Category Archives: Love

Twelve-years-aged tangerine peels from my friend’s mom

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When I met up with my friend for lunch this past Monday, I was shocked when she told me that her mom had brought me back a gift from her trip to China. Over a year ago, I told my friend that I was taking on “old Asian lady” habits by attempting to dry a bunch of mandarin peels that winter. In the winter time, we eat so much citrus that it felt wasteful just to dump the peels out. One winter during the pandemic, I was taking citrus peels and making homemade house cleaner with it, but I eventually got bored of that. I felt like a better and tastier way to use the peels was to preserve them via drying for future Chinese dishes. In Traditional Chinese Medicine, aka TCM, preserved mandarin or tangerine peels are known to be a warming ingredient that can warm your spleen and regulate your qi. It’s supposed to help with dampness and disperse phlegm from the lungs. But in general, even if you don’t believe in TCM, aged tangerine peels give an interesting, complex, complementary flavor to savory courses, such as braised pork belly, beef noodle soup, or tangerine beef or chicken dishes. In a lot of traditional homely Chinese soups, a single peel or two can be thrown into the pot for an extra flavor note.

So, when I shared this with my friend last year, she told her mom, who I’d only met once back in 2018. I went to her house so that I could meet my friend’s then new baby. And since then, she’s shared lots of stories of what I cook with her mom and also showed photos and videos, and I guess her mom has been very impressed. She remembered this story about my drying mandarin peels, and so she picked up this individually sealed bag of 12-years aged tangerine peels for me and carted it all the back from China to New York! If you are not aware, dried tangerine peels get more expensive with age (the color also gets deeper and darker brown), so 12-years aged tangerine peels cost a small fortune here.

I was honestly in shock when my friend told me this, and I felt like my eyes were going to bulge out of their eye sockets when she presented the bag to me at lunch on Monday. I kept on staring at the bag and turning it every which way, admiring how thin and dried and deep brown they were, and even trying to see if I could smell some aged citrus fragrance from the sealed bag. I was just so touched that her mom would not only think of me, but even be so generous as to buy me a highly prized Chinese cooking gift while in China and carry it all the way back here for me. I’d only met her mom once — ONE TIME. And somehow, she has remembered me AND gifted me something now! I love a lot of things about this scenario, but I guess I especially love it because it is such a unique gift, one that not just anyone would appreciate. Her mom thought specifically of me, how I dried mandarin peels, and knew I’d appreciate this a lot. And I really, really do. I am beyond grateful and felt so blessed in that moment — not just for her thoughtfulness and generosity for someone she only met once, but also for having this friend who would have a mother who would do something like this for me!

“That’s my mom’s love language: remembering random things I tell her about friends or me and then taking action on it and gifting something related!” my friend exclaimed. “She’s bad at most other things, but she’s really good at this!”

As with most things that matter, if you know, you know #iykyk. And if you know, you know that 12-years-aged tangerine peels in Chinese cooking is like aged fine wine.

Marriage longevity: what also makes you take your partner for granted

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When I think about relationships, life, and the longevity of relationships, I think a lot about evolution. Yes, a lot about people, perspectives, and relationships remain the same, but what is more interesting to me is how people in long-term partnerships evolve together and somehow still manage to stay together — and actually stay happy together. Plenty of people stay in marriages and long-term partnerships and are miserable. Some stay because of the appearance of being coupled up or for financial reasons. Others stay due to laziness of restarting a new life. But regardless, the ones who remain together and are happy are always the ones I think about.

In the beginning of romantic partnerships, you’re generally trying to be on your best behavior. You don’t fart in the other’s presence. You tread lightly when calling out the other’s foibles or things they are absent minded about. Then as your relationship progresses, you get more comfortable being more honest and blunt with each other. You transition to becoming more open to disagreeing freely with them and arguing. You don’t hesitate to call out their mistakes and flaws, in hopes that they will realize how this impacts you and change… and then you get frustrated because instead of seeing how whatever quality/trait/habit negatively impacts you or your shared space, they double down and get defensive, attacking back. In the beginning, you’re always thanking each other, openly expressing gratitude, greeting each other warmly. Once you get comfortable, maybe even too comfortable, you barely say “thanks” in any noticeable form when they do something thoughtful for you, and you’re lucky if they greet you warmly and even look you in the eye when you enter the home after a while apart. This is what happens as you spend too much time with each other; you naturally just take the other for granted and just expect they will always be there for you — just like you do with your parents or siblings.

So, all of this is funny to me because while Chris has definitely improved with getting constructive feedback from me (I mean, it only took about 13 years…), to this day, he still does not seem to comfortably accept compliments from his wife. He always denies or deflects, says he’s a “regular person,” or sometimes just flat out tells me that I must be out of my mind. Here’s a case in point: I was discussing a story about a friend who is in a relationship that I think is like a slow-moving car crash, and there was nothing I could do to stop or help it. I was expressing that they had no plan. And Chris said to me, some people just follow others blindly and just don’t think or plan for the future at all. And that’s just sad, he said. We’re all adults living in the same world, so why do people do this?

So then I thought about it for a bit, and then I responded, “Well, Fuzzy, I love you. I know that you think through things a lot. So, I’d trust you wherever you took us. If you suddenly decided that you wanted to get up and move to a remote farm somewhere in the middle of France, then I’d be up for it.” Fuck this dumb ass country and these dumb people here!

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard!” Chris exclaimed in response. “If I get to that point of insanity, you better get a gun and just shoot me in the head!”

Then, he paused, realizing how abrupt his reply was, and said, “That’s a very sweet sentiment. But it’s still insane and would never happen! I would much rather move to Staten Island than move to a fucking farm!”

Welp. It doesn’t seem to matter if I bring up constructive criticism or compliment. Either way, my chosen life partner will not accept it.

Dried scallops – a mother’s show of love

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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.

Kaia’s first hong bao (red envelope) from a non-family/non-friend person

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At school pickup today, Kaia and I went down the stairs into the building lobby to exit. As usual, the friendly older Chinese male doorman was there. Since the beginning, he’s always been really friendly with Chris, Kaia, and me. At pickup, we always make sure to greet him and have Kaia give him a high-five (or “pai shou!” in Chinese). We call him “Ah Gong,” which is a friendly and polite way of greeting someone who is of grandpa-age in Chinese. Kaia is always excited to see him and say hi. We always give him a high-five, then say thank you and goodbye or “see you tomorrow” in Chinese. Ah Gong always says that Kaia is so cute, so smart, and so “guai guai” (well behaved, obedient).

Today, I lifted her up to give him a high-five, then I asked her to wish him “xin nian kuai le! gong xi fa cai!” given the Lunar New Year has already come. Kaia first said it very quietly. Then, when I told her to say it louder, she shouted it! And Ah Gong got SO excited! He started laughing and exclaiming how proud he was that she knew how to wish him a happy Chinese New Year in Chinese. Then out of nowhere, he puts his hand into his inside chest pocket, which had a wad of sealed hong bao, and immediately handed her one. He wished her a happy and prosperous Lunar New Year in Chinese and told her to study (haha) and continue being “guai guai.” Kaia thanked him in Chinese, gave him a hug, and we went on our way.

On the train, I let her open the hong bao. Inside the hong bao was a very crisp, brand new five-dollar note (in case you aren’t aware, notes placed in hong bao must be brand new and crisp. Banks in areas with large Asian populations know this, and so they always have lots of crisp bills ready during the Lunar New Year period). Wow, I thought. We have no real family or friend relation other than the fact that he works as a doorman at the building where Kaia happens goes to school, and he was so generous to give her $5?! When he handed it to her, I figured he would give her a crisp one-dollar note as a cute gesture. But I was surprised. As Blanche DuBois once said, ‘I have always depended on the kindness of strangers.” This line can be applied to so many instances of our lives, and this is definitely one of them. For every total dud, intentionally rude and obtuse, ill-intentioned person out there, there are, in fact, at least eight or nine really well-intentioned, kind individuals to even it all out.

How Chris is like Romesh Ranganathan

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Last night, we went out with some friends for a quick dinner and for an evening of comedy at the Town Hall to see Romesh Ranganathan perform. Romesh is a British actor/comedian of Sri Lankan descent. Chris originally found out about him years ago, and we watched his docu-series Just Another Immigrant, showing his journey and temporary move to LA to do stand-up comedy and “make it” in the U.S. — all while dragging his wife and kids with him.

Since Kaia was born, we haven’t gone out very much for live shows, but the majority that we have seen have been live comedy. This was the first time we got to see Romesh live, and there were moments when I laughed so hard that I was crying and wiping my eyes. I love his deadpan, self-deprecating humor, and I especially loved it when he talked about his little foibles with his wife. The two areas where I completely saw commonality between his perspective and Chris’s were around 1) making new friends, and socializing with new people, and 2) his attitude around having holidays/vacations with other couples/families.

Regarding making new friends, whether that’s friends organically or through Kaia’s friends’ parents, Chris has always been hesitant about the idea. He usually will say things like, “Well, you can make friends with them and let me know how they are,” or, “You can go to future birthday parties (with Kaia) and enjoy.” So in other words, he doesn’t want to commit to new people easily. He is always wary of anyone new, unless they are the spouse/partner of someone from “his” side.

Chris detests the idea of going on any trip with anyone else, minus his parents for max 3-4 days. Any time I have shared any story of a joint family big trip or couples/multiple families going on a holiday together, he grumbles and groans, insisting that it sounds like hell. He has said that the only way he’d ever agree to a trip with another couple is if he had full authority to decide literally every single thing that was done. So in other words, he’d need to be the trip dictator. Romesh shared, during his live performance last night, that during a drunken night out with other couple friends when he was not present, his wife had agreed to go on a holiday with another couple and their family to Portugal for ten days. It took a while for her to spit this out because she knew how angry he’d be about it. He said during the show, “I would have much preferred that she had shagged them!”

This sounded exactly like Chris. I felt so seen knowing that another person’s partner was exactly this way.

Hidden hotel floors in Hong Kong

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I feel like in the last two years, I’ve really grown an affinity to the term “if you know, you know,” aka #iykyk. The 2025 articles I keep seeing are listing “#iykyk” as an overused term that is “fini” for the new year, but I don’t care: it most definitely still will resonate. The reason for this is that… unless you are aware of certain things or certain events, you cannot fully appreciate something that you see or is shared. Why not? Because… you just didn’t know!

Here’s a case in point: at the hotel we stayed at during both legs of our stay in Hong Kong, the Renaissance Harbour View Hotel Hong Kong, which is part of the Marriott group of hotels, appears as though there are only 41 floors in the building. Floors 40 and 41 are the Club Lounge, where those guests who have a certain level of status get access (like us), or those who have purchased a hotel stay including club lounge will have access. Chris added a request for the second leg of our stay to be upgraded to a suite if one was available, and he was granted his request: we got a suite… that was on the hidden top floor 42.

I didn’t realize this until we came to the hotel on Saturday evening. Chris rarely shares these things in advance, as he loves to surprise. He pressed on the button for the club lounge floor to end the evening. I had originally thought he wanted to stop by to grab a beverage before heading to our room. But what ended up being the case is that floor 42 is not accessible by the regular elevator bank; you have to take the main elevator to floor 41, then either take a second elevator up just one level to 42, or walk up a short flight of stairs to 42. Once we got to our room, we were in what could have been an extremely spacious New York City apartment: 1.5 bathrooms (one of which could easily be the size of a bedroom, with a standalone soaking bathtub, his-and-her sinks, and a roomy rainfall shower), a massive living room with a dedicated work space, a large king-sized bedroom, and floor-to-ceiling windows that gave a full, unobstructed view of Hong Kong Harbour. The living room was so large that it had two doorways you could choose from to enter the bedroom. Kaia loved this so much and constantly ran in and out and around in circles, giggling and singing nonstop, relishing every inch of this newfound space she could enjoy for just a single night.

If this wasn’t enough, on our small dining table, the hotel management left us a tray of tasty delights: two beautifully packaged chocolate bars — one flavored with Taiwanese oolong and one with Sichuanese pepper; a small jug of Hong Kong style iced milk tea, a platter of fresh fruit, two crispy almond cookies, and two fresh, flaky coconut tarts. If this wasn’t the ultimate “welcome back to Hong Kong” experience by a hotel, I wasn’t sure what was.

“You live a really good life — far more luxurious and better than any of your cousins,” my mom once said to me back in 2019 when she learned of all our points-paid hotel nights, hotel room and flight upgrades, and all the little gifts that hotels have given Chris and me along the way for our loyalty. I suppose what she said is true. But a big part of the reason I have all of this is Chris: he always knows how to play the game, the system, when and how to ask. I’d honestly be lost navigating all of this if it weren’t for him. So really, he is the one who actually knows; I’m just coming to tag along and enjoy it all, and so is Pookster.

A well-meaning and loving mum-in-law / Suma

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I cannot count the number of horror stories I’ve heard from friends, colleagues, and in my different social media groups about people’s mothers-in-law. The common thing I always hear is that people generally always get better support from their own parents when they have kids versus their in-laws, who can, in some cases, even be oppressive. People have also just assumed this is the case with me, and I’m pretty quick to correct them. The sad thing is — I cannot relate to those sentiments. My in-laws are far more supportive with Kaia than my parents ever have been. When we’re in Melbourne, they’ve babysat for her a number of nights when we’ve gone out to be child-free. My mum-in-law does all our laundry, including Kaia’s. She helps with cleaning her up if she’s there when Kaia’s finished a meal. She pays careful attention (and I wouldn’t be surprised if she even took NOTES) to what we say Kaia likes and doesn’t like. She even thinks about things I don’t think about. During our first year here with Kaia as a baby in 2022, she bought baby/child-safe insect repellant for her since the mozzies can be quite aggressive down here. Back then, I was touched when she would roast and air fry vegetables for Kaia and prepare them almost exactly as I prepared them back home for her in New York; she carefully watched all the Instagram stories I posted about what I was making Kaia as a baby (my massive baby-led weaning feeding project) and did it all for her when we came.

This time on our first day, my mum-in-law baked mini banana muffins for Kaia modeled after the healthy snacks I’d occasionally bake her. She also asked her friend for her recipe for healthy oat-nut cookies that she’d bake her grandchildren, since she knew that Kaia loved having healthy cookies at home made by her mummy. When we arrived on our first day, she casually mentioned she had them in the cupboard and fridge for Kaia over our lunch. And I just felt floored that she’d go to this level of effort. She’d already made us this elaborate and delicious lunch to welcome us back, a low-sugar vanilla birthday cake for Kaia, and now she’s also made TWO additional healthy baked treats?!

I tell Chris this all the time, but I don’t think he or his brother appreciate his mother enough. She really does try so hard in so many ways. His mum has a really high level of empathy, and she’s always trying to do the right thing whether people appreciate it or not. The level of effort she exerts to cater to Kaia’s needs based on what she knows I want and prefer has been really touching; I was nearly moved to tears when she showed me the container of healthy, low-sugar oat cookies she made. They even had little chopped nuts and dried fruit in them. She’s been following all of my social media and trying to replicate what I do for Pookster while we’re staying at her home here in Melbourne. I could only wish my mom would go to even a fraction of the same effort, but instead, she would just insist her way is the best way and that I lack wisdom to know what is best for my own child.

Happy 3rd birthday to my precious little miracle baby

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To my sweet baby Kaia Pookie, aka Pookster, aka Hoji, aka xiao bao,

Happy 3rd birthday, my precious little. It’s crazy to think that exactly three years ago, I thought my uterus and vagina were going to explode when I was in labor with you. But somehow I didn’t die and made it through with flying colors, and out came sweet, affectionate, thoughtful, curious, cheeky, flavor-loving YOU.

Every day you surprise me with what you learn and absorb in this world: your massively increasing vocabulary and syntax in both English and Chinese, your thoughtfulness, your adventure seeking ways, and your love of travel in all forms, whether it’s on the bus, subway, high-speed train, or airplanes; your crazy good memory that remembers faces and names of those you’d seen ages ago, as well as who is whose mummy and who is whose partner.

My sweet Kaia Pookie — I have loved and appreciated far more about life and love since you literally plopped out of my body and into my world. It sounds ridiculous to say this, especially given how many women get pregnant and how many babies are born every single day, but sometimes, I truly feel astounded that I was lucky enough to get pregnant, carry, and birth you. There are so many people in the world who would love to be mummies and daddies and do not get the privilege or pleasure; infertility/sub-fertility are on the rise globally, and not a day goes by when I do not remember that or hear a related story that is affecting a friend or colleague, or someone else tangentially related to someone in my circle. Daddy and I were lucky on our IVF journey. Not everyone else is so lucky who embarks on that tumultuous road. That’s why every day, I know exactly how lucky I am to call you my baby, and for you to call me your mumma.

Motherhood is all at once the most infuriating (oh, your tantrums and strong AF opinions!) and most incredible thing I’ve ever done. But I thank you for giving me the privilege and opportunity to be your mumma – mumma to the cuddliest little globe-trotting tiny human I’ve ever known. I love you to the ends of this earth, my sweet baby. You will always be my baby no matter what — even when you are 5, 15, 50, and 100. As I tell you in Chinese every night before bed; Every day, mama will take care of you, protect you, and love you — always.

Last full day in Paris: beautiful food and floral displays, La Biblioteque Sainte Genevieve, and Place Vendome

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I don’t know how it seems like even the littlest displays of fruit and food are always so gorgeous here. There can simply be a florist shop on a street, and it will look like someone with a keen artistic eye spent a lot of time arranging all the flowers, pots, and accessories so that every object is just so to make the scene look perfect. Today, we ate at a cute little bistro called Le Petit Cler on Rue Cler, and on the same street there were endless little grocers, shops specializing in specific types of meats, seafoods, and other epicurean delights; each simple display looked like it could be photographed for a magazine. But all those foods, whether it was a display of fruit or a very earthy setup of mushrooms in baskets, all were edible and ready to be purchased, cooked with, and eaten.

There was also an architectural wonder I had on my list for a while that I never got around to: The Sainte Geneiveve Library just a block away from the Pantheon. The library is known to be a beautiful place to read and study and houses about two million historic documents that date back to the 9th century. What is crazy about this place is that as a student, you have to book a time slot and an actual assigned seat in the library, showing proof of your student status via a university ID. And any old visitors are not welcome at any time, as you cannot simply walk in. You have to book designated (and very limited) tours at specific hours, and the areas where you are allowed to stand/look are very small.

I didn’t do my research on this beforehand and thought we could just walk in. Alas, my timing was fortuitous because as I poked my head in to ask the security guard if we could enter, a library employee had just come back from her break. Without hesitation, she ushered me in, telling me in French that they usually don’t do this, but she’d make an exception for us given we were tourists from out of town. We got to stand in the same limited standing area overlooking the reading rows. And I looked up and snapped a few photos of the big windows, reading rows, and interior. And I remembered how I first learned about this library: the Boston Public Library, very well respected for its architecture both on the exterior and interior, was modeled after La Biblioteque Sainte Genevieve.

In the evening, after a last stop at the Paris Christmas markets, we walked through Place Vendome on our way back to the hotel for the night. Paris is one of those global cities that really takes Christmas seriously: all the department store facades were decked out in holiday cheer, and the plaza of Place Vendome and the shops that lined it were the definition of Christmas’s “merry and bright.” The lights twinkled all along the plaza, and it even had this beautiful children’s carousel with endless surrounding yellow and white twinkling lights, wreaths, and glittering Christmas trees.

While walking through the plaza, I actually thought about my mom and how even before she became a Jehovah’s Witness, she never enjoyed Christmas. She used to find the entire holiday a chore, from buying and wrapping gifts to making food to even having a Christmas tree with lights on in the living room. She used to insist that if she were sitting or lying down in the living room that the Christmas tree lights had to be turned off. She would complain and say, “They hurt my eyes! Shut them off!” So when she started studying to become a JW, it was an easy argument for her to completely nix any Christmas tree and lights. And while walking through Place Vendome, I just felt a little sad for her. Had she experienced so much trauma and hate in her life that she couldn’t find it in her heart to embrace this one “merry and bright” season of the year, especially since she knew her kids loved it so much?

But that’s why we learn from the past and try to create better experiences for our future. It’s why I’m so happy that I can create new family traditions for the own family I’ve chosen and formed and move away from all that inherited negativity of the past.

Kaia jumps into the water

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On Sunday and Monday, Kaia had swim lessons on back-to-back days since we had to schedule a makeup class from last month. I took her to class on Sunday while Chris had a dentist appointment, and Chris took her to the makeup class on Monday. In the last month, she recently graduated from level 2 swim to level 3 swim, which some people remark and (half) joke that it could be considered more of a “graduation” for parents than the kids: once level 3 starts at British Swim School, the caretaker/parent no longer needs to be in the water with the child. The child has to clear several requirements, though, including being able to float on their back unassisted (the instructor keeps their hand under their back just in case) and being able to not cry/be content without the caretaker/parent in the water. 

Chris got a really good video of Kaia jumping into the water on Monday. The instructor asked her to jump in, and seconds later, without even a hint of fear on her face, she simply jumped in, then rotated onto her back on command from the teacher. Her usual teacher was doing admin work that day at that pool, but he’s in the background of the video watching. When she eagerly jumps in, his whole face breaks out into a huge grin. Clearly, Chris and I are not the only ones proud of Kaia Pookie! 

I played the video several times and marveled over her bravery and eagerness in the water, and she’s not even three years old yet. I feel so happy and proud that she’s done so well with swim lessons so far and that she’s quite fearless overall. I was never as lucky as she was when I was her age to have swim lessons this young. I didn’t even learn to swim until I was 15, and to this day, I’m still terrified of open and/or deep water. In my summer swim classes I took after sophomore year, I never graduated from free-style swim strokes to diving. So I’ve never properly learned to dive either. Even though I didn’t have those things, I’m so happy to give Kaia the opportunity to have what I didn’t have. I can live vicariously through my baby. And I’m also grateful she has teachers who are clearly passionate about her achieving swimming mastery.