Chè Thái (Vietnamese fruit cocktail)

I grew up eating many variations of chè, or traditional Vietnamese sweet soups and puddings. As a child, I enjoyed them just as much as I enjoyed western desserts like cake or ice cream. Plus, I didn’t have as easy access to these Vietnamese desserts unless we stumbled upon a Vietnamese bakery or were in San Jose or Orange County. My mom never really made very much Vietnamese food given the dishes can be very laborious, and there was no way she’d ever go to the great lengths it takes to put together a Vietnamese dessert like these.

I never realized when I was younger how much healthier most of these Asian desserts were because they actually had good-for-you ingredients like real fruit and even beans — yes, beans! The one my mom got for me most often in my early years was che dau xanh, or mung bean pudding. It’s a pudding-like che that has mung beans cooked down until soft with some sugar, and sometimes flavored with pandan. Then it’s topped with a very luscious, whipped coconut cream. Another one I enjoyed occasionally was che ba mau, also known as “three colored dessert.” This one has layers of pandan jellies, mashed sweetened mung bean, red beans (sometimes even kidney beans), and a thick layer of sweetened coconut cream.

One version of che that I’ve been thinking about a lot since we were in the Philippines (halo halo!) was che thai, which is translated to mean “Vietnamese fruit cocktail.” I suppose that is accurate given it’s a few different types of fruits and jellies served in a sweetened “soup” that uses coconut milk or cream as its base. So I decided that once the weather got warmer and we had company over that I’d make it. Chris’s parents have arrived for their annual visit, so this will be their first dessert at home with us. It’s pretty straightforward and easy given most of the ingredients are from cans: canned longan, lychee, jackfruit, toddy palm seeds, young coconut flesh, and even aiyu jelly can be used. If you don’t want to use aiyu jelly from a can, you can either make your own, or make a pandan jelly. I made and cubed pandan jelly this morning using agar agar (seaweed) powder – it took less than ten minutes! I also sliced up some jackfruit and toddy palm seeds, and then I peeled and cut some fresh mango. I added some canned longans. And as the last step, I mixed the “soup” base, which was about a cup of coconut milk, some coconut water, and added some jackfruit syrup/juice from the can until the sweetness was just right. I mixed everything in a big bowl and put it in the fridge to cool.

The che thai was a success: everyone enjoyed it! Chris’s mom even had seconds. And Kaia finished the little bowl I prepared her; she was especially fascinated by the pandan jellies. If it were in season, I would have liked to include pomegranate seeds to give the che thai a red color to make the soup “pop” more, but I guess I can save that for another time. Some recipes, to add a “red” fruit, will take canned Chinese water chestnuts, coat them in tapioca starch and red food coloring, and then boil them to infuse the red color into the water chestnuts. But I am trying to avoid artificial colors and flavors as much as I can, so I nixed this. And I don’t think anyone would have thought that could enhance tonight’s dessert. Sometimes, it really is the simplest desserts that are quite delicious.

All relationships are work

The Oxford English dictionary defines work as, “activity involving mental or physical effort done in order to achieve a purpose or result.” If you know the strict definition of work, I think most would agree that all relationships are work. It doesn’t matter if it’s the relationship you have with your spouse, child, mother, friend, or colleague: all require a certain level of effort in order to sustain the relationship — at least, in some semi healthy way.

Chris and I just hit our 10-year wedding anniversary last month. His parents sent well wishes on our family Whatsapp group. Then his brother wished us a happy anniversary, also saying, “Good work on reaching 10 years of marriage!”

I looked at his message and smirked. “Thanks!” I responded back. “Ummm, yes. It is most definitely work!”

I told my friend, who is uncoupled, that we had reached our 10-year wedding anniversary and had been together for over 14 years now. She was flabbergasted.

“Shit, I don’t know how you do it!” she said to me after wishing us a happy anniversary. “How can you stand someone for that long, constantly in your space and not doing things the way you want them done?”

This friend knows I am anal-retentive with cleaning. She knows I like everything done in a very certain way in the kitchen. She also knows that I have very strong opinions. And on top of all that, she’s met Chris a number of times now and has had the chance to speak with him a decent amount, so she said she could already imagine how ridiculous and intense our disagreements and arguments would be.

I always wanted to get married. Ever since I learned what marriage was, I wanted to get married and live “happily ever after.” But I don’t think Disney fairy tales or the example of what “marriage” is supposed to be like based on my parents’ relationship were ever the best examples that set me up for success. I’ve spent decades reading psychology and sociology articles and studies, and took a number of classes on these topics. Hell, I even took a sociology course on sociology of marriage and family in college. And when I did therapy two different periods of my life, I spent a good amount of time talking about my relationships with my parents, friends, and Chris, and what I want and do not want to be or become. All of this has been really hard work and required a lot of thinking and introspection. Sometimes, getting to a state of self-awareness can be quite painful. Yet despite all that hard work, I still mess up and do and say stupid things I don’t really mean to say or do in the way it comes out. It’s like every day, I am trying to break out of inherited intergenerational trauma and redefine what I want to be in my relationships with Chris and others I love. I guess everyone is a little bit like that: we only know what we know — until we try to break unhealthy cycles — again, assuming we have a certain level of self awareness, or someone helps point it out to us.

But the work we put into relationships with those we love most is important. It’s probably the most important work of your life. It’s hard for me to imagine a life without those who are closest to me who I love the most. Frankly, I don’t want to be my dad in that sense: I don’t want to be a total loner with zero friends. I also don’t want to be in a marriage where I feel emotionally estranged from my spouse. So while many reject close friendships or serious romantic partnerships, I guess at the end of the day, I am still a romantic and want all these things to be a part of my daily reality.

So, the work continues.

Priorities in the ‘hood, according to my 4-year-old

A school activity this week was to discuss what makes up the school community and the area around it. The kids were asked to name parts they notice and like, and to draw them. One kid mentioned the bank across the street. Another drew the bubble tea shop across the other street. And my Kaia Pookie called out the bakery next door and drew a picture of it.

Chris showed me the photos uploaded to her class site for the activity this week, as he knew I’d be excited to see that Kaia mentioned the bakery first. I immediately started beaming when I saw the photos of the kids’ illustrations and the class topic. But his commentary was not as pleased.

“I would’ve preferred that she did the bank,” Chris said. “Everyone needs money. Money buys the stuff at the bakery.”

“She’s our kid,” I insisted to him. “Of course she’s going to point out the bakery first! She loves bakeries (just like us)!”

“No money, no pastries!” Chris retorted back at me.

I don’t care what Chris says. Yes, his logic is correct that there would, in fact, be no pastries without money. But bakeries make Kaia Pookie happy like they make us happy, and it’s yet another sign that she is most definitely our child — or at least, mine.

Thumbs up, thumbs down

When Kaia was learning different gestures, including sign language as a baby/toddler, she got most of them pretty quickly. She understood the meaning of them and embraced them. She especially loved signing “more” (isn’t that everyone’s favorite?). But one gesture that she absolutely refused to do for the longest time was “thumbs up.” Every time I tried to get her to do this, she’d shake her head rigorously and yell, “No!” She’d even cover up my thumb(s) and even refuse to see me doing the gesture.

It wasn’t until the last year or so when she finally gave in and started doing it. And when she does it, she especially loves to do a double thumbs up, and then do a “thumb hug,” which means that we tap our thumbs together and then try to wrap our thumbs around each other in a bit of a thumb embrace. For Kaia, “thumbs up” is not complete without this last shared step.

I explained to her at dinner this evening in Chinese that tomorrow, her mama would be leaving again to get on a plane to go to Raleigh. So tomorrow morning, I’d wake up earlier than usual to go work out, then Daddy would get her ready. And I would take her to school, but Daddy would pick her up that late afternoon and have dinner, shower her, read, and put her to bed. I let her know I’d be coming home later that evening.

Every time I tell Kaia multiple things at once, you can tell that she’s processing all the new information and trying to decide how she feels about it. She gives the “side up” look. Then in this instance, she started frowning.

“Hao ba? (Okay?)” I said to her.

Her frown became even more intense.

“No!” she yelled. “Bu hao! (NOT GOOD!)”

Then, as if on cue, she did a double thumbs down, and then motioned to me to match her two thumbs down.

Oh, well. At least she gets how to use thumbs up, thumbs down now!

When your kid ends up in urgent care while you’re on a flight home

I came home today, ready to give my sweet Kaia Pookie a big hug when I got through the door. But coming home this afternoon wasn’t quite what I envisioned. It was weirdly quiet when I entered the apartment. Chris turned over to look at me, barely greeting me. Instead, the first words out of his mouth were, “She had an accident.”

I looked over his shoulder at my Kaia Pookie, sitting quietly on the living room rug amidst a bunch of her toys. Her arms were sprawled out as though she was just leaning back on the couch, but the entire center of her face was bloody and mucusy. I slowly walked up to talk to her. While she looked straight up at me, she didn’t respond or smile; she basically had no reaction. She was lethargic and seemingly in pain and/or shock. I took her in my arms to hold her, while also occasionally pressing an ice compress to her nose and wiping away more blood and snot. She was eager to come into my embrace and clearly needed the cuddles.

Chris explained that while they were at the Transit Museum earlier today, Kaia was running around on an old bus when suddenly, she tripped on something and fell down very hard, face first. He actually didn’t see this happen, but some bystanders in the museum told him that his child had fallen. As soon as he got to her and lifted her face up, all he could see was blood everywhere. He immediately took her to the bathroom to get cleaned up, but the blood just kept coming out. A museum worker waited outside to see if she was okay, and kindly offered an ice pack. Chris wasn’t sure if she was okay or if something more serious could be wrong, so he took her to the closest Urgent Care, where they checked her out, did a few tests to ensure she didn’t have any major head injury, and then said that we just needed to monitor her to ensure she was “still herself” and that she didn’t lose consciousness.

We spent the rest of the early evening intermittently icing her nose and wiping away her runny nose snot and blood. I knew she was quite herself, though, because I kept talking to her in Chinese, and she responded logically and with expected answers. When I asked her if she wanted a surprise gift I brought back for her, she immediately nodded. Then minutes later, she kept asking for her surprise gift. I took it out for her: a deluxe princess coloring book. She looked at it and was clearly in love. I asked her if she wanted to color with it now, and she nodded and ran to get her markers. Chris teased her and said it was actually his gift; I had already presented him with dark chocolate covered sour cherries from a popular local Asheville chocolate shop when she was sitting down. My Kaia Pookie was clearly lucid and understanding every single thing that was happening. Her face turned down, and she yelled, “No, that’s mine! You already got a present!”

Phew. So fingers crossed, it doesn’t look like she suffered any major head injury. But what crappy luck that this happened when I wasn’t home. I asked Chris if he missed me while I was gone. He responded in his usual in-character Chris way: “Well, you would have been really useful here today.”

And that is what a “romantic” response sounds like when you’ve been together for 14-plus years, and married (at least, celebration-wise) for ten years — just in case you weren’t already familiar with it.

When your 4-year-old topples over an entire table of hot chocolate and tea

Dining out with young children can be anxiety-inducing — so much to the point that a number of my colleagues have explicitly told me that unless they are dining out at a chain restaurant or McDonald’s, their kids are not coming with them. We’ve been dining out with Kaia at least once a week since she was about four months old. We’ve made it a point to expose her to lots of different neighborhoods, foods, and cuisines from a very young age, hoping this would make her adaptable not only to different foods, but also many different dining environments. And so far, while she has certainly had her number of tantrums, outbursts, and meltdowns at restaurants, for the most part, she’s been pretty “good” by public dining standards. Until today, she had never had a major spill or broken any glasses or plates. Yes, that is — until today.

We were at this small, quaint Thai-fusion cafe called Blue Brown Cafe in Williamsburg late morning today. It was the first stop during this Saturday’s food crawl. They had a small, narrow seating area, so we sat down at a tiny little table and ordered a Thai tea with steamed milk and homemade cardamom ginger syrup, a raspberry hot chocolate, and a pandan cream-filled croissant. Kaia was acting a bit unruly, insisting that she sit in a certain way and potentially grab the marshmallow off the raspberry hot chocolate. Chris was trying to move her so that she didn’t get too close to knocking over the table, but she kept resisting him. I had just taken a single bite of the pandan croissant — the pandan cream was delicious, but the croissant itself was not great and reminded me of Costco croissants. Just as I placed the croissant down on the tiny table, Chris got our hot drinks and put them down. Then, Kaia proceeded to push against the seats. And just like that, her back knocked over the entire table — hot drinks, croissant, and all. All it took was about three seconds and we had the messiest, stickiest hot chocolate and Thai tea spillage all over the place. Luckily, nothing spilled on or hurt/burnt anyone; and also luckily, the drinks were in to-go paper cups, so we didn’t break any mugs. One of the employees quickly came from around the corner with multiple wet towels to wipe up the floor. I instinctively jumped up to grab a ton of napkins from the counter to help the cleanup. Kaia knew immediately she had done something very wrong; she burst into tears and kept saying she didn’t mean to, that it was an accident and she was sorry. At that same time, a number of people were in line for coffee… and likely took theirs to go given the sticky mess and the sobbing 4-year-old situation.

When the employee finally finished cleaning our mess, I looked at Chris and said in a monotone voice, “So, do we want to do a re-order?” And the employee gave me a sympathetic look and said they’d remake our drinks then. It was a very kind, generous gesture given that they’d obviously already made the drinks that got spilled, plus we inadvertently made them do extra work with the spillage. So this time, we got the same two drinks, and the employee put tight lids on both of the drinks — probably just in case. This time, Kaia was super obedient, sat very still while we had our hot beverages.

These are the situations that you never want to have when going out with a young child. We were *that* family today with the unruly child who made a total mess at a cafe, and likely scared away other patrons from sitting down and enjoying their morning coffees and teas. Accidents happen, and honestly, I was always curious when something would get broken or spilled in a major way when we dined out with her; that finally happened today, at age 4 years, 3 months. But if nothing else, I hope that Kaia remembers this and knows that when she’s told to sit in a certain place and not kick or move too much that she realizes what could happen if she’s disobedient and doesn’t listen. We definitely do not want a repeat of today happening ever again.

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.

Kaia, almond croissants, and Almondine Bakery

We were wandering around Dumbo, Brooklyn, today, finding new places (like the incredible Fontainhas Cafe — what delicious royal chai!), and revisiting old favorites, like Almondine Bakery. Almondine Bakery has long been on the “best of” lists in New York City when it comes to their croissants, and especially their almond croissant. They definitely do not skimp here: they have a really thick, generous layer of almond paste inside the croissant, along with a beautiful sprinkling of toasted, sliced almonds on top. We’ve gone here pretty much every year of Kaia’s existence; I still remember Almondine being one of the very first places where I did a diaper change for her in their bathroom (on the floor, with a mat!). As soon as she realized we were in a bakery this visit, she ran to the glass display cases and started pointing at all the colorful things she wanted to eat. But I told her that we’d get almond croissants (she cannot always choose at her age). She insisted she didn’t want an almond croissant; as of late, she has some mental block seeing almonds and walnuts in any form (even though she’s actually happy to eat them). When I bought the croissants over to our table, though, she immediately tried to pull the croissant out of the bag and wanted to dig in right away. But.. she started trying to pick off the sliced almonds on top and just eat the main croissant.

When we were leaving Almondine, I had her pose with the Almondine sign and take a photo there. Later this evening when reviewing my Google Photos, I did a search for “almond croissant,” and there I saw more photos across the years of Kaia at Almondine. We’ve taken so many repeat shots of her at the same place, year after year, that I could easily do a year-by-year, one after the other, photo slide show of her frequenting our favorite spots across this city. Our old faves may stay the same at the same locations with our same love for them, but our Kaia Pookie just keeps growing and growing. And her smile at these places is only getting bigger and bigger, too!

Friends reunion and health scares

Today, I had a midday meet-up with a college friend who was in town for her kids’ winter break. They came into the city to have a quick midday snack with me before driving back up to Boston. Her kids are obsessed with the American Dream Mall, so they visit about once a year during a school break. I’ve been able to see her both last year and the year before for dinner while I was in Boston for work, but both times, it was just herself. This time, I got to see not just her, but her husband and all three of their kids! The last time I saw her husband was before they even got married. And I was excited to meet all three of her mini-mes today.

The two older kids were very sweet and affectionate and prompted addressed me as “Auntie Yvonne,” giving me a hug, and making sure I knew how old each of them were. The youngest one was 15 months, and he was like a quiet little koala. This is my “go big or go home” friend when it comes to kids: she always said she either wanted zero kids or a LOT of kids. And so now she’s got three. And just before I was going to ask if they were considering a fourth (because this time last year, she told me she and her husband seriously were talking about trying for a fourth!), she told me that they are officially stopping at three because their number 3 child had a very tumultuous first 15 months on earth, with getting RSV at two months and rhino virus at four months; both required multiple night-long hospitalizations. And then just before Thanksgiving (and his first birthday), he started vomiting, and his stool was coming out with blood. They found out that he had intussusception, which is a medical condition where one of his intestines slid into another part of his intestine; they said the most common way to understand what’s happening is to think about how a telescope slides its way in and out. It was a result of having multiple back to back viral infections — poor little guy. And the only way to resolve this was to have him do surgery where the surgeons would cut him open and manually pull the intestine out of each other. Luckily, no parts of the intestine had died (this is a real fear if it’s caught too late), and he made a quick recovery. This little one-year-old was out of the hospital, post-operation, after just a one night stay! In retrospect, they said they really had it good: their first child never got sick and was super easy as a baby and toddler; their second child got sick occasionally but was also pretty chill. This third child, as is evident, keeps giving them one scare after the next!

I think about these crazy situations that can come up that are completely out of our control, and I’m just so thankful that Kaia has, to date, been pretty healthy (and fingers crossed, this continues). I don’t know how I could stomach a situation like my friend’s third child had — to think of a tiny little baby needing to be cut open for surgery just makes me want to cry my eyes out. My friend and her husband are definitely troopers in their own right — and the most fertile couple I am friends with, by far!

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.