Yemeni coffee houses in New York City

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Several years ago, Chris and I were walking along Bedford Avenue in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, and we walked into Qahwah Coffee House. It’s a Yemeni coffee house originally from Dearborn, Michigan, and they take their coffee very, very seriously. There are endless types of beans and preparations available, and they also had delicious spiced milky tea options. The pastries and desserts on display looked sweet and appetizing, and the space was quite huge for a regular coffee shop in New York City. Since then, we’ve gone in there a number of times; they’ve also expanded and now have a location in the West Village. A few other Yemeni style coffee shops have since opened across the boroughs, and the latest one I am aware of is Haraz Coffee House. They have a location in Astoria, Queens, and a semi-new location on Spring Street in downtown Manhattan.

I went there to meet a friend on Friday for tea and dessert, and I was shocked at how big it was. There were endless seats and tables, mostly unoccupied at around 2pm. They had a really large selection of tea and coffee drinks, plus pastries and sweets. The service was fast and friendly. They had a restroom (yes!), and the Wi-Fi was complimentary. I had a quick Zoom meeting before my friend came to meet me, and we ordered the saffron adeni tea pot and the Dubai (pistachio) milk cake. The saffron tea was just like an Indian spiced chai, heavy on the saffron and cardamom, which I loved. The serving was quite generous and served beautifully on a big tray. And the milk cake was really soft, moist, bursting with pistachios and nutty goodness. My friend, who is a night owl, marveled over this place before we came, because she said that unlike most coffee shops, this spot actually stayed open until 11pm. I told her it was meant to be a Muslim meetup spot since Muslims traditionally do not drink alcohol, so bars would not be the go-to hangout spot. As we were leaving, the coffee house filled up, but it was a comfortable, clean, and fun place to hang out for a few hours. And as a bonus, I never felt like someone was going to come and rush me out.

I could definitely get used to these types of coffee spots opening all over New York. It’s nice to have a coffee shop that has ample seating and isn’t just a to-go counter.

Toddler cuteness elicits freebies and kindnesses everywhere we go

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The very rare times I encounter rude people in public, whether it’s on the streets or on the subway while with Kaia, I always quickly remind myself that those rude moments, those annoying, un-empathetic people, are the exception to the rule. The vast majority of the time, people are neutral to friendly to over the top kind. Once last week, Chris forgot to refill our OMNY card for the week, and I didn’t realize this. When I take her through the turnstiles, I usually have Kaia duck her head and go under the turnstile, and then I quickly tap to enter. But given the OMNY card wasn’t refilled, it gave me a red error message and said that I could not go through. I immediately realized the card wasn’t topped up, and given Kaia was standing all by herself on the other side of the turnstiles waiting for me, I got nervous she would run off and didn’t feel comfortable going out to look for an OMNY refill kiosk. So I just tapped my phone to pay for a swipe and entered. But that entire time, Kaia realized something was wrong. Instead of running off, she just kept peering over at me, saying several times, “What happened? What’s wrong? It’s not working.” And that whole time, a caring woman inside the station, who had observed the whole situation, lightly hovered over Kaia to protect her and make sure she did not run away from me.

Another day on the subway to school, the train was packed. Kaia wanted to sit on an open middle seat. Both men in the two surrounding seats got up and asked me to sit. I told both of them thank you, but that wasn’t necessarily, and I certainly did NOT need two seats for myself!

Another toddler tantrum occurred just a block away from our apartment earlier this week. Kaia sat on the ground and refused to walk. She said she wanted chocolate and that she was “too tired” to walk. I tried every threat and bribe I could think of over five minutes, but she would not yield. Another kind woman came up to us, clearly coming back home from work, and said hi to Kaia, and suggested that she go home with her. When she tried to pick Kaia up, Kaia screamed and yelled. But eventually, Kaia got up and started walking with me.

I guess in some ways, you could say that these total strangers, these fellow New Yorkers, are like the extended “village” that Chris, Kaia, and I have. We don’t know each other. We likely would never recognize the other if our paths crossed again. But at the end of the day, we’re all people just trying to live our lives to the best of our ability, and that means just being kind when we can to others, even if we don’t know each other. I always think of these moments when people joke or actually say that New Yorkers are rude or mean, or that people must just be out for themselves in this concrete jungle.

Today, while we were out exploring another part of Forest Hills we haven’t seen before, we popped into an Italian bakery so that Chris could try one of their hot cross buns. Like many Italian bakeries, this bakery had a huge spread of beautiful cookies that you could buy and pay for by the weight — it ranged from rainbow cookies, jam-thumb print cookies, to biscotti and the related. Kaia got excited when she saw all the cookies and declared she wanted some. Chris did not take well to this and said, “No cookies,” and walked out with his hot cross bun. Kaia was unhappy and started whining. The woman behind the counter, taking pity on Kaia, told Kaia that she could pick which cookie she liked best, and she would get one. Kaia chose the black and white checkerboard cookie, and when I reached into my wallet to pay, the woman insisted it was on the house. “It’s for sweet baby,” she insisted. “No money needed! I just want to make her happy!”

I wonder when the “toddler/young child cuteness yields free stuff” will end, and when Kaia’s freebies and constant acts of kindness on the part of strangers will end. I hope the latter never ends for her, regardless of her age or the chubbiness of her face.

“Startling” laugh

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I was out at a Yemeni cafe having saffron adeni tea and Dubai milk cake with a friend, when out of nowhere she said that she “has gotten used to” my laugh. I wasn’t sure what to say about this and waited for her to continue. “When I first met you and heard it, I found it a bit startling,” she said. “But now it just blends in and I anticipate it now!” I kind of chuckled at this when she said it because I wasn’t sure whether she was saying a good thing or a bad thing.

I told her that I’ve always had a loud laugh, and that in general, people either love or hate it, and if they hate it, chances are high that we won’t get along or be friends. I’m not really one of those Asian women who, stereotypically as Chris always half jokes, “covers their mouth and goes ‘heeheehee!'” really lightly. People should live their lives as their full selves without abandon. And if you cannot laugh comfortably or fully, I”m not really sure you are fun enough for me to want to be around.

This comment, for some reason, reminded me of my one of my best friends from childhood, who is now living here in New York City. I think that if there is just one thing I love about her, aside from her general personality, it’s her laugh. When she is really laughing and finds something extremely funny, her laugh is the loudest, most boisterous thing in the world. She has a laugh that almost makes you want to laugh along with her, even if you don’t find said topic funny. And so when we’re together laughing nonstop about something, I always notice that there is at least one or two tables around us (assuming we’re at a restaurant or bar) that will turn around and look at us. I’ve never gotten self conscious about it or seen that as a way to police us. If anything, I’ve always looked at it as: we’re just here having a good time. And if that bothers you in some way, then the problem is clearly you and not us. Who gets annoyed at other people having a good time in their own respective space?

Persian Adasi (lentil) stew

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While still on my Persian cooking kick, I decided to also make some Persian style lentils, also known as adasi (lentils) stew. I soaked some brown lentils overnight, chopped up onions and garlic, and then simply used turmeric, cumin, and cinnamon to spice the lentils and simmered them for about 45 minutes. And when I seasoned and did a taste test, I just thought… wow. This is so warm and hearty tasting, and there’s no animal product in it at all. And though turmeric, cumin, and cinnamon are all spices that cross both Persian and Indian cultures, the resulting flavor is so, so different than any Indian dal you would ever eat, home cooked or at a restaurant. I was texting this with my Persian friend, who also agreed how interesting it was, while also nothing that at one time, they are all one empire. Then, they broke off and developed their own techniques and ways of cooking that are slightly the same, yet different.

I occasionally still meet people who are anti beans, who think beans are gross, give you gas, and should be avoided. I really think that if they had a lentil stew like this Persian version that they would be hard pressed to say it was revolting.

Persian cooking

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Given that we are now officially in spring, the Persian New Year, aka, Nowruz, has also come. At my last company, I made a Persian friend who was on my team, who also loved food. We spent a lot of time talking about food, different cultural traditions, and the first time we met, the two of us were actually charged with preparing food for two days for my team’s offsite at a semi-remote house in Northern California. The more she talked about Persian food, the more I started reading about it and got into it. And so I started experimenting more with Persian dishes like Persian lentils, rice, chicken and fish. I was amazed at how much saffron can be used in Persian cooking, as I’d never really known what to do with saffron before Persian or Indian cooking. I’d bought a number of small bottles of it from Costco, during travels in India, and had been gifted them by Chris’s mom. But given that saffron is actually more expensive by weight than diamonds, I always used it sparingly.

This week, in light of Nowruz, I made Persian sabzi polo, or Persian herbed rice with tahdig, or crispy bottomed rice, as well as slow-cooked salmon with herbs and spices. I had bought a massive amount of cilantro, parsley, dill, and scallions just for these two dishes. And as Chris watched me chop up a bunch of herbs, he looks at all the greens across the kitchen counter and goes, “We can’t eat herbs!” He meant we couldn’t *just* eat herbs for dinner, but because he said that sentence so slowly and didn’t say much after that, he made it sound like herbs were inedible. I reminded him how lucky he is to have such a varied diet with all my creative cooking even when he randomly forgets that yes, herbs actually are edible, to which he responded, “I give you a varied diet by taking you all over the freaking world!” Talk about men who don’t seem to take feedback well…

Grown men who cannot handle direct feedback are an embarrassment to society

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One of the things that I have always struggled with is confrontation. I don’t necessarily mean about really big, deal-breaker things, but I mean about sharing any type of “constructive feedback” to people that is ultimately not a compliment. You never know how they are going to receive the feedback. You never know if they will really understand or hear, even if you state it, that your intentions are positive, and you just want them to be the best version of themselves. Oftentimes, people will hear constructive feedback as a personal attack or a tear-down of who they are, take it really personally, get defensive, and just shut down. I think we’ve all been there, and it never feels good. But as I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized exactly how important it is to be honest and forth right about constructive feedback, even when it’s difficult. It benefits the relationship in the long run. It’s transparent. It’s not passive aggressive. It’s direct. We ALL need to work on being more direct with each other, while also not being total assholes.

On my team, we actually had a “taking and giving feedback” session at our offsite last month. It was very introspective, and it was also a practice in… just being a damn adult. But it probably was needed because like most organizations, our company is full of people who clearly cannot handle getting feedback from their colleagues. A colleague of mine who I’ve worked with for over 4.5 years was sending me really passive aggressive Slack messages yesterday. He was insinuating that an email I had sent to a customer was going out of my swim lane and that he was “concerned” that I was not aligned with him on roles and responsibilities. I re-read his messages a few times, compared it to the benign, friendly email thread I had with the customer, and felt very confused. He was clearly overreacting, and I have a feeling it’s because of pressure on him to hit his number this year as a sales person, especially since he missed it last year. So I very directly told him over Slack that I found his commentary counterproductive, that I had done nothing out of bounds, that my manager was aligned with my approach, and I would appreciate it he could get on a call with me to talk this through.

Instead of looking back on what he said and reflecting on our interaction and wondering why I would react this way, he instead shut me down and said, “If you don’t like my approach, then you can talk to (your manager), who can talk to (my manager), who can then address it with me. I’d like to avoid this type of confrontation in the future. Thanks.” He also made excuses about being “too busy” to get on a five minute call with me for the rest of the week.

The way I read that message from his side is: I’m a late 40s/early 50s-year hold grown man who is incapable of receiving direct feedback from peers or being introspective at all about areas where I could potentially be wrong. I would prefer that you tattle on me to your mommy, who can then discuss with my mommy, and then my mommy can determine whether I get a punishment or not.

I responded with, “I think that after 4.5 years of working together and given that we’re both adults that we should be comfortable enough to give each other direct feedback. If that is not the case, then clearly there is a disconnect between us.”

Work doesn’t have to be awful if your colleagues aren’t awful. But it’s in moments like this where I wonder how people get older and never really grow up?

“This is what it’s like to live”

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Unlike most Mondays, today I went to my SoHo coworking space. I was thinking about doing it anyway since I realized I had one March credit I had to use (I get four credits per month; it’s use-it-or-lose-it), and I want to use whatever perks I can get value out of from work as much as possible. But when a Brooklyn friend said she was taking Monday off and suggested we have lunch together, I decided it would be a good idea to meet semi-half way and meet up in Chinatown. We met up at one of my favorite Malaysian spots, Kopitiam, which she’d never been to before but loved (it’s an easy place to love; I have not brought a single person here who did not like it). Since my work schedule was relatively light, we enjoyed char kway teow, pandan chicken, fried duck tongues, Malaysian style French toast, lychee bandung, and iced Milo over two hours worth of chatter.

I told Chris what we ate, and in his usual snark, he made comments about what a busy work day I had and, “That sounds like a very luxurious Monday lunch!” If there is one thing I can never complain about with my current job, it’s the level of ownership I have over my schedule, as well as the flexibility I have to work wherever I want. I’ve had three managers now over the last almost five years, and every single one of them has agreed on the philosophy of: just get your work done, and no one will bother you about when/whether you are online.

It made me think about my neighbor I saw yesterday, who works as a doctor and is originally from Turkey. Her husband is French from France, and they both sound like they have very intense jobs. After their toddler goes to sleep at night, they both have to be back on their computers doing work and emails. She lamented how grueling it is, especially when she has to prepare all of her son’s school meals. It gets really tiring since she’s in the office five days a week, and her husband is in the office at least three days a week. So when she’s doing food prep for the week on Sunday, it’s almost like battling for time because it’s either she makes food OR she spends time with her son. He’s only engaged in the cooking if they’re making cookies, she said with a smile. The few weeks they go back to France or Amsterdam or somewhere where they have family, her parents will come up from Turkey and siblings will come from other European countries, and they will spend quality time together, 100 percent away from work. The kids will play and have fun together, and they will actually relax. She mentioned how it felt like, “All we seem to do here in America as foreigners is work, work, work. It’s so expensive here, so we don’t have a choice but to work around the clock. And so it almost feels like the only time we really get to enjoy life is when we take these trips together and spend quality time as a (wider) family. These are the times when it’s like a reminder to us: this is what it’s like to really live.”

Sometimes, I wonder if the last 17 years of working has really brought me any actual meaning into my life. I haven’t worked to increase equality in the world. I don’t save lives. I’m not researching cures for cancer or Alzheimer’s. I’m not trying to eradicate fake news and educate the masses. I basically have worked for a bunch of for-profit companies where at the end of the day, I’ve worked hard (well, most of the time) to make rich, mostly White people even richer. But then I realize… I have it really, really good. I met my life partner, husband, and father to my Kaia Pookie through work. I’ve met so many good friends and genuinely good hearted people across all the companies I’ve worked at. And I’ve also had a level of work flexibility that most people I know completely envy and wish they had. Life, I suppose, is all about give and take.

Building play date with a new friend and neighbor

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Just over a month ago, we were in our building pool with Kaia when we met another neighbor, a woman with her toddler aged son, who is about 4-5 months younger than Kaia. We made some small talk, and she suggested that we do a play date since we’re right in the same building. I left my name and number with the lifeguard (since she didn’t have her phone with her), and we went on our way. I didn’t think much of it, but as usual, hoped for the best.

I’ve tried to arrange play dates/meetups with several parents and their children who are near in age to Kaia. For the most part, it has not worked out. One dad, who was very kind and who I liked — he actually was proactive and texted me for a play date. But we quickly realized that his son was pretty aggressive and did NOT like Kaia. So, that fizzled out really quickly. Everyone else has always said they’d reach out for a play date… it’s never happened. It’s always been me, texting to ask, and then getting rejected. What is also common is that we’ll happen to pass by each other somewhere in the building, and they’ll make some empty comment like, “let’s do a play date when you’re free!” And then never, ever follow up on it. Then, you add the fact that most parents at Kaia’s school rarely want to interact with me in the corridor (one dad was shocked I remembered his name. He still can never remember my name), and they’re oftentimes just glued to their phones until the doors open for drop-off or pick-up. Becoming a parent in New York City has certainly NOT opened the doors to new-friends-making, unfortunately. This is especially annoying to think about when I hear about my friends in Long Island or San Francisco, and they say they hang out regularly with the parents of their kids’ friends, even when the kids aren’t there! I can’t help but be a bit envious and wonder why it doesn’t seem as easy for me here.

Well, the neighbor did message me! We ended up having a brief play date (derailed, as per usual, by a nap that went awry) today in the play room and lounge rooms. And we had a pretty nice conversation that was a little bit about everything: New York, how we met our spouses, cultural nuances, parents, parenting styles, cooking, toddler recipes and habits, travel, work, kids, our road to kids (IVF for both, and she’s even a fertility doctor, aka a reproductive endocrinologist!). She was also just very polite and thanked me at the end for always pronouncing her name correctly (she is Turkish from Turkey). She seemed to enjoy our time together and suggested we meet up again once they are back from some spring break travels. We’ve already organized our next play date once they are back. And she suggested that once the roof deck opens up that we all meet up with our spouses for food and drinks on a warm day.

It’s funny being in my late 30s now and seeing how I jive with other “potential” friends. It’s almost like dating, but for friends. You never know if you are going to get along with someone and “click,” and even if you think you both do, they could have a totally different opinion and either never want to see you again or just do the dick thing of simply ghosting you.

So, if I get lucky, maybe I will finally have a real building friend after living in this building for almost eight years now!

A non-rushed meal after your friends come 45 minutes late to the restaurant

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A few days ago, I complained about rushed meals and service at restaurants since the pandemic. For the most part, that always seems to happen to me when I’m with a (female) friend somewhere in Manhattan. It’s usually a semi-trendy or relatively new restaurant. There’s rarely a wait, but the restaurant feels a need to kick us out at the 9-minute mark for a party of 2. When I told Chris this, he said he never felt that pressure while we’d be out together; and yes, he’s actually right. When we’ve gone out on the weekends, mostly Saturdays, with Kaia, this has never, even once, happened to us. We’ve never gotten told when seated that we only had x amount of time. We’ve never been rushed to leave when we finish our meal and get the bill. It seems to happen when it’s just a friend and me. Does this mean that women friends are getting targeted to get out of restaurants? Or was this just a Manhattan trendy restaurant thing?

Well, today I got worried because I made a 1pm reservation at a Georgian restaurant in Brooklyn Heights to meet with two of our friends. They ended up running very late because my friend confused the booking time for later. So they showed up 45 minutes after my reservation time. We were, understandably, annoyed, but what I was actually concerned about, other than Kaia being able to sit in a high chair for that long, was whether the restaurant would get mad at us and rush our meal.

It never happened. The service was gracious. In that time, our server finished his shift and our table went to another server. That server ended up being very friendly and accommodating, and he never once told us we had x amount of time left or had to leave after a certain time. I was pleasantly surprised and felt pretty relieved in the end. I’ve come to the conclusion that the rushed restaurant situation happens when a) it’s in Manhattan), b) it’s at a semi new or trendy restaurant, and c) when it’s just a girlfriend and me. Of course, it’s annoying, but nothing can really be done about it.

Crispy bottomed guo tie / potstickers in New York City

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When I first moved to New York City almost 17 years ago, my cousin had already pre-discovered a high quality, local dumpling shop for me in my then new neighborhood of Elmhurst, Queens. It was called Lao Bei Fang and was on a side street along the main Broadway drag of Elmhurst, in an area that you could easily consider like a mini Chinatown. Back then in 2008, the owner hand-pulled almost all the noodles that were sold; he also hand rolled all the dumpling skins while his wife and helper filled them with meat and vegetable fillings. When I’d go during off times, I could get lucky and enjoy my hand pulled noodles or crispy bottomed potstickers while listening to him sing random Chinese operatic songs. The fried dumplings, aka potstickers, aka guo tie, were always perfect: they were crispy bottomed, perfectly steamed, and had juicy, rich fillings, stuffed to the brim. And I still cannot believe how cheap they were: back then, you could get four fat, stuffed, juicy dumplings for just $1! Eventually, they raised the price by a quarter, then two quarters. I’m not sure what they are charging now.

Since then, they’ve gained notoriety throughout New York City. Even tourists go there now. They had to keep up with demand and their growing business, so they started hiring more staff and grew out of their hole-in-the-wall on Whitney Avenue and moved into a much larger, more spacious restaurant along the main Broadway strip. And that, sadly, is when the quality notably declined. Once, I went and got fried dumplings that barely had a crispy bottom and were borderline cold. The noodles were irregular and almost gummy. The owner was nowhere to be seen. My favorite dumpling/hand pulled noodle place had changed forever.

At that point, I wasn’t sure what my reliable hand-pulled noodle/dumpling spot would be. I’ve found a few places in Manhattan Chinatown and Brooklyn Chinatown that do reliable steamed/boiled dumplings and hand pulled noodles. But I have yet to find a really good crispy bottomed guo tie/dumpling spot. There’s a divey spot under the Manhattan Bridge called Fu Zhou Wei Zhong Wei Jia Xiang Feng Wei, and that’s it. There are so many dumpling spots in New York City, almost too many to keep track of, but not all of them are going to have the same crisp and glory that Lao Bei Fang once had for me.