The setting was right: it was a Sunday evening after a glorious, sunny day in Beijing. The mood: a casual summer dinner. The cuisine: French. The chef: my roommate, Anne de Roulhac. Bon appetit!
Appetizer: Prawn Ravioli with a Fresh Cream Sauce
Entree: “Fish Roast” Fresh Seabass stuffed with Basil and Hazelnut pPesto, wrapped in Prosciutto
Side Dish: Slow Roasted Tomatoes
Plated and Ready to Eat
Dessert: Layered Lemon-Lime Custard and Yogurt Mouse topped with Roasted Hazelnuts
This past weekend, I had the wonderful surprise of my Nana visiting me in Beijing. Having traveled solo from Los Angeles to Xiamen, the town in Southern China where she was born, and then to Beijing, my hip 86 year old grandmother and I had an amazing few days. I must say, it was really a special treat to have my Chinese grandmother, who contributes to my ‘Chinese half,’ visit me in the country that was once her home and now is one that I call home myself.
The weekend consisted of a plethora of activities including meeting the artists whom I work for, having dinner with my boyfriend at my favorite Pure Lotus and a dumpling lunch with some of her local friends, browsing the 798 arts district, pampering ourselves with manicures + pedicures, visiting a local market and cooking dinner together, and of course, shopping for goodies that are only to be found in China. Filled with laughs and stories, I will remember those few days for decades to come. But knowing how young and able she is, I will most likely be paid another visit by this inspiring and wise woman during the time that I call Beijing home.
Nana with her freshly manicured nails
A crowd forms around Nana as they are amused that this 86 year old woman looks so young!
Nana buying some vegetables at Sanyuanli Market, Beijing
Nana buying some chicken for her famous chicken soup that we will go on to make that evening
My nana and I at the airport before her departure
Living thousands of miles away from home can make the holidays sad and lonely, especially ones that are usually commemorated with a large celebratory meal for which friends and family gather. Easter, although a holiday acknowledged more so by my Episcopalian family than myself, is one of my favorites as always included a large, all-you-can-eat brunch at our country club. Dressed in your best Sunday pastels, it was a fun tradition where my family always gathered and the “kids table” usually had more fun than the adults.
I was sad that I would be missing Easter with my family this year, but I decided that being in Beijing would not stop me from having my new family join me for a delicious brunch. Potluck it was with recipes from all over the world, all twenty of my Beijing family and I gathered for a feast on one of springs’ first days. After our stomachs were full of pastas, pastries, fruit salads, quiches, granola mixes, mimosas, bloody marry’s, and more, we sauntered over to Chaoyang Park (a mere street crossing from my apartment) to enjoy the glorious warmth of the spring sun. How great it is to have new traditions with new families.
A select bit of our Easter brunch spread
Spring afternoon in Chaoyang Park
Magnolias in first bloom
How the Chinese enjoy a sunny day
Some prefer New York’s thin crust. Some prefer the Chicagoan deep + chewy pie. Personally, I prefer a blend of the two. Enough chewy texture to really be able to taste the dough, but enough crunch to even out the textures.
Even though I’m on the other side of the world from where the best pizzas are made, I found a way to make some personal pies in the comfort of my very own home. Only things you need: a gas stove, an oven, some all-purpose flour (unfortunately can’t get special Italian flour in China) and some yummy, fresh ingredients!
Check out my kitchen, turned pizza shop:
All the ingredients + dough ready to go. Personal pies make about four yummy slices.
Some tasty ingredients we used: brussel sprouts, bacon, garlic, tomatoes, prosciutto, basil, arugula, bell peppers, mushrooms, and of course, fresh mozzarella
The ball of fresh mozzerella, chopped bell peppers and prosciutto.
Unfortunately, after the pizzas came out of the oven, they were immediately inhaled and so I dont have any photos, but for the super easy and tasty homemade pizza recipe, check out Slice, New York’s Pizza Blog.
When I was growing up, Chinese New Year was an annual tradition, which my mother had to coax my brother, sister and I into participating in. It often consisted of a banquet at a large, sterile, and in my young mind, smelly Chinese restaurant in Monterey Park. Our extended family and friends would gather wearing our finest red garments for a feast of Chinese delicacies, which due to their putrid smells, strange consistencies or just down right unpleasing looks, I often opted out of eating. Usually a plate of chao mian (friend noodles) was ordered specifically for me. However, one of the more favorable memories for my siblings and I in addition to our five other cousins, was the small red package that would be passed from the elder generation to the younger. Received with a bowed head and both hands, these 红包 hong bao (literally red package) often held a crisp $100 bill, that would be wondrous play money for our ludicrous teenage activities.
For the first time in my twenty four years of experiencing Chinese New Year, this year’s week-long celebration in Beijing enabled me to see the tradition in a new light. The New Year, when celebrated in China, is equivalent to Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter, Halloween and July 4th rolled up into one splendidly spectacular firework-filled bonanza. There is no tradition or holiday that I have experienced anywhere else in the world that is as lavish as Chinese New Year in China. Known as 春节 chunjie, or literally Spring Festival, the majority of the celebrating spans the one week of official government holiday during the two and a half week long festival. This one week is also known to many as the greatest migration in the world, as nearly 10% of China’s 1.2 billion people, travel from their cities of work to the towns that they once called home. The week is filled with the traditional meal of 饺子 jiaozi (dumplings), drinking the potinent gasoline-like 白酒 baijiu liquor, and more fireworks than you’ve seen in your life, put together into one day. And then it happens for another seven days… However, I will say, 春节 chunjie is maybe the only week where you are able to move around Beijing without having to deal with its population of over 22 million.
It is an absolutely incredible experience and one that, for the first time in a long time, made me happy to be half Chinese. Below are some pictures from my 春节 chunjie festivities…
Performance at one of the numerous temple fairs (quite literally a fair at a temple) occurring around the city
Temple Fair
Just a few of the hundreds of thousands of red lanterns hung around the city
Rides at the Chaoyang Park temple fair
Happy babies galore
Jiaozi making feast on the eve of Chinese New Year at my apartment (Ours were stuffed with ingredients such as pork, purple and white cabbage, eggs, scallions, mushrooms and lotus root)
Just a few of the over 150 jiaozi that were made at my house that evening
And of course…Fireworks! One bursting right in front of my apartment window…No zoom needed
Traveling alone, to many, seems frightening and often unpleasant. The thought of navigating a distant metropolis, with its meandering roads, foreign culture and strange language does pose an intimidating challenge to those who seek comfort in their daily lives. However, it is not comfort that forces us to develop as humans full of conscious thought and awareness. Rather, it is the moments of unease that allow us to question our thoughts and emotions of our present state. With that being said, I departed for Thailand for a 10-day solo adventure.
My journey was not easy, as I often found myself sprinting through airports in desperation to make a connecting flight, bargaining with hard-headed taxi drivers who perceived me as some ignorant American tourist, and waiting three hours for a ferry whose ride was but thirty minutes. But all was part of the experience, for had traveling gone flawlessly, I quite possibly may not have appreciated arriving at my end destination.
Stop 1: Bangkok. Upon my arrival in a city seemingly more dense than New York and an impressively more “Asian” than Beijing, I was immediately welcomed by a few lads who sat in my hostel’s lobby discussing their adventure-filled day. Although they seemed interesting, I declined an invitation to continue the conversation, as I was tired after a long day’s journey and so retreated to a hot shower + a beckoning bed. For the first of many times throughout my next few days, I was able to experience the thrill of doing exactly as I wished. Throughout my five days in a city of exquisit detail, my time alone enabled me to explore my senses. I tasted my way through a culinary feast at May Kaidee’s cooking school, indulged my eye (and my camera) with the opulent and often humbling temples that littered the city as well as re-centered and reconnected with my sixth sense, my inner consciousness, through a two-day Asthanga yoga workshop. Not once on this whirlwind tour of Bangkok did I long for a companion, for friends were a plenty and were easily found in my hostel, cooking class and on a jaunt through Chinatown. The beauty of these passer-bys, who shared knowledge and a warmth that made you feel but human, was that I could continue my adventure with or without them, should I have and did choose to do at any point.
Stop 2: Ko Samet. While still in Beijing, a friend asked how I could possibly visit Thailand without journeying to the beach. I was dumbfounded by the question, as considering I find the ocean to provide myself a mesmerizing amount of comfort, it was surprising that not only was it not my first destination, but that it has been excluded from the itinerary all together. After contemplating white sand beaches + warm ocean water, I decided to spontaneously change my flight the night before my planned departure. Upon leaving Bangkok the following morning, it was torrentially raining. I will leave it to you to imagine the idiotic thoughts that ran through my head as I boarded a three and a half hour bus ride to the ferry pier. Despite my seemingly endless journey through the rain, I awoke the next morning in a quiet bungalow, a mere 30 feet from the sand, to the bluest of skys. Although I could not have asked for more pristine weather throughout the duration of my three day stay, I found myself more or less having taken an oath of silence, as there was a dearth of young, friendly faces roaming the sandy isle. Yet I happily welcomed this quiet retreat, as similarly to my yoga workshop, I found myself in a serene state that allowed me to connect fully with my thoughts and emotions as well as finally digest the chaos that has imbued my life since my move to Beijing.
For the first time, I experienced the thrill of traveling alone. To say the least, there is a roller coaster of thoughts and feeling that accompany journeys of this nature. Yet the ability to single handedly overcome the troughs of the adventure are beyond liberating, as it only strengthens the relationship you have with your conscious self.
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