Category Archives: Cooking

Pumpkin spiced creamer

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After I had my fun with my newfound love of mace (the spice, NOT the spray!) yesterday, I added a bit of my ground mace to my freshly blended pumpkin spice blend. I always make this every autumn for pumpkin spiced treats through winter, just that this time, it’s particularly special (with a hint of citrus!) from the mace addition.

The first thing I wanted to make with my pumpkin spice blend was pumpkin spiced creamer. A few years ago, I’d made pumpkin spiced lattes at home that used not just pumpkin spice, but also real pumpkin puree. The issue with that recipe I used was that it required you to blend the milk/pumpkin/spice mixture every time, which didn’t seem practical as a regular activity to do when you just wanted some pumpkin spice flavor in your coffee or tea latte. So I found a pumpkin spice “creamer” idea where you’d whisk all the spices, pumpkin puree, and milks (I used coconut and oat), along with a little sugar and vanilla extract on the stove until boiling, simmer, and then let it cool. Each time you take some creamer out of the jar from the fridge, you just need to remember to shake it a bit before adding to your coffee.

I added the pumpkin spice creamer to my cold brew glass with ice cubes, then added bit more oat milk to top it off. I mixed it up, tasted it, and was quite satisfied. It really did taste very creamy and autumn-like. I could even get the hint of citrus flavor from the tiny bit of mace in the pumpkin spice blend.

The mystical spice that is mace: a surprising source of floral and citrus fragrance

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Back in June 2023 while we were in Kerala, we went on spice tour that included looking at real spices being grown on a farm, including ones that are native to India or surrounding countries, such as cardamom, cinnamon, nutmeg, and mace. I had seen the spice called mace noted in a number of Indian recipes before, particularly in garam masala blends, but it was usually marked as “optional” and not required. It piqued my interest, though, because I had actually not known what the spice mace was or what it looked like. I had heard of mace spray (NOT related, by the way), but the mace spice was not used in that defense spray (ha). Mace is native to the Banda Islands (also known as the Spice Islands) in Indonesia. It is, interestingly, the husk (or more correctly, the “aril”) of the spice nutmeg. Nutmeg is considered the seed of the tree, and mace is the aril, or a delicate, lace-like coating that envelops the seed. On the plant, it’s quite beautiful to look at (if you think plants are beautiful things, that is). During that trip, I decided to get a packet of mace arils. Since then, I’ve stored them in a dark cupboard away from heat, only removing a couple at a time to toast and grind immediately into my homemade garam masala blend.

For whatever reason, I never thought to grind it and smell it alone. Today, I finally did in preparation for my pumpkin spice blend that I was making. I knew I wanted this version to have mace in it. And wow, I was in for a real treat and surprise! The scent was not that surprising after I toasted the whole arils. But once I ground them in my spice grinder, I was completely blown away after I removed the lid and inhaled. The scent of the freshly toasted, ground mace was warm, sweet, floral, citrusy, almost with a minty undertone. I couldn’t get over how citrusy this ground mace smelled. It smelled absolutely nothing like nutmeg, which is far more woody, spicy, and earthy. I also loved the hue of the ground mace: it is this very pretty deep tan/pale orange. After I ground the mace and placed it into a small glass jar for storage, I couldn’t help but keep sniffing it. I just love this scent! I did buy this at a spice farm directly in India, so even though the mace arils are over two years old, you would never guess they were this old!

And to think it only took me almost 40 years to find out how unique and interesting this peculiar spice is!

Curried coconut butternut squash soup with kale and garlic chips and how it all went into Kaia’s tummy

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Though I am generally very hell bent on making most things from scratch, when I saw a new fall item at Trader Joe’s by the name of “crispy garlic,” I figured I had to take a look. After successfully making garlic chips (and its beautiful by-product of garlic oil) only once and having a number of mediocre attempts after, I figured I could relent on this item if it was as cheap and convenient as this bag at Trader Joe’s. It is 4 ounces/113 grams for only $1.99. My final check before purchasing this last week was to look at the ingredients list: just garlic and palm oil — so no weird preservatives or artificial flavorings. I was sold.

I roasted my first butternut squash of the season last week and used it in a curried coconut butternut squash soup this week. I topped it with some sauteed kale in niban dashi and a sprinkling of Trader Joe’s garlic chips. Kaia has been very strange about “creamy” things lately, so I wasn’t sure if she’d like this soup. But, I had no doubt she’d love the garlic chips because the few times I made them, she devoured them and always asked for more. So when I told her she could have the garlic chips only if she had the soup, she initially seemed hesitant. I told her that the garlic chips and the soup go together; she cannot have them separately because that’s not the way I intended it (and well, clearly, I make the rules here!). She initially fought me and had a tantrum, even pushing a spoon off her tray, but I held my ground. She eventually calmed down and consumed the entire bowl I served here, including the kale.

I feel grateful that I have a child who has such an eclectic palate, but I also know that it’s not completely on her; it’s on us as her parents to set rules and boundaries and ensure that she can’t just say “no” to whatever she thinks she doesn’t want. Oftentimes when she rejects things, she ends up loving them in the end. But similar to adults, you cannot say you don’t like something if you’ve never even had it!

The one time my eyes got assaulted by onions in a restaurant

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I have always had a huge eye sensitivity to cut onions. Ever since I was little, even if I were in the kitchen while my mom cut onions, my eyes would water. The scientific reason that onions make us cry is that when the onion cells are damaged (via cutting/crushing), the onion releases enzymes that convert amino acids into a volatile gas, which then travels to your eyes, activating tear glands and causing them to produce tears as a protective response. Though scientifically, shallots have less of these sulfuric compounds than onions (they are smaller) that trigger tears, shallots are always miserable for me. I can’t even do a single slice of a darn shallot before my eyes are already watering. So whenever I cut onions, I try to make sure I am not wearing much or any eye makeup because it will always get ruined. And then I immediately need to wash all the cutting boards/surface areas that had onion juices to prevent my eyes getting re-triggered.

However, though I’ve eaten in many open kitchen-restaurant setups, I’ve never had this reaction in a restaurant. This has happened for me only in a home setting. So today, while we had an early dinner up in Kingsbridge, The Bronx, at Com Tam Ninh Kieu, an old Vietnamese favorite, out of nowhere, I could feel my tear glands getting triggered, and my eyes started watering like crazy. The kitchen was wide open, so you could see everything happening in it. It was a very familiar and uncomfortable feeling, and as soon as I felt it, I knew immediately that it was because of onions getting cut. Chris’s eyes even started watering. And then, Kaia’s eyes started visibly watering. She had no idea what was going on, but she started rubbing her eyes and then let out a few little whimpers of discomfort. She came over to me to try to cuddle and I wiped her eyes and covered them. I explained to her that all our eyes were watering because of onions! Right now, this meant nothing to her. But in the future when her understanding of the world grew, she’d understand!

I suppose onions are special because they have this effect on us. And unless I wear surgical goggles, I will likely always have this annoying reaction to them. Cutting onions is likely my most dreaded kitchen task. Even with a box mincer/cutter, my eyes still get exposed to the cut cells, so while it quickens my exposure, my eyes will still water! There is no solution!

Mood-lifting fragrances: the magical “green” scent of basil

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Not all scents are created the same, nor are they equal. As long as I can remember, I’ve also been obsessed with all types of lavender fragrances, as I find them relaxing and calming, as well as floral. I love citrus scents in the kitchen since they denote freshness. But when it comes to green scents, like that of herbs, for me basil is most definitely at the top of the list. Nothing is better to me than the “green” scent of basil to get me energized and excited.

For the longest time when I was a kid, whenever I thought of or was exposed to “pasta sauce,” it was always a tomato-based red sauce. It wasn’t until a friend and her mom took me out for a casual Italian meal when I was about 11 that I realized “green sauce” in the form of pesto was a thing. I got a bowl of pesto linguine during that meal, and my life was forever changed. I immediately became a pesto addict. I wanted pesto everything. I found the scent fresh, sweet, peppery, herby, and even a bit minty. The flavor was so, so novel to me. My dad, though, was not a fan, as he thought pesto was too “fatty” given the base was essentially crushed basil and olive oil.

So whenever I see a very fresh, bouncy bunch of basil (that is reasonably priced, as basil can be quite expensive!), I never hesitate to buy it. Sometimes, I just like it with tomatoes, fresh mozzarella, and a drizzle of olive oil and vinegar. Other times, I almost compulsively just want to turn it into pesto. Today, I blended some basil-walnut pesto with a beautiful bunch we got at a Pakistani market near Flatbush on Saturday. These basil leaves were particularly fresh and “bouncy.” And when the food processor finished blending, even the sight of the super bright green hue lifted my spirits. Although I made basil the traditional way with a mortar and pestle once, it really tired out my hands and wrists, so I’m going to have to stick with the modern food processor method.

Either way, my love for pesto lives on. And my mood is always lifted at the sight, smell, and taste of it.

“Focus on what we can control and influence”

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Participating in the workforce and working for someone else is probably one of the most frustrating, infuriating, and annoying roller coasters a person can ever experience. And a lot of the time, I wonder if it’s all even really worth it. My dad always told me that the best thing you can do is to work for yourself because then, you don’t have to answer to anyone else. While it can be liberating to not have to answer to anyone, that also comes with immense pressure and responsibility that not all of us can handle… and not all of us frankly have the skill and ability to do. When he used to say this, especially after I became an adult, graduated from college, and entered the workforce, I always thought, but never said out loud to him, that I actually admired that he was skilled enough to make this leap for himself… because I don’t think I was ever brave (or creative or skilled) enough to do this for myself.

I was supposed to have a relatively relaxing day at the coworking space today. I originally had two meetings on my calendar and blocked off some time to work on some slides. And then suddenly, I got some bad news that came crashing down, and it was all hands on deck trying to figure out how to remedy a customer situation. I could not even believe how frustrated and angry I got, and I was even more pissed that this had to happen on a Friday at midday. A few colleagues and I were ranting about it, and everyone kept on repeating the same thing to try to ground ourselves: “focus on what we can control and influence.”

So much of what happens at work, with colleagues, customers, projects, data — is out of our control. We try to create narratives that this deal or opportunity happened because I did x, y, and z, and that person did a, b, and c. But chance and luck are very much in there as invisible drivers. People don’t like to openly acknowledge that, though, because unfortunately, we cannot replicate or quantify chance or luck. So in times like this, I just want to escape and do things that help me mentally escape. Tonight, I ended up double boiling and heat aerating a pot of chai. I added extra ginger because I figured I could use the extra spice. I find the process of making chai very meditative, and I can attribute that to watching many “chai meditation” Instagram Stories that Sunny from The Chai Box records every single morning. I used to watch her chai double boiling and meditation almost every morning when I was on maternity leave, and I always looked forward to it. And now, I still do it when I want a little mini escape.

Work can really suck. But chai meditation always helps.

Cooking for my new mama friend in Staten Island

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When my best friend told me she was pregnant earlier this year, I told her that after she gave birth, I would come over to cook for her. She expressed interest in all the Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM) foods, the Chinese postpartum confinement meals, and I immediately got excited, thinking that I could come cook these things for her. When I gave birth and was recovering, I didn’t have anyone come cook for me. At that time, there was another COVID outbreak. My mom didn’t want to travel, and my aunt apologized to me multiple times for not being there to take care of me and cook for me, even though she’s not even my mother and not even my blood-related aunt. What my aunt did do, which I am still grateful for to this day, is she went out and bought and labeled all the ingredients for the Chinese chicken wine soup (ji jiu tang) she would have made for me. She bought the ingredients in quantities so large that I’d just run out of most of them just recently. She sent me instructions for how to make the soup. And since then I’ve made it a number of times and love it; it doesn’t even matter if you’re recovering from childbirth or not, but the soup itself is so soothing and comforting. It’s like a Chinese hug in a bowl. As I made this soup numerous times, I thought to myself — I’d love to make these types of dishes for a postpartum friend so that they can also have a hug in multiple bowls.

So, after taking a regular subway train, an express bus (for the first time ever — and I also just learned it’s not covered by my OMNY card; I had to pay $7 extra just to board this damn bus!), and then a quick $15 Uber ride, I was at my friend’s house in Staten Island. I had prepped a number of things leading up to this day to streamline cooking at her place. In her kitchen, I quickly made myself at home and made these dishes: multigrain congee (purple long grain rice, brown long grain jasmine, white short grain, and yellow mung beans, sweetened with a hint of rock sugar and flavored with a touch of ginger), pork rib and fig soup, braised “eggs hugging tofu” (jidan bao doufu), dang shen herbal tea, and hawthorn berry, longan, and cinnamon herbal tea. Yesterday night, I made stir-fried water spinach/morning glory/ong choy/kong xin cai with shrimp paste and packed it in a glassware. I also made a batch of lactation cookies with galactagogues; after my own breastfeeding journey, I honestly don’t believe in “galactagogues,” but who is going to say no to cookies?! I used the same recipe I used for myself that has oats, flaxseed, butter, coconut oil, and 70 percent Valrhona chocolate feves; this time I didn’t have brewer’s yeast, but I did throw in a handful of sliced almonds for extra protein. In Chinatown, I also picked up some “spongies,” or “paper wrapped sponge cakes” for her since I know she likes them.

It was a pain in the ass to get to her house in Staten Island to say the least. Her fiance had the stomach flu, so he wasn’t able to pick me up or drop me off at the ferry. I ended up having to take the express bus (on a tight schedule) and two Ubers (more money than I would have liked) to get there. I was also carrying quite a load of things on my back. So by the end of the day, I was pretty tired, and my shoulders were sore and tight from the weight I carried. All of that was annoying, but in the end, I didn’t mind it because it meant I got to cook for my friend. And I find meaning in helping her, in cooking for her, in nourishing her, and in making sure she feels loved and supported. There is meaning and purpose in doing all that to me. And while most people would never do something like this for a friend, even a close one, or someone who was not blood related, I think that most people in general want to do the easiest, laziest thing just to have more time for themselves to do things that are completely and utterly meaningless. It is so easy to send a baby gift, to attend a baby shower (it’s a party where you get free food!), to even send a DoorDash gift card or pay for someone else’s food delivery. All of the above acts, other than attending a shower, can be achieved in minutes and with just a few clicks of a keyboard or taps on your smartphone. What is not easy is traveling to your friend, who lives over 1.5 hours away from you by public transport, cleaning her kitchen, making her several home-cooked dishes and teas that you know she will like and savor, and cleaning all that up so she doesn’t have a mess left behind.

I think we really show the people in our lives we genuinely love and care for them when we do the things that are not easy, that actually require real thought, time, and effort. I was chatting with some colleagues about doing this for my friend this week, and they all commented and expressed how amazed they were that I’d do something like this; it’s odd to me because most of them know I love cooking, so it’s really not a strenuous effort on my part. I kind of shrugged. For me, as I stated above, this is meaningful. I want to spend time doing things that make me feel like I’m fulfilling a purpose and giving my life meaning. What do they spend time on that they find meaningful?

Ube pandesal at home does not resemble ube pandesal at the Filipino bakery

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Earlier this year on a Saturday, we went back to my original New York City neighborhood, Elmhurst, and stopped by a Filipino bakery called Kape’t Torta. They opened in 2019 just blocks away from my old apartment on Queens Boulevard. They’re known for their ube desserts, such as their ube layered cake, ube custard layered cake, and of course, their halo halo crushed ice drink/dessert. We picked up a couple of their ube pandesals, which I had heard of before but had never tried. I’d previously made a plain sweet pandesal bread roll before, but I’d never had an ube one. This was was extremely electric purple with a light, melty cheese filling on the inside. I figured I could try to make it at home at some point, so I made a mental note of it and moved on.

In May, I stopped by a Filipino grocery store in Staten Island, and I finally stumbled across 100 percent dehydrated ube powder imported from the Philippines – no artificial coloring, flavorings, or preservatives. I knew this was my opportunity to finally make ube pandesal, so I bought the packet.

Fast forward to this last week, and I was testing to see if a packet of dry active yeast was still active. Luckily for me, it was, so I decided this was my week to finally try making ube pandesal. I picked a random food blog and used their recipe, but unfortunately, my result was nothing like the photo. For one, the recipe blogger says that ube extract is “optional,” but when I see the color of my dough, it’s clear that the ube extract was needed for that electric purple color. My pale purple tinted dough didn’t come close to the blog pictures or the ube pandesal from Kape’t Torta. Plus, when I did some searches, I found out that ube extract did not just have artificial coloring, but it also had an enhanced “ube” flavor from artificial and “natural” flavorings, meaning that it wasn’t 100 pure, natural ube flavor. What I perceive to be “ube flavor” may in reality just be a bunch of artificial flavors made up in a lab. Then, my dough was much softer and wetter than it was supposed to be, so to compensate, I had to keep adding flour until the dough was kneadable. This resulted to a watering down of the overall ube and sweet flavor. So in the end, while the rise of the dough was beautiful, and while the pandesal rolls were light, fluffy, airy, and spongy, they did not have a bright electric purple color. They were also not filled with kaya jam as I originally hoped because the dough was just too soft to withstand a filling.

I’ve been cutting the ube “pandesal” rolls in half this week, warming them up lightly, and then filling them with kaya jam. I have grown to like these slightly yeasted, spongy glorified and enriched “pandesal” bread rolls that are lightly tinted purple. They are definitely light, airy, and fluffy. But they lack that “ube” flavor I know… from that ube extract that I never realized was always used. I thought about it and realized that what I romanticize as authentic “ube pandesal” may actually be authentic with dehydrated ube powder AND ube extract. The artificial coloring and flavoring from ube extract may be artificial, but that’s probably what contributes to the “authenticity” of these types of rolls in the Philippines. And that’s not necessarily a bad thing — it just is what it is.

The colander and pictures of JiuJiu around the house

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When we got back to my parents’ house last Friday evening, I saw that my mom had washed and begun cutting a bunch of yu choy. I told her to leave them there and that I’d cook them for us for Saturday dinner. I proceeded to cut the stalks and leaves the way I always do, then blanch in a pot of boiling water with a drizzle of oil, a few shakes of salt. After about a minute, I drained them in the largest stainless steel colander I could find in their kitchen. And even though I have three of my own stainless steel colanders in my kitchen back in New York, there was something about the construction of this deep, rounded colander, the size, quantity, and placement of all the little round holes, that made draining the yu choy almost instant. I watched the water speedily drain out, and there I was left with perfectly cooked yu choy, almost fully drained with a few shakes.

This colander is probably around 25 years old. I still remember it: Ed purchased this piece in the housing wares department at Stonestown Macy’s just shortly after he started working there. Once he began his job at Macy’s in the “domestics” (bedding) section, he basically went through the house to see what could be improved upon, and he chose this colander as one of the first things to buy for the kitchen. To this day, the colander is still in excellent condition, and it functions just as well as I remember it when it was brand new. Our parents’ kitchen still has a number of things Ed bought that they continue to use. Every time I see another one of those pieces, I feel a little more sad that he’s no longer with us. There’s even a set of Lenox Butterfly Meadow crystal flutes that are still sitting in their original box, unused, on a dining room shelf. They match the dessert plates and tea cups that Ed got me for my birthday in January 2012.

On Saturday morning, Kaia kept asking about the pictures on display in the dining room, so I took a lot of the framed photos and after dusting them off, I pointed to the faces and named the people for her. Some of them needed no naming: of course, she immediately recognized Chris’s face and mine, as well as both my parents’. With the younger baby photos, she did need some help. But after a few photos of Ed, she started picking up on him. And when I’d show her subsequent photos of Ed, within a second, she’d say it was her JiuJiu.

It’s hard to believe it’s been over 12 years since Ed died. It’s been 12 years of coming back to this house, knowing that he will never be here to greet me or see me ever again. And even though it’s been that long, I still have that feeling in the back of my mind he will just surprise me and show up. I say that every time I come home, but since Kaia has been around, it’s almost like I feel it even more deeply — maybe because it’s on behalf of both Kaia and me. He never knew what it was like to be an uncle, to have a niece as sweet and cheeky as Kaia Pookie. It’s not just about me anymore. I know he would love to meet her.

But it will never be.

Olive oil cake with buttermilk and Tunisian extra-virgin olive oil

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Last year, after over a decade of having the famous Maialino olive oil cake recipe bookmarked, I finally made their cake for an extended family gathering at Chris’s parents’ cousins’ house a few blocks away from us. It was a huge, tall cake: nine inches in diameter, over three inches in height. Even with over 15 people in attendance, we had a lot of leftover cake. So, I did take about a third of the cake home. It was a beautiful and delicious cake, but I remember it was quite dense and large, so definitely not an everyday cake that I could just whip up if a couple people came over for dinner. I needed an equivalent that was lighter, fluffier, smaller, and with an airier crumb.

After I made that cake in the spring of last year, I went searching for a different olive oil cake variation, and lo and behold, I found what seemed like the perfect one on Serious Eats (where else?!). The Serious Eats recipe for olive oil cake can be comfortably made in an eight-inch cake pan with a two-inch height (so a lot more doable if we had a party of four or five dining together). It uses just one egg (versus Maialino’s three eggs), and to create a more complex tasting crumb, instead of milk, it uses buttermilk. The whole mixing process from end to end could take just five minutes if you have everything pre-measured out; the entire cake bakes in 33 minutes! This recipe uses 3/4 cup of olive oil, while the Maialino recipe uses 1 1/3 cups (same flavor impact, a lot less olive oil, which when you are buying a premium variety, is very expensive!). Of course, with an olive oil cake, the olive oil flavor is the star of the show, so you want to use the purest, freshest, most delicious olive oil you can get your hands on. I finally pulled out my Terra Delyssa Tunisian extra virgin olive oil for baking this cake. I was excited about Terra Delyssa when I found it at Costco this past spring, and I knew it would be perfect for baking based on how fresh it was (just picked and processed this past February!).

After I baked and un-molded the cake, I loved how light it felt in my hand as I placed it on a serving plate. And when I cut into it this evening after dinner and had my first bite, it tasted like the most perfect olive oil cake: rich in olive oil flavor, not too sweet, a light, fluffy crumb, and extremely moist. I used lemon zest and some homemade rose water for extra flavor, and that extra citrus really complemented the olive oil flavor well. This Tunisian olive oil is rich and grassy — it was really perfect for baking an olive oil cake. Now, my search for the perfect olive oil cake is complete! I won’t be looking for another one again. In the future, I may vary this up by adding a mix of orange and lemon zest, or maybe a couple teaspoons of freshly squeezed lemon or orange juice. There are so many possibilities with this gorgeous cake.