Taro sago dessert soup – a good gateway dessert for littles

For our Lunar New Year lunch on Saturday, I originally wanted to go *all* out and do two desserts: one would be the simple taro sago dessert soup (芋香椰汁西米露/Yù xiāng yē zhī xī mǐ lù), which would be easy to make; the second would be the more challenging tang yuan, or black sesame glutinous rice balls in brown sugar-ginger soup. After having several of my dough balls get completely crumply and destroyed a few nights ago (I hadn’t made this in ages, so I was out of practice with how to properly roll the glutinous rice flour dough), I decided to forgo the tang yuan finicky mess and go with the taro sago dessert soup, which even a young child could make.

Taro sago dessert soup was one of my favorite Chinese desserts growing up. When we used to have big family meals with my cousins, aunt, uncle, and grandma, the banquet-style table would always be filled with endless and sumptuous seafood, meat, and vegetable dishes. Looking back, I realize that I took it all for granted, as we never have meals with this much variety now at all. At the end of the huge meal, there was usually a complimentary dessert soup, usually in the form of red bean. While I did enjoy sweet red bean soup growing up, it was not my favorite. I was always pleasantly surprised when the massive bowl of dessert soup would come out, and the waiter would ladle out steaming hot bowls of taro sago soup. It was always this pale purple color with small chunks of taro and tiny translucent tapioca balls bobbing up and down. The soup had a hint of coconut milk flavor and just enough sweetness to let you know this was certainly dessert. I never realized then how easy it was to make this soup at home with just a handful of ingredients.

So I made it for Saturday, and it was very well received; several guests had a second helping. Yet we still have quite a bit left over since the recipe made a very, very large batch. So while eating it tonight, I offered Kaia some. She initially rejected it, but gradually grew envious the more she saw me spoon it into my mouth. So she came closer and asked to “try some.” I gave her a small spoonful; she ate some and made a face, ran away, then tentatively came back to me to ask for “more?” She proceeded to have about a quarter of my small bowl of taro sago soup and clearly loved it, constantly repeating “taro yummy, taro yummy.”

I thought more about (East) Asian desserts, and I also thought about Chris (and many people who think like him) and criticize them, saying that East Asian countries like China and Japan don’t know how to do dessert well, and “that’s why they put shit like red bean” in their desserts. But I actually think this thought is flawed. East Asians thought about putting legumes, seeds, and roots like red bean, black sesame, and taro in desserts; from a health perspective, this should be embraced, because you’re not only having a sweet and indulgent treat, but combining it with something that will nourish your body. Who is to say that something like sesame or beans should be used in only savory applications? Why put arbitrary limits on different types of raw ingredients? With these raw ingredients, East Asians pair them with just enough sweetness so that your teeth don’t ache after, but your belly still gets a sweet hit. And that’s actually a great way to introduce sweets to young children like Kaia, especially as we want to limit their sugar intake but still not feel like they’re being left out of sweet treats. Kaia can be indulged with a dessert with a small amount of sugar, yet still have something healthful that her parents can feel good about. And that all sounds good to me.

Lunar New Year Day 2024 in Flushing

The three of us went to Flushing on Saturday, which marked Lunar New Year Day 2024, or year of the dragon. When we got off the train and up to the street level, it was in the middle of a huge Lunar New Year parade, complete with fire crackers and endless music and manual fire crackers being set off. We ended up going to Jiang Nan for our main meal, where we enjoyed a fancy Peking duck with beautiful and delicate house-made pancakes, as well as an accompanying duck, tofu, and vegetable soup made with the bones of our duck. It was likely one of the most delicious and rich broths we’d ever tasted. Even Pookster gobbled up this soup and kept asking for seconds and thirds. She even gnawed the meat off of several duck leg bones.

What was also notable about our visit to Flushing was that we stumbled upon a very discreet and easy-to-overlook Taiwanese bakery. I poked my head in to see what was there, and unfortunately, a lot of seemingly popular items had already sold out since it was mid-afternoon. But I did pick up a loaf of white bread, a Taiwanese-style taro bao (it doesn’t look like the ones I usually get!), and two Taiwanese style pineapple cakes. All of the things we got were incredible: the taro bao was extremely crunchy with just the right amount of sweetness on the outside. The taro filling was light and also not too sweet, but very creamy. And the pineapple cakes were a stunner: super flaky and buttery on the outside, with a thick, chunky pineapple filling on the inside that was jammy with just the right amount of sweetness. This was as close to the incredible pineapple cakes we got while in Taiwan. I was obsessed. I still cannot believe it’s taken me this long to find this place while in New York! Taiwanese bakeries are a rarity here; I hope this place never closes!

Afternoon tea in New York City: Slowly but surely changing

For as long as I’ve lived in New York City, I’ve never really enjoyed the afternoon tea scene here. It’s massively overpriced for what it is — a glorified dry, crusty sandwich spread with subpar fillings, overhyped British style desserts that are also boring and dry, with a mediocre pot of tea. And it usually has a $100/head sticker price simply because the ambiance and decor of the place appear to have an exterior poshness, and the ceramics that the tea and tiny bites are all served in are supposedly fine or bone china. Regardless, since I did it with a visiting friend in 2022, I’ve decided: no more, never again, and not in this city. I would happily do afternoon tea in Asia, the UK, or Australia, where the afternoon tea spreads are still pricey, but sumptuous and incredible in both the amount and quality of food you get. New York City is just not a city for afternoon tea as hard as it may try.

So I was intrigued when I saw a new Thai dessert place called Sarisa Cafe open in Midtown East that was supposed to be “Thai afternoon tea.” The spread on the tiered dessert tray was fully desserts, but with a pot of blooming tea, it would be $65 for two people, which seemed like a bargain price in the city. So my friend and I went, and while it certainly wasn’t a lot of food (we had eaten lunch before coming here for dessert), the quality of the desserts was top-notch: they have an open kitchen where you can see the workers hand forming and making each individual dessert. The tea spot is tucked away on the second floor of a building and even has an outdoor patio that they plan to open in the summer time. It felt like a tranquil oasis far away from the concrete jungle we were in the middle of. I love the way they decorated the place, and the service was excellent.

So, maybe I will just avoid the “traditional” afternoon tea places, but I am more than happy to try spots like this that are a bit different and add variety to the New York City food scene. This city definitely doesn’t appreciate Thai desserts enough and needs more of an education on this topic, perhaps by spots like Sarisa Cafe.

Bjorn’s Colorado Honey at the Denver airport

When I arrived at the Denver airport on Tuesday, I waited for my colleague to use the restroom before we got into an Uber. As I waited, I noticed a little stand called Bjorn’s Colorado Honey with all kinds of cute glass bottles of honey in different sizes and colors. I made a note of it on my phone to come back to this stand on Friday. Instead, it was actually an even better experience: after I went through security Friday late morning, I noticed that Bjorn’s Colorado Honey had a full-fledged store right by the area where you enter Concourse C, which is right where all the American Airlines gates were. I got super excited and decided I would check it out.

While at the shop, I got to taste at least 10 different types of locally made honey, ranging from vanilla bean honey, propolis honey (incredible!), and “untouched” honey (they literally don’t touch it after it comes out of the hive, so there are traces of honeycomb and propolis in it!). The propolis honey was particularly interesting to me. I had previously read that it was used by the ancient Egyptians to ward off colds and viruses. Propolis is made by bees from tree and plant resins, and it’s known for its ability to fight against viruses, bacteria, and microbes. It’s also considered a powerful antihistamine. It’s recommended to take a spoonful once a day as a preventative, and to take it three times a day while fighting off a virus/infection. I had never purchased any propolis before but was intrigued, especially since we give honey to Kaia Pookie while she is slightly under the weather. Kids under the age of 3 (or 4?) are not supposed to have any cough medication or decongestants, but honey is recommended for children over the age of 1 to help loosen up any blockages or phlegm. And Kaia loves her morning daily dose of honey, as she’s been a little congested over the last couple of weeks.

Honey was always just honey to me, until I read that a lot of “honey” in the U.S. is fake and companies reduce their costs by adding corn syrups/sugars to theirs. So the only way to know for sure that your honey is legitimate is if it’s certified USDA organic here. Over the years, we’ve purchased a number of incredible honeys, from the endless Australian honeys with unique flavors to the Brightland Hawaiian one (that Kaia was obsessed with) to the Sri Lankan jungle bee one we picked up at the Good Market in Colombo last summer. I think I really got interested in honey and tasting different ones after our December 2015 side trip to Tasmania, where we had generous tastings at a local honey shop of many types, including the very famous leatherwood honey. It made me realize that the honey in the plastic bear squeeze container was just one-noted and bland compared to all these other incredible honeys with multidimensional flavors you could get elsewhere.

So I ended up leaving Denver with four glass jars of honey: propolis, untouched, whipped lavender, and raw whipped. It was a fun and unexpected end to my trip. I didn’t think I was going to buy anything to take home during this trip, but instead, I took home riches made from Colorado bees!

Tamales smothered in green sauce at the Denver airport

Last year when I was leaving Denver, I did not remember my food options to be that exciting. I got a so-so sandwich on my night flight back to New York, and I was not at all enthused by it. This time, though, I found a spot called La Casita that had a sign for tamales, and I can never say no to a tamale. I don’t eat nearly enough of them, so when I see that they are available, I definitely go for them.

I had the option of red chile pork or green chile cheese. The description said they would be smothered in red or green chile sauce with my choice of beans. I guess I ignored the second part of that description because when the server took the fresh tamales out of the steamer, I was a bit surprised when I realized he was taking them out of the husks for me. Then, he asked me about my choice of sauce (I chose green), and he proceeded to douse the tamales in the green chile sauce, then added my requested black beans to the side.

I was a little sad that he did this because I felt like it would take away from the flavor of the tamales themselves. Their flavor would be masked by the green chile sauce. In California, New York, and Mexico, where I have enjoyed tamales, tamales are usually served in their corn husks with sauces on the side. But I found out subsequently that this is Colorado-style Mexican food: everything is covered in a green chile or red chile sauce, and that’s the way they eat Mexican food here. So, in the end, if that’s what they do in Colorado, and I am eating this food in Colorado, then I will go with it.

I will say: the quality of the tamales was really high. The fillings were delicious. The green chile cheese filling was HOT. The masa was very soft, tender, and well seasoned. The green sauce was good, though I am still a purist and would have preferred the sauce on the side for dipping. And this was cheap airport food: two tamales with sauce and beans didn’t even break $10! I will definitely be back here at La Casita in Concourse C the next time I am going through Denver and flying American.

Pork bone and daikon soup – a traditional Chinese soup

Growing up in a Chinese household, soup was always considered the cure for everything. Have a headache? Drink soup. Ate too much fried food and feel “hot” inside? Drink soup. Caught the flu? Drink soup. Recovering from a sickness? Drink soup. “Drink soup” is the solution to literally all of your life’s problems as summed up by my paternal grandma, my aunt, and my mom.

Now that I am in my late 30s, I realize how much I took for granted all the delicious soups I grew up with, whether they were made by my grandma, my aunt, or my mom. Some soups were simple and straightforward and could be done in an hour or so. Others would be simmering on the stove overnight or for two to three days. I never knew how much time or effort they took since I was never involved in making them; I just got to enjoy them piping hot and ladled into a bowl for me. As with all kids, sometimes I even got annoyed with the elder women in my life for always rushing me to drink my soup. But when I look back, this is just the way they all communicated love when they did not have the words to do so.

Occasionally, I am reminded of the soups and flavors. Sometimes it’s via a restaurant that has a “free soup,” and I take one sip and get blown away because it’s like I saw a flashback of my grandma. That happened in the last year when Chris got takeout from China Xiang near Times Square, and the complimentary soup with a takeout order was a pork bone soup that was super milky in appearance, but just tasted so familiar to me. Other times, it’s via food blogs I skim or Instagram reels I watch where people are going “back to basics” with Chinese home cooking. And so that’s why I’ve decided that this year, I want to be more intentional with soup making. In a traditional Chinese or Vietnamese household, there would be a soup to begin every meal, along with 3-4 different dishes to eat with your rice. I don’t have the time or desire to do this entire show every single day when we eat at home, but I do want to make it more regular than just once every few months. So more frequent soup making is going to be a little cooking goal of mine. I’ve already started it by buying pork bones for $2.49/pound at Whole Foods yesterday and bringing them home to make a traditional pork bone and daikon soup. The taste of plucking off super tender, fall-off-the-bone pork made me feel right at home. Chris called this soup “gnawing soup” because I told him he was expected to gnaw/eat the meat off the pork bones. But I consider this “homey” and comforting. And I hope Kaia embraces this all, as well.

Delicious hojicha (roasted green tea) things

Years ago, a friend went to Japan for a holiday and came back. I asked him how his trip was and if he had gotten his matcha-everything fix. He beamed and said he loved his trip (because how could he not?). But to answer my matcha question, while matcha was clearly delicious (and increasing in popularity here in the States in literally every food and beverage type imaginable then), he told me that his food prediction was that the future was hojicha, not matcha! Matcha would soon be old hat, and the future IS hojicha!

Fast forward to the present day, and I still see very little to no hojicha-flavored anything here in New York, with the exception of a handful of Asian/Japanese spots as well as bubble tea cafes. Matcha is still ubiquitous even at non-Asian eateries and cafes. And we have a 2-year-old girl who is nicknamed “Hoji” after “hojicha” thanks to Chris’s unconventional name preferences. So while hojicha is not necessarily the future for food in the U.S. just yet, I did notice quite a number of hojicha flavored things during this trip in Japan.

Hojicha was always a top option for tea everywhere we went. At the fancy tea cafe Nakamura Tokichi, where we went for our last sit-down meal while in Tokyo, the welcome, complimentary pot of tea had premium whole leaf hojicha in a high-end tea bag meant to be re-steeped multiple times. They had various hojicha desserts, including a hojicha float and hojicha jelly (which we ordered!). And as a final farewell from Japan on our Japan Airlines flight back to New York, the last dessert I had in flight was a beautiful, silky smooth hojicha milk custard.

We love hojicha everything and would welcome hojicha as a mainstream flavor here in New York. But I’m not sure even New York is quite ready for it yet.

Omiyage – “souvenirs” or “gifts” from Japan

Chris’s cousin and her husband have been living in Chiba, just outside Tokyo, for the last six months while studying a ministry course at a local university. As their time is coming to an end, they are trying to give away as many of their temporary dorm items as possible, while also buying as much “omiyage” as possible.

“Omiyage” is a Japanese word for “souvenirs” or “gifts,” for when you return back to your home after travels. This practice seems to span a number of cultures. The couple of times I went to China and and Vietnam, I was also expected to bring home gifts for all family members.

The Japanese take the practice of “omiyage,” and gift giving in general, pretty seriously. Gift giving is a way to show gratitude to those you care about or are indebted to, and also a way to display appreciation for those you love and respect. In general, gifting money is not something the Japanese do (I guess they’re not as green-hungry as the Chinese, haha), so the act of giving actual things is of utmost importance and a sign of respect/love. Granted, I’ll admit ignorance and say that I have not visited every Asian country, but from what I have observed in my last almost 38 years is that when the Japanese give gifts, they give gifts. All gift items need to be displayed beautifully (for when you are in the process of choosing what to buy while in the endless Japanese department stores or food halls), wrapped and packaged beautifully, and presented just so. This is probably why the gift boxes for food items, for example, is so detailed and beautiful: while shopping, not only do you typically see a model of what the contents in a box are on display, but if it is a cookie or cake that you are buying, they even show you a very accurate model of what the inside (the innards!!) of the cake/cookie look like when cut in half! Now, if that isn’t precision, then I do not know what is!

On Saturday, our last day in Japan, we spent a few hours in Ginza, a popular shopping district in Tokyo. There, we visited a food basement, where I perused and got googly-eyed over endless delicious Japanese snacks and treats, as well as Japanese teas. I knew I wanted to purchase some tea as gifts and for myself. So I went to two different tea stands, had tastings, and enjoyed tea banter with my English/broken Japanese and the friendly salesperson’s Japanese/broken English, along with the helpful technological assistance of language translation mobile apps. Other than obvious words I would know, such as the major Japanese tea types (matcha, hojicha, gyokuro, sencha), as I was getting ready to pay, I also recognized yet another Japanese word: omiyage! She was asking me which of the items I purchased would be gifts. I quickly told her, and she rushed to very carefully wrap one of the boxes, creasing each edge, and taped the sides so meticulously. Not only this, but she also included extra handled gift bags so that once I got home, I could even present the gorgeously wrapped box in a handled bag with the a design matching the wrapping paper for the boxed gift. The next tea shop I went to did exactly that again, except they gave me even MORE handled bags and gifting pouches to ensure that if I changed my mind about which items to give as gifts, I could still beautifully present an omiyage to a loved or respected person.

Well, that is service and gift culture to the max. Environmentalists may argue that this is all wasteful and contributes to the needless destruction of trees and forests, that it adds to our ever growing climate change problem. But I would say that the gifting culture of Japan could build bridges and create relationships for those of us still remaining in a burning world.

Fun things at the Japan Airlines First Class Lounge at Haneda International Airport in Tokyo

To go back to New York, we went to Haneda this time instead of Narita. It was a much shorter and cheaper journey to get there, and once we did, we went through security and immigration and ended up at the Japan Airlines First Class lounge for a quick meal and shower before getting on our flight.

There were some fun things we liked at the lounge, including the automated wet towel dispenser, which when you press it, it dispenses a cold, tightly coiled wet towel for you to use to wipe your hands or face. This was especially helpful cleaning Pookster up after her very messy pasta meal.

The second fun thing that I enjoyed was the automated beer dispenser. A number of different local Japanese beers were available on tap, so once you placed your beer glass in the glass holder and pressed the appropriate dispensing button, the machine would tip your glass ever so slightly (and securely), fill it with beer to just the right level, without any over foaming/head on top, and then tilt it back down so that you could retrieve the glass. It was the perfect pour!

These cute little perks and privileges were fun to enjoy in our last few hours in Japan. It only made me want to come back sooner!

Tempura at Tempura Hisago in Akihabara

Tempura is one of those things that most people love, and it’s for obvious reasons: it is DEEP FRIED food. It’s a common Japanese dish that is usually made up of different types of seafood and vegetables that have been coated in a light, thin batter, then deep fried. If you get cheap tempura, you can expect the batter to be heavier, and if you get heavenly, delicious tempura, you can expect that the batter is super thin, yet results in a crunchy, crispy exterior coating. And the oil will be barely detectable.

Since tempura is common, it’s typically at any Japanese restaurant you will go to, assuming they do not just specialize in one thing (e.g. sushi, onigiri, ramen, katsu). But finding really notable, drool-worthy tempura is a bit of a challenge pretty much anywhere outside of Japan. Years ago, when I discovered a Japanese restaurant that specializes in tempura that opened here in New York, Chris scoffed at it when I told him it had one Michelin star.

“Tempura is so easy to fuck up,” he retorted. “Why would I have questionable tempura here (in New York City) and pay a lot of money for it when I can just fly to Japan and KNOW that it’s going to be good?”

And so, I suppose that’s what we did. We flew to Japan. And this time, we would eat tempura. So, tempura at Tempura Hisago it was for our last dinner on our second Japan trip together. Chris’s cousin and her husband dined with us, and we got a set menu, which included assorted seafood and veggie tempura, red miso soup, a rice bowl, various pickled vegetables (tsukemono), salad, your choice of alcoholic beverage, and a yuzu sorbet at the end. Once you place your order, all the food is made to order. There are chefs in the back of the restaurant that you can watch who are frying all your tempura right there. You can hear the sizzle of the oil, though somehow you cannot smell it. And when they bring the tempura over to you, it’s super hot and fresh. The tempura is served lined by parchment paper on plates, and when you remove the pieces, the tempura is so well drained that there is barely any oil remaining at all! The tempura was perfect: super lightly battered, with every bite nice and crispy. The seafood was cooked well with no rubberiness, and the vegetables were soft and tender.

And the value was excellent, as well: for all that food, which certainly made all of us full, we spent about $20 USD/person. We will miss this quality at these price levels.