The internal family relations continue to deteriorate

My cousin has spent the last several days texting me constantly to complain about our Trump supporting uncle and how consumed with disinformation and conspiracy theories he is. While my cousin is obviously angry and in strong disagreement with our uncle’s political (and well, intellectual) stances), the part he is most consumed by is how he believes our uncle talks to all of us like we’re imbeciles and don’t understand anything about the world. He’s stopped responding to my uncle’s political rants talking down to him and my other cousin. He said he’s likely going to cut him off completely. It’s a fair thing to be upset by, and for the most part, I’ve chosen to ignore it and avoid topics pertaining to politics as a result of it with my uncle. Because like with most of my family, while I love him, I do not like him as a person. Any unbiased bystander who knew what my uncle has done in his life would say that he’s not a good person, as unfortunate as that may sound.

His sexism stems back to his hatred of his mother. He’s made many generalizations about the intelligence of women over the years. For some reason, this is one that stood out to me as the stupidest and most inaccurate: He once said that when a car crash happens, a man and a woman will never have even remotely the same account of the events that led to the crash. A man will tell you how the accident happened, who hit who, from which lane/side, approximate speed. A woman will focus on what the person was wearing, what kind of makeup or hairdo they had, and all the superficial details that don’t have anything to do with the crash. I remember making the comment that I had never heard of anything like that, and he brushed me off, saying I hadn’t experienced enough of these situations.

My uncle has also repeatedly made comments about how much I shop at stores and malls, even though I’ve repeatedly told him that I actually detest shopping and trying on clothes. If you know my shopping habits even remotely, you will know that I hate in person shopping for clothes. And he has repeatedly laughed me off and said, “Suuure, you don’t! All women love to shop!”

As for how he treats other women? He once intentionally poured boiling hot oil over a sewing job that my grandma had worked on for weeks, simply to spite her. He once threw a knife at my grandma. While my grandma spent six months laying on her death bed, he declined all our invitations to visit her. He claimed he went to see her alone just one time in that six months. She was paralyzed on the left side of her body, and he said that when he tried to hold her hand, she barely responded (maybe that’s because she was… paralyzed and could not speak???!). He has accused my mom of stealing with little proof. And the one girlfriend we know lived with him around the time of my grandma’s funeral confided in my aunt and told her that he was verbally abusive to her. He constantly belittled her, told her what to do, and eventually, as everyone saw coming, the relationship ended and she moved out. When I was an adult, I asked my uncle why their relationship didn’t work out. He told me that she was an illicit drug user, and while he tried to get her to quit, she refused. Who knows – that may have been true, but I am sure that the part his ex told my aunt was also true, as well.

My cousin is 17 years older than me, so this year, he is 55. While I’ve always looked at him as a kind, generous, good-hearted person, I have not always looked at him as a particularly deep, introspective person who can see nuance. I saw all these flaws about my uncle ages ago, yet it took all this time for my near-retirement cousin to see all of this just now. I suppose late is better than never.

Family and politics: The nasty gets nastier

People oftentimes wonder why politics divide families. I think it’s quite simple as to why: politics cannot simply be separated from the rest of life unless you identify with an extremely privileged and wealthy class. You may consider your politics personal, but are they? Your political stances reveal what matter to you as a person and how you see yourself in the midst of a society of people. That is telling of your psychology, your sociology, and ultimately how you treat other people in your life and other people you work with and pass by, and in the world. And in many ways, your political stances reveal your life view and your morals.

So when I think about my paternal grandma’s three living children, as in my dad and his younger sister and brother, while they are all very different personalities, they do have these elements in common:

  1. They always assume they know everything and are the smartest person in the room and want to assume you know far less. They can be pretty condescending and make it seem like you have the intelligence of a rock.
  2. They are all wealthy and are extremely cheap, yet all in their own ways.
  3. They are racist and really look down on Black and Brown people in general. My uncle is likely the most racist since he’s extremely anti-immigrants and has spent part of his career oppressing immigrants coming into this country, something he has truly relished and happily shared awful count-by-count anecdotes of during awkward family dinners.
  4. They are all right-leaning/far-right on the political spectrum.
  5. They all had a far less than ideal relationship with their mother.

My aunt and uncle voted for Trump in 2024. My aunt explicitly told my cousin she voted for him for her financial portfolio. I think she is planning to be buried in her coffin with her millions. I am uncertain whether my dad voted since he’s sat out the last couple elections, but if he did vote, it also would have been for Trump since he used to audibly complain about Kamala Harris as San Francisco district attorney.

When you do enough therapy, read about therapy, and interact with enough people who have done therapy, you find out that the majority of people’s ills can be traced back to one thing: their childhood and upbringing. My aunt and uncle hated their mother so much that they decided that they would hate immigrants and people of *other* color than Asian as much as possible. They grew up poor, barely had enough food to eat, and had to take care of themselves because my grandma and grandpa were always working during the day. They are deathly afraid of losing all their money, so that’s why they barely spend any of it and are all sitting on massive cash piles. So, once you combine the woes of a traumatic childhood with a poor education and even worser media literacy, it’s a disastrous equation when it comes to future politics. They will always want less for others than they have for themselves. They see the world as a zero sum game: if others thrive, that must mean I will starve? If others gain, I will have to lose.

My aunt told me many times, over email and in person, “One day, when you have accrued enough wealth and earn enough income, you will also come to your senses and vote Republican.” She admonished me on this topic many times, and I insisted to her that was unlikely to happen. While it may be easy for me or anyone else to simply vote in my own self interest, I recognize that as a citizen of this country and world that the world and this country do not fucking revolve around me or my family. We cannot simply vote for our own self interests, as we all coexist in one world. We all have to contribute to the world to make it a better, kinder, healthier, cleaner place. We have to care about our neighbors, those around us who are different and have less than we do. Because if we do not, then what kind of world are we bringing our children into – a place where everyone simply fends for themselves and we can no longer trust anyone? Who the hell wants to live in a world like that?

I keep seeing people saying that it’s hard to care about the world when you are living paycheck to paycheck and barely able to afford your rent and mortgage. Do these people think that Trump will make them wealthier? Really?!

When your mother decides she has an opinion on politics

I hadn’t called my mom in several weeks. The truth is that I really dislike calling her because we never have anything that is truly substantive to say to each other. We check in on things like health, my work, Kaia, and then… that’s it. The conversation rarely lasts more than five minutes. But it’s five minutes of inanity that I always feel either bored or annoyed by.

When I think back to all the conversations I’ve had and enjoyed with friends’ parents who I respect, with former teachers who I keep in touch with, with people who are a generation or so ahead of me, the conversations were always so fun and thought provoking because there was some semblance of an intellectual exchange, a discussion of ideas. On their part, they always treated me like my opinions mattered, like the things I was learning about and sharing with them were fascinating to them. They made it seem like they also had something they could learn — from me. I never felt like I was being spoken down to, as though my thoughts, opinions, or knowledge were lesser than simply because I was younger. But that’s generally how my parents, and especially my mom, make me feel on the majority of conversation topics. And the most ridiculous thing is: my mom is not educated, worldly, well traveled, or well read. If you gave her a copy of a world map and asked her to identify where the continent of Europe was or even where her home country of Vietnam was, she wouldn’t be able to answer the question. Yet somehow, she always insists she knows more about pretty much *everything* than me simply because she is older and “has wisdom.”

My mom is a Vietnamese American woman, born into a family as the youngest of ten children who was never wanted because she was the youngest and a girl. Because she was a girl, she was seen as worthless. Her mom (her dad died when she was 6) refused to pay for an education for her. She experienced the terrors and pains of the American (Vietnam War), married into a Chinese American family where the matriarch oppressed her and made her feel ashamed for being Vietnamese, and then experienced endless racism, sexism, and classism at her office job, which gave no opportunity for growth, for 26 years. So, while I do not agree with my mom’s internalized sexism and racism, I see where it all stems from. She has experienced so much hatred and oppression from White people who are “above” her on this so-called race ladder that she eagerly delights in putting down anyone “below her” on said ladder who is Black or Brown.

After talking about a bunch of nothing on Tuesday when I called her, she asked me, point blank, if I voted for Trump. “Why would I vote for an incompetent, racist convicted felon?” I responded.

“Why would you vote for that idiot Black lady and not Trump?” she retorted back. My mom doesn’t vote and has never cast a single vote in her entire time being American. And frankly, given how little she knows, it may actually be better she does not vote.

“You know, she’s not an idiot. And why do you have to be so racist and call her an ‘idiot Black lady’?” I said back, as calmly as I could.

“Why can’t I call the Black lady an ‘idiot Black lady?” my mom cackled back. “She’s an idiot Black. She’s stupid. She does no good! She has no face now. NO FACE! What is she going to do now? Nothing! Trump won because he’s better than her! Who wants a Black running this country?”

I have oftentimes thought about the things I would say to my parents if I truly, truly wanted to cut off all contact with them and go nuclear. And in this context, what I would have loved to have said, but refrained from and simply told her that this conversation was done and hung up, was this:

“At least ‘that Black lady’ never drove any of her (step)children to suicide like you did. You are really the one with no face.”

I may not have said it, but I mean every word of that statement.

We all succumbed to a car crash

I have not really felt emotionally all there the last couple of days. It’s been a little surreal going through life as though everything is fine when it really isn’t. And my feelings were pretty much summed up well when I woke up from a dream last night that was quite disturbing.

Chris, his brother Ben, and I were in a car. We were driving along some windy road on a cliff’s edge. It may have been Highway 1 in California or something similar, but the exact location was uncertain. Underneath each wrap of road was another road directly underneath us that also wound around a mountain. And there wasn’t much a rail on the side of each cliff to “protect” your car from going over. Chris and Ben were having a heated conversation about a topic I couldn’t hear, but I could tell that they were getting particularly feisty. Chris was driving. Ben was in the front passenger seat. Suddenly, Chris’s phone rings, and he stupidly decides to answer it with his hand. He reaches down to turn it on while Ben yells at him that it’s dangerous. And as Chris turns the phone on and says “Hello?”, the car immediately swerves off the road into thin air. Our car is falling and falling, and we fall on top of the road below us, and then we bounce off it and continue to fall onto the next road underneath THAT road. All the while in the back of my head, I am wondering, “Are we going to actually survive this, or are we all going to die? And where in the world is my Pookster?!!”

I never have falling dreams. They are very common for a lot of people, but I can barely recall the last falling dream I had. Falling dreams, as most “experts” would say, indicate a feeling of helplessness, worry, and fear.

I am definitely on edge. I’m not sure how long this is going to last, but above all, as my friend keeps reminding me, “Protect your peace.”

I have no words to say today

…Other than that I am deeply disappointed in the American electorate — for those who were too lazy and disillusioned to come out and vote, for those who decided that a convicted felon would be better to lead this country than an accomplished female politician, for those who voted with complete disregard for civil rights and for the rights of those with a uterus. I try to be optimistic because I have a female toddler who is inheriting what is supposed to be one of the world’s great democracies, but it feels less and less like that is something to be proud of and stand by. And for those who vote against their own self interest… I honestly just feel sorry for you, as many of you probably have zero awareness you are doing so.

Hope and dread today

It is scary to think that today, the United States of America could be electing a convicted felon to a second nonconsecutive term of president. Even after he denounced the 2020 presidential results. Even after he’s shown clear examples of blatant sexism, racism, and classism. I don’t have a lot of hope to be honest, especially given how close the presidential election was in 2020. But, I do have a toddler who is growing up in this very divided country where her rights are eroding every single day, so I have to be optimistic for her sake. Because… I am definitely NOT optimistic for mine.

God bless, America. Sort of.

2024 is coming to a close, and there’s so much more food to make!

I remember when I was young, and I used to think that each day, especially the crappy and boring days, were so, so long. And now, each year in my adulthood, I keep thinking time passes too quickly. It’s exactly as people say: the older you get, the quicker you think time goes by because so much has already happened in your life. The younger you are, the less that has happened in your life since you’ve lived fewer years, so time feels like it takes forever to pass.

I looked at the calendar late last week and was shocked to see that I have only four more weeks in New York for the remainder of this year. We’ll be in Europe Thanksgiving week. Then, we have barely one week left before we head to Australia for the Christmas season. My immediate thought was: What are all the things I need to get done before we leave for the Southern Hemisphere? And what else do I really want to cook before the end of the year? What do I want to use up in my freezer?!

For the last part, I know I wanted to make bread at least twice before the end of the year, so I started that process on Friday. I started my brioche dough, which I did 60% white flour, 40% whole wheat flour for variety/health (I mean, yeah... you CAN give brioche more nutrition by using whole grains, believe it or not!), on Friday night. I let it rest (and ferment) in the fridge until Sunday afternoon, when I rolled it out, proofed it a second time, then baked it last night. The house, as always, smelled like heaven, and for two weeks, we have fresh, homemade brioche to enjoy. I will likely freeze one loaf to either enjoy the week before we leave for Europe, or our only week here in December.

I also wanted to make shrimp scampi, so I have defrosted my wild gulf shrimp from Butcherbox in the fridge for tomorrow. I want to have some of our Borgatti’s porcini ravioli, and also make the Italian sausage from Calabria Pork Store in a pasta dish (with butternut squash?) before end of year. If I have time, I also want to try out a garlic knots recipe, maybe challah again if I’m feeling super ambitious with time. If I did that, I could freeze a challah loaf so that it’s ready for defrosting in January upon our return. So many possibilities!

Our freezer is stuffed. And I need to un-stuff it before we leave. A full freezer is always a sign of richness to me. So right now, I feel very, very rich. We’re very privileged to have a full freezer and pantry.

Not all gai mei bao are made the same: a taste test of Manhattan Chinatown bakeries

Gai mei bao (ji wei bao in Mandarin), also known as cocktail bun or coconut bun in English, and is literally translated into “chicken tail bun,” is one of the most popular types of bao in a Chinese bakery. It was originally made (according to Chinese food legends) from the scraps of leftover bread and dough at Chinese bakeries, where they’d mash together leftover scraps of bread with some sugar, butter, and coconut and try to sell them as actual bao the next day. It’s called “chicken tail” bao because of the shape of the bun itself, so there’s no actual chicken or tail in it. I always loved this bao, but I didn’t actually find out what it was called in English until several years ago. I’d try to order “coconut bao” in English and Chinese at bakeries, but I was not consistently getting the same thing handed to me. Sometimes, it would just be a plain milk-type bun with coconut sprinkled on top (ugh, so boring and plain). Other times, it would be stuffed with just coconut but nothing else. There wasn’t that buttery, coconuty, slightly sweet gooey filling on the inside that I really loved.

So the other day, I decided to do a side by side tasting of three ji wei bao: one from Nice One Bakery, one from Mei Lai Wah (famous for its long lines and pineapple cha siu bao that I think have too much fat pieces stuck in them), and one from Manna House Bakery. I always loved the Mei Lai Wah one, but I strongly disliked the lines. Plus, when I’d try to pick one up later in the day, they’d oftentimes be sold out of it, as they didn’t make as many of them as they do the bo lo cha siu bao. The Manna House Bakery one is my go-to since there’s no line or wait; it costs $1.75, the same as Nice One, which I’d never had before. Mei Lai Wah’s was the most expensive at $2.50 + tax, so $2.70. That’s over 57% more for the Mei Lai Wah one!

Well, I took them all home and sliced them to see their innards. I laid them all out side by side. The verdict? The Nice One was the worst with the least amount of filling. It was nearly pathetic and a sad excuse for a ji wei bao; that’s the first and last time I ever get one from there. The Manna House one had good filling and was tasty as always, but honestly, it could not compare to how much filling the Mei Lai Wah ji wei bao had: Mei Lai Wah’s was STUFFED to the brim with filling. Plus, the filling was just richer and had a stronger, more defined mouthfeel. The filling color for the Mei Lai Wah one was much more yellow, whereas the Manna House one was more white, which likely indicates how much more butter the Mei Lai Wah version has (for better or for worse… for taste or for your cholesterol…).

I will still get the Manna House ji wei bao out of convenience, but the best ji wei bao/gai mei bao in Manhattan Chinatown is most definitely the Mei Lai Wah one. I will always go there for the best version assuming I’m there earlier in the day and there’s no wait. I’ll never get the Nice One ji wei bao again, but I do quite love their baked cha siu bao and baked bo lo cha siu bao. Maybe my next taste test of Chinatown bakery items will be a true side by side of the bo lo/pineapple cha siu bao from Nice One, Mei Lai Wah, and Manna House next!

Chi Cha San Chen Taiwan tea in Manhattan Chinatown

Since I was going to be in the Chinatown/SoHo area for Kaia’s Halloween parade yesterday, I decided to book a 15-minute oolong tea tasting at Chi Cha San Chen Taiwan Tea, which opened last summer on Bayard off of Mott Street. I had never heard of them before, but they had lines around the block when they opened for months and months. I always wanted to go, but I refused to wait in the crazy line. Chi Cha San Chen is a high-end tea shop based in Taichung, Taiwan. They make tea drinks with pure tea leaves grown in Taiwan (no powders), and make all their own toppings, like tapioca, jellies, etc. They differentiate themselves with what they call a “teaspresso” machine that is supposed to brew tea to ideal conditions. I had never heard of them before (and definitely didn’t know about them when we went to Taiwan in June-July 2017), but I found out that they have won international taste tests for their oolong teas. Some have called Chi Cha San Chen “Michelin-star-like” tea in the tea community. Though I am an avid tea drinker and always intrigued by different, pure teas (none of the flavored garbage. Yes, I’m looking at you, David’s Tea, UGH), I always find it a bit amusing whenever I hear about tea “awards” since tea is pretty personal. What could be delicious for one person can be completely revolting for the next.

The tea tasting was a bit of a disappointment. I thought I would get to try several teas, but instead, they only let me choose one out of the five types of Taiwanese oolong they sell. They told me that if I came back with up to three friends, we could all choose a different one so we could taste four at the same time, one each. I was not happy with this, but I figured I’d just choose one and come back at a later time. I chose the medium strength oolong. They precisely measured out exactly three grams of tea, then poured in perfectly measured tea at a specific temperature and brewed for six minutes on the dot. They strained and poured it for me in a cup that is shaped like a chawan. They wouldn’t let me have any second or third infusions (what a waste!!). While the tea was very aromatic, almost floral, and not even the least bit bitter or acidic, the “tasting” experience put me off. Tastings are supposed to include more than just one, otherwise it just seems like a sad, glorified sample. Plus, the price was quite exorbitant: 15 grams of tea, or exactly five brewings, for $22. Ouch. I’ve bought plenty of premium tea before, but only one of them, the “Chanel” of green teas, which was a bamboo green, that I got while in Sichuan, topped this price.

I think I will stick with their tea lattes and made-to-order drinks, which are all made with loose leaf, instead of trying out their vacuum-sealed loose leaf ones. I liked it, but not enough to buy it to make at home. That just seemed a bit too steep for me.

The Malin SoHo co-working space

One of the perks I get as a remote employee of my company is 12 company-paid bookings at co-working spaces through an app called Gable. My company rolled out this offering earlier this year as a way to get employees who work in remote locations to work and meet with other employees in the same area. I hadn’t had a reason to take advantage of this until Kaia started at her new school downtown. I finally booked a space yesterday so that I could attend Kaia’s school’s Halloween parade, and it was an interesting experience to be in a workspace where I was surrounded by total strangers instead of colleagues.

The Malin SoHo co-working space is a short 10-minute walk from Kaia’s school, and from the photos, it looked like a very modern, poshly furnished space. There’s a kitchen that is stocked with a proper coffee machine (flat whites or cappuccinos, anyone?), a water machine with multiple settings/temperatures, a fridge, microwave, and real ceramic bowls, plates, and silverware. The space has couches, diner-like booths, long desks, as well as designated work desks that you can reserve (and pay extra for). There are also a good number of private, sound-proof phone booths, as well as beautifully appointed and different sized conference rooms that you can also book and pay extra for. The space has good lighting and lots of natural light (of course, the areas where there is natural light, you have to pay extra to sit and reserve seats there, but well, if you are willing to pay…). The whole space looks like it was made to be photographed and put on social media.

I understand the aesthetics are very important to them, but it wasn’t clear which spaces were “reserved” based on the way things were laid out because nothing was labeled. So in the morning, I worked at a reserved space without realizing it. When I tried to go back to it after the Halloween parade, someone let me know that it was reserved and I couldn’t sit there… even though that entire area was unoccupied.

The front desk receptionists were very nonchalant and barely said anything helpful. They gave me my Wi-Fi passcode and did nothing else to help me get acquainted with the space. It would have been courteous of them to have told me about the reserved spaces at the beginning.

The clientele here… was pretty much all White. I was the diversity of the space for most of the time I was there until I noticed later in the afternoon, a couple of Asian males walked in with their laptops. I also felt like people didn’t “see” me. At least five people walked right into me as though I didn’t even exist, even though I always walked to my right. Only one of those five people actually apologized. It reminded me of the period in 2020 when George Floyd was murdered, and all these Black people on social media started sharing these awful stories of how they felt invisible in the presence of White people. They said White people constantly walked into them as though they did not exist, and some even reported being *SAT* on, on benches in public parks and other public spaces.

It’s crazy to think that a drop-in day rate for this would be $75. You don’t get any guarantee of privacy via a phone booth or a room; there’s no sign-ups or reservations for a phone booth. It’s basically just Wi-Fi, a seat, access to water and coffee, and a bathroom.

I’ll definitely be using this space again in the future when I want to attend school events or pick up early, as it’s a nicer and more comfortable space than other co-working spaces that are in the Gable app nearby. But I still think it leaves something to be desired for the optimal space to work.