Category Archives: Culture

The Big Aussie BBQ in New York City

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Although Chris is Australian, he does not gravitate towards other Australians when he meets them. In fact, since he moved to the U.S. in 2007, he has actually actively avoided associating with most of them or becoming friends with them. His whole thought process behind this was that he was immigrating to a new country to work and live, and he wanted to meet local people, not come all the way here to meet more Australians. If he had wanted that, he would have just stayed in Australia! While I understand this sentiment to an extent, I have always found this attitude pretty annoying because it’s not a black and white situation. You can have both, not just either/or. No one is restricting you and saying you have to choose one or the other. It’s fine to have friends from your home country or native culture, and at the same time, it’s also great to have friends not from your home country or culture!

So I was pretty shocked when he said he had booked us (free) tickets to attend the Big Aussie BBQ down in Battery Park City for today. Of course, this event is targeted towards Australians who are living and working in the New York City area. It’s the first time he has actually seen an Australian event and indicated he wanted to go. Granted, his one Australian friend in New York is not even here to attend with us, so it was just the three of us today. Regardless, we got to enjoy food and drink from some established and popular businesses we like, such as Bourke Street Bakery (I had forgotten how good and gourmet their sausage rolls are!, Bluestone Lane Coffee (amazingly scored a free flat white because their machines were down when I stopped by!), and Van Leeuwen Ice Cream (which we didn’t even know had an Aussie connection; one of the owners is originally from Australia, which explains the honeycomb ice cream flavor as one of their main staples!). I also got to finally meet Andrea, the founder of Boomerang Bites, which Chris introduced me to a couple years ago. Since then, I’ve ordered Boomerang Bites as gifts for friends and family on the West Coast, all of whom enjoyed them. Boomerang Bites is essentially bite-sized versions of famous Australian “slices.” The area was also laid out well on a big lawn with lots of lawn games to play, so Kaia got to enjoy these with us. She also got a Spiderman balloon from a balloon artist, a koala (temporary) tattoo that she was obsessed with, as well as some coloring books and crayons that were Australian animal themed.

Another fun and funny event that took place was a Weetbix eating contest. We all love Weetbix, and Kaia gets her Weetbix occasionally; we have to ration it since we bring it back from Australia (or rely on Chris’s parents to bring it when they come over). They separated out the groups — kids and adults. So we had Kaia participate in the kids’ Weetbix eating contest. The catch was that you had to eat the damn thing dry, which was pretty miserable. Kaia took two bites of hers and asked for water. Then, she handed it over to her dad and gave up. To be fair, at age 4.5, it’s a little hard to understand what an “eating contest” is supposed to be, but she still got props for trying. And every participant still got a single-portion-packaged Tim Tam for participating. Now that’s a pretty good participation “trophy!”

One added bonus was that we got to meet the owner of Bushwick Hot Bread, aka Rebekah Pedler, who along with her husband Buddha Lo, own Huso, a Michelin star restaurant in TriBeCa. We ordered from them during the pandemic, and on multiple occasions, they hand delivered us Australian savory and sweet treats to earn some money given their jobs at Eleven Madison Park were paused. Rebekah and I interact a lot and often over Instagram Stories, and we occasionally direct message the other for food recommendations and on random topics. It was so fun to finally meet them properly in person and have a chat.

This event was so well put together, and the location was perfect in Battery Park City with a big lawn right on the water. I’d love to come back again next year! I’m hoping my Australian husband will actually lean in more on being Australian!

Making homemade chili oil after a long hiatus

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In the last year, I haven’t really made chili oil at all. This used to be something I’d do every few months to have something on standby that was spicy and delicious to drizzle on dumplings or plainer foods. But I suppose we had been spoiled quite a bit by being gifted chili oils and crisps from friends, as well as supporting small, local businesses here in New York City and in San Francisco by buying their chili oils. Last year, I found a delicious and well rounded Chinese-style chili oil I tasted and enjoyed from a farmers market in Fort Greene, Brooklyn. Then last August, we visited the San Francisco Ferry Building farmers market, where we got to sample a salsa macha that was so tasty that it compelled me to buy it and check a bag (over 100ml!) to go back to New York. Before I visited this farmers market stand, I had never heard of salsa macha before. It’s a rich, smoky, crunchy Mexican-style chili oil that originates from Veracruz. It usually uses various Mexican chilies like chile de arbol or morita, as well as various nuts and seeds. Given it has nuts and seeds as well as chilies, it definitely tends to to taste nuttier than the average Chinese chili oil.

I forgot how simple and quick the entire process is: add all the various ground chilies to a heat proof bowl, along with salt. The ground chilies I usually use are gochugaru (Korean chili flakes for flavor and the bright red hue), regular red pepper flakes for heat, and ground Sichuanese peppercorns. This time for variety, I also added a bit of silk chili flakes (the more sustainable version of Aleppo pepper). Heat up a cup / 240ml of neutral oil in a sauce pan along with some aromatics (I vary it up, but this time, I used a few slices of ginger, star anise, fennel seeds, and cloves). Wait until the oil reaches 325-340 F, then pour the oil through a strainer directly over the ground chilies. And voila! You now have freshly made chili oil in less than ten minutes. I usually wait about 30 minutes to an hour to let the oil fully cool, then I mix it and add it to a glass jar. The glass jar can be stored in the fridge indefinitely, but probably has the best flavor if consumed within a month or two.

I am still sniffing the bowl because it smells so good. I definitely need to do this more often. A year is too long to wait for homemade chili oil!

Eight more days of almost-daily access to Chinatown

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We knew the time was going to come, but as I get older, the time seems to pass by too quickly. After today, we have just eight more weekdays of taking Kaia down to Chinatown for summer camp. In September, she will be starting at her new K-8 school walking distance from us, and so there will be no reason to go to Chinatown every day anymore. It’s funny to think how just before she started 3K, part of me was dreading having to do this commute daily. But after a week, it just became part of our routine. And I loved having easy access to all my Asian groceries. I never had to plan in advance all my lists of sauces, condiments, produce, noodles, canned goods, etc., that I needed because on a whim, I could pick it up within just a few blocks of her school. I am really going to miss this, as I will also miss the convenient access to great restaurants that I relied on for Friday takeout. I will miss having easy access to Green Garden Village for last minute cha siu, roasted duck, crispy pork belly, and soy sauce chicken. I will also miss having Asian vegetables every single week. And for the summer time, no one does it better than the Vietnamese fruit ladies at Mulberry Street off of Canal for lychees, rambutans, longans, and other exotic Asian fruit we love.

I already started making a list of sauces and dried goods I need to stock up on before we end our daily trips to Chinatown. So far, I have already picked up replacement bottles of light soy sauce, fish sauce, and fermented bean curd. I put a bag of pressed five-spiced tofu in the freezer for future use. I also got some more dried noodles, canned bamboo shoots, and brown jasmine rice. I still need to get a new bottle of aged Shaoxing wine, medium grain white rice, plus extra dried and canned goods. And for backup freezer food, I need to pick up a bag of frozen pork/chive dumplings and several zongzi. There’s so much to stock up on!

Who knows — after Kaia starts at her new school, I may find a reason to take a trip down to Chinatown every other week or so just to buy groceries and takeout. Well, why not?

Mourning for a version of a person that is gone

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I was at lunch yesterday with my friend, telling her about the situation with my aunt. I told my friend that when I was little, I was obsessed with my aunt. Ultimately, my aunt is the reason that I love baking because she was the person who spent quality time in the kitchen with me. She’s the person who always proactively asked me about what I was learning in school, what I was interested in, and actually wanted to know me for me. Although my aunt is genuinely a good person and always had been, I know part of her love and interest for me was because she looked at me as the daughter she never had. She had three sons when each time, she really wanted a daughter. So I got all the cute hand sewn dresses and hand knit clothes she intended for her own. I got showered with endless girly gifts and jewelry that she would have loved for her own daughter. But once I got older, and once she came back from being away in Boston for a number of years, she was almost a different person. She officially converted to being a Jehovah’s Witness. Her main concern was the congregation and her “brothers and sisters.” And since at that time, I was a pre-teen/teen, I was changing a lot, too. At that point, I was finally seeing with greater clarity all the dysfunction in my family with eyes wide open. I also realized that at this point, she rarely wanted to acknowledge anything that was ever wrong. I could never have a deep conversation with her. Maybe it was always the case that this was impossible, but when I was in elementary school, that never would have even entered my mind given I was so young and immature. But it always made me sad that we could never have a real conversation together. It was impossible and still is impossible for us to have any meaningfully deep conversation about anything. I don’t know if she is incapable of it or if she just actively avoids it. I guess I will never know; it will always remain a mystery to me.

I told my friend all this. She paused for a while and then looked up at me and said, “Wow. Do you think that some of this frustration is because you never really allowed yourself to mourn the version of her you loved that is gone?”

I didn’t know what to say to this. I suppose I never looked at it this way. It makes sense my friend would hear it this way since she’s a deeply feeling and empathetic person. I guess my friend is partly right: my aunt and I will never have that sweet, simple relationship we had when I was a toddler, kindergartener, or elementary school-age child, where it was easy and always just about baking, having fun shopping and doing playground outings, or enjoying treats together. But as I mentioned here earlier, I am not sure she was ever capable of having a deeper, meaningful relationship with me. So this second part is not a “loss” per se, but more something I wished we could have had that we just never did and never will have.

It reminded me of what my therapist said to me when I was pregnant and due to give birth any day. She told me that I should give myself the time, permission, and grace to mourn the relationship with my mom and dad I wish I could have had, but never got to have and never will have. It’s the same with my aunt: I do wish we had a different, better, and deeper relationship than what we have now. But this will never be. And we just have to work with what we have because c’est la vie.

The “family dinner” saga continues

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And, it did not end with my request to not have M come over. This is what she replied with:

“Sorry, I forgot about that. Can I come with my sister (not actual sister because in the Jehovah’s Witness cultish world, every person in the congregation is a sibling) because I am staying at her house?”

This desire to invite other people to all her meals will never, ever die, even when it’s to my house. Even when the house is owned by someone else, she still wants this random extra person to come. I don’t care that this person is housing my aunt in her place; I asked for my aunt to come over to my house for dinner. Why does this have to be so hard?!

I let the text sit for a day because I was having an irritating day at work, and I really didn’t want my pissy work temperament to transfer over to my aunt. Then, I did what most seemingly logical circa-2026 people do: I told ChatGPT Pro my situation and asked it to come up with a measured, firm, direct response that wasn’t passive aggressive or mad. And this is what it came up with, which I sent:

“Hi (Auntie) – I’m really looking forward to having you over on Sunday. I planned this dinner as a family-only gathering, so I’m not able to include additional guests this time. I hope you understand, and I’d still really love for you to come.”

A day later, she sent me a text saying that she is old, needs someone with her, and since I am coming to San Francisco at the end of the month, she will see me then.

To be honest, I was expecting this. She just needs to have a JW crutch with her at all times. She’s very capable of navigating the subway at her age. It would be an early dinner, and there would still be plenty of light out by the time she left here. So, as a last ditch effort, I told her that I would pay for her Uber ride to and from my house.

She still declined.

Now, we know what this was really about.

As Kaia said when she was an early toddler learning to speak, “ALL DONE!”

Donating whole blood for the first time

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The first time I tried to donate blood was at a blood drive on my college campus, so sometime between 2004 and 2008. I stopped by the tent and asked if I could donate blood. They asked me what my blood type was, and I responded that I didn’t know (frankly, I still don’t even know today because your healthcare providers cannot tell you without charging you out of pocket for that knowledge. Isn’t that insane?!). They told me that I needed to know my blood type to donate blood. This didn’t make any sense to me, as how many people actually know their blood type (and at college age?!), so I didn’t think much of it and walked away.

Then I met Chris’s brother, who frequently donated whole blood and now plasma. He has talked about it a number of times with me and posts about doing it on Instagram. His active blood donation made me reconsider it. But for some reason, it still wasn’t enough to actually get me on a blood donation website to really look into it.

So finally, I was reading the news last week, which said that the American Red cross declared a rare national blood supply crisis as donations hit a four-year summer low. The most urgent need is for those with a blood type O positive or O negative, but they really want all blood donations to increase. Given I have zero idea what my blood type is, I figured that maybe this was the final wakeup call to finally get my butt into a blood donation center. I am a healthy, physically active 40-year-old woman. They must need my blood, right?! So I looked up New York Blood Center, made my appointment for this afternoon, and went.

I’m not really sure what took me so long to do this — likely lack of prioritizing and just laziness. But regardless, I finally did it! I went in, filled out a digital questionnaire, then got called into a room so they could clear me for the blood donation. They took my temperature, blood pressure, and pricked my finger to measure my iron level. I cleared all three.

Then, they brought me to a very comfortable adjustable recliner chair and sat me down. They told me to expect that the whole blood draw would take anywhere from 5-20 minutes depending on how healthy and hydrated I was. And after the first sharp prick, it all seemed like any other blood draw I’d gotten… just that the needle was stuck in there longer. While hooked up, they also put a continuous blood pressure monitor on you to ensure you aren’t about to pass out. And as the blood gets drawn, this interesting little digital device called a Hemaflow scale that has a seesaw-like attachment moves back and forth, which serves as an electronic scale and mixer. The Hemaflow scale gently rocks the blood bag back and forth to thoroughly mix the fresh blood with an anticoagulant solution, which prevents clots and ensures accurate volume measurement.

Time flew really quickly — I was connected for just under five minutes when the machine beeped. The assistant looked at the measurement: I had donated 511ml of whole blood! That was much faster than I anticipated! They asked me to sit for fifteen minutes for monitoring to ensure I felt okay and wasn’t dizzy. Then to ensure my hydration, they offered me my choice of apple, orange, or cranberry juice (I chose the third option and saved some sips for Pookster at pickup). Finally as I left to go, they gave me instructions for what to do in the next day (no strenuous exercise for 24 hours, eat iron-rich foods), and let me know I could login to my portal in 2-3 days to check my blood type (YES, FINALLY!). They also said I could take as many snacks in the food area at the front to fuel myself on the way out. I grabbed two packets of cashews.

They told me I can donate whole blood every two months. But after I consulted with my therapist, aka ChatGPT Pro, I was advised that as a physically active, petite, menstruating woman that to donate whole blood on this schedule was absolutely not recommended, as it could severely deplete my iron stores. So it said that at most, I could schedule to donate whole blood twice a year. Though if my blood type matches needs, I could consider platelet or plasma donation, but that would require a bigger time investment — as in, 2-3 hours each visit. So, not a five-minute blood draw. I guess I will wait and see what my blood type is and go from there.

Now, I can finally check off “blood donation” from my list of things to do before I die. The next question, though, is how often will I continue doing this, and what variations (plasma?) might I consider in the future depending on my blood type?

Xia pi 虾皮 aka “shrimp skin”

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Although I’ve been cooking since I was a teen, I am most definitely always learning about new ingredients, techniques, dishes, and recipes. When it comes to ingredients, it can get really overwhelming even in a single cuisine. Chinese cuisine could easily be hundreds of different cuisines across the entire country. Although “Eight Great Traditions” of cuisines are recognized across China, I still think this is simplifying the country too much given exactly how large it is and how many influences different parts have given their neighboring countries.

For a long while in the back of my mind, I’d been wanting to buy some xia pi 虾皮 or literally “shrimp skin” when translated into English. These are not actually shrimp skins, but are teeny tiny translucent sun-dried shrimp, just a bit bigger than a peppercorn, that are used as a savory, umami-rich condiment in Chinese cooking. They add a strong, salty sea flavor to dishes like soups and stir-fries. Given its strong umami flavor, they can replace salt in a dish and would definitely require you reduce any added salt/soy sauce to a dish. And because these shrimp are sun-dried, they make for great long-term storage in your fridge or freezer, and can even be used directly from the freezer and added to stocks and stir-fries. I got reminded of xia pi again when I was at the Elmhurst Chinese supermarket I used to frequent when living in the area yesterday. I saw them in packs of half a pound in the refrigerator section and decided that today I’d finally buy some and use. I am looking forward to adding them to near-future soups, vegetable stir-fries, and even an omelet.

I love discovering and trying out new ingredients to make. But I definitely need to balance it with all my other seemingly endless ingredients at home! This is definitely a “first world” problem or challenge, but at least it’s a fun one!

An annoying restaurant concept pivot to cater to the area

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One of the things I love looking at every week is what new restaurants are opening up across the city. I subscribe to a few mailing lists. I keep track of Eater and Infatuation for New York City. I also get a lot of food content (predictably) via my @yvonnemeetsfood Instagram handle. As someone with a young child, I am far less interested nowadays in four-dollar-sign restaurants, potential Michelin-rated restaurants, or tasting menus (though I will say that our one tasting menu at Yingtao last year was truly incredible and finally propelled me to make my first — and so far only — order at Mala Market!). I am more interested in cuisines lesser represented, interesting fusion twists, and small independent bakeries and holes-in-the-wall. If they are a bakery, massive brownie points from me for having sourdough starter as a base, and/or milling their own grains and wheat.

So when I read about Unglo Thai opening just a few blocks from my apartment on the Upper West Side, and merely steps away from the Lincoln Center, I was in total shock. The original restaurant concept was a funky, modern Thai restaurant that featured traditional (and “elevated”) Thai barbecue. I just couldn’t believe that something that traditionally Thai, creative, or unique would be opening directly across the street from the Lincoln Center, and on the Upper West Side, of all places. I may live on the Upper West Side, but I unfortunately find myself repeating often that this area is likely one of the most boring neighborhoods in the city for food. Nothing particularly unique interesting ever opens first here. Occasionally places will open their second or third location on the Upper West Side (I am specifically looking at Salt & Straw from Portland, Oregon, or Radio Bakery, originally from Greenpoint, Brooklyn), but nothing fun and cool ever starts on the Upper West Side.

This restaurant opened about a year ago, and I saved it as a “to try” spot for a future theater night with a friend. Well, last night was a Summer for the City Festival Orchestra night, and it was also a belated birthday dinner for my good friend. So I booked this restaurant about a month ago, thinking we would have Thai BBQ. And then two days before, I checked the menu… to only find out that after a few months, they weren’t doing so well. I guess it was all a little too authentic and too true to Thai cuisine for the uppity, stick-up-your-butt old fuddy-duds of the Upper West Side / arts crowd. So they had to pivot to “elevated Thai comfort food.” I was not very happy about this, as I was very much looking forward to a Thai BBQ meal so close to home. But I figured the menu was still more interesting than your average pad thai/pad see ew/green/red/yellow curry, so I’d stick with it.

I was happy I stuck with this decision. My two favorite dishes we ordered were the kua rib fingers, described as “wok-tossed wagyu rib fingers with southern Thai “kua” curry paste.” It was rich, sticky, and super fragrant and flavorful with makrut lime leaf and lemongrass featured prominently. I also loved the pomelo salad, which had the pomelo pieces cut thick and sectioned, with a pla-ra dressing with tomatoes, shallots, culantro (yes, CU-lantro! It was so good and pungent with really thick leaves!), mint, and crispy school prawns.

Although I may have been ready for Thai barbecue on the Upper West Side, especially by the Lincoln Center, unfortunately this area was not quite ready for it. The Upper West Side has a long way to go before it becomes a destination dining neighborhood (other than for Tatiana, which I may never successfully get a reservation at because it’s so freaking competitive). I am still sad Unglo’s original concept did not survive, but I do think what they pivoted to is still delicious with real Thai flavors worth trying and even going back to for a delicious evening.

Summer for the City 2026 – Festival Orchestra of Lincoln Center: A Mother’s Love

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For the last three years, I’ve been able to enjoy at least one pay-what-you-wish performance at the Lincoln Center’s Summer for the City arts series. The performances I’ve seen have ranged from orchestral performances to modern opera, but they’ve all been a little escape from my day to day life and a way to appreciate the arts scene at an affordable price just steps away from my apartment. Whenever I have gone, I feel very lucky that I can walk five minutes to David Geffen Hall and five minutes back. Ever since we moved to this part of the city, I always consider it a privilege that we live so close to a global performing arts space.

Tonight, my friend and I had dinner to celebrate her belated 40th birthday, and to see the Festival Orchestra of Lincoln Center perform “A Mother’s Love,” a series of mother-child inspired orchestral performances. What I had forgotten about and was reminded of was that there was a guest performance by Abel Selaocoe, a famous South African cellist/vocalist tonight. As soon as I heard his voice over the cello, there were goosebumps all along my arms. I could tell my friend was called to attention because her eyes immediately widened, and we were trying to see Abel’s mouth move from our far right seats. He was singing in his native language over his cello, but he also did quite a bit of throat singing, which I am not used to hearing. He used this deep, guttural voice that seemed to bring out more than a single pitch at the same time. It was such a strange and ear-catching thing to be able to listen to in person, and in a performance hall as renowned as David Geffen Hall.

My friend went a little nuts after, especially since she loves to sing and sang with a group at her high school. She could not stop talking about this cellist’s throat singing. And all I could hear was the sound of his voice in my head after. I immediately made a mental note to look this performer up on Spotify and ‘favorite’ his available music so I could listen to it in the background while working.

My friend and I don’t get out at night that often, but this was a great reason to be out. Every time I walk home from these performances, I feel thankful to live in this great, diverse, art-filled city, and to live so freaking close to the Lincoln Center.

The psychology of parenting

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A friend linked me this podcast, The Psychology of Parenting with Dan Siegel, and said she thought I’d like it. It’s essentially about how parenting isn’t really about the child, but about learning about oneself. I immediately recognized Dan Siegel’s name. About two years ago, I read a book he co-authored called The Whole Brain Child, and I really liked the overall takeaways of the book; it resonated with me at the time because it discussed what I already believed, which is that who we are is shaped by our past and past experience; based on those past experiences, we can improve ourselves for our children. I was even more intrigued when I later found out that Dan Siegel went into this area of research driven by his own mercurial childhood, with a raging father and and an emotionally avoidant mother. He is on a long, never-ending journey to understanding his past, present, and future!

I listened to the podcast in full today. During the podcast, he goes through high level points of what drives healthy child development, which has been summed up (pretty smartly!) as the “4 S’s,” which I still remember from reading his book:

  • Safe: The child feels protected from physical and emotional harm. This includes caregivers avoiding frightening behavior and repairing the relationship after mistakes.
  • Seen: The caregiver looks beneath the child’s behavior and tries to understand their feelings, thoughts, and inner experience.
  • Soothed: When the child is distressed, the caregiver helps them through it. Over time, this repeated “inter-soothing” helps the child learn to soothe themselves.
  • Secure: This develops from consistently feeling safe, seen, and soothed. The child learns, “I can rely on my caregiver, I am worthy of care, and I can handle difficult feelings.” 

His takeaway: the key idea is not perfect parenting, but reliably showing up and repairing when things go wrong. In Siegel’s framework, secure attachment grows from the repeated overall pattern—not from preventing every disappointment, conflict, or tantrum.

What I did not write about two years ago but thought a lot about after reading The Whole Brain Child was how the 4 S’s noted here are a summary of everything Ed lacked. He never felt safe from physical or emotional harm, as my parents repeatedly screamed and yelled at him. My mom used to hit him as a child, sometimes for things that weren’t even “wrong.” My dad would roar like a lion in the house and constantly criticize and name call him. There was never any semblance of “repair”: they’d just go about their day as though nothing happened after. Ed frequently told me he felt invisible to our dad. He’d be right in the room and not hear anything he said. Our dad preferred talking to himself than talking to us. To “understand feelings” of one’s own child is a pretty impossible task when our dad could not even understand his own feelings. Our parents rarely “soothed” us; instead when they saw us down, they’d double down and add more doubt, making us feel even worse. Ed never felt like he could rely on my parents to share anything, so even when he got abused by a teacher in elementary school, my parents didn’t find out about it until after he died, when they went through his belongings and read about it in a college essay he wrote.

The truth is that I don’t really think I experienced any of the four S’s with our parents, either, yet I turned out completely differently. And I still think a huge part of this is because I found mentors in my middle and high school teachers who really looked after me, nurtured me, and made me feel “seen” and truly understood.

We can’t bring Ed back. We can’t change my parents. But we can use all this past history to inform how we move forward, and how I choose to parent Kaia. I hope I am always able to make her feel safe, seen, soothed, and secure. And when I am not, that I am able to be a fucking adult about it and admit my wrongs, apologize, take ownership, and move forward with her.