Gai mei bao (ji wei bao in Mandarin), also known as cocktail bun or coconut bun in English, and is literally translated into “chicken tail bun,” is one of the most popular types of bao in a Chinese bakery. It was originally made (according to Chinese food legends) from the scraps of leftover bread and dough at Chinese bakeries, where they’d mash together leftover scraps of bread with some sugar, butter, and coconut and try to sell them as actual bao the next day. It’s called “chicken tail” bao because of the shape of the bun itself, so there’s no actual chicken or tail in it. I always loved this bao, but I didn’t actually find out what it was called in English until several years ago. I’d try to order “coconut bao” in English and Chinese at bakeries, but I was not consistently getting the same thing handed to me. Sometimes, it would just be a plain milk-type bun with coconut sprinkled on top (ugh, so boring and plain). Other times, it would be stuffed with just coconut but nothing else. There wasn’t that buttery, coconuty, slightly sweet gooey filling on the inside that I really loved.

So the other day, I decided to do a side by side tasting of three ji wei bao: one from Nice One Bakery, one from Mei Lai Wah (famous for its long lines and pineapple cha siu bao that I think have too much fat pieces stuck in them), and one from Manna House Bakery. I always loved the Mei Lai Wah one, but I strongly disliked the lines. Plus, when I’d try to pick one up later in the day, they’d oftentimes be sold out of it, as they didn’t make as many of them as they do the bo lo cha siu bao. The Manna House Bakery one is my go-to since there’s no line or wait; it costs $1.75, the same as Nice One, which I’d never had before. Mei Lai Wah’s was the most expensive at $2.50 + tax, so $2.70. That’s over 57% more for the Mei Lai Wah one!

Well, I took them all home and sliced them to see their innards. I laid them all out side by side. The verdict? The Nice One was the worst with the least amount of filling. It was nearly pathetic and a sad excuse for a ji wei bao; that’s the first and last time I ever get one from there. The Manna House one had good filling and was tasty as always, but honestly, it could not compare to how much filling the Mei Lai Wah ji wei bao had: Mei Lai Wah’s was STUFFED to the brim with filling. Plus, the filling was just richer and had a stronger, more defined mouthfeel. The filling color for the Mei Lai Wah one was much more yellow, whereas the Manna House one was more white, which likely indicates how much more butter the Mei Lai Wah version has (for better or for worse… for taste or for your cholesterol…).

I will still get the Manna House ji wei bao out of convenience, but the best ji wei bao/gai mei bao in Manhattan Chinatown is most definitely the Mei Lai Wah one. I will always go there for the best version assuming I’m there earlier in the day and there’s no wait. I’ll never get the Nice One ji wei bao again, but I do quite love their baked cha siu bao and baked bo lo cha siu bao. Maybe my next taste test of Chinatown bakery items will be a true side by side of the bo lo/pineapple cha siu bao from Nice One, Mei Lai Wah, and Manna House next!

Since I was going to be in the Chinatown/SoHo area for Kaia’s Halloween parade yesterday, I decided to book a 15-minute oolong tea tasting at Chi Cha San Chen Taiwan Tea, which opened last summer on Bayard off of Mott Street. I had never heard of them before, but they had lines around the block when they opened for months and months. I always wanted to go, but I refused to wait in the crazy line. Chi Cha San Chen is a high-end tea shop based in Taichung, Taiwan. They make tea drinks with pure tea leaves grown in Taiwan (no powders), and make all their own toppings, like tapioca, jellies, etc. They differentiate themselves with what they call a “teaspresso” machine that is supposed to brew tea to ideal conditions. I had never heard of them before (and definitely didn’t know about them when we went to Taiwan in June-July 2017), but I found out that they have won international taste tests for their oolong teas. Some have called Chi Cha San Chen “Michelin-star-like” tea in the tea community. Though I am an avid tea drinker and always intrigued by different, pure teas (none of the flavored garbage. Yes, I’m looking at you, David’s Tea, UGH), I always find it a bit amusing whenever I hear about tea “awards” since tea is pretty personal. What could be delicious for one person can be completely revolting for the next.

The tea tasting was a bit of a disappointment. I thought I would get to try several teas, but instead, they only let me choose one out of the five types of Taiwanese oolong they sell. They told me that if I came back with up to three friends, we could all choose a different one so we could taste four at the same time, one each. I was not happy with this, but I figured I’d just choose one and come back at a later time. I chose the medium strength oolong. They precisely measured out exactly three grams of tea, then poured in perfectly measured tea at a specific temperature and brewed for six minutes on the dot. They strained and poured it for me in a cup that is shaped like a chawan. They wouldn’t let me have any second or third infusions (what a waste!!). While the tea was very aromatic, almost floral, and not even the least bit bitter or acidic, the “tasting” experience put me off. Tastings are supposed to include more than just one, otherwise it just seems like a sad, glorified sample. Plus, the price was quite exorbitant: 15 grams of tea, or exactly five brewings, for $22. Ouch. I’ve bought plenty of premium tea before, but only one of them, the “Chanel” of green teas, which was a bamboo green, that I got while in Sichuan, topped this price.

I think I will stick with their tea lattes and made-to-order drinks, which are all made with loose leaf, instead of trying out their vacuum-sealed loose leaf ones. I liked it, but not enough to buy it to make at home. That just seemed a bit too steep for me.

On Monday night, a friend and I met on St. Mark’s Place in the East Village to have dinner and catch up. I chose a new Chinese noodle shop called Loong Noodles where you order and pay via a kiosk at the front. Then, someone comes out to your table to bring you your order. We got two orders of noodles, as well as a garlic cucumber salad and pork-and-cabbage dumplings as starters. The food was all delicious and toothy, and though my wan za noodles weren’t as notable and multifaceted in flavor and texture as the wan za noodles I recently had in the Bronx, I still enjoyed these and would come back to this spot.

The funny thing about coming to Loong Noodles was that the cucumber salad we ordered was likely the most unusual dish. When the salad plate came out, I noticed a ton of finely minced garlic, which of course would mean the cucumber salad would be extremely pungent. What I was surprised by was that when I took my first bite and chewed, the flavor was *not* what I anticipated. There was this strong umami, savory flavor, as though a chicken bouillon or broth was used. Or, perhaps they sprinkled in a little MSG into the salad dressing? Either way, every bite of the cucumber salad was a tiny explosion of umami savoriness, and it was hard to not notice it, especially since I’ve never even once had this flavor or sensation in my mouth with any other cucumber salad I’d had in my life.

We had a good amount left over, so I had it packed up to take home to enjoy. This definitely makes the list of dishes I’ve had this year that did not taste how I expected.

Since I was young, I have always loved Trader Joe’s (let’s please put aside their shady practices with doing business with small business owners for a minute). Their products are generally cleaner and have fewer gross ingredients. The packaging is always fun. The prices are most definitely always low, relatively speaking. I still have fond memories from when I was in high school, and my dad found a delicious kiwi gooseberry jam from TJs. I was completely obsessed, and I was never a big jam person. It had this really great balance of light sweetness with tartness, and it tasted like real fruit, just mashed up. I also liked the occasional chunk of gooseberry I got in my mouth while eating it. I requested he get more of it each time he went to Trader Joe’s, which was maybe once every couple of months. One day, he returned from a Trader Joe’s trip and said that my beloved green-hued jam was no longer there, that they had discontinued it. I was completely crushed: WHY? I asked. It was so, so good. Who could have that unique, delicious jam and not be completely enamored with it?

Then in my college years, Trader Joe’s carried their own version of Nutella, but far higher quality: their hazelnut chocolate spread had 31 percent hazelnut, unlike Nutella, which only had about 10-11 percent hazelnut. Each weekend breakfast at Wellesley in the dining halls, I’d take it down with me and have it be my weekend indulgence. I’d spread it on a piece of whole wheat toast and savor the nutty chocolatey flavor. And then, of course, that item also got discontinued.

As of late, the item I’m sad about, but was warned about from the beginning, is the Trader Joe’s organic tart cherry fruit spread. The Fearless Flyer told me it was available in limited quantities, made with organic Turkish sour cherries. I love, love, love all things sour cherry related. So when I saw it on the jam shelf in the spring, I immediately got the 15 oz jar (for only $4.29 – what a steal!). I made the mistake of never opening it at the time to see how good it was. Chris just opened it this week (over 5 months after I originally got it… AHHHH), and we both agreed this jam was phenomenal. I immediately got sad, though. I knew it was a limited release, and I didn’t act on it. I could have been smart about it and opened it when I got it back in May, declared it delicious, then gone back to Trader Joe’s and gotten four more jars to stock up for the future. But… I didn’t.

I guess this is just another lesson to myself for the future with limited stock items at Trader Joe’s. And maybe, it’s also a lesson to just enjoy what I have now… before it’s all gone.

I am embarrassed to say that I did not know what pupusas were until I reached adulthood. It wasn’t until the early 2010s when I finally went to a Salvadoran restaurant in the Mission District of San Francisco when I finally ate one for the first time. And it was certainly a memorable, delicious experience. If you aren’t familiar, pupusas originate in El Salvador, and they are flat, fine-cornmeal based savory pancakes with different types of stuffing, ranging from chicharron (not the crispy pork skin, but rather shredded pork shoulder), a combination of 5-7 types of Salvadoran cheeses that are like a mix of queso fresco and mozzarella in flavor and texture, to refried beans or loroco, an edible Salvadoran flower. There are so many stuffings, and many can be combined, but what was delicious about all of them was how deeply savory they all were. They are, what Australians would call, “moreish:” once you have a bite, you are easily tempted to keep eating more! When cooked on a griddle, the best ones have this nice textural contrast of crispy edges and chewy middles. Pupusas are always served with a curtido, which is a sour slaw of cabbage and carrots, as well as some salsa roja (red tomato-based sauce) on the side.

Once, I tried making them with some fine cornmeal I had purchased, but the project went completely awry. I figured that I likely did not have the right grind for my cornmeal. I probably also over kneaded the dough. The result ended up being more like a flatter hockey puck, and the texture was not soft or dreamy, but dense and far too chewy. After that first failed attempt, I figured that I could just find a pupusa somewhere in Queens or uptown when I really wanted one. It would be better to support a small business who makes them expertly than spend too much of my own time toiling over how to make them.

Then, in 2022, Chris discovered Mirna’s Pupuseria in Flatbush, Brooklyn. Mirna’s is a small pupusa shop run by a husband and wife team. When Mirna first moved to New York from El Salvador, she used to make her visiting friend’s pupusas when they came over. So they joked and said when they came over, they were coming to eat at Mirna’s Pupuseria. And that’s how the name originated. The pupusas are just perfect here, even when they are reheated a day or two later. We love the refried bean and cheese ones, plus the chicharron and cheese pupusas. I am sure all of them are good, so it’s hard to go wrong with them! The Salvadoran style horchata is a nutty and sweet thirst quencher. Maybe at some point when we come back, I’ll order some Salvadoran style tamales, but the pupusas are just so good that it’s hard not to just want to order these here. The staff take their time with the pupusas, as all are made to order. As I always tell Pookster and get her to (begrudgingly) repeat after me: good food takes time. And they put so much love, care, and time into making these pupusas. Little food shops like Mirna’s is what makes New York City so special.

As I’ve gotten older, and as the pandemic decimated a lot of Chinatown businesses, my fondness, general adoration, and affinity to Chinatowns everywhere have grown. Since the pandemic, my desire to support Chinatown businesses has only grown stronger, not that it was ever weak. So much Asian hate happened in 2020-2021 because of COVID-19, and it was unfairly exerted against businesses in Chinatowns across the world. Although I’ve lived in New York since 2008 and have always had a strong familiarity with Manhattan Chinatown, I think my knowledge of it and its businesses has gotten even stronger since 2020. Manhattan Chinatown is quite a large Chinatown. If you were to delineate where Manhattan Chinatown is touristy, popular, or “clean,” I’d draw the line at where Chrystie Street is, all the way down to where the Manhattan Bridge starts, and say that everything west of that line is recognized and frequented by people who are Asian and not. The main tourist drag is most definitely Canal Street. But once you go east of Chrystie Street, that’s where things become a bit more ambiguous. That area, to me, has always felt like the “real” Manhattan Chinatown since even before I moved here. At some times of the day and night, walking through there feels just like walking around in a large city in China when you see the sea of people moving, hear all the endless Chinese dialects spoken, and feel the sheer energy.

Generally, the area both slightly to the east and west of the Manhattan Bridge feels grittier, likely because of all the endless car traffic and the trains going above. There’s this one “mall” that is right on East Broadway, just underneath the bridge, that I’d always wondered about. It looked like there were businesses inside, and I could always see people walking in and out of that building, but I never felt compelled to go in there until a popular New York City-based Asian food personality on Instagram posted that she had some delicious dumplings and steamed pork buns in its basement. The spot is called Fu Zhou Wei Zhong (or ZWZ for short). The owners are originally from Fuzhou, so the food is Fuzhou style, which I’m still getting familiar with. So I figured that since I have to go pick up Kaia from school down in Chinatown five times a week now that this is my opportunity to finally explore all these little restaurants and holes-in-the-wall that I never gave myself time to really look at (and taste!) before.

This afternoon, I entered the mall, which was dingy, poorly lit, and not well labeled (other than in Chinese). I went down to the basement, where it was pretty much completely deserted except for tthe Fu Zhou Wei Zhong food stall, which was a huge window with a bunch of random tables around it. The same printing of the menu was on several walls, in English and in Chinese. On another wall, there was just Chinese writing outlining additional items, such as drinks (hot and cold), congee, and other steamed breakfast items you could get earlier in the day. I decided to order the fried dumplings, which was eight pieces for $5. They make all the food to order, so I waited for a bit while they did this. All the cooking is viewable through their large window, where I could see four women all busy pleating dumplings. Another woman was busy mixing a huge vat of what appeared to be pork and chive paste for dumplings. They called out to me when my dumpling order was ready, and I decided to eat one fresh. I took one bite, and BAM! It was crispy on the outside, super juicy and well seasoned on the inside. It was like the perfect fried dumpling. I did not regret eating one right away; I was only sad that Chris couldn’t enjoy these immediately with me and would have to eat them an hour or so later after I brought them home. I cannot recall the last time I was that happy and satisfied having a freshly made dumpling for takeout. These are like the dumplings that used to excite me when I first moved to New York, when I lived in Elmhurst and would occasionally go to the very popular Lao Bei Fang in Elmhurst’s “Chinatown.” Unfortunately, Lao Bei Fang, while still going strong in its newer location directly on the main drag of Elmhurst on Broadway (when I first moved to New York, it was in a tiny space on Whitney, which is a more obscure street) has since lost its magic since the owner no longer makes the dumplings himself and has his staff make them (good for him, but bad for us).

So while it’s nowhere as convenient now taking the train downtown to drop off and pick up Kaia every weekday while she’s in 3K in Manhattan Chinatown, it’s actually a positive in more ways than one. I get constant access to all my Asian greens, fresh tofu, and noodles. I can revisit my favorite bakeries and businesses as often as I’d like (or as much as my cholesterol/waist line allow). And I can also check out and really explore other sections and businesses in Chinatown that I’ve never given myself time to do before. So many places around East Broadway look authentic and delicious (not to mention that the prices on this side are definitely cheaper!), and they deserve to get more business… and my business.

Prior to the pandemic, the quickest lunch options while at the office were always the standard types of things you’d expect: salads, sandwiches, and pre-made sushi. While we did have nicer sandwich options like the Cambodian sandwich shop Num Pang or higher quality salad spots like Sweetgreen, there really wasn’t a great fast casual option for Chinese food nearby. We had a few places that had limited lunch specials, but they were standard sit-down restaurants, not places where you could grab and go the way you do at Sweetgreen or Le Pain Quotidien. So when I read about Milu, a fast-casual, modern Chinese spot that opened near Madison Square Park, I thought it sounded promising, especially since it had interesting options for lunch that you wouldn’t normally think about, like Yunnan-style beef brisket or Mandarin crispy duck. I met a friend here for lunch today and was impressed by almost everything about it, from the sleek seating and booths, the fresh, bright, modern decor, the quick ordering and serving system, and the food itself. You order at the counter and grab a number, and within five minutes, the food is brought out to you. With a plate and a drink for each of us, Our meal came out to less than $50. The duck was crispy on the outside and succulent on the inside, with duck fat rice, fresh herby salad and pickled cucumber salad on the side. My friend’s brisket was fork-tender and a little spicy, much to my surprise, and had similar side salads.

I think New York needs more Chinese places like this that are quick, casual, and modern that also have high quality food. The average person who isn’t exposed to Chinese food thinks it’s a bunch of greasy, MSG-laden fast food, but this food is fast, high quality, not greasy, and NOT MSG-laden.