Years ago, when I used to work at a digital agency, I became friends with someone here in New York who eventually moved to Seattle and still resides there now. A generous soul, she would always come back to New York to visit family and friends, and she’d pack bags and bags of Chukar Cherries — these delicious, chocolate/cocoa-covered dried cherries that were locally grown in Washington state. There were the Black Forest cherries, the truffle cherries, the alcoholic chocolate cherries; she wanted to spread the love and deliciousness of this small business in Washington state and all the glory of chocolate covered cherries.

Chris immediately liked these when I brought these home when my friend gave them to us seven years ago, and every time I’d see this friend, he’d inquire about “cherry girl,” or just ask, “Cherries?” So given they were having a Black Friday/Cyber Monday special, I decided to indulge (because, what else is there to spend money on during COVID other than food?!) and buy a box of these cherries. We indulged in them this evening after they arrived, and they tasted just as good as we remember them. It’s my Seattle friend’s lasting legacy with us.

After visiting Ayat NYC yesterday in Bay Ridge, I wanted to attempt to make their baby eggplant dish at home. While in Bay Ridge, I picked up some baby eggplants as well as some Lebanese tahini imported from Lebanon while visiting Falahi Farms market, also owned by the same family that runs Ayat NYC. I’ve always loved tahini, but given we’ve always had limited pantry and fridge storage space, I didn’t want to buy it until I had specific things in mind that I wanted to use it for. And now that I cook more with the current pandemic, it made sense to buy this ingredient, as I’d have more time and opportunities to use it.

But the more I thought about tahini, and the more I spoke with the woman who worked at Falahi Farms, the more I realized that tahini is as versatile as you want it to be. For the Falahi cashier, she shared that she has tahini every single morning on her toast with honey. It’s almost like her peanut butter. But it’s also great in sauces with meat, as well as in salad and vegetable dressings. In the eggplant dish, all you need to do is literally drizzle the tahini over the eggplants, and you’re done. The tahini just needs to be mixed since it tends to get thick on the bottom of the jar.

I posted on Instagram stories that I bought this Lebanese tahini, and someone direct messaged me, insisting I mix the tahini with some olive oil, lemon juice, salt, pepper, and parsley to make “the best salad dressing ever.” That’s the beauty of food: it unites people everywhere.

I’ll be honest and say that I have not always been that open minded about all foods — I’d like to say I’m a work in progress with how I see the world, including food, since I’m always learning new things. For example, I wasn’t always a fan of the concept of “Asian fusion.” Initially, it seemed, in my mind, to be a way to white-wash traditional and delicious Asian dishes, and if it’s not broken, why try to “fix” it? Then, as time passed, I started realizing that “fusion” is not necessarily a “bad” thing, that a lot of our favorite and most beloved dishes, without us realizing it, actually are, by definition, “fusion.” Dishes like banh mi (French married with Vietnamese), hu tieu noodle soup (Vietnamese + Chinese + Cambodian), or ramen (while people like to say it’s Japanese, “ramen” in the Japanese language actually comes from the Chinese words “la mian,” which mean “pulled noodles”) are all things that are actually fusions of different cultures’ foods. Things that are more in-your-face fusion, like Korean bulgogi tacos or Vietnamese burritos, are also just delicious, so why not eat delicious food?

But there is one thing that has really been driving me crazy lately, and that’s seeing quinoa included in everything… like literally everything. I was ready to embrace it when it started becoming popular years ago as a rice/carb replacement, especially since it has a high protein, low carb profile overall. I started making it over the stove initially with broth, then now, in my Instant Pot (in just one minute!). I’ve used it in sweet, breakfast porridges (it’s delicious), and have tried using it even in a higher protein version of masala dosa. Even Chris begrudgingly admitted it was tasty (“but the regular version is better,” he said. Well, he *is* right; when you replace the rice with quinoa, the dosa actually ends up less crispy and more soft).

I was strolling through Whole Foods this late afternoon and noticed it being used as a replacement in “chocolate crispy” treats. For some reason, this really set me off. WHY DOES IT NEED TO BE IN EVERYTHING? WHY? Why don’t we just eradicate bread and rice and just eat all quinoa then??? I’m sure the South American countries who have been eating quinoa for decades or centuries are probably looking at us like we are not only stealing foods from their cultures, but also wondering why we are so insane about what we eat.

So I made Pai’s pumpkin coconut pie… sans the crust, so it’s really pumpkin coconut custard. I really could not be bothered with making a crust, especially since it’s just the two of us, so I stuck with the custard base. Oddly enough, when I put the custard in the oven late this afternoon, it immediately started bubbling like mad, and when I removed it from the oven, craters had developed all over the top. It certainly was not beautiful and glassy like the pie top that Pai had made. I guess I could have used a water bath, but didn’t really think of it at the time. The custard smells heavenly, though; the palm sugar is super caramelly and toasty and comes out even in the scent!

I messaged her via YouTube, and her cameraman got back to me. He confirmed through her that I probably should have used a water bath to ensure even cooking of the custard since I didn’t’t use a crust, plus… apparently, the temperature of the oven was not correct on her recipe. 😀 It’s still an incredible flavor though: I just love the pumpkin with the coconut, and the pandan really sings at the very end. Plus, that palm sugar flavor is unmistakably nutty and caramelly! This is definitely a keeper… once I make the right tweaks to prevent the cratering. At least the coconut chips hide the holes!

One interesting thing about being home all the time now is that we obviously spend a lot of time eating at home, which means I end up having to cook a lot more. Before, when a bottle of soy sauce or fish sauce lasted years, now, it seems like they are getting depleted at lightning speed. I’ve already had to replace my light soy sauce, dark soy sauce, fish sauce, and sesame oil bottle this year, and the new light soy sauce bottle is only half full now.

The plus side, though, of eating more at home is that we do have more control over what we are putting in our bodies since we’re preparing all these things from scratch. We’re likely consuming a lot less salt, fat, oil, and sugar. I’m definitely light handed on the salt in general, and I rarely add as much oil as any recipe calls for since I think it’s usually unnecessary. You’d think that if I were cooking more that I must be happier, but I think this past week, I’ve fallen into a bit of a cooking slump. This week, I feel like I’ve been cooking just to use up random scraps or leftovers rather than because I’m actually enjoying the process. This pandemic could definitely be worse, but the number of COVID cases increasing by day in this wretched country is truly terrifying. I can’t really see the light at the end of the tunnel.

I don’t know why, but unless you are at an ethnic/Asian/Latin grocery store, you probably won’t see hachiya persimmons in the produce section. Maybe it’s because the average Westerner doesn’t have the patience to wait for hachiya persimmons to ripen before eating — who the heck knows? Because of this, for the most part, the only persimmons I’d usually buy each fall would be the fuyu persimmons; these are smaller, flatter, harder, and are eaten skinned and crunchy. These are good, and I do enjoy them, but fuyus really do not hold a candle to hachiyas.

But hachiya persimmons are truly the gem of all persimmons… or rather, the custard or pudding of all persimmons. Persimmons can be much reviled because their skins and flesh are full of tannins, so if you attempt to eat them before they are ripe enough, your mouth will be stung dry, chalky, and surly — not enjoyable or fun. Hachiyas can ONLY be eaten if they are ripe or overly ripe, pretty much mushy inside. You eat them by popping off the green top and cutting out the core in the center, then spooning out all the gooey, deep orange flesh. The flavor is extremely sweet, cinnamon-like honey. Hachiya persimmons are like nature’s (vegan) custard or pudding. It’s no wonder my grandma always loved these each fall season, as she had quite the sweet tooth. She’d buy bags and bags of these from her Chinatown trips, bring them home, and once ripe, dig in. She’d also spoon out plenty of the pudding-like flesh for me to enjoy, too, when I was young. In my mind, I always associate hachiya persimmons with her.

Today, I decided to use our remaining four barramundi fillets in the freezer to make a quick and easy Cantonese-style steamed fish. This fish is really the epitome of the simplicity and deliciousness of Cantonese cooking; it uses just a small handful of ingredients (fish, oil, salt/sugar, soy sauce, ginger, scallion, water), takes about 10-15 minutes to throw together, yet it yields a complex, delicious, satisfying main that the average person would most definitely enjoy. It traditionally uses a whole fish, but when you don’t have access to whole fish or are just being lazy, fish fillets work perfectly (and you don’t have to worry about bones!). Ginger and scallion together are a beautiful marriage, and with fish (or really, any seafood, since ginger-scallion crab is likely my FAVORITE crab preparation), it’s like a gift to the mouth.

A friend of mine messaged me and said that she loved this dish so much that she used to have her helper in Hong Kong make it often. I literally wrote out the full recipe and instructions in my Instagram reel and told her that yes, it actually IS this simple! She can make it anytime with limited time and effort!

Pomegranate is most likely THE fruit I look forward to every autumn season as September rolls around the corner. I love persimmons, particularly the gooey hachiya persimmons that my grandma loved so much every fall, but pomegranates are a really hard fruit to hate. They look beautiful when you cut into them, and those little seeds bursting with brightness and juice are like tiny little jewels. It’s no wonder that they are used so often in South Asian and Middle Eastern cooking because they are just so stunning to look at. And… it should also come as no surprise that pomegranates are considered the “forbidden fruit,” as once upon a time in Greek mythology, Persephone, the daughter of Zeus and Hera, ate just two of these pomegranate seeds after being kidnapped into the underworld by Hades, therefore locking her into the world of darkness for half the year.

I think the biggest issue with pomegranates, or why people feel that these are difficult fruit, can be broken into a few reasons: 1) they are hard to cut and not make a total mess if you don’t know what you’re doing, 2) not everyone likes eating the seeds after sucking out the juices, and 3) it’s a bit hit or miss when choosing a pomegranate at the store. Sometimes, you can luck out, cut it open, and get all beautiful perfect jewels of seeds. Another time, you may inadvertently pick one where half or more of the seeds have already rotted, rendering the fruit nearly inedible.

So we’ll address points 1 and 3 since you can’t really push preferences on people. For 1, you just need to make sure you’re not cutting into it like an apple; cut a square off the top, then cut four lines at each “angle” of the fruit, and peel (more like an orange. That will allow you to segment the fruit into neat portions without squirting juice everywhere.

For 3, make sure to choose a pomegranate that feels heavy for its size. Also, pick one that IS NOT round; you want one that is a bit square-ish/angled. This indicates that the juicy seeds inside are bursting with ripeness and are good for eating. Lastly, look at the top stem. If it looks like the top is peeling downward, it will be ready to eat!

A new vlog series I’m starting to work on is around where I buy my groceries and food items. Chris suggested to me a few days ago that he thinks that I would really enjoy shooting these videos because his general opinion is that while I do love cooking a lot, I actually love discovering, finding, and picking ingredients even more. I’m not sure how I feel about that because my love and obsession with cooking and trying to cook new foods is pretty large, but yes, I do love sourcing ingredients a lot, and I visibly get excited when I find something new for a good deal. It’s Sunday, two days after we went to Costco in Connecticut, and I am still obsessing and glowing over the wild chanterelles I found there. Usually, chanterelles are seasonal, and given how popular they are, I have never seen them for less than $24-30 per pound! I’d always contemplated splurging on them just once at these prices and just indulging, but I could never actually bring myself to do it.

Thankfully, because so many companies are either fully online or have an online presence, sourcing ingredients has become easier than ever before!

Every Sunday is filming day at our apartment now with my new job, which I just completed week 4 of. I’m still in the process of working on my Tastes of Asia series, so I thought I’d choose a country that straddles two continents this week: Turkey. Turkey oftentimes is perceived as part of Europe, but it’s actually partly in Western Asia. When I visited Istanbul back in July 2011, I actually took a boat to the Asian part of Istanbul the city, as the city of Istanbul is technically half in Europe and half in Asia!

Two spices that were new to me when I started cooking Turkish food were sumac and Aleppo pepper. Sumac is a fruity, citrusy berry that is dried, ground up, and oftentimes used as a topping or garnish on everything from beans to salads to meats. Aleppo pepper originates in the Syria/Turkey region of the world, particularly known for its mild spiciness, fruitiness, and especially for its naturally oily feel when you rub it between your fingers. It’s a brilliant red color and notably has no seeds inside the actual pepper. Both spices are beautiful to look at as well as addictive. I used both of these spices to make a rendition of Turkish Adana kebabs, named after the fifth largest city in Turkey. Adana kebabs are loved not just for their interesting shape and appearance, but also their bouncy texture and delicious spice mixture. I used New Zealand lamb mince for mine. The Aleppo pepper gives these kebabs a unique deliciousness, and it’s rounded out with some parsley and a generous amount of salt for flavor.

I was really happy with how my kebabs came out, and ideally, if I can still get reasonably priced Australian or New Zealand lamb, would consider keeping this on rotation in our home when having a lamb craving. Looking forward to sharing this soon!