Category Archives: Food

Manhattan Chinatown in the morning: when everything comes alive, and you tiao can be discovered made fresh

Posted on by
Reply

I dropped Kaia off at school this morning since I had a 5pm work call that I couldn’t get out of, so Chris picked her up today. Since it’s technically winter break in New York City this week, kids who are opted in (and paying for) after-school hours can still attend school this week, just that the hours are slightly shorter. Drop-off this week is at 9am (instead of 8:30), and pickup can be no later than 5pm (it’s usually 6pm, but I usually try to pick up between 5-5:10).

Chris has said he prefers doing morning drop off and has gotten into a routine of it. When I have suggested in the past that he could make use of that morning drop off time by buying some groceries and baked goods, he’s brushed it off, insisting he doesn’t have time and has a pseudo morning work schedule he has to adhere to. To be fair, he doesn’t really care to explore different shops in Chinatown the way I do, so it’s better that I do these things during the occasional times I do morning drop off. Like any decent sized Chinatown, the real life and energy starts early in the morning, when all the produce and meats are getting delivered, when all the bakeries are churning out all their buns and breads and sweets fresh. The really good bakeries open as early as 8am; the shops tend to open around 9. This is the best time to come down here and buy all the freshly made staples for cooking Chinese food at home, such as freshly churned out and steaming hot rice noodles, fresh pressed tofu in endless forms, seitan, and soy milk. By the time I come between 4:30-5pm for school pickup, most of the best stuff has already sold out completely, or they’ve been sitting there, waiting to be purchased all day.

This morning, we arrived in Chinatown a bit early, so I decided to take Kaia into one of my favorite fresh food shops to pick up some things for cooking in the next week. This brought us to Kong Kee Food Corp, which is just a block over from her school. I discovered this spot maybe 10-ish years ago: they make fresh tofu and seitan in endless forms, as well as fresh rice noodles, herbal tea, and soy milk. They distribute to a lot of local supermarkets and restaurants. If you come early in the morning, they have stir fried noodles and rice noodle soup for breakfast that you can carry out. When we arrived, there were already some older ladies who were coming in to purchase breakfast noodles to go. A worker in the back was sitting at a table hand cutting noodles in bulk. Kaia curiously wandered around, looking at all the items in the glass cases and peering up at the female workers. She started giggling when one of them gave her attention; the woman behind the counter was so besotted by her that she took a package of fruit snacks and dangled them out as a gift for her. “So cute!” the woman kept exclaiming.

When I come in to Kong Kee, the items I get the most often are the pressed and five-spiced pressed tofu. I have also previously purchased and enjoyed their fresh rice noodles, which are cut thinly almost like pho noodles, thicker like ho fun/he fun (chow fun noodles), and also in huge sheets for large rice noodle rolls. I’ve also gotten their seitan and enjoyed it. This time, I purchased some seitan (kao fu), five spice pressed tofu as repeat buys. For new items to try, I finally got two sticks of you tiao (the Chinese donut crullers I wanted for jook at home), as morning is the best time to buy these sticks. I also chose a large container of their soy milk. They added some sugar at my request.

Well, according to the Shanghai saying, I already purchased two of the four warriors for Shanghainese breakfast – “四大金刚” Sìdà Jīngāng. The classic Shanghainese brekkie, heavy on the carbs of course, would be these four items: you tiao / Chinese donut stick, ci fan (pressed rice roll), shao bing (Shanghainese flat flaky sesame pancake), and fresh hot soy milk. I can’t wait to have my you tiao later! It’s the first time I’ve ever purchased these sticks whole anywhere in New York City!

When I look at whole long you tiao sticks in Chinese bakeries and food shops, I am reminded of the time shortly after my grandma passed when my mom made a big pot of jook. It was always a treat when we’d have jook at home and also have you tiao to dip into it. The textural contrast between the crisp chewiness of the you tiao against the soft creaminess of the jook was always so comforting and satisfying. My grandma would occasionally buy a bag of these freshly fried sticks from a local bakery, and when we’d have jook at the table, it would be a happy surprise when she’d lay out a plate of the you tiao, already neatly cut into bite sized pieces for us to dunk into our jook bowls. But it was always my grandma who bought them; we never knew what they were even called in Chinese then, and we didn’t know which bakeries to buy them from.

So one day, my mom was determined to resolve this issue. She said we would go out together searching and would find those donut sticks! My mom and I wandered around Clement Street (like San Francisco Richmond District’s mini Chinatown) and went bakery to bakery, peering in to see if anyone sold them. We used our broken Toisan to ask around, but we kept getting negative responses; none of these places made this donut stick. Finally, we got to a bakery off of 6th avenue that had them way in the back, in a big metal bin, all standing upright and tall, waiting to be purchased. We pointed passed the cashier guy and motioned towards the you tiao, and they got excited to have helped us solve our mystery of what it was that we were looking for. In Mandarin, you tiao are literally called “oil sticks/strips,” while in Cantonese, they are known as “oil fried ghosts” or yàuhjagwái. Since then, I’ve never forgotten the name of them. And since then, I’ve also learned that these delicious fried Chinese donut sticks are eaten not just with jook/congee, but also wrapped in fresh rice noodle rolls (a dim sum delight), tucked into Shanghainese shao bing pancakes, and simply ducked into hot soy milk and eaten.

Memories with food are usually the happiest memories from my childhood, but I don’t think that’s unique to me based on all the childhood stories I’ve heard over the years.

Dried scallops – a mother’s show of love

Posted on by
Reply

Growing up in an Asian household, I rarely got complimented. Though I did get told “I love you” quite a lot from my mom, a lot of the time it was hard to really hear and digest that when it was in the midst of a lot of criticisms and comparisons. I will say, though, that the one area where my parents have never, ever failed my brother and me is around feeding us. We’ve always, always had more than plenty of food to eat in the house and lots of variety. And it is always one of their very first questions they ask me when they see or talk to me: “Have you eaten yet?” It’s a classic Chinese/Vietnamese way of greeting someone you care about.

When I graduated from college and moved to New York City, one really sweet and generous thing my mom would do is pack me a one-pound, carefully wrapped box of super premium, extremely pricey dried scallops. They would always be huge, fat, uniform, and perfect. She’d check in with me on calls to see how my stash was going, and when I told her it was getting low, she’d go to her favorite herb shop in San Francisco Chinatown and buy me another pack. She would either have it ready for me to pack when I came home for the holidays, or if she were coming to visit me, she’d pack it in her suitcase and cart it over to me. If you know what I am referring to, you know that this product is likely one of *the* most expensive foods you can cook with in Cantonese cuisine. The highest quality, most beautiful and unblemished dried large scallops, oftentimes from Japan, can be sold for as much as $80-110 USD for a single pound. They are truly worth what they cost, though: dried scallops bring an incredible seafoody, umami burst to anything they are added to. There is really nothing that tastes like them that can mimic the richness they bring any single dish. I would always use them to make Chinese sticky rice, Chinese turnip cake, or savory taro cake, would occasionally add them to stir-fry dishes, and oftentimes would even add them to my jook/congee as a decadent treat. Some particular friends used to tell me that adding dried scallops to congee seemed a bit wasteful given what a premium item they are, but because my grandma and mom would always add a little to their congee, I continued doing this with mine when I had them on hand.

Well, since Kaia has been born, my mom hasn’t bought me any more scallops. In fact, she hasn’t even asked me once how my stash has been looking. Her whole focus now, predictably, is on her only grandchild. All the gifts she packs when I see her are all for Kaia. I’m not complaining — it is what it is, and I get it. Well, I finally used up the last bits of the last box of dried scallops she gave me this time last year to make Chinese sticky rice and radish and taro cakes. So this year, I had to go to a specialty shop to pick up my own because there was no way I was going to make Chinese turnip cake or sticky rice without it. I hesitated when I saw how much the fattest, plumpest, and most beautiful ones in the shop cost: $98/pound. Ouch. I looked at the next tier: $80. And the tier after that was $68. Okay, it’s okay, I told myself. I only need a small amount to make my dishes, so I’m just going to buy a quarter of a pound. I asked for 1/4 pound, the employee measured it out on a scale, priced it out and handed me the bag of my dried gold.

Well, that just did it: that is the single most expensive item I purchased for my Lunar New Year celebrations: about $17.50 for a quarter pound of semi-premium Japanese dried scallops. And I am pretty sure if my mom examined these, she would say these weren’t that good and that I probably got ripped off.

Lunar New Year’s lunch party – lots of food, and lots of people at our place today

Posted on by
Reply

Chris used to have this arbitrary “six person maximum” policy when we would host friends over for meals in the past. I decided to do away with this and basically invited all my friends I could think of to our Lunar New Year party today. I invited 14 people to our place today; two were out of town, one had a baby shower, and one had to work, so in the end, we had 10 guests plus the three of us. This is the most number of people we’ve ever had in our place at a single time.

“It’s going to be a zoo!” Chris grumbled the night before.

This was what I made and served:

Starters:

Luo bo gao – Pan-fried Chinese turnip cake slices

Goi cuon – Garlic shrimp summer rolls with Vietnamese herbs, dipped in nuoc cham

Nem nuong cuon – Nha Trang-style pork paste sausage summer rolls with Vietnamese herbs, dipped in peanut-hoisin sauce

Mains:

Burmese tea leaf salad

Thit kho – Vietnamese braised pork ribs and eggs in coconut water, with a side of pickled carrot and daikon

Chinese whole steamed black sea bass with fermented black beans and garlic

Nuo mi fan – Chinese sticky rice

Yi mian – Longevity noodles with carrot, bell peppers, chives, and king oyster/shiitake mushrooms

Stir-fried garlicky gai lan

Desserts:

Hei zhi ma tang yuan – Glutinous rice balls filled with sweet black sesame served in a brown sugar-ginger soup

Black sesame-swirled ube nian gao / Chinese New Year sticky rice cake

Chinese almond cookies

Other than the cha siu in the sticky rice, I made everything myself, from scratch. It was an endeavor, but I loved every minute of it!

It was boisterous, chaotic, loud, and lots of fun with lots of food, people, and laughter. Kaia had her little friend over to play and run around with. Everyone had plenty of savory and sweet food. I was shocked repeatedly when I found out how much people enjoyed dishes like my black sesame tang yuan; even people like my friend’s husband, who usually scoffs at Asian sweets for being “not too sweet” (“Desserts are supposed to be ‘too sweet’; it’s DESSERT!” he exclaimed). I had people who either don’t eat dessert or don’t eat Asian desserts ask for seconds and even thirds. In the end, I had to boil a second batch of tang yuan! I thought I’d have a ton of frozen tang yuan left over, but I actually only have about six or seven left.

I love preparing food for my people. I spent the last week cooking and preparing food for this. I devised my menu about a month ago with my list of ingredients and action plan. And I loved hearing the comments people made, which included:

“This shit is terrible (referring to my black sesame tang yuan), but if you have more of this shit, can I have some more, please?”

“I don’t normally like desserts, but these (black sesame tang yuan) are incredible. Can I have some more? (Then, when asked how many more): “How many more do you have ready?”

“This sticky rice is so good. It’s like being at dim sum, but even better because yours is packed with all the good stuff!”

“These almond cookies are so addictive! Could you share the recipe?”

“The sea bass was so good! It tasted like the steamed fish I had with black beans in Flushing when I went!”

“I just couldn’t stop eating! I can’t even decide what I liked best!”

“If I ate any more, I definitely would have regretted it. It was like being at a restaurant!”

It was a smart move to get disposable paper plates; it made cleanup so much easier. At the end of the night, the dishwasher was mostly filled with utensils, small serving bowls, and glasses. Now, I’m wondering when the next time will be when I can host another meal at home…

Eating in the Lower East Side in your late 30s

Posted on by
Reply

For most of my adult life, food has been one of the things in the center of my world. I think about what I am going to eat today, tomorrow, next week. I think about things I am going to make, ingredients I am going to buy for things I will make, and what and where I will eat which things. One of the fun parts about living in densely populated places like New York City is seeing how creative restaurants can get with a compact amount of space. It’s a bit dizzying at times to see how small the spaces are that restaurants cram their patrons into, and even more amusing to see how servers manage to get food out to diners without crashing into people and things.

In my early 20s, I always found this fun. I didn’t mind waiting in lines for highly sought after and trendy restaurants. Entering my 30s, I got more into making reservations and not waiting. And once I had a child, I definitely found my patience waning at the idea of queuing up to eat anywhere. Plus, I like having more space. I don’t veto crammed spaces, but I definitely do not seek them out at all.

Last night, I met my friend in the Lower East Side to eat at the super popular Okiboru House of Tsukemen. Tsukemen, as a ramen style, has never really picked up here in New York despite brothy ramen having its moment. I’ve always loved it, though, because with tsukemen, or dipping ramen, you get to appreciate the texture and taste of the noodles themselves more. The broth for dipping is also a lot more concentrated in flavor, so everything just has more of a punch. Okiboru has been a darling with food influencers across social media. When they first opened, people waited hours to eat here, as well as at their sister restaurant, Okiboru House of Udon, which specializes in Himokawa style udon — ultra wide, flat, and bouncy noodles. These are very unlike the long, fat, round udon that most of us have familiarity with. My only hesitancy with eating here was that I really did not want to wait, and I was banking on the fact that it was 26 F tonight, so maybe that would deter the crowds.

I was right. We met at 5:30 for our early dinner and got seated right away. As we slurped our noodles, though, more and more people came in. And with that, the acrobatics of the servers came to light. We saw so many close calls with bowls of broth, buns, and fries nearly getting knocked over because of the tiny counters and the extremely narrow walking space between the counters and the wall seating that it almost became a bit of a spectator sport, watching the servers get through. All it takes is one sudden, unexpected move by a seated patron to cause steaming bowls of broth to spill all over another. This is not a place I would ever take Pookster to, or really, any more than a single person. It just would be too hectic, not enjoyable, far too crowded and tight. Sometimes, you want to go out to eat to… relax. This is a place for a quick conversation to enjoy your food quickly, and then leave.

Of course I loved our tsukemen. This spot is a place I’d willingly go back to just for the quality of the food. There’s just a time and place for everything, and this is not a place that I’d ever think of to luxuriate or relax at all.

Double Crispy, aka Pu Ta Wang Bing Wu, and its popularity explosion

Posted on by
Reply

I’ve been going to Double Crispy Bakery, also known in Chinese as Dan Ta Wang Bing Wu on Grand Street in Manhattan Chinatown, since at least 2018 or 2019. Since 2020, I started going there more and buying things, partly because I love their baked goods, but also because I got really worried during the pandemic that my favorite old-school Chinese businesses in Chinatown wouldn’t survive COVID-19 and the anti-Asian hatred that was stoked back then. Now that Kaia’s school is literally two doors down from Double Crispy, I go there almost every week. Sometimes, it’s to purchase breakfast items for the whole family; other times, it’s to get a treat for Kaia. Kaia’s favorite bao is pork floss bao, for which Double Crispy does an excellent version. I also love their egg custard pineapple bao, their cha siu bao, and several others. Their frozen cai rou bao and ji bao (pork/cabbage and chicken bao) are also delicious and great value. Although I do not buy their Chinese or Portuguese-style egg tarts that often, they do great versions of both (and I suppose they should given their Chinese name). For specialty items, they do a delicious variety of mooncakes throughout the year and amp up the variety and size of moon cakes around Mid-Autumn Moon Festival. I especially like their durian mooncakes. And you can never go wrong with lotus seed paste.

I was pleasantly surprised to see that Double Crispy got featured in the New York Times Cooking section and was in a video they produced that went viral. The video highlights not only the bakery’s intense production of moon cakes, but also the family’s unity, perseverance, and drive to ensure the bakery is successful and that they are producing the very best products for their loyal customers. When I saw it last September, I nearly had tears in my eyes, seeing how much the owner’s sons helped out with their dad’s business and the very clear love they all had for each other and the bakery itself. And since that video came out, the virality was palpable: each day at school pickup when I’d pass by Double Crispy, entire shelves would be wiped clean of their buns, pastries, and breads. It was as though someone had come in and ordered every single darn item on the shelf. I was happy for them and how successful they were; I chuckled to myself when I’d see tourists gathering from outside, confirming this was the same place that was featured in the NYT video, then laugh even more when I saw they weren’t just buying one or two items, but dozens upon dozens of their baked goods.

I walked into the shop today to pick up a loaf of bread and was happy to see that one of the owner’s sons was manning the cash register. I greeted him and congratulated him on the NYT feature and said that I was proud to be a loyal customer for years and years before that video came out last autumn. We made some small talk about the business and how they could barely keep up with demand, and he thanked me for my repeat patronage. And as he bagged up my bread, he neatly wrapped two egg tarts for me and added it in. “This is just a little thanks for your loyalty and support all these years,” the owner’s son said with a big grin. “We wouldn’t be here without customers like you.”

That was so sweet and totally not needed at all; free egg tarts or not, I’d still support them anyway. And if I didn’t, Kaia would just repeatedly run in there and demand every bao on the shelf to eat! One of her favorite things to do on warmer days is to run through their open doors (only open during warmer months, obviously) and point at all the different baos she wants to eat!

Last bites in Guangzhou and back to Hong Kong for juicy buns, bouncy beef balls, more English/Cantonese on menus and signs, and a crab dish that unexpectedly broke the bank

Posted on by
Reply

Guangzhou came and went so quickly that it felt like we blinked and suddenly, it was already time to leave. We woke up earlier than usual this morning for our last breakfast and meal before taking the train to go back to Hong Kong for one night tonight. I got to indulge in my last breakfast buffet of dim sum delights like nuo mi ji (sticky rice with chicken and mushrooms, wrapped in fragrant lotus leaves), nai huang bao (hot egg custard buns), and decorated congee. I also had my last fresh sweet soy milk in Guangdong while dipping a you tiao (fried cruller) stick into it. Hot, fresh, sweet soy milk and a you tiao stick are extremely nostalgic for me, as they always remind me of my early morning walks alone around East China Normal University in Shanghai that summer of 2006, grabbing an early breakfast off street vendor carts and taking in all the chaos and fun of a new country. At that time of my life, I had never left the U.S.; that experience was my very first experience of China, as well as the world outside the U.S. Growing up, I enjoyed sweet soy milk as a stand-alone drink when my mom would buy it fresh from a local market. But we never dipped you tiao stick into them. Instead, when my mom or grandma would buy freshly fried you tiao sticks from a Chinese bakery, they would snip them into bite sized pieces. We’d then toss them into jook/congee for extra indulgence and extra texture/crunch. This seemed to be the Cantonese way of enjoying you tiao sticks. Well, I embrace every which way of eating you tiao sticks as well as drinking freshly pressed soybean milk, so I definitely do not discriminate.

When we originally left Hong Kong on Wednesday to arrive in Guangzhou, the biggest differences I felt immediately were:

  1. Less signs and/or no descriptions in English or even pinyin at times
  2. Squat toilets were the majority; seated toilets were the minority (if any) in a given restroom); most public restrooms here, unless at a nicer establishment, did not even have soap or toilet paper
  3. Cashless payments via WeChat or Alipay in Guangzhou only; virtually no cash, whereas in Hong Kong, endless businesses are cash-only
  4. More Mandarin Chinese spoken in Guangzhou predictably, but still a good amount of Cantonese spoken
  5. No Uber in Guangzhou; we used DiDi

So goodbye to squat toilets for us heading back to Hong Kong, and hello to more English and spoken Cantonese!

After we checked into our hotel, we went out and about again on the MTR, this time to Tsim Sha Shui (or Jian Sha Ju in Mandarin) on the Kowloon side of Hong Kong. We stopped at Cheung Hing Lee, a popular spot for Shanghainese sheng jian bao (fried, thicker skinned soup dumplings) at the recommendation of my friend who lived in Hong Kong for about nine months. The baos were exactly as advertised: thin skinned, super crispy bottoms, lots of clear, clean flavored broth that literally squirted out of the bao with each bite, and tender, fatty, tasty pork inside. And afterwards, we slithered our way into the Haiphong Road Temporary Food Market just a few minutes walk away, where we ate at Tak Fat (De Fa) Beef Ball stall, in what is now a semi dai pai dong.

Dai pai dong is an open-air food stall, and a term that was created in Hong Kong. In Cantonese, the name refers to “big license stall,” and they were historically tucked into alleys, next to buildings and on streets. What makes them fun, delicious, and nostalgic for many Hong Kongers is not only their cheap prices, but the “wok hei” flavor in many of the dishes offered, which were quick to come out and be devoured. In the late 20th century, the Hong Kong government started restricting the operations of dai pai dong to remove them from public streets; there were concerns around hygiene and sanitation. Given all this, many relocated into indoor cooked food markets that the government built, or they shut down altogether. The experience of eating in one, even a “semi” dai pai dong like Haiphong Road Temporary Food Market, feels fun, lively, chaotic, boisterous, and reminds many people of the old-school Hong Kong days when this was pretty much how everyday people ate and mingled with each other. It didn’t matter if you earned pennies or were a millionaire; you were eating at a dai pai dong. Back during our 2015-2016 trip, we ate at one dai pai dong, I believe either in Central or Sheung Wan. But I think this experience was even more fun and chaotic. I loved the hustle and bustle of the place, the quick turnover of the tables, the super fast ordering and serving of food. I even like the way the payment was set up, all centralized at one spot across all stalls. When we got into the eating area, Chris got us a table quickly, but it wasn’t assigned to the food stall I wanted to eat at. When I realized what had happened, I asked one of the servers if we could still eat at that table and order. She said it was fine. But apparently, the server I asked was for Tak Fat, not for the one we did NOT want to eat at. So while she was perfectly fine with it since her business would benefit from our seating arrangement, the place we did not want to eat at was not okay with it. So we ended up having to move tables. It was still very quick, and we were seated at a new table immediately. The hustle was real!

We had two Hong Kong style iced milk teas, one order of beef ball and beef brisket noodle soup, and an order that I was not 100 percent certain what I got, but ended up being exactly what the Chinese said, word for word: Fried chicken egg noodle soup. When this finally arrived a while after our noodle soup and teas came, it was two perfectly fried to order chicken wings and one fried egg on a plate, and a bowl of chicken broth with instant noodles in it. It was kind of hilarious, as I wasn’t totally expecting that, but it was truly a literal translation of the Chinese. It was a typical cha chaan teng meal, and one that Chris found very peculiar. We all enjoyed the chicken wings. The beef balls were very flavorful, super springy and bouncy. The beef brisket was also delicious — melt in your mouth tender and well seasoned. I can still smell the five-spiced / star anise aroma as I am writing this. Kaia really enjoyed the beef broth, and she tried to steal the bowl from me as I was enjoying the beef brisket and beef balls!

Our last meal of the day was at a seafood restaurant closer to our hotel, which I will definitely remember, but not necessarily for culinary or taste reasons. It felt very local and was in an area that had virtually no tourists. Plus, you had to go up a discreet elevator to get to the restaurant. Chris asked me what I wanted to eat as a last dinner before we left, and I told him we hadn’t had any crab, so I’d like to eat Cantonese style crab. Well, I didn’t realize that yet again, even after my first experience with our overpriced steamed whole fish at Shenggengwan Restaurant in Guangzhou, that “market price” can be a very dangerous label on a platter of seafood at any restaurant. I ordered the fried crab with ginger scallion. The sauce was delicious, as was the crab (which I pretty much ate all by myself since Chris thinks crab is just okay; he also hates all the work of getting the crab meat out of the shells and the mess… definitely his dad’s child). It was sweet, juicy, and perfectly cooked. I made a total mess, but in the end, it was enjoyable. Unfortunately, that single crab set us back $160 USD, which I found out when I went to pay the bill. That’s probably the most expensive crab I’d eaten in my entire life! My parents or grandparents NEVER would have paid that much for ginger scallion crab! At least I was on vacation, so I can justify it as a “vacation” expense.

Next time I order “market price,” I am most definitely asking for the price before committing. Ouch. Tasty, but still… ouch.

Cantonese desserts, fresh steamed fish, and Huacheng Square

Posted on by
Reply

Today is our last full day in Guangzhou. It’s crazy that our time here went by so quickly. We’re doing an early breakfast at the hotel tomorrow morning before heading to the railway station for our 10:30 train back to Hong Kong. It’s a bit bittersweet: I would love to have another few days to further explore Guangzhou, but I’m looking forward to going back to explore and eat Hong Kong for 1.5 days before heading back to New York. And frankly, neither Kaia nor I are going to miss these squat toilets in mainland China. I’m looking forward to being back in the land of super clean and pristine public toilets of the Fragrant Harbour City!

On our last full day here, we visited the historic Yong Qing Fang district, which is in the old town of Guangzhou. Once upon a time, Yong Qing Fang was a gathering place for the literati, martial arts actors, and Cantonese opera actors, including Bruce Lee’s father, Hoi-Chuen Lee, who was a famous Cantonese opera star. Hoi-Chuen Lee has a home that has been re-branded as “the ancestral home of Bruce Lee” and is a (free) tourist attraction in the area. We visited it today, and it’s a beautiful place that is like something out of historical Cantonese dramas I used to watch with my grandma as a child: lots of old wood and brick, along with delicately carved doors and walls, and carved glass screens. Though as Chris said, it was a bit of a stretch to call it the ancestral home of Bruce Lee; Bruce Lee seemed to have spent most of his life either in Hong Kong or San Francisco. The feel of the district is both old and new, traditional and modern. The original location of Tao Tao Ju is here; from the photos of the original Tao Tao Ju, they did a pretty good job keeping it looking like it did back in the day in 1880 when they first opened. Most of the old building here have been renovated, but they intentionally retained their original architectural style and historic value.

While here (and in Hong Kong), I wanted to maximize the Cantonese-style dessert eating as much as possible. Cantonese desserts are known for their “tang shui,” or their “sugar water,” or sweet soups, so we definitely maximized on these types of desserts while here. In a single day today, we visited two different Cantonese dessert shops in the area: Bai Hua and Nan Xin. We tried five different desserts: egg custard soup with white sesame tang yuan (filled glutinous rice balls), which was unique because I usually have only seen black sesame filling, not white; mango sago with coconut milk; ginger “double skin” milk custard, coffee milk custard, and mango, coconut, grapefruit sago with a mango puree. Chris found enjoyment in all the desserts other than the ginger double skin milk custard, which was far too spicy and gingery for him. For me, it was like a little bit of heaven: it was clear they freshly juiced this ginger — it was no joke! And to think that if you add 1 RMB to your order, you could even get EXTRA ginger! While he did like them, his immediate comment was, “This is good, but it’s no gulab (jamun)!”

For lunch, we ate at a seafood restaurant called Shenggangwan, which is located on a higher floor of a building in the Huangsha Aquatic Products Market. The market is exactly what it sounds like: a fresh wholesale seafood market with every possible sea creature you could imagine. We saw crabs bundled and knotted in ways I’d never witnessed; massive prawns, slimy looking sea cucumbers, and some very aggressive and antsy fish in all shapes and sizes. I wanted some fresh seafood, so I ordered the whole fish special of the day, which was a leopard coral grouper. It’s red and white on the outside with a white flesh. It was steamed and prepared the traditional Cantonese way, with ginger, scallion, and sweet soy. While it was tasty and perfectly moist and well cooked, to Chris’s point, the fish itself didn’t have much depth of flavor. And when we found out how much it was when we got our bill, we had a bit of a shock. “Market price” really should be checked before buying… We also ordered extremely garlicky gai lan and a plate of beef chow fun to appease Pookster, both of which were super cheap by any standard, especially compared to our fish! As a bit of comic relief, the servers were all completely besotted by Pookster. They loved watching her eat, and especially loved it when I was feeding her fish I deboned. They kept coming over to praise her and say how cute she was and what a good eater we had. I felt like they were likely watching us the whole time, giggling to themselves and commenting on not only Kaia, but our racially mixed family and how I get my brown husband to eat Cantonese food. Kaia also loved the little artificial ponds set up around the restaurant and kept watching the fish. When I told her it was time to leave, she insisted that she go and say bye to all of them. She kept saying “byebye!” and waving to all of them multiple times. It was really cute, and some of the servers on break watched and laughed.

Towards the end of the day, we walked around and explored Huacheng Square, where we admired all the very tall and colorfully lit and flashing buildings surrounding us. My favorite building is one you can see when in the square and looking towards Canton Tower: it looks as though there are strung crystals dangling from the top of the building, sparkling in hues of blue, purple, and silver. It was also clear that the powers that be wanted to instill some sort of mood into visitors of the square: classical music was playing at just the right volume during our entire walk through discreet speakers. I loved how grand and sprawling this square was. It’s really the kind of place you could just sit and relax in.

We ended the day with Hong Kong style hot pot near our hotel. Kaia had a field day with the order of clams Chris ordered that we let her toss into the pot. It also felt like that night, she knew we were leaving and didn’t want our time in mainland China to end: she kept stalling sleep that night in her bed in a separate room. Whenever she heard Chris cough, she said she had to go check on him to make sure he was okay. She did this at least three times before Chris insisted she had to go back and sleep in her own bed.

“Daddy coughing. I need to go check on Daddy,” she insisted, as she’d get out of bed and run over to our bed.

That’s my concerned and loving Pookie.

Xinjiang cuisine, Bai Hua Mountain, the oldest standing dim sum house in Guangzhou, Beijing Road, and a mall Anpanman play house mishap

Posted on by
Reply

Xinjiang, the Uygur Autonomous Region of China, is located in the northwestern part of China and is particularly interesting in its cuisine because it fuses together Chinese cuisine along with many different ethnic groups that represent Xinjiang, such as Uygur, Kazak, Tibetan, Mongal, Russian, and the list goes on. Xinjiang food has a lot of roast mutton and lamb, kebabs, bread made in round coal ovens. The spices used in this cuisine are also very different than anything Han Chinese: Islamic spices are the norm on meats you eat here. If you like meat, bread, and spices, Xinjiang cuisine will most definitely be your thing.

Chris was in a very meaty mood when we arrived in Guangzhou. After eating a smaller meal of chang fen (stuffed rice noodle rolls) and noodle soup with fish dumplings and fish balls, he annoyingly told me he was not satisfied and still wanted something more “substantial.” So we came across an area walking distance from our hotel where there were a number of Xinjiang restaurants. We popped into one on the second floor of a building that was beautifully decorated with multicolored glass lanterns and decided to sit down. There was a tea fee at this restaurant that was mandatory, so I chose a xue ju (I guess that translates as snow daisy or snow chrysanthemum?) tea that I’d never heard of before. It was a bright orange, almost red hued liquid, and the flavor was floral and almost smoky at the same time. We also ordered the roast lamb in a naan pit and a stir fried spicy noodle dish with vegetables for Kaia. When the lamb arrived at our table, it was served on massive metal skewers along with a tasty red and orange (but not hot) herb/spice mixture and slices of raw onion. It was absolutely delicious and cooked perfectly; even Kaia gnawed at the meat until it was just bones. We had so much meat that we ended up taking a decent chunk of it to go.

Today, after a delicious breakfast buffet at our hotel, we took a DiDi ride to Bai Hua (“One hundred flowers”) Mountain, then took the cable car up to the summit (or what we thought was the summit). From there, we could see the views of all of Guangzhou in all its cloudy, polluted haze. At the time we arrived that morning, you could just see Canton Tower through the haziness, but by the time we left, it was pretty much invisible to the naked eye. As we walked around the eating areas, I was shocked to see how extensive the menus were. If you were at a similar spot in the U.S. where you got a cable car ride up to a summit, you might have some really fancy (and overpriced) food options as well as fast food stuff (hello, burgers, fries, and chicken tenders), which would be more typical. But here, I was so impressed: for snacks, you could get made-to-order Hong Kong style egg waffles, also known as bubble waffles, which are super crisp on the outside and fluffy on the inside (and if you are lucky, filled with something delicious and gooey, like matcha cream, strawberry, or even durian!); fresh tofu pudding, a whole steamed fish (yes, really); and if that was not enough: AN ENTIRE BANQUET STYLE MEAL. I was floored looking at the spreads of food that people were casually eating outdoors on this semi-warm, cloudy day.

For lunch, we went to the famous Bejing Road, known for its endless foodie delights. And we went to a location of the the oldest standing dim sum house (since 1880) in Guangzhou: Tao Tao Ju. They have multiple locations now, and unfortunately, while I did not bring us to the original location, I was pleased to see that this new location retained all the charms of the original with its traditional Chinese architecture and decor. I knew this dim sum experience was going to be good as soon as the server confirmed that yes, they did have chrysanthemum tea (I’ve already had multiple places tell me that they either don’t have it, or they make you pay an up-charge for it); and when the tea pot came, the server placed it on a little warmer with a lit candle inside it.

The service was straightforward, and the ordering was easy because most dishes had photos with Chinese descriptions. They also won brownie points with me because they immediately gave Pookster a little kids’ (unbreakable) plate, plus a disposable bib with a little toy truck with ladder. The most notable dishes we had at this tea experience were also some of the most basic, but executed extremely well: the siu mai (shao mai) had delicious flavor and perfect texture between the crispness of the prawn against the chewiness of the minced mushrooms, and the softness and fattiness of the pork. The “cherry” on top, which I honestly could not appreciate but liked the presentation of, were the black caviar on top of each. Their Tao Tao Ju version of ha gao, or Tao Tao Ju “big prawn dumplings,” were perfect, with well executed and crisp prawns along with a thin and soft tapioca based dumpling skin. I also loved their version of nor mai gai (nuo mi ji), sticky glutinous rice with savory chicken, mushroom, and abalone (what a surprise! I went back and translated the Chinese character which I mistakenly thought was fish, but it actually said abalone), wrapped into a steaming lotus leaf. The “cute” dish I ordered were liu sha bao, or egg yolk lava custard buns, decorated on the outside to look like little piggies. This was the one thing Kaia actually ate in full at this meal.

Random other fun things we did along Beijing Road: we got already prepared fruit that we picked ourselves from a fruit vendor, with the main highlights being the fresh and sweet jackfruit and the cherries (Kaia ate ALL the cherries); even the free cantaloupe the vendor threw in were sweet! Chris found a shop called Han Xiao Liu that specializes in durian products. He picked up a durian-shaped ice cream stick for us to share; it had 30 percent durian in it! I also went hunting for a bathroom that actually had toilet seats for Kaia since she cannot deal with the squat toilets here, which led me back into the mall that Tao Tao Ju was in. That led us to stumble upon an Anpanman themed kids’ playhouse. Kaia ran into it and slid down the slide three times until an employee was checking who knows what and kicked her and another little friend out. She motioned toward the sign when another parent came to protest. I translated the sign with my translator app to discover that in order to allow Kaia to play here, while it would be free, I’d still need to register as a user on WeChat… which I obviously didn’t do. WeChat and Alipay rule here!

I was aware that China was on the road to becoming a cashless society based on what I read; I was not aware exactly how little cash I’d see while here… which is to say, NONE. Literally every vendor or shop only took payment via AliPay or WeChat; even homeless people begged with a WeChat or AliPay sign for you to transfer money directly to them. Chris had planned ahead and had downloaded both apps. I just didn’t realize that even a kids’ playhouse would require a WeChat registration. It sounded nuts to me, but I suppose that’s the goal of the Chinese government: to literally track every movement of its citizens as well as its visitors. Ouch.

Back to Hong Kong on the glorious Cathay Pacific

Posted on by
Reply

Flying Cathay Pacific is one of the greatest flight experiences. But to be fair, service on even budget Asian airlines is always top notch. When I’m flying on an Asian carrier, it always makes me think how extremely basic to nearly nonexistent “service” is on U.S.-based carriers. On Cathay, I am always greeted by name, or “Ms. Wong.” It seems like such a little thing, but it always feels so formal and welcoming. Occasionally on American Airlines, they greet me this way when acknowledging my status, but that is a rare occasion. If I have pre-ordered/chosen a meal on Cathay, the flight attendant will have always done their homework and confirm that was the chose that I made (unlike on American airlines, where they barely check anything before they get on board and ask you what you would like, and then look surprised when you tell them you pre-ordered). Flying on Cathay or JAL is an experience in itself during your travel; they define what it means when people say, “It’s not about the destination, but the journey.” While I certainly do want to get to my destination, I absolutely love the in-flight experience, from the appetizers to mains to desserts to snacks to the drinks (they have their own signature drink called the Cathay Delight! It has just three ingredients that most definitely delight: fresh squeezed kiwi juice, coconut milk, and mint) to the service itself.

I also love that they have a Western option vs. a Chinese option. Why you would choose to fly on Cathay and select the Western meal (unless you are from somewhere in Asia and need something “different”) is beyond my comprehension. For my breakfast option, I was served century egg and shredded pork congee, stir-fried egg noodles with mixed vegetables, and mixed fruit. And the lunch option I chose is one of my comfort foods: braised short ribs with egg noodle soup. The egg noodle soup was perfect in pretty much every way: the brisket was flavorful and melt-in-your-mouth tender; the noodles were slightly springy and al dente, and the soup itself was multi-noted and extremely fragrant and savory. For once, Kaia actually ate most of her two kids’ meals in flight (well, with me spoon-feeding her as she happily got way too much screen time with Pepa Pig…); she even finished off my soup and seemed obsessed with it.

After we arrived in Hong Kong and dropped off our bags at the hotel, we went out in search for our first meal, which I wanted to be roast goose. We never get the option of roast goose at Cantonese style roast meat places (not that duck or pork is a bad option!), so while in Hong Kong, we want to maximize our time here. So we chose a spot that was walking distance from our hotel. We sat down, ordered half a roast goose, rice, noodles, and a plate of blanched yu choy (you cai) with oyster sauce on the side. It had been so long (since end of 2015-early 2016) when I was last in Hong Kong, so I had forgotten that most places do not provide napkins/serviettes, so we ended up paying $2 HKD for a small packet. But regardless, the meal hit the spot and was delicious. According to people who know way more about geese and ducks than I do, goose tends to be fattier than duck, and a tiny bit gamier. Both have a pretty thick fat layer between their skin and flesh. To be honest, in the moment I couldn’t really tell the difference. But I really enjoyed the crispy skin and all the drippings that flavored the rice we ordered. The meat was juicy, soft, and tender. It was so satisfying, and a great way to welcome us into eating the little world that is Hong Kong.

When we were on our way from the airport to the hotel, our driver and I had some small talk about living in Hong Kong vs. New York. He complained about the rapidly rising cost of living in Hong Kong and said that things that were once cheap were now extremely expensive (sounds like the complaints of pretty much everyone everywhere, self included). He even used the English word for “inflation” to emphasize how frustrating it all was. In general, Cantonese-style roast meats, known as 燒味 siu mei in Cantonese or shao wei in Mandarin, are considered a delicacy in Chinese cuisine — an integral style of cooking that makes Cantonese cuisine (粤菜 or Yue Cai) so highly respected across China. Though dishes like cha siu (Cantonese-style BBQ roast pork) are nearly daily staples that tend to be more affordable at roast meat shops in Chinatowns around the world, dishes like roast goose and duck are always far more expensive, as they require a bit more skill. Though I’ll be honest and say that I wasn’t totally expecting our half roast goose to come out to 258 HKD, or just over $33. I was fine to pay it since we never get roast goose, and we’re on holiday in Hong Kong anyway, so why not while here? But these sounded like prices I’d pay for a similar half duck or goose in New York. So, this definitely wasn’t the cheap eats meal I was remembering from 2015-2016 for sure. However, I suppose to even it out, our decently-sized plate of yu choy was only 20 HKD, or just over $2.50 USD. It’s a give and take world here in post COVID-19 pandemic Hong Kong while in a high inflation period. I’ll still be happy to eat all, but I know that the “cheap eats” is all relatively defined, and a lot of things, if cheaper, will only be marginally cheaper than back home in New York.

Australian Kensington Pride (KP mangoes), lychees, and cherries

Posted on by
Reply

Today, we spent time in the suburbs of Springvale and Clayton, eating and snacking our way around. One of my favorite things to do in Springvale is to walk through Springvale Centre, where there are endless rows of fresh produce, almost all locally grown in Australia, and all the stuff I absolutely love: EXOTIC FRUIT. In previous years, we’d purchased jackfruit, but this year, it seemed like the big focus on the day we came was mangoes, lychees, and cherries. They had about four or five varieties of mangoes, including a green sour mango that is meant to be eaten crunchy. I was able to sample these, and while they were very satisfying and even slightly sweet, when I think of mangoes, I really want the juicy sweet ones. So I bargained for and purchased some Kensington Pride mangoes, Australian grown lychees, and cherries. The lychees were much different in appearance from the ones we’ve bought in New York Chinatown: the skins seem to be a paler, almost brighter pink. And the flesh of the lychee seems like a more vibrant white color. In addition, the texture of the lychee seems crunchier! These were exceptionally sweet, almost floral and candy-like in flavor. They were so addictive! Even though we’d purchased over a kilo, somehow we got through them so quickly!

We brought them home and shared them with Chris’s parents, and of course, Kaia got to indulge in them; she has totally loved lychees since her very first time eating them as a baby. This time, however, was Kaia’s first opportunity to navigate lychees and their pits. Previously, I’d always peeled and de-pitted them for her to enjoy. She’s been lazy with peeling, even though I know she’s certainly capable of doing it. So I relented and just gave the lychees to her peeled. She expertly navigated the pits, sometimes even instructing ME, step by step, on how to chew and spit out the pit, “Into the bowl, mummy!” I love these moments when I can witness my baby acting like a big girl, becoming a little more independent and savvy every day. It seems basic, to navigate a fruit pit. But hey, it must be learned, and when she masters something new, her mama is always proud.