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Homemade milk bread rolls

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Several months ago, I successfully made a loaf of Japanese milk bread. I originally attempted this during the pandemic, but I didn’t have bread flour and only had all-purpose, and the bread was completely wrong — not the fluffy, airy, super moist bread that you think of when you hear of Japanese milk bread. When I finally attempted it again last year and succeeded, I knew I had to make this bread more often. It’s so satisfying to make, and as long as you have the right ingredients (as in, bread flour for higher gluten development, dry milk powder, and instant yeast as opposed to dry active yeast), then it’s pretty much fool-proof. While cooking and baking (desserts) have always been fun and satisfying for me, baking yeast breads has a whole different level of satisfaction for me. I love every part of the process — measuring out the ingredients, mixing and kneading the dough, watching the two rises, and baking. I look at every bread I’ve made as though it were my little baby — being made, grown, and developed. Tonight, I baked up the milk bread rolls after mixing and kneading the dough last night. I started mixing after I put Kaia to bed last night. She knew I was in the kitchen and kept calling out to me.

“Whatcha doing, mama?” she called out from her bed. “Are you cooking?”

I went back to her bed to settle her down and try to get her to close her eyes. “Mama is making bread, baby!” I said to her. “If you’re good, then maybe you can have some when it’s ready!”

Kaia loves “soft bread.” She loves to remind me of this. When she says this, she means that she loves soft, fluffy bread with a tender crumb — brioche, challah, and milk bread are all in this category. She also does not like a crunchy toast the way I do. Are these the most nutritious breads? No. But they are deeply satisfying to make and eat. And I always get excited whenever my baby enjoys anything I make with my own hands.

Speaking of nutrition, though, I was thinking about this recipe developer/cookbook author I follow and love, who is currently pregnant and was diagnosed early on with gestational diabetes. While I’m sure this was frustrating for her as someone who loves food, one interesting thing she shared was that when she bakes her own bread from scratch, her blood sugar levels do not spike. But when she eats bread not made by her (so bought outside), her blood sugar goes crazy. If you know of anyone or have yourself had gestational diabetes, you’ll know that in dealing with this during pregnancy, you have to prick yourself at least once or twice every day and carefully monitor your blood sugar level to ensure it doesn’t go over a certain amount. So when I heard that homemade bread didn’t spike her blood sugar, I felt a bit better about my love of making these “soft breads” that are not made from whole wheat or whole grain flours. Though i will say openly that I do do slightly sacrilegious things and add whole wheat flour to my brioche and challah to increase the nutritional profile.

“I wanna go to [Australia] where it’s summer now!”

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To my pleasant surprise, even though it was extremely cold on Sunday going to and from the VHC Tet Lunar New Year Festival in Brooklyn, Kaia actually didn’t complain too much about the cold or walking. On both sides of the subway ride, we only walked about 6-7 minutes, so it really wasn’t that bad… even when the icy winds hit us. But while on the train, Kaia had some thoughts to share about the cold.

“Mama, when it’s winter here in New York, it’s summer at Suma and Topa’s house, right?” she asked me with wide eyes.

“Yes, baby… when it’s winter here in the Northern Hemisphere, it’s the opposite in the Southern Hemisphere where Suma and Topa are in Australia, so it’s summer,” I confirmed to her.

“Mama! I don’t like winter,” Kaia said with big frown on her face. “When it’s winter here, I wanna go to Suma and Topa’s where it’s summer! I wanna go to Melbourne because I don’t like the cold!”

This conversation was funny to me for a few reasons: 1) I love that she’s putting two and two together, beginning to understand the differences in seasons where we call home versus where her paternal grandparents are, 2) I also love (and laugh at) the fact that she thinks she can just snap her fingers and go to Australia during their summer time just because she wants to. She has no idea behind the financial costs of flying at high times of the year, of flying in general. She also doesn’t understand that it’s a commitment, that it’s a privilege to be able to have a mother who can work remotely for that amount of time and not have her job be in jeopardy (it’s also a privilege, in today’s day and age with soaring costs of living, to have a father who lives a “life of service [leisure]”, but that’s another topic for another day). How many four-year-olds are going to have the luxury of experiencing life in two hemispheres regularly… of flying on a long-haul flight from New York to Melbourne every year of their life thus far, and getting to see how amazing it is to escape the bitter cold of winter here for the summer there? Most Australians in New York I’ve met and known to date, at most, go back to Australia every other year… and that’s on the higher end. Almost no one I know other than Chris insists on going back every single year.

It’s going to be a work in progress to make sure that my only child doesn’t grow up to be some silver spoon, entitled child, who snubs other people for not seeing as much of the world as she has, or for being less worldly.

Vietnamese Heritage Center Tet Lunar New Year Festival 2026

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Today, I took Kaia to the Vietnamese Heritage Center (VHC) Tet Lunar New Year Festival, which was held at the Brooklyn Botanic Ballroom. VHC changes up their location every year since they have to rent event space. I first learned about VHC two years ago right before their scheduled Lunar New Year Festival that year (thanks to my NYC Modern Asian Moms group, the second best group I ever joined on Facebook after my local Buy-Nothing Group!), and unfortunately, the event had already sold out before I could even consider buying tickets. I remember that year, it was held at a really convenient location, somewhere around Union Square or Chelsea. Last year, they held it at some remote location out in Brooklyn, which would have required a 30-minute walk after we got off the nearest train. Given this is obviously held in winter, I really didn’t want to deal with that walk even if I did push Kaia in a stroller. So this year, when I saw that it was at the ballroom just eight minutes’ walk away from the nearest subway stop, I knew I wanted to sign us up. Kaia has had lots of exposure to Chinese culture and Chinese traditions around Lunar New Year, but she’s never been to a Vietnamese cultural event. And so, I really wanted this to happen. I went in knowing that this weekend would be around -8 F with windchill, but I figured it would be fine since the walk on both ends would be relatively short, and this was a fully indoor event. Chris decided not to come because he doesn’t like cultural events (“Why do I have to go to this?” he asked me, looking puzzled. “I just need the food!”), so I asked my friend if he wanted to take his wife and toddler, and they came.

The event was far more diverse than I thought it would be: there were plenty of non-Vietnamese, non-Asian people in attendance. Lots of non-Asians were wearing male and female versions of ao dais. They had a restaurant cater the food for the event, plus they had different Vietnamese cultural vendors, ranging from banh chung/banh Tet vendors, banh mi/Vietnamese coffee/sugar cane juice vendors, Vietnamese photography, books, and even specific artworks like dioramas and paintings for sale. For hands-on activities for both kids and adults, they had a Banh Tet (Vietnamese Lunar New Year sticky rice) workshop, face painting for the kids, a Lunar New Year card / art making table, and Vietnamese dice games. There were also some performances like an ao dai fashion show, a traditional Vietnamese fan dance, and of course, a lion dance. The whole event ended with a li xi / hong bao / red envelope ceremony, where all the littles could line up to get their own red envelope, each filled with a crisp dollar bill, all sponsored by New York Life.

We arrived early, so Kaia was lucky and got to be the very first kid who had her face painted. She chose cherry blossoms, so the artist painted them on both of her upper cheeks. She enjoyed her noodles for lunch, as well as some arts and crafts. And probably her favorite thing to do was to run around, scope people out, and play with random new friends she made. She kept on asking me about Vietnamese this and Vietnamese that. And she said that a lot was like what she saw at school. So it was nice to see her connecting the dots of what she saw here versus the Chinese versions of Lunar New Year traditions.

I never learned much about Chinese or Vietnamese culture until college, when I really started embracing it and proactively learning about the traditions. It’s easy to eat the food; it’s an additional step to learn why all these foods are important, what they symbolize, and how they contribute to one’s culture. I hope Kaia learns and embraces all parts of her many cultures far earlier than I ever did. I hope all these experiences I expose her to will help in some small way or form.

The necessity of soup at the Chinese dining table: an ode to my paternal grandma

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Growing up, I remember there was almost always a massive stockpot full of some kind of broth or soup on the stove. Sometimes, it was a gentle herbal chicken soup. Occasionally, it was a thick and packed jook/congee with lots of different proteins, like chicken, pork, tofu skins, shredded dried and rehydrated scallops. Other times, it was a ginseng-based tonic meant to “cool” our bodies from eating too many rich foods. Regardless of what was in the big pot, I grew up knowing that soup was an integral part of our diet at home. It was rare to have a day when there was no full stockpot on the stove. It was an everyday occurrence to hear my grandma, mom, or aunt insist that Ed and I “drink soup.”

Soup was the antidote to everything. You ate too much fried food? Drink soup. You aren’t feeling well? Drink soup. You’re feeling sluggish or tired? Drink soup. Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM) has a soup or tonic for pretty much anything you can complain about.

I started getting back into thinking about soup more regularly after I gave birth to Kaia in December 2021. My aunt had lovingly sent me ingredients to make a specific Chinese chicken wine soup (雞酒湯 ji jiu tang), which she insisted would nourish my body to recover quickly from childbirth, while also simultaneously helping my body to produce more milk for my baby (debatable, but it was still tasty). Two years ago, I started being more intentional about making soup. And this year, I am trying to make soup even more often. It’s delicious, nourishing, tasty, and given it’s been so cold this winter, who could say no to a hot bowl of soup? Soup rounds out any meal. In China, there is a saying called san cai yi tang (三菜一汤), meaning “three dishes and one soup,” which is a foundational principle of a balanced, home-cooked Chinese meal that is meant to be shared. It’s typically a meat/protein, one vegetable, one tofu/egg/seafood dish, alongside a nutritious soup. The soup type can vary depending on how it complements the other dishes at the table, but more often than not at home, the soup is a very simple broth that is lightly flavored and seasoned.

I made a simple home-style soup today called yuanzi tang (圆子汤), or pork meatball soup. I was inspired to make it because this blog post by Xueci Cheng, a recipe developer I follow, talked about how integral soup was to her family’s meals in Sichuan growing up. It reminded me of how I ate with my family growing up. And similar to me, she also had forgotten how soup was always at the dinner table at home, as she had moved away to Germany, and soup had mostly been forgotten as a thing to have at a meal. So she made this same soup, and she said when her parents made it for them all during their visit to see her in Germany, they immediately said at the first sip once it was finished cooking that it “tasted like home 家的味道.” This soup is really simple. There’s no required broth base, as it’s mostly flavored by the fat and flavor from the pork meatballs you make (though I did use a cup of dashi I happened to have in my fridge). But after I seasoned it, it really did remind me of the simpler, light home-style soups my grandma used to make when I was little.

My paternal grandma passed in 1995. If she were alive today, she’d be 109 going on 110 this September. Her only granddaughter just turned 40 last month — that’s me. I wonder how she’d feel knowing that even 31 years after her death that I still think about her and her cooking often. I wonder if she’d be pleased to know how much of an impact she’s had on my life and the way I view food, cooking, and our shared culture. She never thought cooking was that great of a skill; for her, it was just something she knew and did. It fed her family (and around Lunar New Year, it fed her friends), and that was enough for her. But in these moments when I taste things that remind me of her and her cooking, I do find myself missing her and wishing we could share that same taste together.

The growing Le Creuset collection

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I am now 40 years, two weeks old. For most of my life, I’ve looked longingly and with a bit of foam at the corner of my mouth at Le Creuset and Staub bake and cookware — you know, those glorious enameled cast iron dutch ovens, pots, and stone bakeware, all handmade in France, that you always see in fancy kitchenware sections and shops. Just the variety of bright colors would get to even the most indifferent-to-cookware people. Although I always admired them, I could never bring myself to buy even a single piece for myself. It felt like too much of an indulgence for me. I tend to be a lot more practical with kitchen items. So instead, I accepted a $35 Amazon Basics five-quart dutch oven from Chris’s aunt and uncle as an early Christmas gift in 2018 when they visited us, and I insisted to myself that I never needed Le Creuset or Staub anything. For comparison sake, a 5.5-quart Le Creuset round dutch oven currently goes for a whooping $435! So there’s clearly a massive markup there. So until this past December, I owned zero Le Creuset or Staub pieces. Hell, I bought a five-quart Staub dutch oven for our ex-nanny and never even bought myself so much as a single Le Creuset ramekin!

In December before we left for Australia, Chris presented me with an early Christmas gift: a Le Creuset 3.5-quart dual braiser and grill pan in a Marseille blue color; the grill pan also acts as a lid for the braiser. I was excited at the acquisition of this item, as it would be my very first and only Le Creuset item. I loved the color immediately. But I wasn’t sure how much I’d use it given I have most of the pots and pans that I use a lot. This braiser also seemed quite shallow at just 3.5 quarts, so other than pasta, I am still not sure what I will “braise” in it. But I knew I’d find ways to use it because after waiting almost 40 years, did you think I’d actually consider giving up my first and only Le Creuset…?!

Then we had the funny Shun knife debacle around my birthday. My friend kindly accepted the return of the eight-inch Shun knife. In its place, she got me a four-piece Le Creuset Heritage line stoneware baking set — one loaf pan, one fluted pie pan, one square baking dish, and one oval dish — all in Marseille blue to match my current braiser-grill pan duo. Of all these dishes, I will likely use the loaf pan the most since I make a decent number of loaf breads in a year. But all the dishes are sturdy, gorgeous, and heat evenly. They would all look beautiful simply as serving dishes. And they could easily reheat in different methods. I laid them all out on the dining table after opening them yesterday and just stared at them. I had the same feeling I do whenever we return from a Costco trip: I felt RICH. Once, I was poor and had no Le Creuset. And then, out of nowhere, I have (technically) six pieces! I am rich now!

Winter Storm Fern on Sunday, a Snow Day (no school) Monday, and evolving views on snow

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In the winter of 2004, it was my first real, snowy winter that I’d ever experienced in my life. I was 18, in my first-year at Wellesley, and we had a beautiful snow fall that blanketed the entire suburban campus. I was preparing for my first real New England winter: I had bought a thick winter coat and a pair of big, bulky, waterproof snow boots. I was so excited to see the snow fall. My first time watching the snowfall, I really did feel like I was in a snow globe. And when the snow fall stopped, my friend and I immediately went outside to Severance Green, this vast lawn with a huge hill, for some sledding (using dining hall trays we temporarily stole from inside). We had to take advantage of the snow while it was still light and fluffy, and before it froze over into hard (and uncomfortable) ice.

I couldn’t believe how much fun it was to be in the snow for the first time. I was giggling like crazy. A friend and I made snowballs and threw them at fellow classmates. We all made snow angels and went down the hill “sledding” more times than we could count. My friend took lots of photos of my first real snow experience. She’s originally from Arkansas and had seen snow countless times, so she was thoroughly amused at how child-like and glee-filled I was to experience this all for the first time.

Since then, I do not have the same excited feeling about snow. I do enjoy watching it fall… while I am in the comfort of my heated home with a hot beverage in hand. I have very little desire to go outside and play with it. I get grossed out by how the snow is plowed in New York City and how that prevents me from getting into cars when I need to, and the black ice is terrifying to me. I know several colleagues who have had very painful falls from black ice in New York; one of whom actually broke her femur and had to have a very intense (and likely expensive) surgery that kept her out of the office for almost two months. But I do know Kaia likes it. I like how she gets excited by snow, creating snow balls, and getting snow thrown at her. It’s cute and funny. But outside of her enjoyment of it, I stay away from it. Maybe that’s just me getting old and senile. Or, what is more likely the case: I just want to avoid freezing temperatures as much as possible. And if I am making snowmen or snowballs, my hands are just going to freeze over.

Winter Storm Fern came as expected yesterday. The Department of Education announced early on Sunday that schools would be closed the next day (today). Given Kaia is in 4K/Pre-K, she has no ‘remote learning’ option, so this just meant we were with her the whole day and had to find ways to entertain her between work.

I tried to make a couple snow balls and throw them at her this early afternoon when we came back from lunch. It was cute to see her laugh and try to escape. But my hands got so frigid so quickly that it almost felt like the numbness was going to lead to frost bite in seconds. But even with Kaia, while she gets amused by seeing snow falling and seeing snow piled up, we can tell she doesn’t love it. She has said repeatedly she hates the cold. And how can we blame her given we 100 percent agree with her hatred of the bitter cold?

The different ways that people show they need you

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Last night, Chris read to Kaia and put her to bed. He came out and noticed I had lit one of my candles and had my Kindle on the kitchen counter. He asked me if I was planning to read on the couch (in the living room), to which I said yes.

He then responded, “Why do you have to read all the way out there?!”

“I’m right here!” I exclaimed back. It’s not like we live in some huge palace. I’m about 30 feet away from him!

I thought about this because it’s not the first time he’s had this reaction to my wanting to read in the living room while he reads or does things on his computer in bed. He always indirectly is saying that he doesn’t want me to read in the living room, that he would prefer I be in bed right next to him… even though it’s not like we’re doing anything together. We’d just be doing our own thing separately, just in the same bed together. And I thought this was cute and sweet. I told him this, to which he mumbled that I come up with “crazy theories” and he was wondering who I was going to blab this to in the next day. I actually wasn’t originally planning to share this with anyone, but since he said this, I decided to text his brother because I knew I would get an immediate reaction.

So I texted his brother, and his brother replies that he never expected me to say something like this. Then, he says, “Isn’t it obvious that he cannot live without you?”

And then I just thought…. Awwwwww. Even when my husband is annoying, emotionally avoidant, and borderline crazy, he still does need me and love me very much. He just wants to front like he’s fiercely independent. But at his core, he does truly need me. That is love.

“Maybe you can do this every year now!”

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I was telling a colleague about my birthday party after she asked. She saw the pictures and videos I posted on Instagram and was telling me how amazing the food presentation looked, and she said she wasn’t surprised I’d have such a crazy spread given it was my 40th. I told her I’d actually never thrown myself a real birthday party before this past Saturday; it took only 40 years for me to plan and host my own birthday party. I told her that planning it was so easy and fun, made especially smooth by the restaurant manager at Patok by Rach. And so she said to me, half jokingly, “So, this means that you’ll do a birthday party every year now, right?”

It’s not an awful idea. Though I would be unlikely to book out an entire restaurant in the next year or so for a non-milestone birthday year.. or pay for it all. But when I think about it, the focus would be less on the fact that it’s my birthday, but more an excuse to get people together. Whenever Chris or my friends would groan about things like bridal or baby showers, my response would always be that it’s far less about “showering” someone with gifts, and much more about just having togetherness, which no one does as much of anymore. Since the pandemic, people have led far more isolated lives, whether it’s because they live farther from people they care about, or because they simply have no desire to initiate get-togethers. Vivek Murthy, the former U.S. Surgeon General and an internal medicine doctor, has said in a podcast I listened to that the biggest epidemic he’s worried about… is loneliness. And it would be so easy for us to resolve that by being less formal or rigid about having our houses perfectly cleaned or planning get-togethers with extensive menus or programming months in advance; we can be more spontaneous with some friends and family and just lay out some crackers and cheese or pizza, and get people together just for the sake of it. And it would create warmth and connection just like that.

So who knows – maybe I’ll do something more casual and simple like that for a future birthday of mine if I am so inclined. It could even be a cupcake party — Kaia would love it!

New B train rides and my sweet Kaia’s twinkling eyes

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Kaia loves the subway, the trains, the buses, the cars, planes — all forms of transport excite her to no end. But in New York City, she especially gets excited about riding on the new B train. It’s always a toss up whether we are able to get on one coming back home after school, but today for the second time ever, we got lucky and got on one. She saw it from very far away and yelled, “It’s a new B train! I get to go on a new B train!” She was all smiles the entire ride home; she kept reciting all the stops we passed, plus the stops that were still to come. She counted down the stops until we arrived at Columbus Circle.

Parenthood is hard no matter what generation you are in, what age you are parenting. But there is a lot to love about it. I still love and get excited watching her get excited over things that as a jaded adult, I think are just mundane, everyday things. It’s like I get to see life through her eyes as someone who is just discovering the world and all the things that make up that world. Sometimes, it feels like a renewal to me, that I get the privilege to see the beauty of life through her eyes. Everyone makes their own life choices. Some people choose to be child-free. Some people who want children are not able to have them because of situations beyond their control. But it’s hard for me to imagine not having this experience of experiencing life through her young, growing eyes. It’s as though a richness of life would be absent from my life. I squeezed her and kissed her extra while on the train today, just reveling in how lucky I am to be able to be her mama.

A happy surprise at the door: when your neighbor friend shows up with freshly baked goods and milk!

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Growing up, I always wished I had a friend who was just next door or on the same block who I could easily go play with. That never happened. Then as an adult living in New York City, I always wished I had a friend who either lived in my building or just a block or two away who I could see as often as I wanted, with as little notice as possible. For the longest time, I only had that once with a friend who lived about six blocks south of us. But he wasn’t very easy to get a hold of, and so that “ad hoc” nature of hanging out just never happened. We’ve been living in our current building for almost nine years now, and unfortunately, I’ve just never been able to make a real friend in this building until last year. This friend has a child who is close in age to Kaia, and luckily, they love each other. So the four of us try to arrange a catch-up about once a month when we’re all in town.

This friend remembered when we were coming back, so she messaged me randomly yesterday afternoon that she had done some baking and wanted to bring us some treats! So she stopped by and hung out with us for about half an hour with her son. They even brought over a half gallon of milk in case we were short of groceries! Kaia and her friend didn’t talk very much, but they did run around each other and squeal quite a bit to indicate that they were both super excited to see each other again! It was a quick and rushed visit because they had to get back to their home to welcome an out-of-town friend, but it was still so nice that they came to see us and came bearing edible gifts.

I love that I have a relationship like this now and that it’s right in my own building! It was so touching when she texted me to say she wanted to share baked goods and to see us even briefly. I know Kaia got really excited when I told her she might see a little friend later that day, and it definitely warmed my heart, as well. One thing that I haven’t loved about adulthood, or “adulting” as my friends call it, is that it always feels like everything needs to be scheduled and planned in advance. Yes, that’s necessary for a lot of things, but not everything. I wish I could do more ad hoc, spontaneous things more often with friends; it would feel a lot more fun… and frankly, more young. But I guess the older we get, the less spontaneous we can be, especially when we all don’t live in the same building or down the block from one another.