you can tell). And my mom would just say, “Well, I don’t know exactly what you like, so you can choose something you like when you want.” It is such a privilege to be given… MONEY. PERIOD. It gives you freedom to do what you wish with it – spend it on something you know for sure you will like and appreciate (or need… hello, groceries and bills?!); save it for a rainy day; invest it to make the money grow. It is a privilege to have family and friends of enough means who actually are capable of giving you money. I don’t know who you are as you are reading this, but how many times have you received an actual gift that you thought was absolutely hideous, or just didn’t fit what you wanted or needed at that time? Isn’t that pretty much all of us? Doesn’t that high potential end up leading to a lot of wasted time, money, and actual objects that would ultimately get wasted and likely thrown into a land fill?

But money? Money never fails. It can always be used. No one will ever throw it away.

I thought of this today as I received a check in the mail from my dad for Christmas. He wrote a short but sweet note, wishing us a merry Christmas in New York. I haven’t seen my parents for Christmas since 2011, but it hasn’t been a big deal since my parents don’t really celebrate Christmas anymore with my mom being a JW. Plus, since 2013, I’ve been coming home at least three times every year. For some reason, this time when I received this gift, I just felt a little empty. I definitely do appreciate the gift. But it made me wonder when I’d actually see my parents in person again with this looming virus and no end of this pandemic in sight.

Thankful for friends lost

I’m not sure why, but while I was thinking about Mariah Carey and how listening to her music reminds me of my brother, I remembered an old friend of mine who had followed this blog I wrote quite intently in the aftermath of Ed’s death. He was long-winded, surly, oftentimes depressed, and extremely cynical. We knew each other from high school, and though we were close then and remained in touch afterwards, I realized around the time of Ed’s passing that he really was the kind of person I should no longer be in touch with. He added no value to my life, I never felt better or happier after seeing him or having contact with him, and he had absolutely nothing to offer me. Instead, he only sucked me dry of energy and any potential optimism that I had. When he moved to New York to start his lucrative career as a lawyer, he even claimed to be so debt that he couldn’t afford to buy bedding. So I actually loaned him MY OWN bedding, down to my comforter and my comforter cover, so that he could have something comfortable to sleep in.

After reading months and months of my reflections of Ed, he randomly messaged me and said, “Don’t you think you are being a little obsessive about your brother?”

I stopped dead in my tracks. This man is truly the biggest piece of shit I’ve ever called a friend, I thought. My brother jumped off the fucking Golden Gate Bridge after decades of suffering from depression and borderline schizophrenia that he had no control over, and this loser who can’t even afford his own bedsheets has the nerve to tell me that I am “obsessive”?

In that moment, I actually felt sorry for him, even though he was completely undeserving of any energy of mine at all. In that moment, I felt pity for him, knowing that he’d never be able to experience the level of pain I felt losing Ed because he’d never love another person the way that I loved my brother. He would never know the depth of feeling, the amount of empathy that was required to understand how I felt for even a split second.

Years later, he reached out on Facebook Messenger, of all places, to ask me how I handled my brother’s “affairs” after he passed. He said he was sorry to ask (he wasn’t; he was just being selfish and only reaching out when he needed something), but his father had died suddenly, and he needed advice. I had none to offer. I wished him well and expressed my condolences. That was the last I heard from him.

Some people find value at keeping friendships for life. I find value at keeping friendships that actually fuel me and contribute something to my inner happiness and peace, people who actually want to give to me and don’t just expect me to constantly give to them. He did none of those things. Thank god we are no longer connected.

The little influences

Whether you are aware of it or not, if you have an older sibling, you have probably been influenced in one way or another by this person. Growing up, even though my brother and I certainly fought and didn’t agree a lot of the time, I was influenced heavily by him in ways that I was not aware of at all until reflecting on it as an adult. My first music interests were most obviously influenced by him, as he was the one who exposed me first to tapes, then to CDs, then to mp3s, then to concerts on television and even live. When Ed was interested in Mariah Carey and Janet Jackson, so was I. Whatever CDs Ed bought in the ’90s, I listened to, as well.When Ed got into Shania Twain, I also followed him. And when he would play songs on repeat over and over again… even now, long after his passing, I still do the same thing when I get obsessed with a song. I just don’t openly tell anyone that. Except now, I don’t have to annoy anyone with the same song being played on repeat on the living room stereo; I just do it via my earbuds on my phone.

I was thinking about this a lot while reading The Meaning of Mariah Carey, and after as I got nostalgic for her music in the ’90s and 2000s, especially her live music, which I always thought was so powerful and tear-rendering. Ed was the reason I became so obsessed with everything about her: her personality, her music, her lyrics, her life. Even when Ed didn’t care for her music much after she released Butterfly and later albums from 1997 onward, he still cared. I knew it because he would still buy her albums, and he’d say they were “for me,” even though he still listened to them.

When Ed passed away seven years ago, my parents and I were trying to figure out what to do with all his belongings. Given that CDs are now obviously obsolete (do you even own a CD player anymore?!), I especially wasn’t sure what to do with all these albums… he had CDs. They filled up an entire shelf in the living room. And even if I may never listen to them again, even once, there was really no way I’d want to give up any of the Mariah Carey CD albums just for nostalgic reasons. So I told my dad to leave them all there and that, “I’ll figure it out.”

No, I still haven’t figured it out, even seven years later. I kind of just want them all to stay exactly where they are, just so that I can look back at that shelf and remember the time when he was healthier and a little happier, playing the music he loved that he got me hooked on, as well. I suppose in that way, when I listen to Mariah’s music, it ties me back to him and helps me remember his sweet, generous, loving self.

No bringing home the bread today

On many weekdays during the pandemic, for a light lunch, I’ll prepare some version of toast for the both of us. It’s usually one slice of bread each with some type of topping, usually avocado, sardines, kimchi, cheese, peanut butter, jam, or some combination of some of the above. Pre-pandemic, we rarely had bread in the house, but since the pandemic, we’ve been eating a lot more than we usually do. And no, mind you, there’s been no weight gain.

I realized after lunch prep today that we’d run out of bread, so I took a break later this afternoon to go out and see if I could grab some. Whole Foods and Trader Joe’s lines would be insane, so I tried to stop by Levain or Orwashers to see if I could get a whole grain loaf. Welp, no such luck: BOTH shops had sold out of all their loaves by 2pm, and they both shared that this was highly unusual. “This has never happened before,” the worker at Levain said to me. “At this time of the day, we’d always have some of each type of bread we bake, but today, ti was all gone before 2pm! I have no idea what’s going on.”

It’s the sixth day of Hannukah today, and I wondered if that could be a reason for the bread shortage. The other day I had was… oh wait. The weather report says a huge snow storm is going to blanket all of New York City tomorrow. Could that be the reason everyone is buying up all the carbs?

I’m pretty sure it’s the latter. When it snows here, no one wants to go ANYWHERE.

Queen Ann Ravioli tonight

On Saturday, we explored Bensonhurst and brought back a number of delicious goodies, including the famous Queen Ann cheese raviolis. They are from a family recipe and made from old-school Italian pasta machines that are no longer for sale in the U.S. Queen Ann has been owned by three different generations and is fully family run. I’d long wanted to visit this spot and take home some of these famous ravioli, and tonight, we finally got to try them.

I made some of my own simple tomato sauce and boiled these fresh, large round raviolis for about four minutes until they floated. I scooped them out of the hot water, spooned some tomato sauce on top, and generously sprinkled grated Parmigiano Reggiano to finish. And when I took a bite, I knew these were going to be amazing: the ravioli casing had a great, toothy, bite, and the inside was like a pillowy cloud of mozzarella, Romano, and ricotta cheese. These were so delicious. I’m so happy we got two different types of ravioli to share. The sun-dried tomato and smoked mozzarella ones are for enjoying in the future.

Sundae Service Creamery

During the pandemic, I’ve been discovering a number of different small food businesses, including a female minority-owned ice cream business called Sundae Service Creamery. They make Asian-inspired flavors of Ice cream, use no artificial flavorings or ingredients, and make some of the best ice cream I’ve ever had. And what’s even more convenient is that they deliver for free as long as you order two pints or more if you live in Manhattan!

A few months ago, I tried them for the first time and ordered four pints: vegan coconut pandan, earl grey strawberry cheesecake, Vietnamese coffee, and ginger black sesame. Every single one of these flavors blew me away, but I’d have to say that of all of these, my absolute favorite was the coconut pandan; it had the smoothest, creamiest texture, and just the right amount of both coconut and pandan so that neither over powered the other. Chris enjoyed them so much that he nudged me to order from them again, so we did. Our second order of four additional pints (I mean, we ARE in a pandemic…) arrived today. This time around, we got the coconut pandan (of course), and three new flavors: yuzu caramel apple, honey butter chip, and banana miso caramel (this one is not a new flavor of theirs, but is just new to us). I have high expectations of these three new flavors given our experience with the first four and can’t wait to try them. We just need to pace ourselves so that we don’t totally become fatties.

Ravioli

When I was growing up, one treat we very rarely had for dinner but I loved very much were these cheese shells. I’m pretty certain my dad used to buy them from Costco, but they were so, so decadent and delicious. They had at least three or four different types of cheese, and when we’d have them for dinner, we’d have a little tomato sauce on the side of them and dig into the creaminess of the different cheeses all melding together. Thinking about it now, I do not think I can even remember the last time I had these shells as a kid. They just randomly disappeared from our meals out of nowhere. I was reminded of this delicious memory when we visited two popular ravioli establishments in Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, today, Queen Ann Ravioli & Macaroni and Pastosa.

Exploring the many Italian shops across The Bronx and Brooklyn is very overwhelming in that all I want to do is buy a little of everything… but then, that’s not really realistic because a little of everything would likely require a U-Haul truck to bring it all back to our apartment. So when we visit these areas, I need to be selective about what we can realistically carry back and actually eat in a timely manner so that we don’t waste any food. So when I saw that Queen Ann was most famous for their three-cheese ravioli, I knew we had to get a box of them. We also picked up some fresh, lightly salted mozzarella and pesto from Pastosa, among other goodies.

Food memories are usually my happy memories — from my childhood and even my adult life. It seems to be the one constant of joy for me.