breather

the busyness of school and work has sadly relegated my blogging to a monthly activity. it's certainly not from a lack of material here - life seems to be bursting at the seams and i'm thankful for every minute.

this past week was spring break, and though i worked every day and hardly had time to myself, it did kick off quite nicely. a friend invited me to join him and his friends for a getaway to the catskills last weekend, and it was exactly what my body and spirit needed. we loaded up the car around 4 in the afternoon on friday, but thanks to manhattan traffic, got off to a slow start. we then deliberated quite a bit on a dinner spot, finally agreeing on chili's (which i hadn't been to in ages), where we proceeded to take our time eating and engaging in conversations so funny, i almost lizzed. stopping to buy groceries for the weekend on the way, we ended up in some kind of strange twilight zone supermarket where the employees were all too friendly (one in particular was strangely knowledgeable and enthusiastic about tomatoes), and a sweet old lady in a purple knitted hat and i got into a lively discussion about club soda in the beverage aisle.

we finally reached our destination, a quaint cottage set back in the woods that my friend found on this site called homeaway. it was 10:30 pm by the time we arrived, much colder than when we set off in the afternoon, and we were eager to unpack and settle by a warm fireplace. we found the key, left graciously for us under the mat near the back door (this was a very safe neighborhood) - but we discovered to our dismay that the lock to the door was broken. the key slipped in quite easily but turned a full 360 without a click or any other sound. still calm, we tried the front door, the side door, the door to the screened porch.....without success. at this point, i was needing to go to the bathroom and regretting all those glasses of iced water consumed at chili's. we called the owner, who resided in long island city, and left a message on her voicemail. we started rattling the windows, hoping to find an unlocked window. while we were at the verge of contemplating actually breaking a window - and my friend brett at this point had already started jiggling door locks with a hairpin - i found a window that was unlocked. hoisting it open, i scrambled on top of a patio chair and clambered through the window without a second thought. i had never been so grateful to jump through a window.

the rest of the weekend was pretty uneventful after our break-in, filled mostly with cooking, eating, and chatting around the fireplace. we did find this set of giant arrows and paper targets in the garage that we fondly called "lawn arrows", and we ended up spending most of our saturday afternoon in a rousing "lawn arrows" match.

 the fierce lawn arrows league

the cottage was lovely, filled with charming corners and peaceful views. my favorite was the screened porch, and i spent some time reading outside each morning with a nice cup of coffee.

saturday dinner was the highlight as far as meals went - though each meal was fantastic. all four of us love to eat and love to prepare food - and i was pleasantly surprised at the guys' skills. brett really wanted to grill steaks, and he ended up concocting this wonderful creation of marinated steaks wrapped with jalapeno peppers and bacon. i'm not even a huge steak lover, but...oh MY....

 the chef at work

 ready for the grill

 the dinner table

the kitchen was unusually well-equipped, possessing even a standing mixer. and there was an impressive collection of books, including a wide array of cookbooks that decorated a shelf along the dining room cupboards. all this made more sense when brett discovered boxes of julie & julia in all different languages in the basement - we had unknowingly rented the cottage from julie powell herself! what a pleasant surprise.

the weekend was a much needed breather, just to get out of the city. i felt every muscle relax in a way that hadn't happened in awhile, and to just breathe the crisp air and fill my eyes with the greenery....bliss. sunday morning, i even saw a cardinal perched in a bush, studying me as i studied him. and a fat squirrel scampering along the fence inspired me to write a poem about that squirrel contemplating his own mortality.

as much as we wanted to stay, the sirens of real life called and we were sad to leave. but oh, what a nice respite....

cups of coffee:  2 + 1 green tea

mood: *sigh*

spirit of food

i first mentioned the spirt of food back in september and am finally getting around to reading it. absolutely sumptuous: eloquent storytelling, deep spiritual insights, and truths small and simple but richly profound. 34 writers exploring the connections between community and God through food. i cannot stop raving about this book - it is akin to eating a delicious meal that you wish would never end and one that you want all your friends to partake in.

each chapter (an individual essay) provides so much fodder for thoughtful digestion. here's one of my favorite passages, quoting from robert farrar capon's (a talented chef and episcopalian priest) book, the supper of the lamb:

"For all its greatness, the created order cries out for further greatness still. The most splendid dinner, the most exquisite food, the most gratifying company, arouse more appetites than they satisfy. They do not slake a man's thirst for being; they whet it beyond all bounds."

the whetting of our appetites, the insatiable desire that longs beyond the things of this world for something more glorious and everlasting....this is the holy hunger of mankind - the hunger for God Himself. the hunger for beauty that bursts the very seams of our metaphorical bellies, desiring for the thing that fills us to rapturous overflowing.

in our fallen world, what we experience is what capon terms "the inconsolable heartburn":
"The Inconsolable Heartburn...by which the heart looks out astonished at the world and in its loving, wakes and breaks at once." the longing for the here and not yet.

this passage from the chapter written by karen baldwin sums up the essence behind my love for food and hospitality:

"On nights like that night in Colorado, we've orchestrated dinners for a crowd of our children's friends, and on other nights we've eaten a quiet meal with just the two of us. And in the same spirit of openness, invitation and hospitality we like to begin each meal by thanking God and lifting our friends up before the one who invites us to come and eat of the bread of life that he gives. Our friends may not share our deepest convictions, they may not understand the great significance we place in this time at the table, but we can't recall any expectant mothers or anxious students declining our request to pray for them. So we never feel timid about raising a glass of wine or a plate heaped with fragrant food, and then, with simple gratitude and joy, extolling the Creator who celebrated his creative power and genius by resting and blessing his handiwork. And as we say amen, we recognize that in our Creator's image, we have also completed a work of preparation, and so we enter into a celebration-rest together at the table where there is both food to nourish our bodies and fellowship to revive our souls."

- karen baldwin, the spirit of food

cups of coffee:  1 + 1 green tea with lemon

mood:  hungry

the "other" china

one week in taiwan with my parents, brother and sister-in-law - my first trip back in 18 years. massive family reunions and good meal after good meal. gorgeous scenery and cities teeming with vibrant night markets. civility. ah, taiwan, how i do love thee - you have captured both my heart and my stomach.

lots of thoughts percolating in my mind, but for now, some of my favorite images from the trip.

 peter and lisa enjoying the best peanut shaved ice ever

 dad and his brother at one of their favorite childhood haunts

 the tings

 downtown hsinchu. my parents are adorable. :)

 my grandma. hope i look this good at 82!

 hong baos! (red envelopes) usually given to children. are we too old? nah....

lunch with my dad's side of the family

a million and one strands of thoughts and flickers of feelings are still flowing through me....i will try and process via blogging over the next few days. still playing host to my parents in shanghai this week, though, so will be busy with shopping, eating, and all that other good stuff.

i will say this: knowing where you come from is crucial to knowing who you are. it doesn't necessarily dictate who you are and who you will become, but your bloodlines, family history, nuances of culture...all that is genetically encoded and traditionally passed down to compose pieces of you provide deep insight to how you are who you are.

i have a whole new respect for and interest in tracing genealogies.

cups of coffee: 2

mood:  laaaaaaaaazy

celebrations

the holiday season is winding down....for the sake of my stomach, that's a good thing.
actually, that's not true here. chinese new year is right around the corner, and since i'll be spending it this year with my family and extended relatives in taiwan, that means more feasting.
i do have a 3-week respite, though, which i think i will use to detox. no....more...butter.....please.

the past couple of months have been filled to the brim with wonderful meals, laughter-filled evenings and the warm embrace of several circles of friends. thankfulness does not even begin to describe my heart.

here are a few of my favorite holiday images, captured by the trusty instagram app on my iphone:

 my first hannukah dinner  (at a chinese restaurant)

 snow in shanghai!

 lovely christmas tree at a friend's party

 bread art by shanghai young bakers at our gallery party

 dumplings on new year's eve! we wrapped under the tutelage of a chinese chef in my kitchen

 digging into our sumptuous feast

strawberries and bubbly ready to welcome the new year

cups of coffee: 1 1/2

mood: happy happy new year!

fullness

from cooking all afternoon to a kitchen packed with laughing friends to a succulent spread to wine paired with conversation - it was all good.
fabulous thanksgiving all around!

team turkey in action!

turkey cooked with bacon - genius

time to dig in

a lovely sight

cups of coffee: 2

mood:  *sniffle sniffle* *cough* *sneeze*.... i hate colds

feasting

i love food. love it. always have, always will. it's not just the eating - though that's pretty spectacular - it's everything associated with a meal. i love the preparation: mulling over recipes, shopping for all the right ingredients, visiting the vegetable market with tote in hand, checking the leafy freshness of spinach, squeezing tomatoes, picking through bulbs of red onions... i LOVE the cooking process. i love rolling up my sleeves and getting my hands caked in everything from flour to oil to spices and the occasional meat juices. i love the sounds of cooking: the quick sizzle of oil on a hot pan, the gentle murmur that crescendoes into aggressive bubbling of boiling water, the comforting grind of the pepper mill. and the smells - oh, the SMELLS! i love knowing a dish so well that you know, intuitively by the smell, whether it's ready or not. i love setting the table and selecting the right serving dishes, the clink of silverware and pristine white of my matching plates.

most of all, i love the company and conversations that surround meals. i was raised in a family where we always had dinner together, no matter how busy everyone was. it was always around the dinner table, never in front of the television. it was an unwritten rule in our home that dinner was always enjoyed with loved ones and served with conversation.

i love that my parents instilled that value in me, and i suppose that's where my inclination for hospitality arose. it's hard to think of a good meal without the company of good friends. strangers may sit down at the table, but rarely do you leave a table without having built some rapport. it's no wonder that in traditional cultures, deals are made and promises sworn at the banquet table.

i was reminded of this when mako was in town. during our trip to nanjing, the chair of the international program at nanjing arts institute invited our group for a meal. the restaurant was tucked down an inconspicuous lane, hid in an ultra-modern building sleek with glass and steel. the restaurant served chinese cuisine though it was decked out in uber-luxe faux-art-deco-meets-victorian-era decor. imagine plush purple velvet lounge couches with giant chandeliers. and four birthday balloons drooping on one wall, forlornly out of place.

the food was served with great attention to detail and attempts at artistic flair: sweet and sour chicken served in half a pineapple emflambe, succulent chicken deboned (a rarity in china), and an interesting combination of a meat pastry with a sweet sesame dessert soup, to name a few memorable dishes. but it wasn't the food that stuck out to me, delicious as it was. what stayed with me from that luncheon was the courtesy displayed, the respect and mutual admiration exhibited by the parties involved.

working in the chinese art world for a few years has taught me several invaluable skills including the art of holding my liquor at dinner parties. i've had to make and accept many a toast from museum officials, distinguished guests, artists, etc., and when the chinese toast, a sign of respect is to empty your glass. no one ever gets embarrassingly sloshed from such behavior, but most do turn lobster red after a meal (thanks to that asian drinking gene most of us have inherited....).

this particular luncheon was no different. there is an art involved, a dance i've had to learn to perfect (and am still perfecting). always aim your glass low - it's a sign of respect. a toast always ends up like some sort of glassware limbo, trying to outdo each other in how low you clink your glass. the host usually starts with some general toast to everyone, and then begins to singularly toast the guests in some sort of hierarchy (usually working from most important, or most essential to the event at hand, down). the toasts are scattered throughout the meal, so you wait and watch. and then it's your turn to reciprocate, and the polite thing is to toast those who've toasted to you, in a similar order. and of course, you can toast anyone else you want as well - it's a form of bestowing favor and respect. but you also have to gauge the toastee's glass. since they will want to honor you by emptying their glass, i try to time my toast with the level of their drink - too high and it may end messy, too low and it's not much of a toast.

after plenty of toasting and kind words at the luncheon, we left the table with relationships established and agreements made. though no papers were signed, no official partnerships were formed, there was an air of understanding that there will be future collaborations and a level of trust had been reached.

food builds community and was meant to be enjoyed in community. every feast we indulge in points to a perfect, beautiful feast we will enjoy for all of eternity. it's not only the food we'll enjoy but perfect, beautiful fellowship and unbroken communion with God and one another. what a lovely thing. :)

one last note - two recent publications on this theme of food worth savoring:

- The Spirit of Food: i found out about this book through the Image Journal's newsletter. from organic farms to kosher kitchens, 34 writers share stories and recipes about the ways food draw us closer to community, God and creation. i've already placed an order and can't wait to read it!

- Saveur Magazine: 25 Greatest Meals Ever: 25 food writers share their most memorable food experiences, including some recipes.


cups of coffee: 1 + 2 green tea

mood:  o joy!

of food and friendship

it goes without saying that good food and friendship are part of the beauty to be enjoyed and savored. that for me is often the most tangible reminder of the beautiful that God has implanted in my soul.

tonight was a great celebration of both. the evening started off with a farewell dinner for gina, who is moving back to the states with her husband and children after several years in shanghai. gina (also a fellow blogger) is someone i don't get to see often but i always enjoy my times with her. she is always quick to flash a radiant smile, and i find her to be encouraging, caring, funny and so, so genuine.

twelve of us gathered in a cozy back table at whisk and feasted on pasta, pizza and chocolate...lots of chocolate. i had a late lunch so wasn't terribly hungry, and i opted to spend my calories on a deliciously smooth and rich chocolate mousse. my friend phyllis ordered churros, which are basically spanish doughnuts, and they came with this delightful setup:


i love the tiny whisk to stir up the chocolate sauce as it melts!

the women at this dinner are all very lovely, but i confess, i sort of feel disconnected when i'm with them sometimes. they're all married (i was the only single), most of them have kids, so their worlds revolve around diapers and feedings, playtimes in the park, naps, homework and school...and whatever else women are focused on when they have kids. i spend my time working, attending parties and openings, hanging out with artists and musicians and other creatively inclined folks (who are for the most part single)....and i take care of a cat. i have a few close friends in the group that i get to see quite a bit of, and we always have a lot to talk about. but when we're all together like this...i honestly feel like i'm grasping for conversation topics sometimes.

the beauty, though, lies in the fact that my friendship with these women extends beyond similar circumstances. though we may be in different seasons of life with different priorities and stresses, there is still a connection, a commonality of heart and love for this city and the people who dwell here. there is a common desire to do good and see goodness grow here. there is concerted effort to love others well.

after the dinner, i met up with gallerists from around shanghai for drinks. this is a monthly (realistically, more like every other month) gathering, and someone from the group of gallerists usually rallies everyone to meet up. he/she makes the arrangement for some restaurant/bar to give us a discount on drinks. there's probably about 40-50 people on the email list, and turnout varies at each gathering. tonight was a nice turnout - about 30 of us sipping wine and chit chatting on the patio at cotton's, enjoying the rare coolness of a spring shanghai evening.

i admit, i was reluctant to join these gatherings at first. i assumed it would be a cloud of pretension: interest in conversation as a thin veneer covering self-promotion. i couldn't have been more wrong. i found these gatherings to be very casual and stimulating, with very fascinating people genuinely interested in getting to know one another. it's a wonderfully diverse group: a french woman who is a leading world expert on street art; a german woman single-handedly running a city-wide art map that covers all local exhibition openings; a british man who started his own gallery in china after working for years in auction houses in london, to name a few.

and we don't just talk about art. tonight, conversations i had ranged from the effects of globalization and modernization on shanghai to chinese humor vs. british humor, the two big T taboos in china (tibet and taiwan) to the possibility of learning true objective history.

two very different groups of friends, very different conversation topics. but at the end of the day, both serve as beautiful reminders of our need to be connected, to celebrate and simply converse about the things that matter.


cups of coffee: 3

mood: pensive

little golden fishies

today's post is about beauty in unexpected places.

i went with some friends to a huge fish market tonight--stall after stall of fishmongers lining a long street. it was a fantastic experience: we selected our own seafood, bargained a bit, and then walked to the end of the street where we paid a restaurant to cook our finds. all for less than $10 per person.

the fish market is a chaotic place - the floors are wet with water, fish guts and mysterious grime; the vendors' constant shouting back and forth punctuated by the ripping of packing tape and the clatter of crates; bicycle carts lugging cages of crabs and towers of styrofoam containers weaving through crowds. this place is open 24 hours--imagine this constant hustle and bustle all day and night.

i love how fish look lying on their beds of ice: the flounders displayed like silver discs, pink salmon fillets nestled like fleshy bricks in a field of white, long ribbon fish dangling from tables like iridescent belts...almost as adornments rather than seafood.

my favorite find tonight was this little tub of golden fishies, their heads pointed resolutely up, some with their mouths open in mid-speech (or mid-song?):

i couldn't stop staring at this tub, and i had to take a picture. there was something about this image that was so arresting - like a scene from dante's inferno. they're like souls crying out from some pit, stuck in abysmal despair.

or perhaps they are not lamenting at all but singing - a heavenly chorus of little golden fishes with voices that ring like crystal, tiny notes wafting to the skies.


cups of coffee: 2

mood: STUFFED from a great seafood dinner