A Lunar New Year / anniversary dinner that felt wrong

I was on Instagram this morning, and I noticed that a (White) colleague of mine, along with her (White) husband had celebrated their 7th wedding anniversary. They decided that since their wedding anniversary coincided with the Lunar New Year period that they’d host a small dinner party at a Chinese restaurant nearby and call it a joint Lunar New Year/7th wedding anniversary celebration. This felt a bit weird to me since neither of them is from any culture that celebrates Lunar New Year, nor did it look like they had any Asian guests, but hey, to each their own. If they want to celebrate other cultures, all power to them! I’m all for inclusivity.

But then, I saw the menu for the party, and I immediately cringed… hard. They had stereotypical ha gow (shrimp dumplings) and vegetable potstickers as starters. It wasn’t terrible, but entirely predictable. Plus, dumplings are a traditional Lunar New Year food. But then when I saw the mains, I immediately felt annoyed: beef and broccoli, orange chicken, and vegetable fried rice. It couldn’t have gotten more White-washed/Americanized than this. I felt like an entire caricature had been made of my culture, that they didn’t know the first thing about what significant cultural foods are eaten during the Lunar New Year period by any Lunar New Year celebrating culture or why — and maybe they didn’t even care. They clearly didn’t do any research or put any true thought behind this. Instead, they chose stereotypical “Chinese” dishes to satisfy a White audience that would match whatever notion they had in their head of what Chinese people might eat for Chinese New Year. It was pretty upsetting to see this.

This colleague and I get along. We both travel a lot, and we both love food. She loves to bake her own sourdough and occasionally likes to cook. But I always knew we probably couldn’t be real friends… because I had a feeling this is probably how she saw my culture. And I guess the feeling was right. And if I were to ever bring this up to her, how her joint Lunar New Year/wedding anniversary meal was an insult to Chinese culture and Lunar New Year traditions, I doubt the conversation would end well. Because for many people, they want to believe what they want to believe about cultures they are superficially aware about. They want to believe that pho and banh mi are what make up Vietnamese food, and that’s it. They want to believe that General Tso’s chicken, in its sugar-laden, sticky, gooey form, is what Chinese people across the diaspora eat on the daily. And when they are told otherwise, they “other” it, ignore it, and compartmentalize it far, far away from them… and they stick with what they “know,” which are the White-washed versions of whatever that culture’s food is. They don’t want to believe that what they are doing or saying could potentially be offensive or wrong. They’re like the “nice, White parents” from the parenting podcast I previously listened to: well meaning, well intentioned, but with awful execution that they are a hundred percent blind and tone-deaf to.

Cultural food traditions – honoring family, roots, and ancestors

“Are you sure you want to make everything?” Chris asked me the other day regarding our upcoming Lunar New Year party this Sunday. “You don’t want to buy any food at all?”

I hesitated for a second because I realized that we had about 18 people total expected to come. To date, this would be the biggest group of people we’ve not only had in our home, but would also be providing food for. “No, I don’t want to buy any prepared food,” I insisted. “I like making all these dishes!”

He relented and said that as long as I enjoyed it, then we could proceed as is, but it wouldn’t be a bad idea to lighten the load and buy some prepared foods. I told him I’d consider it in the future — maybe.

As progressive of a person as I like to think I am, there are some traditions I do like to hold up, especially in the realm of food. There’s a real art in making a lot of these traditional New Year’s dishes, and the skills are dying because most people of my generation and younger just don’t value it very highly. Who is going to spend time sourcing all the eight to 20 vegetables to make a cohesive and homemade Buddha’s delight (luo han zhai, or just zhai)? Who wants to spend time making tang yuan dough by hand and from scratch; plus the black sesame paste filling, grinding, rolling, then freezing individual black sesame balls, to then wrap them in dough, and freeze once again… to then boil in hot water and then finally eat? We all have work, day to day responsibilities, and most people just want to throw in the towel and simply eat the food. That’s why so many families just go out to restaurants to celebrate Lunar New Year, or they’ll get ready-made foods and bring them home. But I’m not one of those people. I actually take pride and joy in making these dishes from scratch. It’s like honoring my grandparents and my cultures — that’s the way I see it. Not everyone eating these dishes at my party will understand the cultural significance. But every time I make them, I remember why they’re important and why they’re worth the time and energy to make. This time of year, I do spend time reflecting on where I came from and my roots, and while I make these foods, I meditate on it, clear my mind, and reflect on the past, present, and future.

High protein everything

One thing I’ve done to address my weight issue is to see if I can consume more protein. I’ve already been adding a protein supplement to my midday smoothie, along with additional flaxseed, hemp seeds, and yogurt. But I’m trying to figure out how to get more plant-based protein into my diet without feeling like a rabbit. And so I found this interesting “high protein peanut noodles” recipe that takes a whole block of silken tofu and blends it into a sauce with peanut butter, soy sauce, garlic, ginger, chili paste, and other ingredients to create something that is not only high protein but also delicious and satisfying. I was actually shocked with how much I liked it: I was licking the spoons clean.

I liked this sauce so much that I sent it to my friend, who is also exercise and health obsessed. And she was so excited about it that she decided she would make it for dinner tonight!

Feeling 40 in my midsection

Now that it’s been over a month since I turned 40, it’s almost like I have little things here and there to remind me of my age. I just scheduled (and rescheduled, due to this week’s blizzard) my first mammogram. I also realize that as I am checking my weight on the scale weekly that my weight really hasn’t come down much from when we first got back from Australia and the Philippines. Usually, this is what happens each year: the second week of December, we leave for Australia/Asia. We’re gone for about three to four weeks, during which time, I do no real exercise (my workouts are all on hold) other than casual walking (which frankly, I do not think is enough for anyone at any age). In Australia, we’re always getting to places by car, which means even fewer steps. And I’m definitely indulging more since we’re away from home, we’re trying new places in different cities, and it’s Christmas time, so ’tis the season for indulging. So with all that lack of movement and increase in indulgent foods, it’s no wonder that by the time we get back to New York the first week of January that I’ve usually gained somewhere in the ballpark of six to nine pounds. And since my baseline weight is at about 117 pounds, percentage wise, that’s actually a good amount of weight for me to gain on my 5’3″ frame. So I spend the next month to month and a half cutting back on indulging, not drinking much alcohol at all, and also increasing the rigor of my exercises.

I checked the scale last week, and I checked it again today. My weight is not budging much. I came back at 125 pounds, and today, I am 124 pounds. I’ve lost a single pound of weight. It’s fluctuated down to 120 at some point in early February, but it’s gone back up again. And I am definitely not pleased. And I know where most of it is concentrated: excess fat right in my midsection, the area they always tell you that as you get older, you need to watch more carefully.

So now I’ve become one of those people who checks her weight semi regularly and is trying to figure out how to lose weight. This is all relative to myself, and most people cannot even tell from looking at me that I’ve gained weight. But because I know and can feel the difference, I suppose it’s time to start making some age-related tweaks to address this — not fun.

What you think is common is not so common

I feel like I’ve spent most of my life hearing people from outside the U.S., media, professors, teachers, older adults, and even my own husband talk about how stupid Americans are. Our literacy rates are pretty poor. Our math and language standards are significantly lower than in most rich industrialized nations. We have a lot to be embarrassed about from an education standpoint. But sometimes, people really, really shock me in ways I would not have otherwise guessed.

I was working on a shared Google Sheet with a colleague over the last few days. Both of us were editing it, and I had to hide a bunch of columns because I wanted to isolate certain columns of information I needed to work on another project. He got confused when he was in the sheet today and asked me why he couldn’t find certain columns of information. “Did you hide the cells or delete them?” He messaged me. “Can you please unhide them?”

I was baffled. I read the message twice before it suddenly hit me that he probably didn’t even know how to unhide the cells. How can you possibly be a white-collar professional in your seemingly late 40s and not know how to do the most basic functions in Excel or Google Sheets? And even if you didn’t know, go look it up — that’s what Google Search and all these AI applications are for!

Bánh bột lọc: a labor-intensive, finicky, and annoying dish

Bánh bột lọc, a Central Vietnamese (Hue) specialty, is a tapioca dumpling, usually wrapped and steamed in banana leaves, stuffed with seasoned shrimp, pork, and sometimes mushrooms. My mom introduced these to me as a kid, but it was very rare to find them even at Vietnamese restaurants and bakeries in San Jose because these dumplings are so laborious and annoying to make. The “annoying” part is due to the tapioca starch: unlike using glutinous or regular rice flour doughs, tapioca starch is extremely, extremely finicky and difficult to manage. Sometimes, it can feel like liquid sand in your hands, and it’s hard to get the texture just right so that you can actually knead and shape it properly. But it’s imperative that you get it to a bread dough-like stage, otherwise shaping it will be a nightmare.

The last time I remember having these tapioca dumplings was probably over 12 years ago. My mom met and befriended a Vietnamese woman who had an underground Vietnamese catering business. This talented lady made all the Vietnamese dishes we love that require so much effort, dishes like banh uot, banh cuon, banh it tran, and bánh bột lọc. My mom did a massive bulk order of banh bot loc, knowing that I’d be home. And then, she sent me back to New York with a big bag of banh bot loc, all individually wrapped in banana leaves. She ordered me to store them in my freezer and pop however many out for Chris and me, and to then steam them to eat. “And don’t forget the nuoc cham!” she said, before I went back to New York.

So I decided that for my Lunar New Year party this year, I’d finally attempt making bánh bột lọc. I always have banana leaves in the freezer. I just thawed the shrimp. And I had tapioca starch. I was always up for a challenge, right? And well, this was certainly a challenge.. and a real mess. The tapioca starch dough was so finicky and infuriating. But when I finally got it, I was on a roll. A few of the dumplings I rolled with banana leaves had errors, resulting in the “dough” oozing out of the leaves like liquid. So I promptly steamed my “mistake” dumplings to see how the texture and flavor turned out. And I was shocked: even the “mistake” bánh bột lọc looked decent, and the flavor and texture were spot on! The flavor was savory and briny; the texture was nice and chewy, just as tapioca should be.

My mom doesn’t really like that I love cooking, especially laborious, intense projects like bánh bột lọc. She will likely get annoyed when I tell her that I already made a batch of these, and it’s currently sitting in my freezer, waiting to be steamed. But I hope she realizes that it’s one tiny way that I try to keep her culture alive.

Blizzard descends upon the Northeast

While I was originally planning to take Kaia to the Lunar New Year festival at the Lincoln Center today, that event ended up getting cancelled due to the blizzard hitting the Northeast through tomorrow. Chris was listening to the official notifications regarding the blizzard: it would officially be declared a snow day tomorrow, which means there wouldn’t even be remote learning for older school children. All grocery stores would be closed, and very likely the majority of restaurants and businesses. Many subway trains would be running on weekend/reduced schedule. New Jersey Transit would not run. And they even implemented a travel ban for all non-essential vehicles in Manhattan within certain hours of the day.

For activities for today, Kaia’s swim class got cancelled since the college pool is closed. But her martial arts class in the morning still went on as planned. Chris grumbled that the weather sucked and that it was miserable outside; I reminded him that most Sundays, he never wants to go outside, anyway, and insists on relaxing on the bed with his computer. He responded and said that wasn’t the point: it’s actually about just knowing there’s an option to have a pleasant day outside. Plus, dreary weather always gets most of us in a sleepier mood, even when we haven’t done much at all to get tired.

A friend of mine in San Francisco is having her belated 40th birthday celebration there today. I won’t be there for it, but I messaged her to let her know I was thinking about her and that I hope she has a good time. She responded and said she completely understands why I don’t typically travel for leisure at this time of year: she saw reports about the impending blizzard and said that would definitely be terrifying for any planned air travel.

So I spent my Sunday doing what I usually do: morning yoga, a lot of cooking, some cleaning, and some playing with the Kaia Pookie. Tomorrow will be a snow day, so work productivity will already be lower. So we’ve just got to focus on the important things, which is staying warm, having enough good food to eat, and making sure that we stay sane with this continuous cold weather.

What is “chai”?

My “to try/love/old standby” Google Maps favorites list is now over 800 places strong for the New York City area. It was too much effort and trouble to create a separate list for “to try” versus “loves/old standbys,” so I just know by looking at my one list which ones I’ve been to already and enjoy versus places I would like to check out. I had a little non-descript chai spot on my list for the Lower East Side, so I asked my friend to meet there today for a late afternoon tea catch-up session.

Since it was my first time there, I got their first and most popular drink, the masala chai. The description of the tea says, “black tea, cardamom, clove, cinnamon, ginger, black pepper.” The drink is slightly sweetened, and the cafe, as a standard, uses only oat milk. When I had my first sip of the chai, the first thing that hit me was the strong ginger flavor, which I enjoyed. But then the flavor that kept lingering, and not in a great way, was the cinnamon. The cinnamon just completely overpowered the other spices in this drink. I did enjoy it overall, and I liked the ambiance of this cafe, but I am not sure I’d come back here just for the chai (they have some other tea drinks on the menu, as well).

“Chai” means a lot of things to different people. “Chai” actually just means “tea,” but when used in a cafe context here in the U.S., it usually is referring to Indian spiced chai with milk. Everyone likes theirs made differently. Some people want just ginger or just cardamom. Some people like a mix of different spices. Some just want double boiled black tea with milk. Some people want a lot of sugar, while others want little or none. I’ve realized after having many different chais at different places, including across India, and also making my own, that my favorite chai is very strong on the cardamom and ginger, with a hint of fennel and clove. And if I am making it at home, I need to add about half a teaspoon of sugar (ideally brown or something else molasses-y) per cup to even out the inevitable bitterness that comes from double boiling CTC tea. As far as I am concerned, it’s not chai unless there’s ginger and/or cardamom. And unless I am in that type of mood, I never, ever add cinnamon to my chai because I find that it always overpowers all the other spices, especially the delicateness of cardamom, which is undeniably one of my favorite spices on the planet. The older (and supposedly wiser) I get, the more and more I appreciate fine, subtle flavors that whisper to you in the background.

Vietnamese handmade delicacies

Of all the types of cuisines I like and cook semi-regularly, I probably make far less Vietnamese food than I’d ideally want to have at home. A big reason for that is most of the Vietnamese dishes I absolutely love are pretty laborious. No one is whipping up banh xeo on a weeknight for a casual dinner. And if you want to enjoy central Vietnamese delicacies like banh it tran (sticky rice dumplings stuffed with mashed mung bean, minced pork, and shrimp), or banh beo (steamed bite-sized rice cakes topped with shrimp) — well, that’s going to be a whole weekend affair, with their multi-step process. These dishes are so frustrating because they are so time-consuming and laborious to make, yet they are eaten in mere seconds. The people who eat these dishes do not always understand or appreciate how much love, effort, and skill goes into making these tasty delights.

While enjoying the banh chung from Banh NYC restaurant the last couple days, I watched as both Kaia and Chris excitedly ate their portions. Kaia had her happy drool face on when we put the banh chung, still in its steamy banana leaves, in front of her. Banh chung is a dish that requires a lot of steps, a lot of patience, and a lot of skill. There is required skill for each step, whether that’s soaking the rice or soaking, steaming, mashing, and seasoning the mung beans, or preparing and marinating the pork. But there’s also skill that your hands just need to *know* to wrap and fold the leaves just so, so that the final steamed package is this perfect square. I attempted the tying of the string at the Tet Lunar New Year event hosted by VHC a couple weeks ago; that was super hard! I messed up twice and then finally gave it to our volunteer workshop instructor to help me fix my wrongs. This is one of those dishes I don’t even bother attempting to make; I leave this to the pros. But maybe there would be value in attempting it as a cooking project once or twice, just to see if I could do it. Dishes like these are slowly but surely becoming a lost art. For our Lunar New Year party this year, ‘m thinking about making banh bot loc, which are bite-sized shrimp/pork tapioca dumplings, individually wrapped and steamed in banana leaves. The last time I ate these was when my mom found a Vietnamese home caterer, and she did a private order of these little chewy babies; she even sent me back to New York with some to store in our freezer so that I could steam them for future meals. While AI takes over the world, what it will never be able to do is replace the love and art that goes into crafting special dishes like banh bot loc or banh chung. That really needs a real human touch — even if Chris debates that because he likes to troll my obsession with handmade, homemade things all the time.

The Husband of the Year award goes to Chris on the first day of the Year of the Fire Horse: the mad, spontaneous sprint to retrieve Banh’s banh chung!

A few weeks ago, we had a decadent lunch at Banh on the Upper West Side, which is one of our favorite Vietnamese restaurants in the city. While there, I picked up one banh chung, or banh tet, a Vietnamese savory sticky rice cake that is steamed in banana leaves and stuffed with luxurious mashed mung bean and pork; it’s a traditional food that is painstakingly made for Tet Lunar New Year. Previously each Lunar New Year, I’d pick up a banh chung from the Vietnamese market I usually go to on Bowery off of Grand (assuming I wasn’t back in San Francisco around this time, which would mean my mom would gift me one from one of her favorite Vietnamese bakeries), but this year, I decided that since we were already at Banh that I might as well pick one of theirs up. Plus, the cost of the banh chung had been slowly going up each year at the market and by now was pretty much the same price as Banh’s (what costs aren’t going up?), so it wasn’t like I’d save much money, plus I’d be able to finally try Banh’s rendition, which I’ve always wanted to taste.

Today is the first day of Lunar New Year, the year of the fire horse. So I saved the Banh banh chung to steam today as part of our dinner tonight. I steamed, unwrapped, and cut it up, and I laid it out on the table. And Chris took one bite of it and declared that it was the best banh chung, or really, the best savory steamed rice wrapped in banana leaves, that he’d ever had — period. I took a bite of it and wasn’t totally sure it was the best banh chung ever since I’ve had a lot of these, but yes, it was really, really delicious. Every bite just seemed to melt into my mouth and burst with flavor. We gave Kaia a piece, and she devoured it in seconds, then asked for more. We were all immediate huge fans of Banh’s banh chung. And I immediately said out loud that I regretted not buying two when we were at the restaurant a couple weeks ago; I had contemplated it, but figured I could always get another banh chung another time, maybe even somewhere else.

Chris and I started talking about schedules for tomorrow. I knew that even if Banh didn’t sell out of their banh chung today that I would be very unlikely to go up there given I have an insane number of meetings on my calendar tomorrow. Chris then grabbed my phone, looked up whether Banh was even open today (it is the first day of Lunar New Year, after all), then had me call them to see if they still had banh chung on hand. I called the restaurant, and they said they still had eight vegetarian banh chung and five meat banh chung left. It was about 5:40; they opened their doors for dinner at 6pm. Chris had already gone into the bedroom to change. He grabbed the OMNY card, his kombucha bottle, and the Trader Joe’s canvas bag and was immediately on his way out. And less than 45 minutes later as I was finishing up Kaia’s shower, he walked through the door.

He came back with not one, not two, but THREE Banh pork-stuffed banh chung. Given the timing, I was pretty sure he did a mad dash to and from when he was off the bus or train. He came back, turned on our bedroom fan for his “summer breeze,” and said he needed to cool down. I took photos of Chris and Kaia with the much coveted and delicious Banh banh chung. Banh’s banh chung has likely ruined all other banh chung in the city for me. I do not think I can ever go back to buying the one at the Vietnamese market ever again. Two of these banh chung immediately got wrapped up to feed the freezer, and would eventually feed our bellies at a later date. The third banh chung was prompted placed in our fridge, to be steamed at some point in the next week or two for very-near-future enjoyment. After all, Lunar New Year technically is not a single day celebration as Gregorian New Year is to the West; Lunar New Year is a weeks long celebration of fireworks, endless feasting, and red envelopes!

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how my husband Chris, on the first day of the Year of the Fire Horse, won the Husband of the Year award. He can be super annoying, stubborn, and painful to deal with at (many) times. But in these moments, he proves that his true love language is acts of service. Though… he will still not admit that this sprint to and from Banh to retrieve three beautifully and lovingly made banh chung was not entirely selfless, as he also loves this work of (edible) art just as much, if not more, than I do. And of course, Kaia Pookie will get her fair share, as well. The whole family benefits from this delicious deed.