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.

On Monday night, a friend and I met on St. Mark’s Place in the East Village to have dinner and catch up. I chose a new Chinese noodle shop called Loong Noodles where you order and pay via a kiosk at the front. Then, someone comes out to your table to bring you your order. We got two orders of noodles, as well as a garlic cucumber salad and pork-and-cabbage dumplings as starters. The food was all delicious and toothy, and though my wan za noodles weren’t as notable and multifaceted in flavor and texture as the wan za noodles I recently had in the Bronx, I still enjoyed these and would come back to this spot.

The funny thing about coming to Loong Noodles was that the cucumber salad we ordered was likely the most unusual dish. When the salad plate came out, I noticed a ton of finely minced garlic, which of course would mean the cucumber salad would be extremely pungent. What I was surprised by was that when I took my first bite and chewed, the flavor was *not* what I anticipated. There was this strong umami, savory flavor, as though a chicken bouillon or broth was used. Or, perhaps they sprinkled in a little MSG into the salad dressing? Either way, every bite of the cucumber salad was a tiny explosion of umami savoriness, and it was hard to not notice it, especially since I’ve never even once had this flavor or sensation in my mouth with any other cucumber salad I’d had in my life.

We had a good amount left over, so I had it packed up to take home to enjoy. This definitely makes the list of dishes I’ve had this year that did not taste how I expected.

Since I was young, I have always loved Trader Joe’s (let’s please put aside their shady practices with doing business with small business owners for a minute). Their products are generally cleaner and have fewer gross ingredients. The packaging is always fun. The prices are most definitely always low, relatively speaking. I still have fond memories from when I was in high school, and my dad found a delicious kiwi gooseberry jam from TJs. I was completely obsessed, and I was never a big jam person. It had this really great balance of light sweetness with tartness, and it tasted like real fruit, just mashed up. I also liked the occasional chunk of gooseberry I got in my mouth while eating it. I requested he get more of it each time he went to Trader Joe’s, which was maybe once every couple of months. One day, he returned from a Trader Joe’s trip and said that my beloved green-hued jam was no longer there, that they had discontinued it. I was completely crushed: WHY? I asked. It was so, so good. Who could have that unique, delicious jam and not be completely enamored with it?

Then in my college years, Trader Joe’s carried their own version of Nutella, but far higher quality: their hazelnut chocolate spread had 31 percent hazelnut, unlike Nutella, which only had about 10-11 percent hazelnut. Each weekend breakfast at Wellesley in the dining halls, I’d take it down with me and have it be my weekend indulgence. I’d spread it on a piece of whole wheat toast and savor the nutty chocolatey flavor. And then, of course, that item also got discontinued.

As of late, the item I’m sad about, but was warned about from the beginning, is the Trader Joe’s organic tart cherry fruit spread. The Fearless Flyer told me it was available in limited quantities, made with organic Turkish sour cherries. I love, love, love all things sour cherry related. So when I saw it on the jam shelf in the spring, I immediately got the 15 oz jar (for only $4.29 – what a steal!). I made the mistake of never opening it at the time to see how good it was. Chris just opened it this week (over 5 months after I originally got it… AHHHH), and we both agreed this jam was phenomenal. I immediately got sad, though. I knew it was a limited release, and I didn’t act on it. I could have been smart about it and opened it when I got it back in May, declared it delicious, then gone back to Trader Joe’s and gotten four more jars to stock up for the future. But… I didn’t.

I guess this is just another lesson to myself for the future with limited stock items at Trader Joe’s. And maybe, it’s also a lesson to just enjoy what I have now… before it’s all gone.

I am embarrassed to say that I did not know what pupusas were until I reached adulthood. It wasn’t until the early 2010s when I finally went to a Salvadoran restaurant in the Mission District of San Francisco when I finally ate one for the first time. And it was certainly a memorable, delicious experience. If you aren’t familiar, pupusas originate in El Salvador, and they are flat, fine-cornmeal based savory pancakes with different types of stuffing, ranging from chicharron (not the crispy pork skin, but rather shredded pork shoulder), a combination of 5-7 types of Salvadoran cheeses that are like a mix of queso fresco and mozzarella in flavor and texture, to refried beans or loroco, an edible Salvadoran flower. There are so many stuffings, and many can be combined, but what was delicious about all of them was how deeply savory they all were. They are, what Australians would call, “moreish:” once you have a bite, you are easily tempted to keep eating more! When cooked on a griddle, the best ones have this nice textural contrast of crispy edges and chewy middles. Pupusas are always served with a curtido, which is a sour slaw of cabbage and carrots, as well as some salsa roja (red tomato-based sauce) on the side.

Once, I tried making them with some fine cornmeal I had purchased, but the project went completely awry. I figured that I likely did not have the right grind for my cornmeal. I probably also over kneaded the dough. The result ended up being more like a flatter hockey puck, and the texture was not soft or dreamy, but dense and far too chewy. After that first failed attempt, I figured that I could just find a pupusa somewhere in Queens or uptown when I really wanted one. It would be better to support a small business who makes them expertly than spend too much of my own time toiling over how to make them.

Then, in 2022, Chris discovered Mirna’s Pupuseria in Flatbush, Brooklyn. Mirna’s is a small pupusa shop run by a husband and wife team. When Mirna first moved to New York from El Salvador, she used to make her visiting friend’s pupusas when they came over. So they joked and said when they came over, they were coming to eat at Mirna’s Pupuseria. And that’s how the name originated. The pupusas are just perfect here, even when they are reheated a day or two later. We love the refried bean and cheese ones, plus the chicharron and cheese pupusas. I am sure all of them are good, so it’s hard to go wrong with them! The Salvadoran style horchata is a nutty and sweet thirst quencher. Maybe at some point when we come back, I’ll order some Salvadoran style tamales, but the pupusas are just so good that it’s hard not to just want to order these here. The staff take their time with the pupusas, as all are made to order. As I always tell Pookster and get her to (begrudgingly) repeat after me: good food takes time. And they put so much love, care, and time into making these pupusas. Little food shops like Mirna’s is what makes New York City so special.