Your Chinese Menu Is Really a Time Machine

Sweet and Sour Pork and Chop Suey Aren’t Just Delicious; They Also Tell Stories of Waves of Immigration from China

I grew up in a Chinese restaurant called the Peking Restaurant in rural New England during the 1970s and ’80s. I was that kid you saw running around the tables and through the waiters’ legs, and playing with whatever I could get my hands on. I had access to some cool things—pupu platters for my birthdays, all the fortune cookies I could eat, the pleasure of celebrating two different new year’s days every year with treats like a roasted pig during the Year of the Pig. And, when I was …

More In: Chinese-American

At an Irish-American Funeral Home, I Found My Chinese Roots

Just Blocks Away From the Blarney Stone Pub, Buddhist Nuns Helped My Family Lay My Grandmother to Rest in San Francisco

In a room filled with wreaths bearing Chinese characters on broad ribbons, two Buddhist nuns in embroidered yellow robes started chanting and striking bells. One by one, members of my …

Hot Sauce, Be My Fiery Muse

Creating a Piece of Art Dedicated to the Pleasure (and Pain) of Sriracha and Tapatío

At the drawing desk in my bedroom studio in Los Feliz, I was busy making semi-circles and slash marks with my pen on a sketch of three bearded characters holding …

Why My Chinese New Year Performance Needs Improvement

Even Here In L.A., My Parents Have Kept the Tradition Alive. Now I’d Better Learn To Do the Same.

Never mind exactly how old I am. Let’s just say I’m too old to be receiving a red envelope from my parents on Chinese New Year. Yet every year they …