Last night, Chris and I went out for an early nine-year wedding anniversary celebration at Yingtao NYC. The restaurant is a short walk from our building, and I was aware of it since even before it opened. Given it’s in our neighborhood, when I would go on walks during the day, I immediately noticed the stylized Chinese writing spelling out “ying tao” or “cherry” in Chinese. I figured it would be some fine dining establishment only open in the evenings. Yingtao finally opened in December 2023, so it’s been about a year and three months of being in existence. The owner is originally from China and had also lived in New Zealand before coming to California and finally New York for school. The cuisine is clearly Chinese, but with lots of regional influences from Xi’an, Shanghai, Guangdong/Hong Kong, and Sichuan. It’s a bit of Chinese meets European/French/Polish, and the more I read reviews about the place and all the restaurant review write-ups about Yingtao, the more I wanted to finally come here. Since Kaia has been born, we’ve really only gotten a babysitter for comedy or theater, plus two parties. The only time we’ve gotten a babysitter for a meal out has been for my birthday two years ago, and our former nanny looked after Kaia. So this is the first time in ages when we’ve gone out, just the two of us, for a fancy meal. And it most definitely exceeded all expectations and was beyond worth it.

To sit in the dining room of Yingtao, everyone has to opt into their tasting menu, which is 10 courses: three starters/appetizers, four mains, and three desserts. You also have the option to add supplements to certain courses, as well as to add items from the a la carte/bar menu. In addition to our ten courses, we also had an eleventh bonus since Chris shared with the team that it was our anniversary: they gave us a fourth dessert from the bar menu, which was an incredibly rich and moussy ube cheesecake with a red shiso sorbet.

Every course was memorable and well executed, but I will say that the most memorable bites for me were the tuna with black vinegar, giner, and kumquat; the Royal Reds with flavors of “kou shui ji” or “mouth water chicken;” the wagyu with mizune, carrot, and doubanjiang; the snapper with milk broth, doufupi (tofu skins), and goji berries; and the rose with greek yogurt and lychee. The tuna had an interesting sweet-savory-smokey complexity going on, and I figured it must be due to the black vinegar used. When I asked the server what kind of vinegar was in the dish, she immediately presented a 10-year aged bottle of Baoning black vinegar, which I had previously been eyeing on TheMalaMarket.com, as they are the exclusive importer of this vinegar in the U.S. I knew I had to have this vinegar. What most people do not realize about Chinese culinary traditions is that a lot of fermented foods like vinegar take the same love, labor, and intensity as the most well known, respected, and pricey Italian balsamic vinegars. It’s just that most of society is quite prejudiced and has historically respected European food traditions more than Eastern ones. The wagyu was made with a very complex and savory doubanjiang (Sichuan chili bean paste), and no surprise that when I asked to see the paste, the server once again brought out a packaged paste that was also from TheMalaMarket.com, aged three years and also something I had looked at! We also loved the tempranillo wine that Chris ordered, and then were introduced to a taste of a different (and very unique) California grown tempranillo that finally made Chris feel impressed when drinking a U.S.-made wine. It was like a night of learning at Yingtao for the both of us. We left very happy, very full, and with plans for future home purchases to stock our pantry and alcohol reserves.

We took photos of both bottles of wine. I also made a note of the fancy black vinegar and doubanjiang. While I am eager to try these in my own cooking, I cannot help but wonder how they will make my far-cheaper versions of black vinegar and Sichuan doubanjiang at home feel when they get neglected in favor of these fancy, super complex versions. That’s the thing: literally having a taste of finer, nicer things can really ruin all the regular, everyday things for you. If there were just a few words I’d use to sum up this Yingtao dining experience, it would be these: complex, layers and layers of flavor.

I am pretty certain that New York City is the most diverse city in the entire freaking world. The number of languages that are spoken here, especially in Queens, is somewhere as high as 800, the diversity of the socioeconomic demographics is vast, and the variety of cuisines across all its restaurants is likely unsurpassed in the entire world. Of course, that’s my unscientific, no-data backed opinion, but I know that when and if we leave New York City one day, I will be very sad to say goodbye to this diversity in every sense of the word.

Today, during our Saturday food crawl, we were in Astoria, Queens, where we had lunch at Krob Kreung Krob Ros. The name signifies the perfect balance of Thai flavors: sour, sweet, creamy, and salty. The owners opened this spot for those who miss authentic flavors of home-cooked Thai meals, and for those seeking genuine Thai cuisine. So many of the dishes on the menu were things I’d either never seen before or had seen quite sparingly, even across Queens Thai restaurants, which are already quite representative of authentic Thai cuisine. We had tod mun hua plee, or banana blossoms tossed in a red curry and fried into fritters, and a pik kai tod kra thiam, which were fried marinated chicken wings with fried garlic that were unlike any other chicken wings I’d had in my life. The banana blossoms were crunchy on the outside and deliciously meaty inside. The fried chicken wings had a really thin, crunchy breading that was deeply satisfying to bite into. One particularly notable dish was the som tam tod, a friend papaya and carrot salad. The papaya and carrot pieces come out coated in a deep fried batter, and you take each piece by hand and dip it into the sweet, sour, salty lime-based dressing. We had definitely never had that before! We probably overdid it with the fried items, but they were all so unique and different from even the Thai food we usually order that is not pad thai or red curry.

I also really enjoyed the khao hor bai bua siam, the lotus leaf wrapped sticky rice with sweet pork sausage, scallop, jumbo shrimp, shiitake mushroom, salted egg yolk, and cilantro. The rice had a really nice, savory, meaty flavor, and it was really fragrant from being steamed in the lotus leaf. It reminded me of the Thai take of zongzi, or Chinese tamales.

Little gems like Krob Kreung Krob Ros is why I love New York City so much; just when you think you might be tired of it here, a new interesting, homely restaurant opens up to wow your senses and taste buds.

On Friday during lunch time, I took a break from my coworking space to head over to Matcha Cafe Maiko, a matcha spot close to Kaia’s school that I’ve been meaning to try. I ordered their cold matcha latte with cheese foam. It was carefully whisked with perfectly measured out matcha powder. It was sweetened to 50 percent as I requested. And when I had my first sip, I was obsessed. Was it expensive at $7.62 (that includes tax)? Yes. But I could see the entire process of the drink being made meticulously, and I knew the quality of the ingredients were high. So while it’s an indulgent treat to pay this much for tea, it’s an occasional indulgence I like to have because I think it’s worth it.

Let’s contrast that with Poppy’s Cafe on Henry Street in Brooklyn, where we did our Saturday food crawl this weekend. We popped in there after we had lunch, and Chris suggested we get a hojicha to go. He ordered it and asked for some whole milk in it. Then less than two minutes later, the guy at the cash register says, “Your tea is ready!”

That’s odd, I thought in my head as Chris took the tea. How could it already be done so quickly? Chris took one sip of it as we left the small cafe and told me it tasted weak. I sipped it and felt annoyed immediately. “This wasn’t steeped properly!” I said to him. I took a peek inside the cup under the lid to see that it was a hojicha tea bag that was just steeped in water. They probably dripped in a little whole milk before the bag had the time to steep properly and didn’t really care; they just wanted us to get our drink and get out.

Tea from a good tea bag can still be good if it’s steeped properly and for the adequate amount of time. I almost exclusively only drink loose leaf tea now. The only exceptions to that are when I’m not at home, or if I’m having Dilmah tea bags or powdered tea (matcha or hojicha). But here, they clearly did not care and just added water to a to-go cup, dropped the tea bag in, added some hot water, clamped on the lid, and handed it over. I wasn’t necessarily expecting a hojicha latte made with hojicha powder (which wasn’t an option, and wasn’t what Chris ordered, anyway), but this was just a disrespect to tea and tea preparation in general. Tea is oftentimes misunderstood and thus not prepared properly by a lot of people, but in this case, you’d expect more from a semi trendy cafe on Henry Street in Brooklyn. Just for this, I’d be highly unlikely to patronize this spot ever again.