Category Archives: Culture

The magic of tomato onion masala is re-discovered once again! And the lesson of not ignoring the tried-and-true classics

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Years ago when I started getting into Indian cooking, I kept reading about “onion masala” or “tomato onion masala” on Indian cooking blogs and was wondering what it was. It was a “hack” to expedite Indian cooking, which is notoriously complex given the number of spices and ingredients the average dish uses. With some upfront work, as in, stewing down tomatoes, onions, garlic, ginger, and various spices, you can easily portion out 1/4-1/2 cup sized pucks, store in your freezer, and take a few pucks out every time you want to whip up an Indian dish that used tomato and onion in its base. I was obsessed with this idea, and I always kept frozen portions of tomato onion masala in our freezer. It allowed us to have relatively quick, home cooked, from-scratch meals just the day after coming back from many long-haul, international trips, when there was barely anything fresh in our fridge. I felt pretty proud of myself for embracing this. It was healthy, economical, and delicious eating.

After years of having the tomato onion masala easily on hand in the freezer, though, I started getting bored of it. I wanted to experiment with other spices and flavors. Eventually, my pre-portioned tomato onion masala went neglected in the bottom of my freezer bin. But then after filling our freezer to the brim a bit too much recently, I re-discovered my frozen masala and decided I didn’t want to let it get freezer burn and had to use it up. During our Connecticut long weekend, we stopped at Apna Bazaar and picked up a number of fresh Indian ingredients and beans, and I figured this would be a good opportunity to use up my tomato onion masala.

I took out five pucks of 1/4-cup portions of the tomato onion masala from the freezer today after dinner and thawed it a bit (in a memorable moment when I had the frozen pucks in a bowl on the kitchen counter, Chris was confused as to what they were. So he asked, “What are these balls?”). I set it over the stove with some butter, a few spices, salt, and blended some “cashew cream” (cashews plus water) into it. Then, I tossed in cubed paneer from Apna Bazaar and added another random small puck of frozen heavy cream I still had (who knows from when…). After simmering it for a few minutes, I tasted it. And… it was delicious. It tasted perfect! Not to brag, but it really tasted restaurant quality and had a really sumptuous mouth feel. I felt a bit guilty that I neglected this tomato onion masala that I’d previously spent so much time making in advance for future quick-cook meals. But in that moment, I vowed to myself that I would never take for granted the magic of pre-made tomato onion masala ever again. It always has a place in my heart and freezer.

Cooking with chanterelles – an autumn luxury and privilege

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I love mushrooms. They are one of my favorite foods on earth. The more irregular and funny looking they are, the more likely I am enamored by them and just want to find ways to cook with them and get them in my belly. Over the years, I’ve had so many delicious varieties of mushrooms. In Asian cooking, shiitake and enoki mushrooms are extremely common. Since graduating from college, I’ve been buying king oyster and trumpet mushrooms more regularly. And while I am obsessed with morel mushrooms, they are almost impossible to find…and when you do, quite cost prohibitive.

One mushroom that had remained on the “out of reach” list for ages were chanterelles, a rare, delicate, and difficult to cultivate mushroom. They cannot be commercially cultivated and can only be grown wild, thriving on tree roots. Chanterelle mushrooms form symbiotic, mycorrhizal relationships with tree roots in a way that is so complex that humans still have not figured out how to reproduce this in a controlled farm environment. And thus, every chanterelle mushroom anyone buys has been foraged by hand in the wild and not farmed. They also have a very short season that is usually late summer to fall, and their yield heavily depends on rainfall, temperature, and soil quality being at optimal levels.

Given this, it’s been pretty usual that if I go to Whole Foods or a fancier grocery store (regular grocery stores will rarely have chanterelles!) around September to October each year that I will see chanterelles being sold for anywhere from $28-50 per pound. While I have loved them and have enjoyed them in a couple tasting menus we’d indulged in, I never had the pleasure of cooking with them myself until during the pandemic. In 2020, we spotted them at a Costco for about $12-13/pound, and I obviously pounced on it. And then once again during our Costco trip this past Sunday, I got two pounds of them for the same cost. Sure, they’re expensive and are priced like fancy meat even at this far-cheaper price, but to me, chanterelles are worth it as a rare autumn treat.

Today, I made my chanterelles two ways: I seared and tossed them into a cashew-cream based sauce with short pasta, along with cannellini beans and baby bella mushrooms for extra protein and mushroominess; and for something I hadn’t previously done but wanted to do, I seared them and tossed fresh green herbs into them, adding them atop crusty Breadivore bordelaise sourdough and a generous pat of salted French butter. It was simple, delicious goodness. But once I finished cooking my two pounds of chanterelles down and looked at my final dishes, I looked down and sadly noted how much they shrank down in volume, just like all my greens, into just a teeny tiny fraction of what I originally started with. This is often why when people ask me how I can possibly eat all of <name whatever squash, vegetable, bag of greens at Costco>, I tell them that it always cooks down to far, far less than what you’d think. So while it looks like we bought a lot, we”ll likely get through it in just two meals each!

(One of) the most enjoyable conversation topics: cross-cultural differences

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I love talking about food, culture, travel, books, food, cooking, and more food. But when I think of the best and most interesting conversations I’ve had with people I am just getting to know, one of the most exciting ones is most definitely about cross-cultural differences. Although I have not always been passionate and loved what I have done for a living, I know I’ve been really lucky and privileged to meet a lot of genuine, kind-hearted, and truly good people in the last 17-plus years of full-time work. I mean, work life is how I met the love of my life — my fuzzball Chris. And it’s also how I’ve met some people I am lucky to still call friends today. What has also been lucky is that although all the companies I’ve worked for have been American companies, the last two have had global offices, so I’ve been able to meet people who were born, raised, and live in other countries that I previously had known little about.

I met up with a friend and former colleague from my last company who happened to be in town from Amsterdam today. I hadn’t seen him since pre-pandemic — in November 2019 in Amsterdam, so almost exactly six years ago. This was before COVID-19, before the world shut down, before he got married and had two kids, before I got laid off, started a new job, and then went through IVF and had Kaia Pookie. We did the best we could to cover what’s happened between our respective lives in the last six years since we saw each other, though we had loosely kept in touch over Whatsapp throughout these years. He told me that while he would be in Manhattan, he was also meeting up with another friend he’d made recently, an American he met while in Uzbekistan last month. This person was very friendly, and they got along really well during their travels. And he had said to him that if he would ever come to New York that he’d like to meet up with him. And so he figured it wouldn’t hurt to message him to ask because he really did plan on coming.

“So, I never know what to think of Americans when they say things like that because most of you don’t mean what you say,” my friend started. “If a Dutch person says they want to meet with you while you are in town, they definitely mean it. I’m very direct in that sense, as Dutch directness is a real thing. But Americans? Americans say all kinds of shit they don’t mean, and then I’m left wondering if they really mean their offer!”

I laughed at this because I know exactly what he means. People here always say stuff they never follow through on: “Please keep in touch (this is actually code for: let me stalk you silently on social media/LinkedIn especially so I can see how you are doing personally/professionally, but I have zero desire to interact directly with you live).” “Please reach out when you are in town, and we can grab coffee.” “Let’s get lunch when you’re around!” Personally, I’ve messaged former colleagues and people I thought were work friends when I’ve been where they are. And when it came to making plans, a number of them have just not responded or responded initially, and then when it came to setting a firm date and time, stopped replying. And that’s when I realized, okay, I made the effort, but they don’t want to make the effort, and therefore, I’m not going to try anymore. It is what it is; I accept it, stop thinking about it, and move on.

I told him that at this point, I think he knows me better than to assume I am full of shit – this is where I am not like the American stereotype. If I say I want to see you, I definitely do want to see you. I will never suggest catching up with someone I am either indifferent to or flat out do not like.

He grinned. “I know, and that’s why I messaged you to see if you wanted to have a meal! Plus, I knew you’d recommend a good place because you know food!”

I think American culture could improve quite a bit by being more direct the way Dutch people are. At work, it can be especially painful. One of the things (of a long, endless list) I hate the most about American work culture is excessive politeness and small talk because then you are left wondering if they are asking because they genuinely care, or if they are just doing all this to put on a polite front to gain favor with you. But I suppose that is the fun in working with global organizations — learning to navigate all these nuances and making sense of it.

Touring schools while checking my Chinese proficiency

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Yesterday morning, Chris booked a tour of a private Chinese immersion school in our neighborhood. We actually visited this school about a year and a half ago when Kaia was getting ready for 3K, but because we found our current school in Chinatown, we decided to give this place a shot (and ended up really liking it). Fast forward, and believe it or not: we’re already looking into kindergarten and elementary schools for my sweet Kaia Pookie. Sometimes I just can’t believe how quickly time has flown. It was like just yesterday when I was still pregnant, nesting and getting everything for her arrival. And then she exploded into this world and made my heart swell more than I ever thought possible. She’s a tiny human with a strong personality making more and more sense of the world every day.

One part of the private tour we were on included observing a kindergarten class, so a class Kaia would hypothetically be in if we got in and chose to matriculate here. We entered and watched the teachers conduct the class. The kids, for the most part, were extremely well behaved, always raised their hands to speak, and their Chinese was quite good; I heard no one speak any English in this class. The teacher had images and Chinese words on the screen, and she was asking the kids to describe what they were seeing. As I looked at the projector and observed all the interactions, I was heartened and relieved by one thing: I could understand and read everything that was written and said in that classroom during that quick visit. So yay, I have at minimum kindergarten level mastery of Mandarin Chinese!

Although Kaia mostly responds back to me in English, occasionally she does surprise me by responding in Chinese. Sometimes, she shouts out the Chinese name of whatever object or thing it is that she sees. And maybe even once or twice, she’s corrected my Chinese. Yes, my almost-four-year-old wants to correct her mama’s Chinese! If she ends up going to this school, I may have to take a deep breath and just remind myself that if she continues to correct my Chinese, it’s actually a good thing, a sign that she’s getting more and more proficient, and way past whatever my level of proficiency is in the language.

The pre-judgments we make, and what happens when we are dead wrong about them

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My college friend who is in town this week is here with her boyfriend of 1.5 years. Her boyfriend is originally from India, did graduate work and work in New York for about nine years, and now lives in the Phoenix area. Given that he spent almost a decade living in New York City (different areas of Brooklyn), he knows it fairly well and told my friend he knew where to go and what the best places to eat were. My friend, who is also food obsessed, knows that I am food obsessive with both finding places to eat and cooking. So of course, she reached out to me for my recommendations for specific areas they’d spend time in. After I gave her a handful of recommendations for one or two neighborhoods, I sent her my entire NYC Google Map, which I am constantly updating (yes, really, pretty much every single day something is being added, edited, or removed at least once). This list, as of today, has 761 places across all five boroughs; yes, that’s right: all five boroughs. And when he saw her refer to this mysterious food map that I’d created, he got a bit jealous.

“What, are you really referring to your friend’s food map? her boyfriend said, rolling his eyes. “She lives in the Upper West Side. What would she know about Brooklyn food? Don’t you remember I lived here for nine years! I know the good spots!”

My friend was quick to put him in his place (I love this about this friend; she never fails to call out bullshit when she hears it and delights in telling people when they are wrong). “Umm, you clearly don’t know Yvonne at all,” she retorted. “She goes everywhere and knows all the places all over New York City. This list has over 700 spots across all the boroughs! Have you been to all these neighborhoods?! Plus, you moved away four years ago; a lot has changed since then!”

His friends they were staying with made similar comments, trying to dismiss anything that someone like me living on the Upper West Side could suggest. My friend was annoyed because she kept saying she wanted to eat Asian food, but all those friends did was take them to Italian-adjacent and American foods places. “I can eat this food in Phoenix!” she grumbled. “I want ASIAN FOOD!” Somehow, her preferences went mostly unheard.

While her boyfriend’s eyes did widen after he heard the 700+ spot comment, he still was not convinced. He wanted to box Chris and me into the “Upper West Side” box, as in, if we live here, we must not know much about any neighborhood outside of where we live (or work)… because why on earth would anyone want to leave their neighborhood and see other areas? And this is where he was glaringly, glaringly dead wrong about us.

On Wednesday when they mapped our address to come over for dinner, he immediately saw the Google map label that said our building was a “luxury building.” He looked at my friend and said, “Who the hell are these people?” And when he got to our lobby, checked in with the doorman, and went up the elevator, he made more comments like this, in shock and confusion of who the hell we were and what the hell we did for a living that would allow us to live in a “luxury building” like the one they’d be hanging out in for the next nearly five hours.

So over the course of their time at our place, somehow all his assumptions were proven wrong — about Chris, about me, about what it means for people like us to live on the Upper West Side of New York and what that may say about who we are as individuals and what we like, dislike, and believe in. He ate my food. He drank Chris’s whisky and wine. He laughed at our commentary and banter and engaged with us. He had a good time and felt like himself. And on their hour-long commute back to his friend’s place in Brooklyn with my friend, he said he liked us a lot and perhaps the greatest praise of all you can give to your girlfriend’s friends: “They’re my kind of people.”

It’s always fun when assumptions are proven wrong, isn’t it?

Spicy cumin beef at home

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It may have been college when I learned that in areas like Xinjiang and Xi’An, China, that cumin paired with red meat like beef and lamb is common. The very first time I had cumin lamb I am actually unsure of. But when I first went to Xi’An Famous Foods in its original dinky stall in the Golden Mall in Flushing, Queens, way back in August 2008 (shortly after I moved to New York), my mouth and my brain were excited. I got lots of tingles from the liberal use of freshly ground Sichuanese peppercorns. I tasted a strong hit of cumin from the cumin lamb in the cumin lamb burger. And the hot and numbing noodles were lip-smackingly delicious.

I am not sure how it took over 17 years for me to finally pair cumin with meat at home, but here I am this afternoon, between work and calls, casually braising a pot of spicy cumin beef. The entire apartment smells like cumin. I can even smell it on my bathroom towels (I forgot to close all the doors, which really I should have known better to have done… but it slipped my mind).

After two hours of braising and reducing the braising liquid, I fished out a piece of beef and cut into it with a fork. It was fork tender, hot and numbing, and perfect. After my milk bread victory just a couple days ago, I felt even more self-satisfied knowing that my first attempt at spicy cumin beef over wavy knife-cut noodles (previously sun-dried) would be a success. I’m having an out-of-town friend over for dinner tomorrow with her boyfriend, and I’ll be serving this with kao fu (Shanghainese style seitan and mushrooms), Sichuanese spicy cucumber salad, blanched yu choy, and finishing with a French apple cake to welcome in autumn. I’m so excited!

CBS News New York Livestream covering the AFSP Out of the Darkness Manhattan walk this Sunday

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After the live segment the AFSP Manhattan walk co-chair and I did on Saturday, we were informed yesterday that they’d like us to come back for the CBS News New York live stream. It was a bit chaotic in the last 24 hours because the date and time of recording kept changing; we weren’t sure if it was going to be filmed today or Friday. Plus, the volunteer manager and I (the ones who were asked this time) both have day jobs obviously, so we had to coordinate our work schedules on top of the changing filming schedule.

I arrived at the CBS Studio at 9:45 this morning and waited for our volunteer manager to arrive. When he did, we noticed that they had just sent the interview questions about thirty minutes before. And when we finally started recording at 10:15, I realized that the questions were not exactly what was shared. I was a bit thrown off and stumbled a little bit during one of my answers, but eventually picked myself up and kept speaking. I kept thinking to myself after: how funny it is that during the live segment, I spoke fairly well, yet during the pre-recorded taped segment, I stumbled! That was so annoying to me. We were reassured that because this was being taped and not airing live, we didn’t need to worry about any stumbles, that they would cut/edit it so we all looked and sounded good.

When we finished our segment, the director stopped filming. Cindy Hsu, the news anchor who interviewed us, is also on the board of AFSP, and she was really great to work with. She was warm and friendly as soon as we got on the stage. We made some small talk before and after about AFSP and our families. She took photos with us and also did a cute little social media video for each of us on her phone.

CBS News would also be present at the walk on Sunday, likely interviewing AFSP volunteers and participants every hour starting at 9am, and our executive director asked that I also speak with them there. I figure that will be a lot more ad hoc and casual since it will be at the event, and so I don’t have any pressure to look or feel polished. All in all, both TV experiences this week were completely unexpected a month ago, and it was a fun way to mix up my usual week to week routine. Now, I can always look back on this and say that I was on live and pre-recorded TV!

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!

Commentary on the evolving definition of “etiquette” or “manners”

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I had two onsite meetings at the same company downtown today. So instead of my usual work-from-home routine, I actually had to get dressed to meet customers in person and was out the door this morning for in-person meetings starting at 11am. I try to get to onsite meetings well in advance of the actual start time for multiple reasons. First, as a sales leader I worked with at a previous company said, “If you are not fifteen minutes early, then you are fifteen minutes late.” Secondly, a lot of buildings have security protocol like government ID checks, bag scanners, metal detectors, etc., that they need to go through before they let you through their doors or into their elevator banks. And thirdly, it’s always good to get to a meeting early, feel composed, straighten out your shirt/wipe off sweat/use the restroom well in advance of the official start time. But when I met my three colleagues at the check-in desk today at 10:40, one of my colleagues had a look of disappointment on his face and asked if I had checked my email in the last two minutes. I had not. He told us that our main stakeholder, who had actually invited us to this onsite meeting, simply emailed and said he was not going to be in the office today, and gave the first name and phone number of the person who should get us in and check us through security.

All of us were shocked and dumbfounded. It was so rude to be told about 20 minutes ahead of an in-person meeting that our host would not be showing up. And for me, it was even more rude to a) not apologize, b) not give any reason for the sudden change in plan, or c) express zero remorse or regret. It was beyond ridiculous. Either way, we went ahead with our onsite meeting; 16 people ended up coming from their side, so it was certainly not a wasted effort. But the whole thing left a really bitter taste in my mouth and did not make me feel good about this person.

I later texted Chris to tell him what happened. And he said that yes, it was terrible, but it was not simply poor manners; it was just flat out unprofessional. This person has most likely done this with other professionals in his time in the workforce, so this would not be an isolated incident. It’s just really upsetting to hear that people actually think it’s okay to operate like this. It should not matter if it’s your boss, your peers, your vendor partners, your friends — this behavior should not be acceptable, period.

It made me think about the concept of “etiquette” or “manners,” and how people seem to be so loosey goosey and nonchalant about things like this today as though it’s not a big deal. And it reminded me of a conversation I had with my friend earlier this week, when she told me that she spent several hours writing out recommendations on how to change the pitch deck of her friend’s new organization (this would be fully unpaid work, done as a favor for her friend) given her work background… and the friend never thanked her or even gave an acknowledgment of receipt of the work. It really upset my friend, as this happened over two weeks ago, and she was still fuming about it.

Sometimes, I think I might be “getting old(er)” for even getting annoyed at things like this. But these things aren’t done by people younger than me; they are usually around my age or in this customer’s case, clearly much older. So it’s really not about age. It’s about a general lack of etiquette and sense of professionalism, or even common decency, that apparently we’re just supposed to “accept” today.

The clothes I forgot about post-childbirth and a reawakening

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When we moved to our current two-bed, two-bathroom unit from our one-bed, one-bath unit downstairs when I was pregnant, Chris got a bunch of large, deep plastic bins to make our move a bit easier. Since we moved, I have (very inefficiently and messily…) used these to store some of my clothes and Kaia’s bedding/miscellaneous cloth items. In one of the bins is a lot of my warmer weather clothing, including about four above-knee skirts that I would wear relatively frequently pre 2021. Once I had a child, though, I kind of forgot about the existence of these skirts, far preferring single-piece dresses, longer skirts for more coverage, and looser shorts. These were all more comfortable, and after you have a child, comfort is obviously key. I took a look at the bin this morning and thought, hmmmm. I am turning 40 in just a few months. I cannot not wear all these nice skirts that still fit me (plus, while I do not remember what they cost, I’m sure none of them were that cheap!). I still have to look at least decent in them, right? I exercise six days a week; I still have legs, don’t I?!

So I tried one of them on this morning to see if it still fit. Yes, it still did, and it still looked good on me. I decided in that moment that I could not give up on these skirts (or really, my body, for that matter) and give them away. I had to maximize the ROI of these skirts by wearing them as much as possible before I actually become old and wrinkly. And so, I wore one of them today proudly. Granted, I did not immensely enjoy running around a playground with this bright orange mini skirt on, or going down multiple slides wearing this skirt, but I figured that was a small price to pay for getting more wear out of clothes I have already invested money in.

I might be turning officially middle aged in January, but I still have a decent body. And I suppose I should still flaunt it while I still have it — that is what confidence looks like!