Category Archives: Food

Finding good things everywhere I go

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I get told I am full of shit for this belief a lot: I truly believe that no matter where you go in the world, whether it’s a different neighborhood, town, city, or country, that there is always good food somewhere there. I think of it like I think of people and beauty: there is beauty when you give a place a chance. There are also good, well-meaning people if you give them a chance and take a little time to get to know them. I know every single place I’ve been to has something good or great that I’ve enjoyed.

So, even for places that I have been to that I have very little strong opinion about, I can still feel myself getting protective over them when people I know make sweeping, negative generalizations about them. I was telling my friends this last weekend that I was going to be in Raleigh this week for work. A friend (who has never been to Raleigh) shared that her husband has had to go to Raleigh a few times for work, and she said he was not a fan; he said there was no good food in Raleigh. As someone who has been to Raleigh once and had three very solid meals there last year, I could feel myself getting annoyed.

“Where did he go, and who chose the places?” I asked.

She said some colleagues chose the restaurants and that he didn’t. To be honest, I don’t think I would have had much more faith if he had chosen them.

I told her that I found a really great bakery cafe there that I loved and was planning to go back this week. And today, I made good on my word: I stopped in for an iced latte, a kouign amann, and two caneles to go. Every bite of that kouign amann was perfection: each bite shattered, had this addictive crunchy sugar coating on the outside, and definitely had seemingly millions of flaky, buttery layers. I got one canele for me and one to bring home for Chris. I ate my canele in flight, over 7 hours after I purchased it. It still had a super crunchy outside and a gooey, soft, tender inside, with a strong vanilla bean flavor. Last August, I had a delicious tapas meal with a work friend. That same trip, my colleagues and I hosted a great happy hour event for a prospective customer that had amazing appetizers. And last night, I had a very noteworthy, crunchy banh xeo generously stuffed with lots of shrimp and pork, along with a pork bao and a calamansi spritz. If you do your due diligence and spend the five minutes or less it takes to look up Google Reviews or some AI tool like Claude or ChatGPT, I highly doubt you would fail to find a good restaurant or six in Raleigh.

Sometimes, I wonder why I feel so frustrated when people make negative over-generalizations about places, especially smaller U.S. cities. It’s clear that I do not live in a small U.S. city — quite the opposite! And I think I do know why: it’s almost indicative of how quickly and based on very few interactions people can draw sweeping judgments and harbor negative stereotypes about other people or groups of people. If you want to get to know anyone or any place, you have to come in with an open mind and an open heart. If you already are coming in from a big city and choose to think that everything in said smaller city must be crap, that will inevitably color whatever experiences you have there — and ultimately taint it. And well, that’s your loss, not that place’s, because it means you are not able to enjoy your time spent there. And since none of us is living forever, we should try to do what we can to at least attempt to enjoy every moment we’re so lucky and privileged to live.

The luxury of space while eating sourdough pancakes in a residential neighborhood in Asheville

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In many ways, I am living my dream from when I was a little girl: I get to work and live in New York City, the Big Apple — right in the heart of Manhattan, steps away from Central Park. But if I had to be honest, sometimes, I do wish we had more space. There are a lot of thoughts starting with, “It would be nice if…” we had a backyard, we had more space, we had a bigger kitchen, if restaurants and outdoor enclosed spaces could be bigger and more spread out for littles to safely run around. And my friends and I were all thinking about this while having breakfast this morning at the Liberty House Cafe in Asheville. This cute little coffee shop/cafe has been around for the last 10 years and is housed in a small cottage from the 1920s. While the cottage itself is quite tiny, its outdoor space is sprawling: it has two large patios that spread out from its left and right side, along with a massive green lawn with even more tables and benches for dining, sipping coffee, and relaxing. They easily could set up more tables and benches, but a lot of the space is just… empty space to breathe and just be space. It could be space for dogs to roll around. It could be space for kids to play and be silly. Or it could just be what it is, which is a lot of space.

My two friends live in San Francisco/the Bay Area, which increasingly is lacking for space; I live in the famous concrete jungle of the Big Apple. We all know that space is always premium in major metropolitan areas. So just sitting on this big covered patio, overlooking this vast green lawn and openness, while eating our indulgent, delicious, crispy-edged sourdough blueberry pancakes and drinking cubanitos, felt like an unspoken treat.

Farm to table dining, which is what Liberty House Cafe offers, is spreading everywhere across the U.S. You can find restaurants using hyper local produce and ingredients in major cities, suburbs, and in rural areas; it’s become ubiquitous. But to simply experience this setting while having these pancakes felt like just another luxury of this trip after our amazing spa and tapas day yesterday.

Candied nuts – the simplest addition to salads that can make it pop!

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As someone who has always loved tinkering in the kitchen with different ingredients and recipes, I have always enjoyed candies nuts in salads when I’ve had them. But for some reason, I never thought to make them myself. I know they are pretty simple and straightforward to make: you take a bunch of nuts, coat them in maple syrup or simple syrup, sprinkle a little sea salt on top, and toss them. Then, you bake them at a low-ish temperature in the oven for about 25-30 minutes until they are crystallized. When you are done, you get this magical savory-sweet, high protein, high fiber snack that will quickly impress people when they find out you actually made them yourself. It’s low effort, but high “wow” factor.

Well, I finally got inspired and pushed to make them for a beet and lentil salad with tahini-yogurt dressing recipe from Hetty Lui McKinnon’s Linger cookbook. Honestly, this is not normally a cookbook I would have bought for myself; it’s all about salads, and the entire book is vegetarian. But after being gifted it and going through it, I’ve realized I am quite inspired by Hetty’s take on what a “salad” is, and I love the way she pairs ingredients together. It’s definitely made me rethink food pairings and what flavors complement each other.

So for this salad, (pre cooked) beets and shallots are pickled in a sweet vinegar mixture with spices. Then, you add cooked lentils, toss them both together in olive oil and salt/pepper. And finally, you smother a tahini-yogurt sauce on them, topping them with candied walnuts. And yes, the candied walnuts truly MAKE this salad pop. It’s one of those salads that are very memorable not just because it’s gorgeous to look at with the color contrasts, but because the flavors all meld together really beautifully.

And that, my friends, is a beautiful, delicious salad worth making and eating again and again.

Rediscovering the glory of cooking with fresh lemongrass — all because of a very sharp knife

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At most, I cook with fresh lemongrass two to three times a year. You can’t buy it at a regular grocery store; if I need it, I pick it up from Hong Kong Supermarket or my Vietnamese market in Chinatown. There’s really no substitute for fresh lemongrass: it is bright, fresh, almost sweet, with very floral, minty, almost gingery and herbaceous notes. When you eat something with lemongrass, it stares at you in the face; subtlety is not a characteristic of this herb. Although I love this herb, I’ve historically found it really annoying to deal with. The edible part of the stalk is very hard, which means it can be difficult to cut, even with a sharp knife. If you look at guides for how to cut lemongrass, some of them even say that you should consider resharpening your knife after cutting lemongrass because the damn stalk can dull your blade!

But alas, with my fancy Shun knife that was gifted for my birthday, I have a super, duper sharp knife now. So when I picked up two lemongrass stalks to make some grilled Vietnamese lemongrass beef patties, I wondered how much easier it would be to cut these with this new knife. And lo and behold, this crazy sharp knife made a massive difference: not only did the knife slide through the tough stalk quicker and smoother, but every cut felt so easy! Who would have thought that the knife would truly make all the difference when it came to cutting this delicious herb?

So I finely minced the lemongrass and threw in some other aromatics, fish sauce, oyster sauce, black pepper, and some sugar. I added the minced beef, mixed it up, created meatballs, then flattened them for quicker cooking on the pan. And once I was done cooking, I took a bite of one of the meatballs: Yum. The lemongrass flavor was just singing! Few things beat this flavor for me. My new mental note to self is that I will definitely be cooking with lemongrass more often now that I have this knife, which has greatly improved my handling of literally tough ingredients like this herb. It really is true: oftentimes, your equipment makes all the difference when cooking!

Pupusas and sourdough conchas in Woodside, Queens

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I didn’t have any external meetings today, so I decided to meet up with a friend who is currently not working for lunch. Given she lives in Port Washington, we usually like to meet “halfway” in Queens somewhere. This time, we chose Woodside, which is getting more and more exciting from a food perspective by the minute. When I open my Google Maps and zoom in on Woodside, the first things I see are a modern Mexican bakery, a Salvadoran made-to-order pupusa shop, a Bolivian restaurant, and a Filipino bakery-cafe. Who could possibly not want this level of variety in a single neighborhood?!

We met up at a nondescript pupusa shop called Ricas Pupusas & Mas with just a few tables. When I arrived at 12:15, no one else was there, and no one else came until the time my friend and I were leaving at around 2:30. Our pupusas were made to order: super soft and oozy on the inside, with a really nice slightly crunchy griddle texture on the outside. With a nice tangy curtido (sour, fermented cabbage slaw), these were perfect little bites. Every time I have pupusas, I wonder how anyone could possibly not like them — they’re so perfect and satisfying. And even if you don’t eat meat, you would definitely be deeply satisfied by the ones with the refried beans, cheese, or the loroco (edible green/white flowers native to Central America).

Afterwards, we stopped by Masa Madre, which I’ve had on my list for a while. They’re known for their sourdough conchas pastries, which are Mexican pan dulce (sweet breads) that are soft and fluffy on the inside, with a crunchy, shell-patterned sugar crust on the outside. Frankly, conchas can be hit or miss: the worst ones have zero crunch on the outside and are too dry on the inside (especially without a coffee or tea in hand!). The best ones are airy and light on the inside, with a faintly sweet sugary crust on the outside. The vanilla and chocolate conchas at Masa Madre are unique because they are actually made of sourdough, so naturally leavened, which is not the norm. And when you bite into it, you can totally tell the difference with the crumb: it’s a lot fluffier and more pillowy. Now that I’ve had this sourdough concha, I am not sure that I can go back to any old commercially leavened concha anymore. They may be ruined forever for me by Masa Madre’s cloud-like sourdough conchas.

The friend who came with me also picked up two conchas to bring home. Before the day had ended, she said she had already eaten BOTH of them (and shared some bites with her two kids). That’s how good these babies are!

Year of the Fire Horse Lunar New Year Party

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Today, we had a Lunar New Year party of 17 friends who came to feast on 12 different dishes that I made! It was our largest group hosted yet. We had 16 people, but then a friend of Chris decided last minute he could come. Chris asked if I had enough food. I had a mini panic in my head last night, but I figured that I could always supplement with additional dumplings I had cooked and frozen that were originally meant for future use.

Well, there was way more than enough food; I was actually shocked by the amount of food we had left over, which just means that we’ll have more to eat (and less need for me to cook!) for this week. This year, in true form, I “upleveled” and tried out some new recipes, did my usual trusted staples, and also added more Vietnamese dishes (which were quite labor-intensive!) to the line-up. After prepping for two weeks and deciding on this menu about a month ago, this is what I made:

Starters:

Banh it tran – Vietnamese (Hue) sticky rice dumplings filled with mashed mung bean and minced pork, topped with scallion oil, fried shallots, and served with nuoc cham

Banh bot loc – Vietnamese (Hue) banana leaf steamed tapioca dumplings stuffed with shrimp , served with nuoc cham

[Do chua – pickled carrot and daikon (for both dumplings above, plus thit kho as a palate cleanser/much needed acidic hit)]

Luo bo gao – Chinese pan fried radish cake with Chinese sausage, shiitake mushrooms, and shredded scallops

Mains:

Thit kho – Vietnamese coconut water braised pork ribs with eggs

Nuo mi fan – Chinese sticky rice with Chinese sausage, cha siu, shredded scallops, shiitake mushrooms

Dan Dan noodles

Steamed wild black sea bass with ginger and scallion

Blanched yu choy greens with black vinegar sauce and crispy garlic

Buddha’s Delight / Luo han zhai: Stir fried (12!) vegetables with mung bean noodles

Desserts:

Black sesame swirled pumpkin nian gao

Chinese almond cookies

Black sesame tang yuan

Food is one of my love languages. I love feeding people I love. I love it when people discover new foods and enjoy them, and I love when they discover new foods they enjoy because of me. And I love it when people love the food I make them. One friend discovered she loved lotus root and the different tofu products in my zhai dish; she also loved the do chua/pickled carrot and daikon for my Vietnamese dishes. Another friend was obsessed over the savory-sweet flavor that the coconut water gave my thit kho/pork ribs. A friend who came for the first time said she couldn’t get enough of my steamed fish and how flavorful it was. A friend also was excited to have my black sesame tang yuan again — this is someone who is self-professed about being anti-dessert, but loves these sticky rice balls of “not too sweet” black sesame filling.

It’s definitely a lot of thought and work to put into this party, but I love every bit of it. I love the lead up, the food prep, the last minute bits that have to be cooked, the chaos that ensues with the kids coming in. And I always end the evening, after lots of cleaning and washing, with a happy and warm heart.

Cultural food traditions – honoring family, roots, and ancestors

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“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

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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!

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

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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.

What is “chai”?

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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.