When I first moved to New York in June 2008, it took me a while to get my bearings here. I had to figure out what my staple spots for go-to dishes would be. One of those “go-to” meals had to be a banh mi, which is the best damn sandwich in the world. There is no one who could possibly convince me otherwise. The ideal banh mi consists of a crisp but soft, airy, feathery light baguette stuffed with various cold cuts, head cheese, cha lua; it is accompanied with thick layers of pork/chicken based pate, house-made mayonnaise, chilies, fresh cilantro, and pickled daikon and carrot, and there you the best sandwich in the entire freaking world. It has all the key flavor elements and textures: savory, salty, sweet, sour, crispy, crunchy, creamy, soft, airy. My mouth is watering just writing all these adjectives out.

I tried a few reputed banh mi spots in Manhattan. They all fell flat. I kind of gave up hope until I really went down a Google rabbit hole and started looking in other Asian areas outside of Manhattan. And then, in the winter of 2008-2009, I found what I later found out would be my go-to banh mi in all of New York City, if not all of the U.S.: It was at Ba Xuyen right on the edge of Brooklyn Chinatown out in Sunset Park. It was over an hour subway ride from where I had lived then, in Elmhurst, but it was love at first bite and worth every minute of that long commute. My loyalty to this banh mi has never swayed while living here in New York. While some spots like Banh Mi Co Ut in Manhattan Chinatown and Joju (in Elmhurst, Midtown East, and now Upper East Side, which by the way, consciously modeled their baguette after Ba Xuyen) have come close, they haven’t quite hit the same mark that Ba Xuyen does. And just to add to Ba Xuyen’s state of incredible is that they have consistently always made the most delicious durian, jackfruit, papaya, and other fruit smoothies, along with excellent Vietnamese style iced coffee; they make their own perfect cha lua (which I ALWAYS buy when I go there to stock my freezer), and endless seasonal/timely Vietnamese snacks, such as banh da lon (Vietnamese mung bean and pandan layer cake), banh it tran (savory glutinous rice balls filled with pork, mung bean, and shrimp), banh beo (mini rice cakes topped with shrimp), amongst many other Vietnamese bakery delights that were originally snacks and meals fit for Vietnamese royalty. If you get there early enough, all their snacks are still steaming hot upon purchase as they are freshly made.

I introduced Chris to Ba Xuyen within the first year of our relationship. Of course, he was immediately hooked and silently (through eating) agreed that my declaration that this was the best New York City banh mi was, in fact, correct. He even dragged his parents out to Sunset Park for Ba Xuyen banh mi at least twice, once without my even being there last year! I’ve been a huge supporter of Ba Xuyen and will sing their praises to literally anyone who is even remotely into Vietnamese food or banh mi. It’s crazy to think how far I’ve come in my 16-year long relationship with them. Back in February 2009, which I think is when I first had them, the banh mi was only $3.75. I have no idea how they operated with such low prices back then. Today, their special banh mi (#1) is $8, which is still a total steal given all the crazy inflation we’ve been experiencing. I am happy to say that my relationship with Ba Xuyen has been alive almost as long as I’ve been a NYC resident. And it will continue to be a love that I am quite devoted to. Even now, Kaia is obsessed. When we went today, she initially protested and said she wanted no banh mi. Then of course, as we waited for our sandwiches to be made, she insisted on standing to wait with me. And finally, when the banh mi were ready to eat, she dug in and demanded more meat and bread! She is definitely part of our Ba Xuyen loving banh mi family.

Last night, Chris and I went out for an early nine-year wedding anniversary celebration at Yingtao NYC. The restaurant is a short walk from our building, and I was aware of it since even before it opened. Given it’s in our neighborhood, when I would go on walks during the day, I immediately noticed the stylized Chinese writing spelling out “ying tao” or “cherry” in Chinese. I figured it would be some fine dining establishment only open in the evenings. Yingtao finally opened in December 2023, so it’s been about a year and three months of being in existence. The owner is originally from China and had also lived in New Zealand before coming to California and finally New York for school. The cuisine is clearly Chinese, but with lots of regional influences from Xi’an, Shanghai, Guangdong/Hong Kong, and Sichuan. It’s a bit of Chinese meets European/French/Polish, and the more I read reviews about the place and all the restaurant review write-ups about Yingtao, the more I wanted to finally come here. Since Kaia has been born, we’ve really only gotten a babysitter for comedy or theater, plus two parties. The only time we’ve gotten a babysitter for a meal out has been for my birthday two years ago, and our former nanny looked after Kaia. So this is the first time in ages when we’ve gone out, just the two of us, for a fancy meal. And it most definitely exceeded all expectations and was beyond worth it.

To sit in the dining room of Yingtao, everyone has to opt into their tasting menu, which is 10 courses: three starters/appetizers, four mains, and three desserts. You also have the option to add supplements to certain courses, as well as to add items from the a la carte/bar menu. In addition to our ten courses, we also had an eleventh bonus since Chris shared with the team that it was our anniversary: they gave us a fourth dessert from the bar menu, which was an incredibly rich and moussy ube cheesecake with a red shiso sorbet.

Every course was memorable and well executed, but I will say that the most memorable bites for me were the tuna with black vinegar, giner, and kumquat; the Royal Reds with flavors of “kou shui ji” or “mouth water chicken;” the wagyu with mizune, carrot, and doubanjiang; the snapper with milk broth, doufupi (tofu skins), and goji berries; and the rose with greek yogurt and lychee. The tuna had an interesting sweet-savory-smokey complexity going on, and I figured it must be due to the black vinegar used. When I asked the server what kind of vinegar was in the dish, she immediately presented a 10-year aged bottle of Baoning black vinegar, which I had previously been eyeing on TheMalaMarket.com, as they are the exclusive importer of this vinegar in the U.S. I knew I had to have this vinegar. What most people do not realize about Chinese culinary traditions is that a lot of fermented foods like vinegar take the same love, labor, and intensity as the most well known, respected, and pricey Italian balsamic vinegars. It’s just that most of society is quite prejudiced and has historically respected European food traditions more than Eastern ones. The wagyu was made with a very complex and savory doubanjiang (Sichuan chili bean paste), and no surprise that when I asked to see the paste, the server once again brought out a packaged paste that was also from TheMalaMarket.com, aged three years and also something I had looked at! We also loved the tempranillo wine that Chris ordered, and then were introduced to a taste of a different (and very unique) California grown tempranillo that finally made Chris feel impressed when drinking a U.S.-made wine. It was like a night of learning at Yingtao for the both of us. We left very happy, very full, and with plans for future home purchases to stock our pantry and alcohol reserves.

We took photos of both bottles of wine. I also made a note of the fancy black vinegar and doubanjiang. While I am eager to try these in my own cooking, I cannot help but wonder how they will make my far-cheaper versions of black vinegar and Sichuan doubanjiang at home feel when they get neglected in favor of these fancy, super complex versions. That’s the thing: literally having a taste of finer, nicer things can really ruin all the regular, everyday things for you. If there were just a few words I’d use to sum up this Yingtao dining experience, it would be these: complex, layers and layers of flavor.

I am pretty certain that New York City is the most diverse city in the entire freaking world. The number of languages that are spoken here, especially in Queens, is somewhere as high as 800, the diversity of the socioeconomic demographics is vast, and the variety of cuisines across all its restaurants is likely unsurpassed in the entire world. Of course, that’s my unscientific, no-data backed opinion, but I know that when and if we leave New York City one day, I will be very sad to say goodbye to this diversity in every sense of the word.

Today, during our Saturday food crawl, we were in Astoria, Queens, where we had lunch at Krob Kreung Krob Ros. The name signifies the perfect balance of Thai flavors: sour, sweet, creamy, and salty. The owners opened this spot for those who miss authentic flavors of home-cooked Thai meals, and for those seeking genuine Thai cuisine. So many of the dishes on the menu were things I’d either never seen before or had seen quite sparingly, even across Queens Thai restaurants, which are already quite representative of authentic Thai cuisine. We had tod mun hua plee, or banana blossoms tossed in a red curry and fried into fritters, and a pik kai tod kra thiam, which were fried marinated chicken wings with fried garlic that were unlike any other chicken wings I’d had in my life. The banana blossoms were crunchy on the outside and deliciously meaty inside. The fried chicken wings had a really thin, crunchy breading that was deeply satisfying to bite into. One particularly notable dish was the som tam tod, a friend papaya and carrot salad. The papaya and carrot pieces come out coated in a deep fried batter, and you take each piece by hand and dip it into the sweet, sour, salty lime-based dressing. We had definitely never had that before! We probably overdid it with the fried items, but they were all so unique and different from even the Thai food we usually order that is not pad thai or red curry.

I also really enjoyed the khao hor bai bua siam, the lotus leaf wrapped sticky rice with sweet pork sausage, scallop, jumbo shrimp, shiitake mushroom, salted egg yolk, and cilantro. The rice had a really nice, savory, meaty flavor, and it was really fragrant from being steamed in the lotus leaf. It reminded me of the Thai take of zongzi, or Chinese tamales.

Little gems like Krob Kreung Krob Ros is why I love New York City so much; just when you think you might be tired of it here, a new interesting, homely restaurant opens up to wow your senses and taste buds.

On Friday during lunch time, I took a break from my coworking space to head over to Matcha Cafe Maiko, a matcha spot close to Kaia’s school that I’ve been meaning to try. I ordered their cold matcha latte with cheese foam. It was carefully whisked with perfectly measured out matcha powder. It was sweetened to 50 percent as I requested. And when I had my first sip, I was obsessed. Was it expensive at $7.62 (that includes tax)? Yes. But I could see the entire process of the drink being made meticulously, and I knew the quality of the ingredients were high. So while it’s an indulgent treat to pay this much for tea, it’s an occasional indulgence I like to have because I think it’s worth it.

Let’s contrast that with Poppy’s Cafe on Henry Street in Brooklyn, where we did our Saturday food crawl this weekend. We popped in there after we had lunch, and Chris suggested we get a hojicha to go. He ordered it and asked for some whole milk in it. Then less than two minutes later, the guy at the cash register says, “Your tea is ready!”

That’s odd, I thought in my head as Chris took the tea. How could it already be done so quickly? Chris took one sip of it as we left the small cafe and told me it tasted weak. I sipped it and felt annoyed immediately. “This wasn’t steeped properly!” I said to him. I took a peek inside the cup under the lid to see that it was a hojicha tea bag that was just steeped in water. They probably dripped in a little whole milk before the bag had the time to steep properly and didn’t really care; they just wanted us to get our drink and get out.

Tea from a good tea bag can still be good if it’s steeped properly and for the adequate amount of time. I almost exclusively only drink loose leaf tea now. The only exceptions to that are when I’m not at home, or if I’m having Dilmah tea bags or powdered tea (matcha or hojicha). But here, they clearly did not care and just added water to a to-go cup, dropped the tea bag in, added some hot water, clamped on the lid, and handed it over. I wasn’t necessarily expecting a hojicha latte made with hojicha powder (which wasn’t an option, and wasn’t what Chris ordered, anyway), but this was just a disrespect to tea and tea preparation in general. Tea is oftentimes misunderstood and thus not prepared properly by a lot of people, but in this case, you’d expect more from a semi trendy cafe on Henry Street in Brooklyn. Just for this, I’d be highly unlikely to patronize this spot ever again.

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.