The Pa’akai We Bring at Clark Theater – the good, the bad, and the ugly with a toddler

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This late morning, after her swim class, Kaia was whisked off to the Clark Studio Theater at the Lincoln Center for her second-ever theater performance, The Pa’akai We Bring. Since she enjoyed her first theater performance just over a year ago that was very immersive and catered towards babies and young toddlers, I thought she’d enjoy another theater performance targeted at littles. Unfortunately, as soon as we entered the theater and I saw the regular tiered seating of chairs, I knew it was going to be hell. Because this theater performance definitely had a target audience of slightly older kids, probably elementary school age-plus, as opposed to babies and toddlers in Kaia’s age range. The description on the Lincoln Center site did not specify that, unfortunately. What 2-year-old child was going to sit still for an entire 60-minute theater performance? As soon as we walked in and I saw on the floor in front of the stage, Kaia immediately ran up onto the stage area and started jumping up and down. An assistant had to gently let me know that we weren’t allowed on the “stage” area. We were also supposed to meet my friends with their 1.5-plus-year-old, plus Kaia’s bestie who had recently moved to New Jersey and her mom.

My friends’ kid was quiet and sat almost the whole time. Kaia… did not. She sat quietly and watched whenever all the guitars and ukeleles came out, plus when the four performers sang in chorus. Other than that, she kept crying and yelling that she didn’t want to sit down, wanted to go home, and wanted to see her friend Jacob (who was sitting further back in the seating area). I had to take her out of the theater twice to get her to calm down and not ruin the performance for the others. At least she wasn’t the only kid crying or screaming; a number of parents were coming in and out to calm their own babies and toddlers. Needless to say, this was a bit hellish for me and I was waiting for the performance to be over. I’m sad to say that because the performers were very good — they sang well, and I liked the story line about introducing the cultural importance of salt in Hawaii. Kaia just couldn’t deal with the speaking scenes. Now, if only they had just played their string instruments the entire time and sang for 60 minutes straight, then maybe my rambunctious toddler would have sat still and watched…

You try to expose your child to culture and the arts at a young age, and this is how they repay you… with tantrums, as well as “Don’t ‘shhh’ me!” when you “shhh” them during the show…

Suma and Topa, coming then going

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It’s been a fun several weeks with Suma and Topa visiting. Kaia has loved having extra affectionate family close by every day, especially being able to have extra people to hug, kiss, pick her up, and play hide-and-seek with. Though she is surely becoming a little person with her distinct desires and opinions, she has loved having all the extra attention of her paternal grandparents. She has back and forth conversations with them and shows them things she can do that will “impress” them. I love watching Kaia shriek with delight and giggle endlessly when she successfully finds Topa during their repeat games of hide-and-seek. We’ve also found new cognitive abilities of Kaia during this visit, such as the fact that she’s actually able to understand when we ask her to fake an emotion, whether it’s laughing or crying. Then, she wants each of us to fake cry and asks us, one by one, to cry. It’s the cutest and most hilarious thing. Before these moments over the last couple of days, I wasn’t even sure her brain at this stage had developed enough to understand that, but clearly it has.

In addition to enjoying watching them all interact, it’s also been fun to spend time with Chris’s parents. I always tell my friends and anyone who will listen how lucky and fortunate I am to have a good relationship with my in-laws. They always appreciate the littlest things I do and are always thanking me and expressing gratitude. It’s taken a lot of adjusting to be used to it and accept it, but I do appreciate that they appreciate me.

Here’s something small and funny that happened in the last day: I was organizing some things in our bedroom (they sleep in our bed when they visit, and we sleep on the sofa bed in our living room), and I noticed that the tissue box was empty. So, I promptly replaced it with a new one from our closet. When they returned home for the day, Chris’s dad noticed it had been replaced, and he came up to me and thanked me for replacing the tissue box. I laughed and said that was silly — no need to thank me; I just wish he had told me it was empty sooner so that I could’ve replaced it earlier, as I had no idea it was all done. He said it really wasn’t a big deal; since he had been under the weather, he had just been collecting extra napkins from restaurants they’d been to and been using those!! It was completely ridiculous: replacing the tissue box or toilet paper is just a normal, household maintenance thing to do, guests or no guests. And it would be particularly embarrassing for me, as a host, to not replace tissue boxes for guests and instead expect them to use externally sourced tissues! His dad had expressed worry that he didn’t want to “deplete our supplies,” but I said that was completely crazy; these things were bought to be used!

But that’s what I mean when I say that Chris’s parents are always so appreciative and thankful, even for the smallest (and seemingly most ridiculous) things. They are truly good humans, always trying to do the right thing. It’s refreshing to be around; Chris and his brother have no idea how good they have it. They are leaving us for the next legs of their trip, heading to Malaga, Spain, then Verona, Italy, before heading back home to Melbourne. So we had to explain to Kaia before her nap that Suma and Topa were leaving, and she’d see them in a few months. She kind of/sort of understood they were leaving, as she kept insisting on hugs from them. But then, when she woke up from her nap, she acted as though nothing had happened or changed.

I’m always sad when they leave, especially now that Kaia is here. Because I know that a lot of time will pass before they are all able to enjoy each other again. But I suppose distance can make the heart grow fonder.

Little Egypt in Astoria, Queens

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Since I was in elementary school, I knew I wanted to live in New York City one day. The concrete jungle, tall buildings, bright lights, and endless people fascinated me every time I saw photos or videos of this cosmopolitan city. And now that I live here, there really is never a dull moment or day in New York City — if you are bored of this city, it is most definitely a “you” problem, not a problem with New York itself. And when it comes to the sheer variety of cuisines, there’s probably very few cities in the world that could come to compete with the number of cultures represented from a culinary standpoint against New York.

Years ago when I lived in Elmhurst, Queens, I ate at the very first (supposedly first, anyway) Egyptian restaurant that opened on Steinway Street in Astoria called Kabab Cafe. It was a total hole-in-the-wall, and when I went to eat there with my then-roommate and then-boyfriend, there was no menu: we simply told the chef-owner what we liked, and he whipped it all up for us on the spot. It was a little mysterious, fun, and delicious. It was a true eating adventure, especially since I had never had Egyptian food before. Since then, I’ve eaten at Mombar, another Egyptian restaurant completely outfitted in Egyptian textiles and decorations (all hand carted back by the owner and his family themselves) twice. And on Chris’s parents last full day in New York City this time around, we ate at Sabry’s, a cooked-to-order Egyptian seafood restaurant we’d been meaning to try.

Sabry’s was likely one of the most sumptuous meals we’d had in a while. We started with freshly steamed clams in a white wine sauce, plus a seafood soup with shrimp and calamari. We also ordered a mixed seafood tagine and a seabass barbecued Egyptian style (black!).

The first thing to come to our table was a big straw basket of piping hot Egyptian flatbreads, which could have been a side in itself. The breads are freshly made and baked on the premises, and the first bite was so hot and delicious that it took a lot of self-restraint to not fill up on this. A salad also arrived with our two starters. The clams were huge, fat, and juicy; the delicious clammy sauce it left behind could have been drunk up on its own with how flavorful it was. These were probably the fattest clams I’ve had in a while; I am still marveling over how large they were and wondering how they were sourced. Kaia especially loved the clams, eating about five of them all by herself, which surprised us since she’d never really had many bivalves previously. She also slurped up the lightness of the seafood soup and even ate some calamari.

The tagine came to the table with a separate plate of brown rice cooked in a rich seafood broth. The tomato sauce it was cooked it was very rich, brothy, and well spiced. While everything that came to our table was impressive, the sea bass is probably what blew me away the most: the server brought it piping hot to our table, served whole with the head and tail on, and it was BLACK! There was some sort of reddish spice paste slathered all over it. And when you cut the fish open, a beautiful, moist, meaty white flesh was revealed that was ultra luxurious. Kaia insisted she didn’t want fish when she saw it, but when I left it on her place mat, she eventually picked at it and gobbled her whole portion up, asking for more.

In addition, Chris’s parents had a freshly blended mango juice each, and Chris and I shared a “lemonade,” which really felt more like an Indian lime juice, which was a bit tart and very refreshing with the flavors of all the seafood we got to enjoy. It was an extremely memorable meal, one I hope we will revisit in the near future. Astoria has other fresh, made-to-order Egyptian seafood restaurants which are also on our list. That’s one of the most delicious things about New York City: even if you cannot afford to travel to places like Egypt, you probably can afford the $2.90 subway ride to a place like Little Egypt, Astoria, plus a full meal there to feel like you visited Egypt. The whole sea bass itself cost only $34, and honestly, it almost felt like robbery because of how high the quality was. I never stop marveling over how great and delicious this city is.

Oversized glasses case – Buy Nothing strikes again!

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Sometimes, I still can’t get over how helpful and genuine my neighbors are through my neighborhood Buy Nothing group. It’s almost like whenever you need something, anything, even a unicorn ask, someone somewhere in these boundaries will help you!

I remembered that I’d lost my oversized glasses case for my one pair of designer sunglasses last summer while we were in Baltimore. And with summer around the corner, I wanted to start wearing them again, but I always fear breaking them without a proper carrying case since the arms are so delicate. So I posted on the Buy Nothing group earlier this week to ask if anyone had a spare oversized sunglasses case to spare. Someone replied, saying that she was getting a new sunglasses delivery this week, and she never uses the cases and usually donates or tosses them. So she’d be happy to message me once her delivery arrived.

Well, she made due on her promise: she messaged me yesterday evening to let me know her glasses had arrived, and so whenever I was ready, I could come over to pick up a new sunglasses case. I went 14 blocks north to pick up the glasses today and thanked her for her generosity. And the bonus: these really were brand new! I put my sunglasses into the case, and they fit perfectly.

New Yorkers get a bad wrap, but I’ve always loved how kind and helpful people in this city are. I’m proud to call New York City my home.

The incorrect things our toddler says that warm my heart

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A year ago, when Kaia started saying fruit names correctly (from “bluey” to “blueberry,” from “manga” to “mango”), I couldn’t help but feel a little sad that her incorrect names for these fruits and vegetables would be a distant memory. It was just too adorable, and while I want her to mature and progress, I just had moments of sadness and wistfulness at the incorrect names. Now that she’s moving into full, complex sentences, I have the same feeling now, but for the sentence structures.

In the last few months, she loves to say to me when I come back from the gym, “Hi, Mummy-Dear! Did you have a good gym?” But this morning, she greeted me with, “Did you have a good workout?” I thought it was really sweet and cute, but I got sad that she didn’t say “have a good gym?” She did, though, ask Chris’s parents when they came back from Texas, “Did you have a good Texas?” which I still love. Whenever they leave the room she’s in, she says, “Are you going to Texas?”

Kaia is slowly but surely showing signs of potty training readiness, but she still isn’t quite there. She still doesn’t know how to pull her pants up and down fully and needs help. Sometimes, when she gets frustrated, I gently ask her, “Can you pull your pants down? Take your time.” And sometimes, when she doesn’t want to do it, she smiles and responds, “I want mummy pull your pants down.” She doesn’t mean she wants ME to pull my pants down, but she wants me to help HER pull her pants down. And when she said this today, I just grabbed her and squeezed her. Sometimes, I really just can’t get over her cuteness and sweetness.

“I love you SO MUCH, Pookie Pie!” I exclaimed, holding her close.

When she has to go to bed or out for her swimming class, she loves to make her rounds, giving each of us hugs and kisses, sometimes multiple times and circles, before saying “bye bye” to everyone. I just love how affectionate she is and hope she never stops being this cuddly.

Small-batch baking: lemon pistachio cake with lemon cream cheese frosting

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While I love cooking, baking was always my very first love. I still have fond, happy memories of being upstairs in my aunt’s kitchen, scooping out balls of cookie dough and placing them neatly on a baking sheet. I still remember the birthday cake she made me for my 5th birthday that was covered in a thick white frosting, dusted with rainbow sprinkles all over as I had requested. I sat there at the kitchen table and helped her mix and scoop the batter into the cake pan before baking… I also remember how my mom refused to let that cake be the centerpiece cake in the photos and pushed my rainbow sprinkled white cake off to the side in favor of this chocolate cake that I didn’t pick out or like. Yes, you have to remember the good with the bad.

Given that it’s just the three of us at home, and I don’t let Kaia indulge too much on sweets, there’s not too many mouths to bake for anymore. So when I get the opportunity to bake or feed more mouths, whether that’s because Chris’s parents are in town or we have friends coming over for a meal, I usually jump at the chance to bake something new. And I try to look for small batch bakes because I don’t necessarily need three or four dozen cookies, or to eat a cake for the next two weeks. For my father-in-law’s 71st birthday, I decided to make a cake that I thought of when thinking of Chris’s mom: a lemon pistachio cake with cream cheese frosting. It would be perfect because it’s a small batch cake, made in an 8×8 pan, as opposed to the 9-inch round monstrosity that was the orange olive oil cake from a few weeks ago that would require a small army to eat. This cake has toasted ground pistachios and lemon zest to give it a rich flavor, but it’s actually quite light and airy. It’s a moist sponge cake that pairs really nicely with a slightly sweet cream-cheese based frosting, with a little sugar, vanilla, and fresh lemon juice added to it. And what gives it its beautiful green hue is a secret ingredient: just a teaspoon of matcha!

This lemon pistachio cake was a beauty and a hit: both Chris’s parents had two generous slices each. There’s only three slices left for tomorrow. This cake was not only easy and quick to make, but also delicious and satisfying to look at and eat. I’m definitely making this again in the future!

British-style baked beans at home for Topa’s 71st birthday

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Since my college days, I’ve always been fascinated by recipes for dishes that we typically eat store-bought, whether it’s from a package at the supermarket or from a bakery. I like seeing recipes for things like Oreos, pop tarts, and even Goldfish crackers because they’re just nostalgic: they evoke a sense of childhood and, well, pure youthful ignorance of what kind of crap goes into the food you consume and ultimately put into your body. Why am I saying this? Well, if you are aware of the food industry, you will know that packaged food items that are shelf stable and meant to last a while, such as Oreos and pop tarts, are shelf stable because of all the preservatives and artificial ingredients that are added to it. And no, those things are typically not great for your health. So it’s always fun to see homemade “upgrades” of these foods.

I did not grow up with baked beans. During the times when I did have them, they were typically a side to barbecue, usually ribs or brisket. Chris’s dad’s daily breakfast while he’s back home in Melbourne is tinned British-style baked beans, usually out of a Cole’s brand can, mixed with some sambal oelek sauce for some heat, on top of toasted multigrain bread. That’s a very British breakfast, one that is 99.9999% of the time always from a can for Brits. So when I saw that Serious Eats posted a recipe for British-style baked beans, I thought it would be a nice treat for his birthday, to have fully homemade baked beans made from my Rancho Gordo eye of the goat heirloom beans.

I soaked the heirloom beans for four hours (for heirloom beans, they say to never soak them more than six hours). Then, I rinsed and simmered them for another three hours. Finally, I made the sauce, which is a base of diced tomatoes, apple cider vinegar, onions, fish sauce (as a sub for Worcestershire sauce, which I never have), garlic, brown sugar, bay leaves, and thyme. I blitzed it in my blender and added it to the pot of beans, then simmered it down until the sauce became a thick glaze. And the flavor was most definitely an elevated version of the canned British-style beans; it had this interesting, savory, sweet, tangy flavor, with a nice bite from the velvety eye of the goat beans. The flavor was complex, but still reminiscent of the tinned beans. I was pretty pleased with my final result.

British-style baked beans are nowhere as sweet as American-style baked beans. I even reduced the sugar in the Serious Eats recipe a bit to ensure they weren’t too sweet. And I think they came out perfectly. This recipe is definitely a keeper.

Mother’s Day 2024 at home

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Mother’s Day is one of those heavily commercialized holidays in the U.S. that businesses absolutely love. They love that people are willing to shell out extra money on things like overpriced (and over salted and buttered) meals, hand bags, flowers, and jewelry on the one day of the year they need to at least show that they care (even if they don’t) about their mothers. So in the weeks preceding Mother’s Day, you will constantly see ads everywhere outside and online for Mother’s Day sales and specials. If you don’t know Mother’s Day is approaching, then you truly must be living in a cave.

I’ve never liked all that hoopla because my general thought was always: mothers and fathers don’t need a day of appreciation; they need a lifetime of appreciation, expressed in small and large ways constantly. If Mother’s Day is the only day you choose to express appreciation for your mother (or the mother of your children), you probably deserve to die a slow and painful death.

Chris’s parents arrived on a very delayed flight back from San Antonio this morning, so I decided to prepare brunch at home for all of us. I made asparagus, goat cheese, and bacon frittata, vegan caesar salad with chopped walnuts and crispy chickpeas, and vegan chocolate chunk banana bread sweetened just with ripe bananas and ground dates. Chris fried some thick cut bacon from Paulus Farm Market that we picked up in Pennsylvania last weekend, and then toasted some thick slices of olive bread from Il Fornaretto Bakery. It was a tasty meal.

A few of my friends messaged to wish me a happy Mother’s Day and asked what I did. I told them I made brunch for the family, including Chris’s parents. And some responded, “You’re not supposed to be cooking on Mother’s Day! Leave that to Chris!”

He insisted he made the bacon and bread. He definitely did not make the bread. But my response here is: I love cooking, and thus cooking makes me happy. Plus, I’m a control freak, so honestly I’m not sure I would want Chris making me a frittata. Some things, if you want them to happen, you really just need to do yourself.

As for what Pookster did for me for Mother’s Day? She prepared a Happy Mother’s Day sign for me with her hand print on it in green paint at school. And at 6:30 this morning, I had an abrupt awakening when she decided to jump on top of my stomach while I was half asleep. Yes, it WAS a happy Mother’s Day from her!

Suma, Topa, and Kaia fun times

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I love watching Chris’s parents interact with Kaia. I love that they adore her so much and enjoy actively spending time interacting with her, whether that’s in person or via video calls. It’s the type of grandparent interaction I always hoped she would have. After our last trip to Melbourne, Kaia’s memory has been quite strong in remembering her Suma, Topa, and Shushu (Chris’s brother). She always mentions them and calls them out whenever she sees photos or videos of them. She also has associations with them, such as remembering that Suma played piano with her when she saw a piano in her Habbi Habbi book. In the same vein, it also annoys me (at least, when I actively think about it) how uninvolved my parents are with her. They have actively refused video calls. The one time we went to visit, they barely interacted with Kaia directly and had to be forced to hold her. It was embarrassing to witness. Yet somehow, they insist how much they love her and how she’s the most important thing to them (really). Kaia has zero memory or association with either of her maternal grandparents. While I think that’s sad and pathetic, there’s not much I can do about it.

Last weekend while we were traveling in Pennsylvania, Chris kept on trying to get Kaia to engage with sights on the streets and roads we were walking and driving on. He’d say things to Kaia, like, “What color is the car?” or “What animal is that?” And oftentimes, before Kaia had a chance to look or respond, Topa would eagerly respond with the correct answer. I found this absolutely hilarious. It was almost as though Chris were the adult, and Topa and Kaia were the pupils learning in class; Topa had reverted from a 70-year-old grown man to a 2-year-old toddler in just seconds! So eventually, Chris got frustrated with his dad constantly answering, so he yelled out, “What are you, 2?! The questions are for Hoji, not you!!”

Was Topa trying to help Kaia? Of course he was. But he wasn’t giving her enough time to respond, and sometimes, you have to give kids the time and space to grow, otherwise they won’t grow and mature. There’s always a fine line between helping your children and hindering their growth. And the line is always very different and grey depending on the situation. It’s something as parents you have to consciously and constantly navigate.

In-laws and their quirks: on steaming vs. ironing clothes

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Every time Chris’s parents come visit, I can inevitably expect the same usual exchanges and things to happen: Chris’s dad will do a full recount of their entire journey to get to us, including details about the lounges (and alcohol) they enjoyed, the food in flight and overall inflight service, movies he had watched, and how comfortable his seat/bed were. He will talk about the ride to our apartment from the airport and whether he had any chit chat with the Uber or taxi driver.

Chris’s mom will marvel over any food I had prepared for them and eagerly ask if she can help with the food or cleanup. She will then try her best to wash and clean up as many things as possible. And eventually, she will ask me if I have an iron… to which my answer is always… “No, but we have a steamer!”

Then, she will say her usual comments about how a steamer is okay, but it’s not enough. While a steamer is able to get out wrinkles, it isn’t able to iron on those nice lines/pleats that she likes on her pants (to which my Gen Y brain would immediately think, “Who cares or even sees your dumb lines on your pants? DO YOU EVEN SEE THEM WHEN YOU WALK?”

When we moved into this building, somehow, I could not locate where my iron went. So I discovered the magic of a small travel-sized steamer and have never gone back. It is quick to heat up, it de-wrinkles in seconds, and it’s light and easy to clean up and put away. I realized that none of my clothes ever required an iron or any “lines,” and all my summer clothes that required heat would be cured by a steamer. So I’m fully in Camp Steamer over Camp Iron.

So, every year, I chuckle to myself whenever Chris’s mom asks me about an iron. Because I always know the face she will make when I offer my steamer…