Category Archives: Food

Taking advantage of the last several months regularly being downtown

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Before I know it, Kaia will be having her preschool graduation in June, and so will begin her very last couple of months going to school in Manhattan Chinatown. August will be the last month she will be in school down there, so that will mark my last month having an excuse to go down to Manhattan Chinatown almost daily. I’d been thinking about this since September when she started Pre-K. So, I made a mental note to myself that every week, as long as I had time, I’d “take advantage” of my time down there and try at least one new business. That could mean a restaurant, takeout spot, bakery, cafe — something that was new for me. I’ve long shared with anyone that while I like where I live, I don’t necessarily love it. The Upper West Side/Hell’s Kitchen are not a top food/eating destination for me at all in New York City — this is obviously my opinion, and I am sure many people will disagree. I would far prefer living further downtown closer to where most of my favorite places are, and where most new fun places open.

My Google Map list is pretty out of control. If you took a look at it for the Lower East Side/Chinatown area, it’s almost covered in green flags for “to try.” So trying new spots is never a challenge; it’s more figuring out which one I feel like trying when. On Wednesday, my friend and I went to 1915 Lanzhou Hand-Pulled Noodle, so that ticked off one box (and I am definitely going back there — the noodles and broth were soooo goooooood). Today, I forgot my water bottle and got thirsty during my walk around SoHo/Chinatown, so I used that as an excuse to finally try Matchaful on Mulberry. There, I had an Indigo Glow matcha, which included four grams of ceremonial grade matcha, taro, maqui berry, maple syrup, and oat milk (very satisfying and not too sweet). And for our usual Friday takeout dinner tonight, I stopped by the very new Grandma’s Dumpling House on Pell, where I picked up two types of dumplings, Chinese chive pockets, and shredded potato salad. Here, the dumplings were filled and cooked to order (so fresh!) and super juicy, and the chive pockets were stuffed to the brim. I rarely see shredded potato salad on any Chinese menu, so I decided to try this out here — it was very refreshing and crunchy, though I would have preferred if it were spiked with freshly ground Sichuanese peppercorn, which I still remember having from a very delicious and authentic Sichuanese restaurant in Framingham, Massachusetts, of all places. The dumpling skins were particularly good — they weren’t too thick at the fold part (which I usually can’t stand), but they also weren’t too thin that they’d break easily.

So many things to eat, and never enough time: ’tis the dilemma of someone with limited time in downtown.

1915 Lanzhou Hand Pulled Noodles – lives up to the hype

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I met a friend for dinner tonight at 1915 Lanzhou Hand Pulled Noodles, which has two locations in Manhattan, one in Kips Bay, and its second in Manhattan Chinatown. I was first introduced to Lanzhou, Gansu, style hand-pulled noodles from a nondescript restaurant in Boston Chinatown. A friend’s boyfriend, who was also originally from Gansu, said that as a little boy, he grew up eating these noodles, and there was nothing quite like it. When the little noodle shop in Boston Chinatown eventually closed (with no reasons noted on their shuttered doors), he was devastated and said he had no idea where else to find the taste of his childhood. Simply watching noodles being pulled by hand was mesmerizing to me at the time, as I’d never seen any food craft quite like it. Even today when I watch this being done, I’m in awe.

When I eventually moved to New York in June 2008, I ended up in the mixed neighborhood of Elmhurst, Queens, where my cousin introduced me to Lao Bei Fang, a neighborhood staple in the budding mini Chinatown there. Lao Bei Fang specialized in hand pulled noodles and dumplings, and it was there that I became a hand-pulled noodle and dumpling regular. The owner always pulled the noodles then; he was truly a noodle master. If you came during off hours, he would even sing Chinese opera for you as a side bonus. As someone who grew up Cantonese and eating lots of Cantonese food, I found northern style noodles and dumplings to be a total revelation, one I was eager to delight in and slurp up.

Eventually, Lao Bei Fang expanded and moved into a bigger space off Whitney Avenue and onto the main drag of Broadway in Elmhurst. This required more staff, and this also meant that the owner and his wife were rarely seen at the restaurant anymore. Instead, they hired others to make all the dumplings and pull all the noodles. Sadly, the food was just never the same again. I tried going back twice to give them another chance, yet I always left disappointed: Once, I was given cold, previously fried dumplings. Another time, the noodles were gummy, and the beef soup tasted one dimensional and even canned. My beloved hand pulled noodle shop of my early 20s was no longer the same.

So when I read about 1915 Lanzhou Hand Pulled Noodle, I figured I had to try it out. I got to the restaurant a little early to find that a small line had already developed; there were eight people in front of me, and all were White! I wasn’t sure what to make of this or whether the line would move quickly. But within 10 minutes, I got a little table and was seated, even without my dining partner. And when my friend did eventually show up, she got confused that this was the right place because, “Why are there so many White people lining up for these noodles?” I let her know about the New York Times write-up, and she smiled and understood.

Here, you can choose the thickness and cut of the noodle, which was fun. And there’s a big glass wall through which you can watch the dumpling and noodle makers at work. And I will say: the hype was real. The beef broth was beefy, rich, with lots of spices and herbs, and the flavor was deep. The beef was tender and melt in your mouth. And the noodles had a delicious and addictive springiness. I also loved the chili oil with its fruity undertones. The little fried buns (sheng jian bao) were super crispy on the bottom and juicy.

I will definitely be back here for my hand pulled noodle fix in the future, even with the lines. I think takeout might be in order!

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!