Bánh (Though Not Mì For Me)

New and noteworthy native Việt vittles.

Huế Emperors Tray.

Papa Rooster had an urge to stretch his legs and wings, and my suggestion to go for a nature walk didn't cut it for him - too cold for his old limbs, was his excuse. So we changed plans, and for an enrichment excursion for the parentals and an exploration for Sissy and me, we made a semi-impromptu stop at a new-to-us Vietnamese restaurant up near my and Sissy's long-ago stomping grounds instead: Bánh. I had heard of and read about it some time ago, just never had the chance to get over to try it.

Now, we are old school. We have lived in this city almost since the inception of a Vietnamese community here; we know most of the OG Viet folks of the first wave; Papa Rooster and Mama Hen were pillars in their time - among the first in their line of business. I grew up on Vietnamese food back when it was only available at home or in the homes of family friends. We were patrons of the FIRST Vietnamese restaurant in New York City - Phở Bằng in Chinatown, I think - from back in the '80s, and probably among the most frequent and loyal; Mama Hen worked late with Papa Rooster, and for most of the year, seven days a week, Sunday through Saturday, so Vietnamese restaurant takeout freed her from preparing that one meal for us from scratch (takeout and eating out are luxuries I take for granted now and employ regularly to ease some of the pressure of daily living; my dear Mama Hen back then - all those meals prepared from scratch, never a night away from her babies).

Bánh chưng chiên.

That's a long lead-in to say we are loyal to the old ways, the true ways, not easily impressed, and generally skeptical and cast critical palates on the new self-proclaimed Việt establishments muscling in to capitalize on the current mass market appeal of the cuisine. And we are generally downright suspicious of the eateries that pop up in neighborhoods where Vietnamese people don't go or congregate, which is most neighborhoods in New York City - Morningside Heights being a prime example, and the gentrified and gentrifying incarnation of Morningside Heights, moreso.

Xôi xéo.

So we were pleasantly surprised with our lunch. Not everything was exactly on point to Mama Hen's exceedingly high standards, but close enough, and absolutely respectable to these native taste buds. I think our favorite was the bánh chưng chiên, which I've only ever had at home or at my great-aunt's. It is my favorite Tết food (leftover Tết food, to be accurate - but one of those, like post-Thanksgiving sandwiches, that might be tastier than the original incarnation), so it's quite exciting to be able to get it through the year. And Bánh's version is far more crisp than we have ever managed to get it. Xôi xéo was another dish that doesn't generally appear on restaurant menus - a simple homestyle dish, but very tasty. And I've never even heard of bánh đập, so this was a nice introduction.

Bánh đập.

The Huế Emperors Tray and bún bò Huế were part of the Huế Emperor Weekend offerings - which I am guessing is one of the rotating themes that allows for some variation to the menu; they were tasty - less to say here as these dishes we are more accustomed to finding in restaurants. I'll be interested to see what other themes come into circulation, and would definitely be willing to make a trip back.

Bún bò Huế.

Nice to experience - like "Poor Yella Rednecks" last week - some newer, meritorious takes on familiar cultural terrain. Leave it to the young folk (and, yes, were they ever young; Papa Rooster kept remarking on the dewiness of the customers and staff, though he IS 86, so who isn't dewy in comparison - notwithstanding, the staff all spoke very fluent Vietnamese, which was a good sign of authenticity right off the bat) to revive the old ways with some fresh energy. It's good for us older people and out and out old fogies to stretch a little from time to time. (Side note: no physical menus - all QR codes, which I taught both Mama Hen and Papa Rooster to navigate successfully.)

Miracle of Light

Chanukah 2023 - that we would all follow the light.

On this first night of the holiday, I am wishing my Jewish friends a Happy Chanukah! (And treating myself to a doughnut in celebration! Not quite proper sufganiyot, but aligned in spirit.)

May the miracle of light through the dark that first manifested itself after a time of war, during the beginning of a period of restoration and stability and rededication, may that miracle of light spread in the form of understanding, empathy, compassion, and peace, unto all the Jewish people, and their neighbors, the world over.

These last two months have been just so distressing. The terrorist attacks by Hamas, then the bombardment by Israel that has wrought such utter and total destruction on Gaza, killing so many innocents and razing civilian infrastructure. And the extreme arguments and tensions on both sides - friends on one side or the other not seeing, unstable people across the country committing anti-Semitic or anti-Islamic assaults and murders. One wonders whether any celebrations are appropriate, let alone truly possible.

I am far from alone in feeling that. As an attempted antidote, one of my classmates put out a call for good things. And, so, what also happened this first night of Chanukah was that Sissy and I almost forgot that it is one of our grandmothers' death anniversaries (Mama Hen texted yesterday reminding us) - so we hadn't gone shopping for food offerings. But, but! - with the Christmas season in full swing, my workplace has been highlighting small businesses of underrepresented owners, including a women/minority owned rum cake baker who set up shop earlier this week outside the cafeteria - and (after sampling four flavors) I had bought one the other day and set it aside, saving it to share with the family this weekend. And, and! - with tonight being the first night of Chanukah, I picked up doughnuts for me and Sissy, and was disciplined enough not to have eaten THOSE yet. So I actually already HAD in my possession suitable offerings after all! (Ok, not the traditional fruit - I had already started eating the citrus fruits Sissy shared with me - or prepared dishes like what Mama Hen surely made for her altar offering.)

How often is it that being a casual observer/osmosis secular celebrant of other, majority religious rituals (yes, here in New York City I would say Jews have parity with Christians) that are not your own actually saves you and helps you to fulfill your own minority Confucian Buddhist religious observances?! (Interestingly, scrolling back through Instagram, I realized one of my past posts around this anniversary also appears to have a doughnut offering in the background, and alludes to a confluence of faith traditions - so maybe the Chinese and Jewish lunar calendars line up and this Bà Ngoại's giỗ oftentimes falls on the first night of Chanukah?!! I don't know if she ever had a doughnut in life, but she may be getting them regularly post-death, if that's the case, for a giỗ and yahrzeit seem to have lots of overlap  - I welcome aid from any corner to help me fulfill my filial duties.)

Reframe. Find the light. Move toward tolerance, find the good and universal, while staying true to yourself. May we all.

Community Chorales

Early December musical experiences.

This past weekend, in reverse chronological order.

Christmas decor, en route to Sunday dinner (cold weather comfort classics - French onion soup and a grilled cheese with tomato), post- ...

... Neighborhood Christmas tree lighting and caroling - my favorite annual Yorkville tradition.

It had rained most of Sunday, but stopped just in time. Almost like Mother Nature wanted to get into the holiday spirit, too.

And before that, last Friday, a play, with lots of music - a very Vietnamese-American story of a family who came through the same refugee camp (Fort Chaffee) as my own family. The complications of love, and family, and war.

Broadway and theater are so much richer reflecting all the people who make up our young country. To recognize the stories of your community presented publicly is quite a feeling.

Being seen, feeling embraced, by your neighbors, is wonderful. May we all experience that - the world over.

Cold Colors

Final colorful yield of the garden and trees.

Before we went away at the beginning of the month, we went leaf peeping so we wouldn't miss this season's colors; really, though, it was too early then, and the colors weren't quite vivid yet.

Came back and it was decidedly colder. Maybe it was just the marked contrast from Vietnam, where days hovered near 90F, and even at its "coldest" in the North, we were at about 65F; whichever, we set foot at JFK late the weekend before Thanksgiving and I very much appreciated my weeks-neglected jacket.

Post-Thanksgiving Friday, ahead of our past weekend freeze, I had every intention of bringing in the cold-intolerant plants (really, it probably should have happened at the 50F threshold, but I push my babies to their limits; maybe they'll grow more resilient?) - but, well, jetlag. I have managed to recover well enough to function during work hours, but my sleep cycle is all types of wonky - jetlag? perimenopause? mid-age insomnia? In any event, it wasn't until Saturday day, after a solid ~4 hours at 32F or just below, that the tropical plant babies finally came inside.

And the final fruit of the late-transplanted Mama Hen excess tomato seedlings, in whatever stage, were harvested - some clearly still green preemies, but some quite mature orange-gold.

And outside the Jardin, with the chills that set in while we were half a world away, the trees really came into their own.

October Connections

Late October connections with my fellow citizens, with my neighborhood, my family, Mother Earth, places through which we travel.

State Line Scenic Lookout near Alpine, New Jersey.

We made the most of our bonus late October pseudo-summer day.

We voted early (well, in my case, by absentee ballot - I had forgotten there would be early voting, and the new change in New York law - different from the COVID peak - requires using the absentee ballot if that was requested, one or the other method without optionality; I was turned away at the polling site when I tried to vote early, then went back to drop off the ballot). Go out and vote, especially if anything in this blog resonates!

Then Sis and I rewarded ourselves for our completed civic duties with brunch in the neighborhood - eggs Benedict Blue Mezze style for me, a veggie omelette for her. We may have eaten there once before, but not often, so it felt new. Love outdoor seating on a gorgeous day.

And, jealous of all the fall foliage photos by a certain photographer who's breezing through town waiting for a new deployment, and knowing my family will miss not only Election Day but the changing leaves, as well, with upcoming travel, I managed to rally the parentals and Lil' Bro and Sis to head to New Jersey for leaf peeping and forest bathing and recommuning with Mother Earth in one of her most beautiful seasons - yay for Autumn! 

Our tried and tested spot is just over the bridge in New Jersey, with a basically flat, paved path - hiking lite, very, very lite. Would I like a more adventurous hike? Sure. But I'll take what I can get, and stick with the band that I got.

Desperately trying to savor all the seasons, and time... 

...Papa Rooster didn't recall having been at that spot, though we've gone several times before. I don't know whether he remembered it by the end. But he enjoyed it, so that's a win.

Seasonality means relishing what is here in the moment, accepting that things change, that people change, that life marches ahead. That happens in all aspects. The leaves fall, and room is made for new ones after a bare Winter. (Likely I won't see the nomadic photographer this trip, or maybe ever, and I am becoming more readily ok with that - as I must. He, too, is focusing on his beloveds.)

And, since we were already headed in that direction to get home, we capitalized on already being in New Jersey and stopped in Fort Lee for a Korean dinner (the parentals like Korean) - a new-to-us small city, leading to a circumstance-selected restaurant that was fantastic! Kooksoo Noodles delivered (once we figured out how - tech-enabled screen selection - and what to order; rolling with the new waves...), and yielded for most of us leftovers for another meal.

A most wonderful way to spend an unexpectedly warm and sunny day. Almost perfect.

Micro Climate, Micro Harvest

Microclimate of a New York City terrace garden producing its final greens.

New York City is a heat island - its own little warmer ecosystem because of the concrete and density of the city. Trees, plants, gardens mitigate that heat island effect, to a degree, bringing the city closer to its natural state. My little terrace garden is often quite cooler in temperature than it is at street level, so I'm regularly reminded of its micro climate. But usually, I only sense it via short term temperature memory.

Today, though, it became visually evident, aurally, too. As I sat working, looking out at the sunny blue sky, I heard water, sounding like a leak from somewhere unseen. Flowing through the building pipes to signal the start of heat season? But it was too early for that; the heat's not due to come on for some weeks yet. Then I saw the accumulated drops on the windows and door, so I got up to see - and capture - the rain falling seemingly only over my (rather unkempt - hence why there hasn't been a wide view in awhile) terrace, with sunshine and bright blue skies a mere half block to the north. Just bizarre.

Well, as long as the weather patterns keep nourishing my little garden, that continues to produce, though less and less. There was still amaranth for a micro harvest yesterday...

... for amaranth rice - a spin on the more common spinach rice. 

It was topped with truffled salami that was too much for a charcuterie board from a gathering some months back. 

I don't usually eat meat anymore, but this was already purchased, and needs to be consumed at some point - we don't waste food in these parts; the animal already sacrificed itself, so best to honor that sacrifice. We are also all about quick and easy meals here. There's a time and place for food prepared with care and precision; evenings with long To Do lists are not those times.

Swan Song

Final kayak outing, accompanied by swans.

Last weekend turned out to be the last paddle of the season. Fittingly, it was graced by swan sightings.

One week ago was much like today - rainy; Sunday had promised to be better - merely cloudy, cooler and more windy than it had been, autumnal. With the mandate to remove all vessels and empty all lockers by today, and once the forecasters called today's rain, the task of moving the 3 kayaks and the canoe and all the accessories and equipment seemed less odious on the non-rainy Sunday, even if it meant losing a paddling day today if the weather turned good. Glad we made that decision.

But with the wind and choppy water, no one else wanted to go out. So it was just me, greedy for a final time this year on the water. It was a bit windy, but the rash guard helped there....

... And once I warmed up paddling, it wasn't bad at all. Visibility was clear to the Bronx.... 

And then there were the swans... 

... - only one caught here, as close as I dared come so as to not startle it.

And then paddling back, the cloud cover parted enough to cast some bright rays onto the bay. Lovely final outing.

Till next year on the water!