Happy Thanksgiving!

This is what out dinner table looks like tonight:


At this point, our tradition is to substitute hotpot for turkey.


I hope you all have a wonderful holiday, with family and friends and much to be thankful for!

A Turkey-less Asian Thanksgiving

I read in the news that the President pardoned a pair of turkeys who would otherwise have landed on the White House dinner table tonight. Well, in an Asian household, we don't really eat turkey to begin with (my mom doesn't like the taste, and neither do all the other Chinese moms). Instead, this is what our Thanksgiving feast looked like:

Hotpot! It was delicious. Here's a picture of the pot itself:

The things floating in the soup are fishballs (the white ones), meatballs (the brown ones) and tofu cubes. The submerged orange things are pumpkin cubes.

I never quite appreciated being home for the holidays until I found myself eating dining hall turkey in college over Thanksgiving. It wasn't too bad, especially since I had friends whose folks lived too far away for them to celebrate Thanksgiving at home, but there's nothing quite like being home with the family. And having tasty hotpot.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

If I Used Twitter...

... I'd post this gem from last night:

Nutella is the spice of life. If I had to choose between variety and Nutella, I'd pick Nutella.

Words to live by -- a direct quotation from my sister, who loves food. (Seriously, she once said that if she were on Twitter, her handle would be something like "ilovefood".)

Today

was wonderful and quintessentially New York -- the sort of day that makes me enormously thankful to live in such a vibrant, diverse city full of old friends and affable strangers. I don't mean to turn this blog into a series of diary entries -- that would seem rather self-indulgent -- but today was full of sights and sounds and people that I want to remember.

It began with brunch with a dear friend who is returning to the city after college, a relocation for which I'm grateful because I've missed her these few years. We go back a long time; we played together as children, went to the same elementary school and Chinese school, and have seen each other through our best and worst moments ever after.

We ate at a Greek place in our neighborhood in Queens; we've been coming here once or twice a year since high school. I had an excellent crêpe and we caught up on each other's lives -- we talked about work and friends and our grand ambitions in life. She's one of the few people with whom I discuss the latter topic; despite pursuing radically different fields, we have similarly coherent and somewhat lofty visions of the future. Kindred spirits, I'd say.

After brunch, I met up with a college friend in Manhattan. On the way there, I spotted a group of people in 1920s garb:

There seem to be a number of Jazz Age-themed events going on this summer, even more so than usual (likely prompted by the recent The Great Gatsby film). I was reminded of the Gatsby party I attended in May -- exactly a month ago, as it happens -- which was an industry event hosted by Fitzgerald's publisher and included a costume contest. (I dressed up but didn't win; there were some truly spectacular costumes!)

So I got bubble tea in Chinatown with my friend (it seems like I have quite a few moments that involve bubble tea...). He's a Californian who moved to New York a few months ago, whom I didn't realize was in town until I bumped into him at an alumni event on Monday! He was a few years ahead of me in school and we'd lost touch for a while after he graduated, but he's now working at a start-up in Silicon Alley and lives downtown. 

We met up with one of his friends in Central Park, who was hanging out on the lawn with a few other people we didn't know. It was a gathering of, at least from my perspective, friends and strangers connected to each other by a few tenuous degrees of separation. Though it seems unlikely that I'll encounter these people again -- and in a few months I would be hard-pressed to even recognize them on the street -- for an hour or so, we shared a blanket, a conversation, a patch of sunlight in the Park -- a tiny slice of New York.

At one point, there was a moment of silence -- a completely natural, contented lull in the conversation. We watched a group of small children chase each other around on the lawn, and soon observed that they were all following one small boy who held aloft some sort of styrofoam disc. I was distinctly reminded of The Lord of the Flies -- it was an uncanny analogue of the conch! I said as much to the others, and we had an entertaining few minutes trying to spot the Piggy of the group.

Our group splintered apart in twos and threes. My friend and I wandered through Central Park conversing and taking in the sights and sounds of summer. We stumbled upon a guitarist/vocalist duo performing in front of the lake (with a very professional sound system) and sat in the grass for a few songs. We found a large, fenced-off section of road where people were rollerskating in circles around a rock band which had set up in the middle of the walkway. There was a chalked-off section next to the band where people were dancing, and so we ended up swing-dancing to live music in the middle of a roller derby! (My friend is, incidentally, an excellent dancer; it's a shame we didn't overlap at school for longer.) We also happened upon trio of busking musicians consisting of two drummers and a bagpiper:

The snare drum (obscured in this photo by the man in black), the djembe, the bongos, and the bagpipes seem like a highly unlikely combination (especially the bagpipes!) but they work surprisingly well together. It was a perfect microcosm of the diversity and cooperative spirit of this extraordinary city. (My friend got their card, afterwards; apparently they have a website.)

We then got coffee with a third friend, another Stanford alumnus making his way in New York. We only had an hour, but it was an hour well-spent: a potent reminder that even in this bustling, hectic place, we make time for each other because it's the small moments as much as the grand gestures that comprise any human understanding.

We had dinner near his apartment in Greenwich Village with his roommate. We tried an American restaurant she suggested, and passed a merry hour or two getting to know each other. She's an architect from Hawai'i, so naturally I broached the question of whether she can play the ukulele! (Passably, was the answer.) My friend plays the guitar and also, to a lesser extent, the ukulele, so we're going to play for each other sometime. (I didn't know this about him until today.)

And then we went our separate ways, the two of them to catch a film in the Village, and I to the F train headed into Queens. I spent a quiet hour reading on the subway, with the rumble of the train and a dozen indistinct conversations in the background. In Queens, I stopped by my favorite neighborhood bakery to buy a cake for Father's Day tomorrow.

All in all, it was a lovely day in the City. Here's to more such days in the future.

The Rise of Agriculture: the Worst Mistake in Human History?

I recently found this article by Jared Diamond, a scholar and writer I admire (famously the author of Guns, Germs, and Steel):
http://www.ditext.com/diamond/mistake.html

It's an excellent piece, and not too long, so you should read it for yourself! The gist of it is: structured, populous (agrarian) societies naturally develop lopsided hierarchies, putting a portion of the population at significant disadvantage (compared to the unstructured, sparsely populated communities of hunter-gatherers). The quality of life of the average hunter-gatherer was actually better than that of the average farmer, despite the relative sophistication of the latter's society; the reason for the prevalence of agriculture and husbandry over hunting and gathering is that "quality over quantity" doesn't apply when one population can overwhelm another by sheer numbers. (I bet Leonidas of Sparta would have something to say about that!)

Another interesting point Diamond raises is that gender dynamics tend to be more equal in hunter-gatherer societies -- partially because such conditions are less conducive to hierarchy in general (see above), and also because the practical day-to-day circumstances of the hunter-gatherer lifestyle cannot support any house-bound, "idle" population, be they women or an aristocracy. Women who had to be on their feet all the time simply couldn't bear as many children in quick succession -- especially since the children had to be as mobile/portable as everyone else. The patriarchy couldn't simply turn them into brood mares, because the women contributed valuable labor and the children had to be spaced at large enough intervals that their mothers only ever had to carry (whether in utero or on her back) one child at a time. (Methinks twins wouldn't have fared as well in these societies.)

This is actually quite relevant to our own times. Notice how, as women have become increasingly educated (on par with men, especially if we consider university completion rates) and increasingly productive in the work force (issues of equal pay aside), they tend to have fewer children, and said children are born later in the mother's life. Unchecked childbearing, it appears, has always been a way for the patriarchy to turn women into second-class citizens. (Anti-abortion/birth control Republicans, I'm looking at you!)

Erasmus, the Consummate Bibliophile

Story of my life:

When I get a little money, I buy books. If any is left, I buy food and clothes. 

~ Erasmus

To reassure those of you with concerns about my continued survival... I doubt I'd ever actually resort to such extremes. Library cards, after all, didn't exist in the fifteenth century.

And of course, Erasmus is one of my favorite Catholic philosophers, though admittedly, I admire him more for his humanism than for his religion. (Granted, his being Dutch -- as opposed to, say, Spanish -- during the Renaissance might have something to do with it.) In a day and age filled with all manner of extremists, he was a moderate -- a principled, rational, articulate moderate, and a champion of religious tolerance amidst rampant sectarian violence. It was all the books, of course! :-)

Washington Post: Food Truck for Peace

This is such an inspired idea!

http://www.washingtonpost.com/lifestyle/style/food-truck-will-deliver-message-of-mideast-peace/2013/01/25/b121ea7e-6665-11e2-93e1-475791032daf_story.html?hpid=z1

Throughout human history, the concept of breaking bread has had a powerful hold on our imaginations. Food, and the culture and traditions surrounding it, is one of the original methods of brokering peace. Back in the earliest days of homo sapiens, the acquisition of food was a costly group effort that strengthened the bonds within one's immediate community. In Ancient Greece, offering food and shelter to visitors became an integral part of upholding the honor of one's house. In many cultures, it was considered taboo to bring weaponry to the table, and any harm that befell a guest at one's table brought great dishonor upon the host.

It's time that we brought everyday Jews and Muslims to that table. In the most political city in the melting pot that is America, peace -- or at least understanding and friendship -- might well take root via food.

Pies (cont'd)

I'd mentioned Midnight Pie in my last post, so I thought I'd add to the list of baked goods I'd posted back in March. Here are the pies that I've made in my last quarter or so of college:

Rhubarb apple banana walnut
Strawberry banana
Blueberry blackberry
Apple x3

The first one was a bit of an adventure. Julie and Stefan brought over some rhubarb that they'd procured, but it wasn't quite enough to fill a pie. So, we ransacked the fridge and pantry to find fruits to stuff the pie crust, and came up with a banana and one or two apples, and a little sack of walnuts. We knew that apples, bananas, and walnuts went well together, but I'd never even had rhubarb before, so I had little idea of how the end result would taste. It was quite good -- I'd definitely make it again!

BBC: The Japanese Quest for the Perfect Fruit

Asian gifting (and general social niceties) taken to a horticultural extreme:
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-radio-and-tv-17352173

It's an interesting social phenomenon, but seriously, that technology and effort could be put to so much better use! If horticulturalists in Japan had only chosen to attempt, say, breeding better crop plants and alleviating hunger in the developing world, imagine all the good they could be doing. It reminds me a little of the way the Japanese electronics industry developed; for a long time, they were among the most reliable manufacturers of electronics in the world, and yet, they stuck to making things like televisions, and kitchen appliances, and little toy robot things. They innovated, of course, but it was mostly on a small scale -- how to make a better circuit board and the like -- rather than dreaming big, as big as they could have. And now, given the way the Japanese economy's looking, it might be just a little too late.

Anyhow, I don't know how that turned from "look at this interesting, slightly ridiculous cultural quirk" to "let's solve all the world's problems." But -- just look at all those melons in a row!

io9: Blowfish-Man Film

This is somewhat disturbing, and so quintessentially Japanese:
http://io9.com/5914061/watch-a-man-turn-into-a-blowfish-in-one-horrifying-short?tag=trailer-frenzy

I'll admit, I watched that trailer about five times, with what I'm sure was an expression of horrified fascination on my face. The CGI is really something; it's in that zone between extremely realistic and "you know it's impossible even though your eyes tell you otherwise." It evokes the sort of feeling that Neil Gaiman's or China Miéville's writing does; the milieu is rather Lovecraftian.

Queen Victoria on Tom Lehrer

Among the great accomplishments of Tom Lehrer, mathematician and musician:
http://www.gocomics.com/thenewadventuresofqueenvictoria/2012/04/09

(Wikipedia says that the above is actually untrue. Yes, I did look up "Jell-o Shot" on Wikipedia.)

Happy Pi(e) Day, or, Things I Have Baked This Year

In honor of Pi Day, I thought I'd post the list of stuff I've baked thus far. (I love having a kitchen!) Many of these were done at Midnight Pie (after Friday Night Waltz). Midnight Pie is an event I first cooked up (no pun intended) last quarter. Because there were several weeks where I was unable to attend FNW due to midnight paper deadlines, I invited friends over for post-waltz pie instead. It became A Thing last quarter, and less so this quarter, but I'm really hoping to bring it back.

Anyhow, the list:

apple pie (x6)
blackberry-pear pie
blueberry-blackberry pie
chocolate chip cookie scones (they were meant to be cookies, but came out more like scones)
apple-banana-walnut pie (x2)
pumpkin pie (x3 -- twice with canned pumpkin, once with fresh pumpkin)
gingerbread
cranberry macadamia chocolate chip cookies
"apple" pound cake with strawberry jam and green icing
potatoes

One of these things is not like the others.

Note: most of these (the pies, at least) are modifications of recipes given me by my dear friend John, who's much better at all of this than I am.

If I Used Twitter

tonight's post would be:

froyo + pickled egg + pickled pig's feet (the latter 2 in ginger + vinegar + soy sauce) = 3am snack with sister, 6 hrs before ski trip

Brett's Non-Apple Apple Cake

Yesterday was Brett's birthday. So I baked him a cake -- a non-apple apple cake. That basically means it was a cake that looked like an apple, but didn't actually have apple in it (it was a simple pound cake with strawberry jam filling):

It's something of an inside joke, because Brett has a bit of an obsession with green apples (he used to go through about ten of them a day). Back when we ate at dining halls, he would purloin dozens of them from the cafeteria, stuffing his backpack full of them and stashing them in his desk. The filing drawer (you can picture the volume of those) was usually half-full of apples. It got to the point where our friends nicknamed him "Apples." So everyone who came to his showering (another Stanford tradition -- friends surprise the birthday boy/girl at exactly midnight of their birthday, and toss them in the shower) got a laugh out of the cake.

Bonfire Toffee

Seeing as it's the Fifth of November, a few friends and I are watching V for Vendetta. I made Bonfire Toffee for the occasion, using a recipe from the BBC Food Programme:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/radio4/factual/foodprogramme_recipe_toffee1.shtml

It's really sticky and tastes strongly of molasses. I've tested it on my friends, and they like it!

io9: Vegetable Orchestra

A strange, wonderful idea:
http://io9.com/5817756/vegetable-orchestra-grow-your-own-guitar

It takes some imagination to come up with such a thing -- it sounds like something out of a children's book, or a Greek myth. It reminds me of those Giuseppe Arcimboldo paintings of vegetable men, like this one, which I believe is one of his most famous:

I kind of want to make a vegetable instrument (though I imagine it's much harder than it looks). Another experiment to try in our kitchen, perhaps?

Today

was wonderful. Absolutely amazing. If I could have more days like this one -- even just a few -- I would be very, very happy. This post is rather self-indulgent, methinks -- just a chronicling of today, because it's the sort of day I'd like to remember. (I'm told that many people just write about their days on their blogs, so perhaps this is something closer to normal.)

I woke up at a reasonable hour -- 11:00 -- later than I normally do, but not so late that it seems that half the day has passed me by. And without an alarm -- this is a small but significant part of a perfect day, in that it leaves no dreams unfinished, which, even if one doesn't remember the dreams upon waking, is important. Waking in the middle of a dream often gives me a slightly unsettled feeling, as though I have unfinished business with somebody in my head.

I went to Columbia to visit a dear friend from high school whom I haven't seen in much too long. I arrived a few minutes early, so I got to watch him hold office hours. Despite his sometimes cantankerous nature and rather cynical view of humanity, he's actually a very good TA. He'll be an excellent professor someday, and that makes me happy.

He bought me bubble tea; I am extremely jealous of Columbia's bubble tea. It's decent -- not amazing, but pretty good. Why does Columbia have bubble tea in its cafeteria, when Stanford, which is in California, and is probably 25% Asian, does not? It's vexing, it is.

We talked for a few hours, and migrated around the campus. It's bigger on the inside (like magical wardrobes), with a surprising amount of grass and some really fat sparrows. I finally, finally got a decent photo of my friend, who hates photographs (he claims, just to be difficult, that photography will steal his soul). Also, for those of you who know him, he still looks a something like a llama, though he's less like one in character, now. He's mellowed out in college, to some degree.

After Columbia, I had a few hours to kill before I met a friend for dinner, so I went downtown, to a lovely indie bookstore called McNally Jackson. It has a quirky little café attached, which makes these dainty Earl Grey biscuits, and this really rich, not-too-sweet hot chocolate -- probably the best hot chocolate I've had all summer (the barista was very pleased when I told him this). I found a book called Urban Code, which has a very minimalistic, elegant cover (see image), and which I ended up buying, even though I've acquired quite a few books this summer, and haven't the time to read them all. I also spotted the new Neal Stephenson book Reamde, which also has a really nice book jacket (the texture is wonderful) that's visually quite similar to Urban Code; I valiantly resisted the temptation to buy it, because it was thirty-something dollars and a rather enormous, unwieldy hardcover. I might end up getting it on Kindle, if I end up reviewing it for The Daily.

On the way to dinner, I spotted a giant colorful chandelier-like sculpture suspended over a small side-street. (It's just a block or two from McNally Jackson, but the exact location escapes me.) The road itself was cordoned off, so I could just stand in the middle of the street for a few minutes, admiring the artwork. The street itself was nothing too special -- some old buildings, a lonely-looking warehouse, a few small stores -- which made the sculpture all the more wonderful a find.

And then, at the corner of Cooper Square and Astor Place, I happened upon all these lampposts decorated in neon zip-ties! (The ones across the street were even more colorful.) Apparently, as my friend told me later, the zip-tie art had been around for quite a while, but I hadn't been to that area in quite a long time.

We went to a Japanese restaurant, where we ordered exactly the right amount of food, with room to spare for dessert (when eating out with Chinese families, the dads always tend to over-order). This was also aided by the fact that I'd forgotten about lunch -- I didn't realize this until I was recounting my day to my friend and she pointed out, "So your caloric intake thus far today consisted of bubble tea, hot chocolate, and a very small cookie?"

Anyhow, we talked, like old times, and then we got dessert at a really good patisserie called Veniero's, where I had surprisingly reasonably-priced gelato and a smidgen of her delicious strawberry shortcake. And then we took the subway back into Queens together, and it was still early enough that when I came above-ground, I walked home in the twilight, alone under a deep blue sky.

MSNBC: Don't Eat Armadillos, or If You Do, Get Tested for Leprosy

Exactly as it says:
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/42788111

Apparently, armadillo tastes pretty good -- rather like a game bird. The eating thereof used to be fairly common in the South; the idea that commonly edible meat consists of beef, pork, fowl, and seafood (and occasionally venison) is actually rather new in human history. Of course, the fact that common meats are usually bred and controlled in the modern day, and therefore much less likely to contain pathogens, contributes to the narrowing of our palates.

And the line, "I would not cuddle armadillos" is priceless.

Never Praise a Toaster

The toaster broke down yesterday. In spite of my father's halfhearted attempts to resuscitate it, it is dead. My parents will be buying a new toaster this weekend.

This event was greeted by my father with a mixture of glee and indignation. The former was because they've been waiting for it to give out since 1983, so that they could get a new one. The latter was because he had remarked, just the other day, upon the durability of the toaster -- and then it broke down. He then solemnly vowed never to praise the new one, so that it won't get any ideas.

Unintentional Humor at the Chinese Supermarket, Part III

It's been a while since I posted some of these, and I've accumulated quite a few new photographs, so here's some supermarket Chinglish (and other strange Asian things) for your amusement:

Umm... sounds gross. Like mud pies -- something little kids threw together that their parents would pretend to eat while tossing the thing in the trash.

Crab lumps? And "special" meat. Sounds like public school cafeteria "mystery meat." That, or meat injected with hallucinogens. Maybe that's why it's $9.99.

Is the bow supposed to somehow make the fan more appealing to shoppers?

Amusing on a number of levels. Persian pickles grown in Mexico. Also, Persian pickles are actually a term for the teardrop shapes one finds in paisley patterns.

And that is one huge apple. It's half the size of my sister's head! (Brett, this one's for you!)