Happy Black History Month, Lunar New Year, Valentine’s Day AND Not My Presidents’ Day to all who celebrate! This month, I’m obviously thinking about love and promises and the people we keep close, specifically: ancestors, parents, lovers, country and friends.
Despite starting this newsletter, I’ve actually been in a food-funk the past couple months. Cooking or deciding what to eat is usually pretty joyful for me, but lately it has felt indescribably taxing. There have been a couple nights where I walk into our little kitchen and just start pulling out things I know I’ll like. Garlic. Ginger. Gai lan. Bricks of tofu. Chicken thighs. Eggs. Lemons. Cilantro. Steamed rice. And I’ll just start chopping til something resembling dinner inevitably appears. Other times, my sweet boyfriend (we shall call him CHRIS, henceforth!!) walks in to find me a little dazed and cranky, chopping away furiously at an onion with no clue what I’m doing next and knowingly orders me a pizza instead.
Love means never having to say no to pizza.
I’m grateful to be with someone who appreciates food in a way that really compliments how I think about food. You could replace food with a variety of nouns here, but for the sake of this newsletter, I’ll just say I love the way Chris loves my cooking. I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone who understands my cooking the way Chris does and feeling seen in that way inspired starting both our relationship and this newsletter. Food is a big part of my personality and I always KNEW I was a great home cook, but early on in our dating story, Chris just got it, you know? He has enough of an understanding of food and flavor and art and music to give me the kind of compliments or analysis that I’ve always wanted in response to the way I cook and, similarly, the way I love people. He sees me and my food as something inextricably linked, nuanced, balanced and always always “bright.” No one has ever seen me or my love for food so clearly and so exactly right.
Chris once said “Ambie writes me a love letter with her food, everyday” and I think that’s true. Sometimes I look at Chris and I love him so much that I don’t know what to do with it all except put it all into some pasta. Food is absolutely my love language (corny) and I definitely got that from my mom, who gets a prominent shout out in this month’s issue. My mom loves me through food. It’s how we got to know each other my whole life long. We cooked together, we talked about food and, most importantly, we shared those meals with friends and family and strangers. Every time I brought a friend home to our little house in North Carolina, I would watch as that person inevitably fell in love with my mom, the best cook I know. A while ago, on a trip home to visit my parents, I remember being sort of mad or disappointed in my mom, which is historically very rare and so, especially sad. I won’t share details but I remember I felt like she didn’t really notice when I was very publicly grieving over someone I’d lost. I went to my room and cried a little as I packed up my suitcase to return to LA and when I emerged I found that she’d fried up the biggest platter of lumpia (my favorite) out of nowhere and I knew she’d seen me and recognized what I needed in the form of a fried food and a hug. Anyone with an Asian mom can probably recognize this kind of silent “I love you” or unspoken “I’m sorry.” I cried like a baby on the plane, writing in my journal, smelling like garlic and oil and knowing I was just so lucky to have a mom like her. (PHEW, I’M CRYING AGAIN WRITING THIS, IN CASE YOU WERE WONDERING.)
Anyway, this issue’s not-a-recipe is actually my mom’s adobo, which was also featured in the Loves Me Zine vol. 5, a fantastic publication curated by two of my favorite people, Jenevieve and Nikita. Please check it out online or order a physical copy--especially if you’re a queer POC because every issue inspires and holds me in ways I cannot fully put into words. All the proceeds generated from this issue of the zine will be donated to Trans Lifeline, a grassroots hotline & organization by & for trans people in crisis.
If you read all of this, thank you. I love you. I need you. I see you. Consider me your Valentine.
Ambie
FOOD FOR THOUGHT
I’m very proud of my ability to whip up salad dressings without much thought or effort (humblebrag), so here’s my secret if you too want to feel superior to all others when you open up your fridge and see not a single store bought dressing in sight. First, find your perfect ratio of oil (EVOO or Grapeseed are my go to’s, sometimes sesame oil, sometimes a little mayonnaise) to acid (all kinds of vinegars OR lemon juice OR both). For me, it’s somewhere between 2:1 oil to vinegar or 1:1 oil to lemon juice. Second, decide on spices/flavorings. For me, it’s usually some variation of dried oregano, S&P, a grated garlic clove, an anchovy and a spoonful of seedy mustard. Then I whisk or shake it into submission until it’s beautifully combined. You’re welcome. Oh, and dry your greens all the way, please otherwise the dressing won’t stick to the leaves. The more you know.
FOOD FOR FOOD
Here is how I make adobo.
Step 1. Text or call mom. Every time.
Step 2. Listen to her patiently and sweetly recite ingredients from memory:
Protein of choice (probably chicken thighs and legs)
One large onion cut into thick slices
A head of garlic, smashed and peeled but mostly whole because I’m Filipina and unafraid
2-3 Bay leaves
A torrential downpour of freshly cracked black pepper
⅓ c. vinegar
⅔ c. soy sauce
Maybe some peeled and quartered Japanese sweet potatoes
Step 3. I throw it all into a pot or dutch oven. Bring this to a boil on high heat and immediately reduce to a gentle simmer, covered, for 40-60 minutes or until everything is sweet and tender, just like me. Stir once or twice--whenever I feel like I need something to do with my hands.
Step 4. Turn off the heat. I scoop steamy spoonfuls of rice into my favorite bowl. Next door, I place pungent pieces of chopped tomato/ginger/garlic/onion/peppers swimming in a sea of stinky fish sauce and lemon juice. Lastly, I plate up the most beautiful steamed bok choy you’ve ever seen, barely seasoned and perfectly sweet.
Step 5. Ladle soupy gravy full of melting silky onions and garlic over the rice. Carefully balance the chicken on top, breathing in the umami memories.
Step 6. Fight back a couple of corny sad girl tears as I take the first bite of steaming chicken and rice, which feels like a hug from the woman who raised me, but somehow not quite as warm.
*NOTE: The best condiment/hot sauce for adobo is Sambal Oelek.
FOOD FOR EARS
Each week I’ll drop in a playlist of love songs for you to listen to while you lounge, cook or read. This fulfills my need to feel like one of my favorite people, Zoë Kravitz. This week’s mixtape was inspired by fresh bed linens, comfort food and the smell of morning coffee.
That’s it! See you in March for a very special Aries szn / birthday edition. In the meantime, have questions about food? Need love or leftover advice? The best bday present is gossip: Submit anonymously, email me or DM @lunchl0ve on Instagram or Twitter.