Evolution of closeness amongst friends as we get older

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When I was much younger, say during my K-12 years, “close” or “best” friends meant something much different than what they have meant in my 30s. Back in those days, close friends were those who spoke pretty much every single day, ate lunch together at school, and would hang out after school and/or during the weekends. I had a number of tumultuous relationships in my middle/high school days, one of which is with a friend who I still consider a friend today. I still remember one day, I came over to her house to hang out, and it had been a couple months since I had seen her outside of school. And she confronted me about it and said, “Do you think we’re actually still close? We’re not. You never hang out with me anymore.” I said I was there at that moment. That did not seem to help her hurt feelings.

Honestly, I can’t remember the reason we didn’t hang out for a few months. Part of it was I just didn’t make the effort. The other part of it was that during that time, I was in a romantic relationship with some idiot guy who didn’t deserve my time, and I was trying to make that work. And the other part of it was that I felt like she was just being overly difficult, and hanging out with her wasn’t as fun as before. But those are complicated teenage times when we had nothing else in our lives going on — no work, no bills to pay, no children to raise, no life goals to really hit. And thus, “closeness” cannot be defined the same anymore.

At most, I will see a friend once a month if they live in New York City. If they live somewhere else, I’m lucky to see them once a year. But that doesn’t necessarily mean we aren’t close anymore. Because we are still connected via text, calls/Zoom, and social media, we still are looped into what the other is up to. And when we do spend time together, we catch up and are comfortable as though no time has passed. And that’s really how I’ve gauged what “closeness” means at my current stage/age of life. It felt like that when my friend came on a side work trip to see me today. We spend a lot of time hanging out together, and even though she had to leave at 5:45am to catch her flight back home to San Francisco, we still stayed up late just talking about all kinds of random things. Some of those things were deep and sad, like my brother’s childhood and his passing, plus how that all informs how I want to parent now. Some were more frustrating life stage topics, like how my friend has noticed some of her child-free friends have seen her choice to have children as an inconvenience to them. But other things were just silly nothing-topics, like my peeling nails and skin on my fingertips because I was just too cheap and lazy to go to the salon to remove my gel polish. But regardless what the topic was, it just felt free and open and comfortable.

It takes a lot of time and investment to get to a stage with any person where you have this level of comfort. I’m lucky I can say that I have a small handful of friends where this feeling definitely rings true. Sure, we’ve had our good times and our bad, times when we’ve fundamentally disagreed with things we’ve done to each other or the respective person’s life choices. But at the end of the day, we all still love and respect each other regardless of how much time has passed since we last spoke or were in person together, and that’s ultimately what matters.

Peanut sesame candy

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Around Chinese New Year every year, my grandma used to buy a big plastic tray of togetherness with all the traditional Chinese sweets and candies that would bring in an auspicious year. While I always thought most of them were chalky and sickly sweet, occasionally, I did enjoy the candied coconut meat strips, as well as the red-and-gold-foiled candies that had a homey sweet flavor. One thing that we also had around Chinese New Year was a store-bought peanut-sesame candy, similar to peanut brittle. I see it all the time being sold around Lunar New Year in Chinatown today: It was always cut into long, thin, flat rectangles and individually wrapped. This was one Lunar New Year sweet I remembered eating and loving. The nuttiness paired with the slight sweetness from the caramelized sugar base was really addictive. Sometimes, the candy was made of just sesame seeds, while other times, it had a combination of peanuts and sesame seeds. I’m sure it’s one reason I had so many cavities at my first dentist appointment.

I was doing some research for my upcoming Lunar New Year lunch when I went to the Woks of Life website, one of my go-to sites for authentic Chinese recipes, and the feature recipe was for this exact candy – peanut sesame candy! I was floored. People actually MAKE this regularly around Lunar New Year? It only takes THREE ingredients? I was sold!

But me being me, I tweaked the recipe a bit, and I ended up mashing three different ones into the one I ended up using yesterday. And… it was a bit of a disaster. The rock sugar took ages to melt fully. The recipe said it would take only five minutes. I was standing there, stirring the pan for at least 40 minutes. And by the time the rock candy fully did melt, it seemed like the sugar had burnt a little. When I finally poured the candy mixture onto my silicone mat to roll out, it was a huge, sticky mess. I barely had enough time to roll it flat and cut it before it started hardening. I was not happy with the result. While the toastiness of the sesame seeds and peanuts came through well, Chris admitted that the candy had a slightly burnt aftertaste. This was just take 1.

Maybe, just maybe I should use regular granulated sugar and forgo the traditional rock sugar. That was a huge blocker in getting this recipe correct, as I spent too much time trying to melt the “rocks.” I will try again in the next week and see if I can perfect it so that I can have a nice, sweet Lunar New Year bowl of sweets to share next Saturday.

Stereotyping based on how I look

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The average person who looks at me will assume I’m Chinese. A more nuanced person might see that I actually look a bit Vietnamese. And when most people see my last name, they will know for sure that I am Chinese, at least partly. When others who are familiar with Vietnamese middle names see my first, middle, and last names, they will then know for sure that I must be Chinese-Vietnamese. That would be a very educated (and accurate) guess.

A few years ago, when I shared information with my wider team about my YouTube channel and Instagram handle for Yvonne meets Food, I scored a lot of new followers and subscribers on both platforms. A large number of my colleagues regularly look at my Instagram content every day. So when I was having a 1:1 chat with a colleague I don’t chat with much (and doesn’t follow me on Instagram), as she asked to speak about specific work related items, I was a little surprised when she ended the call with, “Hey! I haven’t forgotten about your food channel! Don’t forget to send me your chicken chow mein recipe! It’s my absolute favorite Chinese dish!”

The call ended so quickly that I barely had a chance to even respond to that other than nodding and saying bye. But it was such an annoying way to end. Here goes a White colleague stereotyping me regarding how I look and just assuming that all my content must be stereotypical Chinese dishes she’s aware of… like chicken chow mein, something I never order and cannot even remember the last time I ate. Why don’t I also just share with her my family’s top-secret recipes for General Tso’s chicken and beef with broccoli (hint: our family never made those dishes, much less ordered them at restaurants!). Maybe she will feel like she knows me and my culture even better then!

It would be nice if in 2024, I could chat with people who are from a culture different than mine and hope that they don’t stick me in a box, whether it’s regarding personality or food I eat/make, based on a white-gaze stereotype that they’ve contrived in their heads and need confirmation is actually “true.” I don’t exist to confirm harmful racial stereotypes other people have.

Matcha and mochi muffins in the mail

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A package came in the mail today with edible goodies from a friend today. My friend let me know it would be arriving early this week and was my belated birthday gift. When I opened the box, I was excited to see the contents: a large bag of roasted matcha powder and a box including half a dozen mochi muffins to bake from Third Culture Bakery in the Bay Area. My mouth immediately started salivating.

I’ve been pretty spoiled in the last year: I’d already traveled to three major tea producing countries of the world: India, Sri Lanka, and Japan. So, I have no shortage of tea that I’ve brought back from all three countries. But this roasted matcha was a little different. I always thought that hojicha was basically the same as roasted matcha, but hojicha can actually be any kind of roasted green tea, whereas this was strictly roasted matcha tea leaves ground up. Even after all my tea travel, tea factory visits, and tastings, I’m still learning new things about tea every day! I’m excited to whisk this up and enjoy.

Mummy and Pookster’s fun Sunday morning of cooking and eating

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Yesterday morning, Chris had to go out for a dentist appointment, so Pookster and I would be home together. Sunday is usually my vegetable cooking day, so I made sure to get her involved in the cooking and prep. Plus, I had defrosted the shrimp stock I got through my local Buy-Nothing group, as well as kabocha squash I had roasted before we left for Australia, and I wanted to use that to make kabocha squash soup. Kaia was involved in the full process, as she watched me saute all the vegetables for the soup base and simmer the stock. She watched with intrigue as I poured the hot mixture into the blender to fully puree. And as I poured the pureed soup into my Instant Pot to reheat and simmer, while adding some frozen coconut milk cubes, she asked, “Want some? Want some?” So I gave her a spoonful of soup, which she happily grabbed and shoved into her mouth. She then took it out of her mouth and handed it to me and said, “Mummy have some soup?” But then, she took the spoon back, still with a little soup in it, and ate the rest. She handed the spoon back to me, asking “More?”

At that point, I decided that she could just eat lunch while standing on her little step stool at our kitchen counter. It would change up the context of eating, and she was already enjoying herself so much since I was involving her in the full cooking process. Pookster proceeded to have three decent-sized helpings of kabocha squash soup, a massive amount of freshly blanched and lightly seasoned yu choy (you cai) greens, as well as a handful of Cheerios, which she happened to see on the counter. She decided to use that as “croutons” to add to her soup. Interesting. As she ate the soup, she kept on saying “yummy soup, yummy soup.” And as she got closer to the end of her bowl twice, she asked for “more?” And once she was done with the soup and moved onto her greens, she always indicated she wanted me to cut the long strands of yu choy into smaller, bite sized pieces, and told me whether she wanted the stem part or the leaf part… or both. She finished her lunch with blueberries and strawberries.

While Kaia is obviously tiring at this two-year-old stage, with her demands and stubbornness, as well as her full out toddler tantrums that result in her body being splayed out all over the floor in a silent (or loud) rage, enjoying these moments with her always is a reminder to me how fleeting each stage is. It is so sweet to see her caring side, like when she wants to offer me a taste of something she thinks is delicious. I also love that she’s always curious about what’s going on at heights she cannot always see, whether it’s at the kitchen counter or above the stove. I do hope that she will love and embrace cooking, as well, and not just want to outsource it to someone else. Sometimes when I am cooking with her, I am reminded of all the delicious things my grandma used to make that no one can quite recreate anymore since she’s gone, and none of her recipes were ever documented. They are only a distant memory to those of us who were privileged enough to try her pro-level Cantonese cooking.

Homemade chili oil, revisited

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We finished the mason jar of chili oil I had made months ago, and for whatever reason, I decided to put off making a new batch until the new year. Even though I was decently satisfied with the recipe I was using (which was a mash of three different other recipes I had found), I still wasn’t fully satisfied. But I got reminded of the chili oil need when we had a number of different chili oils during our December travels in Australia, and I thought they were standouts. One of the hot chili oils I loved the most was at Shandong Mama, one of my favorite little restaurants in Melbourne CBD. We had ordered dumplings and noodles for takeaway to eat at home, and they gave us some small containers of their house made chili oil. Even though the chili oil containers were small, the chili oil packed a huge punch; it was not only extremely flavorful and clearly infused with multiple spices, but it was HOT. I still think about how fragrant and flavorful it was now. I needed to find a way to recreate this “wow” factor in my own version.

So I started looking up other techniques to infuse more flavor, and I came across a recipe that required you to steep and simmer whole spices (whole Sichuanese peppercorns, cloves, cinnamon stick) for a full hour. This seemed a bit scary to me because I was scared the oil would burn after such a long time over heat. Then, after the hour was done, you’d strain the whole spices from the hot oil directly into a heat-proof bowl with your choice of chili flakes. I used a combination of ground Sichuanese peppercorns for the “ma la” numbing heat, regular red pepper flakes for heat, and Korean gochugaru for color and smoky flavor. Because I was scared of the oil burning, I turned off the heat periodically after checking the temperature with an instant-read thermometer and just let the oil sit with the whole spices steeped. When I tasted it a couple hours later, it seemed like it had a slight burnt after taste — this is when I took a small spoonful and put it directly in my mouth (I love doing this, though it’s advised not to…). But when I drizzled the oil on top of vegetables and dumplings this evening, I didn’t get the burnt after taste at all, and Chris thinks I’m being overly critical.

My main goal is to recreate the multi-dimensional flavor of the Shandong Mama hot chili oil. So, after this jar is done, I will continue on the chili oil perfecting quest.

Shellfish cooking class with political commentary and a white gaze

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Yesterday night, I attended a shellfish cooking class that Chris gifted me for Christmas in Little Italy. It’s funny for me to even say that it’s in “Little Italy” because it’s just about two blocks away from the main Chinatown area I always shop in. I came in a little early and was the only person who was carrying massive canvas bags that were clearly stuffed to the brim with groceries. The teacher looked excited to see that I went shopping.

“Oh, yes! It’s so great to get your shopping done down here! Did you check out Eataly and Despana?” she asked.

I told her that I actually was shopping in Chinatown, and she didn’t have much of a response to that. It was like she had zero awareness that the majority of this surrounding area is NOT actually Italian, but mostly Chinese.

That was the first hint of the “white gaze” that I got even before the class started. I’ve been in a class at this same cooking school with this instructor, and while she certainly is not my favorite teacher, I never knew her to be so political during her classes. She made a number of random jabs at former members of Trump’s cabinet while he was president, and while I got all of them and chuckled a few times, no one else really had much of a reaction. When she made a joke about how incompetent Betsy DeVos was and how it was clear no one was in public school in this class during her reign and I laughed, she looked at me, then around at the other students, and said, “Well, at least one person here has been paying attention to politics!” I didn’t really mind these comments, but I’d imagine other people who might not agree with her would be bothered and caught off guard by these words, especially since this was supposed to be a cooking class.

The annoying parts came when she was talking about the production and farming of some of these types of shellfish, and she made some very big assertions that for seafood like shrimp, we should be buying “only” American shrimp caught in the Gulf because “it’s the best,” and she also made comments about how all farmed shrimp is questionable and produced with the equivalent of slave labor. It seemed like such a pro-American, anti-everywhere else in the world comment, plus she occasionally knocked seafood farms in Asia. First of all, I don’t think that Gulf-caught shrimp would be the undisputed “best” shrimp option one can eat or buy; that sounds not only ignorant, but also just racist against other places that produce it. Secondly, if you really want to have a conversation about slave labor, does she honestly think that the people working in seafood farms and catching “the best” Gulf shrimp are all paid fair wages that would afford them comfortable lives…?

We also talked about the eating of things like mussels and clams. She said that it’s customary, when serving bivalves, to always give diners an empty bowl to put their shells in after they finish. She mentioned how if we were in a country like Vietnam, you could just throw your shells on the floor, and some worker would rush to sweep them all up for you. A number of people (my class was 70% white, with one Asian (me), one Latino guy, and one Black guy) were shocked when the teacher shared this.

“Why?” some of them asked, truly astonished.

“Well, it gives someone a job, so why not?” she said, with a bit of an eye roll. It sounded a bit judgmental, and also disparaging to the Vietnamese businesses in that country for doing this. She also did not give off the tone that she approved of this being a job.

In general, I dislike commentary like this because it is almost always said with a “white gaze” in mind, the notion that the Western or American way is better or “the best,” and it doesn’t factor in cultural nuances at all. Plenty of judgment could equally be made about what we consider suitable jobs here in this country, or how people in different service roles are paid: Why do we have “bus boys” when wait staff could easily clear and clean your table? Why the hell should “front of house staff” have higher wages than “back of house staff” or kitchen staff when the kitchen staff are actually the people preparing diners’ food — you know, the reason people are eating out?!

I highly doubt she would consider the idea that seafood farm practices in countries like New Zealand, Australia, or Finland would yield higher quality seafood than in U.S. surrounding waters, or pay higher wages. I also doubt this instructor has probably ever even visited Oceania to make the statement that Gulf-caught shrimp are the best, just as another point of comparison.

At some point of my life when I was younger, I’m sure I was one of those same smart asses who thought I knew a lot, or at least, way more than I actually did. I have since gradually relented, and now, I’m more eager to say that every day, I realize more and more how little I know as I learn more things (sounds ironic, but it isn’t). But I do try to be intentional about sharing what I know and caveating it, and I rarely will make a statement like, “gulf shrimp is the best in the world” unless I’m just being hyperbolic — the best, according to… her?

Manhattan Chinatown during the Lunar New Year period

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While I always enjoy any Chinatown visit in any city anywhere in the world, I always enjoy visiting Manhattan or Flushing Chinatown during the Lunar New Year period because it makes me happy and reminds me of home. I love seeing all the Lunar New Year flowers, tassels, red envelopes and decorations everywhere (even when I’ve never bought these things, the sheer sight of them gets me excited). I love seeing the different zodiac sign and its caricatures everywhere; this year, it’s the dragon, and there are so many beautiful pictures, signs, paintings, and red envelope designs with the dragon sign on them that you can purchase. It’s also fun to see all the seasonal specialties being sold at bakeries, whether it’s deep-fried sesame balls filled with red bean paste or black sesame paste, fa gao (these cupcake-sized mini sponge cakes that split on the top and are symbolic of good luck and prosperity), nian gao (sweet sticky rice cake usually topped with red dates and white sesame seeds), and all the “trays of togetherness,” — big, round trays filled with various Chinese candies, meant to bring in “sweetness” for the new year. Okay, I’ll be honest: those trays of togetherness are fun to see and are fun to present as gifts because they do appear quite grand. But ugh, I always was so sad when I was little, hoping one of the candy varieties would be something delicious; instead, they were mostly overly sweet, chalky, weirdly chewy things that I never understood anyone could actually enjoy eating. Instead, now I am seeing “updated” or “modern” trays of togetherness that are no longer plastic trays, but wooden trays, filled with homemade, handmade candies… and cost a small fortune. But hey, if you want high quality food and gifts (trays) that last, why not spend the money on these because it will help pave the way to good luck and prosperity for the new year!

This is the first year since… I can’t even remember, when I’ll be hosting a Lunar New Year meal once again, and I’m pretty excited. I’ve already outlined my menu, and I bought a good chunk of the ingredients I’d need for it tonight. That also meant it was like carrying bricks home on my back and shoulders this evening. And it’s not the last Chinatown haul needed, as I’ll need to make at least one more trip closer to the date for fresh produce closer to the date (February 17). But when you think of all the labor and time that goes into devising menus, outlining what ingredients you need to buy and from where, going out to actually get all the ingredients, then organizing everything and cooking, it is no wonder most people today forgo the entire home cooking effort and just outsource everything, whether it’s ordering all this food as takeaway and eating it at home, or just going out for a good new year meal. The sad part about all that, though, is that this means no one would be able to fully comprehend the love, effort, and skill that goes into making these very special dishes. And what is the fun in that?

2-year doctor’s visit

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I took Kaia to her 2-year doctor’s visit this afternoon. She always seems to know what’s happening. As soon as we entered the little office, she grew suspicious. As I was filling out some forms on her development and had the stroller facing away from me, she started silently crying. Another mom in the waiting room turned to me and said, “Is this your baby? She’s crying!”

I turned to look at her silently cry and then start moaning. She knew she was here to see the doctor, and she was NOT happy.

When we were cleared for an exam room, she got extremely fussy through the weight, length, and head circumference measurements, and then proceeded to repeat over and over, “wanna go home! Wanna go home!” She told me she wanted to get off the table, so I let her walk around the room barefoot, just in her diaper, as she gathered her clothes and futilely attempted to put them on. Then she said, “Help me! Help me!” I relented and let her put on her socks but nothing else so that the doctor could fully take a look at her. When the doctor finally came in, she tried to hide behind me and a chair so that the doctor couldn’t see her. But surprisingly, she cried the least during this visit in all her appointments in the last year. The only times she really melted down was when the doctor tried to open her mouth to see her teeth and throat, and of course, during the vaccine. And after her routine vaccination, she actually started waving bye to the medical assistants and the doctor. It was actually kind of cute.

The doctor had shared that at this stage, she’d actually be a little worried if Kaia were too welcoming and happy about being at the office. Kids her age are supposed to be suspicious of strangers, especially ones who poke and prod at them. And the fact that she gets the bad vibe as soon as we entered the office shows that she definitely remembers that the doctor’s office does NOT equal a fun place for her.

The good news is that Kaia’s head is still huge: she’s still in the 91st percentile for head circumference for her age; we do love her big head. She’s definitely getting taller, too, and is above average for height. But her weight gain dropped off, though they said it was normal for weight to slow down around 1.5-2 years, and it should pick back up again at her 2.5 year appointment. I should hope so; this child is ALWAYS eating! Where is the food even going…?!

The sad story of the shared chicken drumstick

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While I was away on my work trip last week, Chris decided to defrost some of the chicken drumsticks in our freezer and make a Malaysian-style curry. There weren’t a lot of drumsticks, so he decided to ration them out to make them last at least five days. So when I came back with Kaia after picking her up from daycare, he had prepared our dinner bowls, but only his bowl had a drumstick in it, and mine did not. Kaia had a drumstick with some chicken pieces torn off it on her dinner plate.

“How come there’s only one drum stick you warmed up?” I asked him.

“Well, I want to make the chicken last because there weren’t that many drumsticks and we don’t have that much (cooked) food left, so we can share one,” he responded.

I always thought that wherever we lived was always “food rich.” It doesn’t matter what point of time you are referring to: we usually have a freezer brimming with frozen meat, seafood, and vegetables, amongst other ingredients I use for cooking, whether it’s frozen cubes of stock, tomato onion masala, curry leaves, frozen shredded coconut or purple yam. I have from-scratch made sauces and pickled things in our fridge, plus plenty of fresh produce in the vegetable and fruit drawers. Some food in the freezer is ready to eat once you pop it into the oven for 25 minutes, while others (like my zongzi and banh chung from Chinatown) are ready after you steam them for 15-20 minutes. Our pantry is stocked well with plenty of dried noodles, pasta, mushrooms, and canned goods. But this chicken drumstick incident honestly seemed completely ridiculous and made me feel like we were extremely food poor. Where the hell had our life gone awry where two grown-ass adults living in a luxury apartment building in the middle of Manhattan were sharing a SINGLE chicken drumstick for dinner…?

I gave Chris some grief about this and shared my sentiments above. He proceeded to not get another drumstick. Instead, he simply took one small bite of the drumstick, then put it in my bowl. No, that did NOT make a difference with my sentiments.

This is what happens when I am not here to cook regularly. We end up with faux food rationing, and I cannot handle it. It’s a good thing I am back to take care of the food preparation in this house.