In the mid-twenties, my sister, Stephanie, and I organized our first lunar New Year’s Eve party for a handful of friends in Chicago. We liked the MIDI karaoke setup more than the kitchen: our printed menu included “fried vegetables” and “rice”. But it was the first time I tried to prepare Chinese food worthy of the party for a crowd.
That celebration became an annual event and my cooking got better and better. Today I can cook percent instead of 20. My parties have featured a variety of Chinese and Taiwanese regional dishes, many inspired by the food I ate growing up in Houston or on my trips abroad, such as the vibrant boiled fish of Sichuan. and bad spicy peanuts. Every year is different. Sometimes it’s an intimate dinner. At other times, he is a more welcoming man with friends. I hang handmade colorful decorations from Hong Kong, draw baijiu bottles and karaoke at Fleetwood Mac until the last minute.
And every year I try to cook something new. This desire to discover is why I created Yun Hai Taiwanese Pantry, which imports high quality products such as small batch chili crisps and ground sesame oils for home cooks in North America. These characteristically sweet, sour and fun flavors form the basis of this year’s Lunar New Year’s menu. There are crispy five-spice pork ribs whose crispy crisp comes from sweet potato starch. Noodles with onion oil are seasoned with soy paste, a Taiwanese condiment that is like soy sauce with more body and tang.
Lunar New Year’s menus are traditionally defined by symbolism: long noodles for a long life, a whole chicken to join. I don’t stick to it. I do what I want to eat. Whether it’s fried vegetables or folding balls, Lunar New Year (which falls on January 25 this year) is just a good reason to host a killer dinner.