Everyone says whatever they want when it comes to Zodiac symbolism—I've tried researching a definitive source, and have learned that Zodiac meaning is a complex interlocking science/mythology that defies distillation. So, for the year of the snake, I choose to see in the reptile a beautiful symphony of collectivism. Watching a snake move, you can see that every spine/muscle is working separately yet in tandem, a mechanical magic that propels the animal up, to the side, around.
No spine is an island, as is the case with Man. For the year of the snake, I'll be thinking of the snake that slithers through sand dunes, mysteriously finding a way forward, as the ground below shifts unpredictably.
---------------
Pomelo 柚 (Yòu)
One tradition I picked up this year was the traditional new year's pomelo. It never figured much in my childhood, but when I was an older teen, my mom started giving me Oro Blanco (a new, 1950s variant of this ancient fruit). Sweet, juicy, with a little sour, they're hard work to eat, but feel amazing in the body: rich in vitamins and nutrients, my magic medicine fruit boosted my immune system, metabolism, and digestive tract.
To eat a pomelo, I cut through it halfway, then cut through some of the pith to help get the peel off, and then peel away. With pith and peel removed, I then tear the pomelo apart, so that the flesh is exposed from the skin. I then bite/suck the flesh to separate it from the skin. I recently timed how long it took me to eat one in a single concentrated sitting, and it took me 45 minutes...
Eating a pomelo was always my own intimate, private ritual, but I shared it with Peter this week because that's what you do on Chinese new year: share the wealth, share the fruit, share the love via fruit. My assumption was that he'd find it weird, unremarkable, and bitter; not because of Peter, but because of how white people in the past have generally reacted to my food. I should have known better that the person I'm marrying has a curious, open mind, which extends naturally to his palate; honestly, a far more curious and open mind than me palate-wise. He was delighted by the fruit, and we sucked our pomelo down together, elbow to elbow over our kitchen sink, giggling and greedy. Watching someone experience and delight in their first pomelo validated my love for the fruit's delicate balance of sweet & sour, the work it makes you put in for its sticky, flavorful pulp. ---------------
Din Tai Fung NYC, a beloved Taiwanese restaurant serving refined Shanghainese food, opened the largest seated restaurant in Manhattan earlier last year. Cavernous, it can serve up to 450 people at a time. The bustle and size and glossy interior finishes makes it feel a bit like an international airport terminal, but I've been happy with the food both times I've gone :)
Win Son's recipe for Taiwanese fried pork chops is divine; Christie At Home's spicy cucumber salad was a hit; as well as Snowcube's Snowflake Crisps (was asked repeatedly, "what is this, it is so good"). Ashley made the scrumptious Golden Fried Rice from the Woks of Life, which kept people delightedly grazing all night long. Grace's homemade Blood Orange Almond Ricotta Cake was sheer heaven. Many hands, notably Peter’s, Isabelle’s, and Claire S.’s, made light work in the kitchen 👩🏻🍳⏲️🔪
I normally hate the smell of food outside of the context of eating, but when I woke up this morning and walked into my living room, a tangy sweet-sour-salty smell hit all my senses, the type only achievable with a melange of Chinese cooking. Making Win Son's fried pork chop already required jimmying cobbled-together not-quite-correct ingredients from the relatively abundant choices at H Mart and Pearl River Mart. But in these punishing, counter-productive upcoming tariffs I fear further disconnection and alienation from the food and flavors of my family, culture, and history.
So I woke up this morning and savored the special story in the smell: of love and laughs and effort and curiosity and remembrance and togetherness.
