Messy Croissants.

In March 2021, there was a post in the Subtle Asian Cooking group about American *cough white cough* bloggers, the high profile ones, seem to always position Chinese / Asian food as unhealthy, dirty, greasy, and come up with their 'simpler, cleaner, healthier, alternate' recipe.

That kinda kickstarted this post.

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Forgive me, father.

At home, when no one is looking, after I send my daughter to kinder, lock the doors, and shut the blinds, I dip my croissant into my coffee.

The croissant gets soggy, the flakes dissolve, I see the rainbow oil stains glistening on the surface of my mug.

I eat the croissant - now flabby, soaked with coffee - with my fingers as the liquid grease drips down my wrist, and I slurp the rest from the coffee mug.

My wife looks at me in disgust.

I regret nothing.

The butter from the pastry and the bitter acidity from the coffee work so well together, father.

If you want me to describe a similar experience, HKers also dip yao zha gwai into their juuk.

Taiwanese into their dou jiang.

Malaysians bah kut teh.

Well, this is me combining Melbourne's finest - coffee and croissant.

And it's beautiful.

Your hands cover your face father, but I can see your eyes through the cracks.

Food is like sex right, behind closed doors my kinky stuff might not be your cup of tea, but it's also none of your business.

If I really have to explain, it's nostalgia.

Always nostalgia, father.

I remember in kindergarten, during tea time, the teacher would bring in a bag of assorted cakes, kuihs, snacks, and each of us got to pick one.

My favourite was the youtiao / yao zha gwai / hahm jin beng clan. The sweet Siamese twin one with sesame seeds. The flat one with sticky rice, the one with red bean paste inside.

Each of us also received a cup of beverage. Sometimes Horlick, sometimes Milo, and for some reason, I remember Kopi O. (Why would anyone give kindergarten kids black coffee? Why?)

I don't know who started it.
I think it was then, in that room, we started dunking our cakes, our kuehs, our yao zha gwais into our drinks.

Those were fun times, father.

Nowadays I can't find fresh yao zha gwai in Melbourne (I can, but that's in Footscray) but I have easier access to fresh croissants.

And you know what, if white people can freestyle on Asian food, I can freestyle on whatever foreign devil horn bread I want. You put pandan and matcha in croissants? I dunk it in coffee. I can eat them with chopsticks if I want. I can stuff them with pork floss if I want.

And thus we've arrived at the reveal of the show, the meat of the movie. The filling of the dumpling.

This isn't about croissants or coffee, it's about white bloggers cultural appropriating Asian food after claiming it to be dirty, greasy, and unhealthy.

This is not a confession father, this is a shakedown! Because there's nothing to be embarrassed about.
Now get out.

...

It's pretty sad, no? The bloggers.

Their entire vocabulary of Asian food is just the typical fast food (which our ancestors kinda created for them because their taste buds only accepted sweet, deep-fried stuff).

Imagine, if I were to say French food is unhealthy because ‘French Fries’ are deep-fried.

I vividly remember the awkwardness of trying to converse with a guy who has never traveled.
Because he doesn't know what he doesn't know.

It's kinda similar here.

Asian food for non-Asians starts from ala carte.
Or, in a box.

Growing up with American pop culture, and even with the magic of Hollywood, not once have I ever thought Chinese takeaway looks appealing. 12-year-old me watching Rush Hour was thinking 'Why? Why are they eating from a box? Why not pour out onto a plate? WTF is mushu? '

They never experienced a full banquet, the chopstick taichi of serving a dish to another, the round table, the lazy susan, the visual stimulation, combining different leftovers into a plate, the steam from the kitchen, the banter, the stress eating, the background echoes of Teresa Teng, that smell on the way to the toilet, how we learned first hand never to pour hot tea into a glass filled with ice.

How do you convey that?

We can't pass on that education with an angry comment.

And come on, they don't really wanna learn, they just want more clicks, more likes. Imagine a drug addict trying to score drugs, do you think he cares if his drugs are sustainable or organic? Every day in an 'influencer's life, all they care about is to maintain that dopamine hit.

So instead of being angry, we should feel sorry. Pity.

And then block them.

I know it hurts. It's like overhearing a good friend of yours thinking you're always beneath her. You have to decide whether it's worth keeping that friendship.

That's, you know, part of growing up.

We should be proud of our critical thinking.

Because I'm so afraid one day my daughter will go 'I like Anna and Elsa, if they say Asian food is unhealthy and greasy, then it must be true.'

Scared shitless, I'm telling you.

I'm having college flashbacks of the girls who dated major jerks and declared 'all men are all pigs', who are now posting relationship advice on social media as yoga instructors.

Don't be angry.

Feel sorry. Pity.

Then block them.

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When I finished writing this post a week later, white people misinterpreting Asian food seems to be the least of our worry.

I have zero interest in politics. Zero surprises that minorities get treated poorly.

Recently life is 50% dreading that I'm becoming my dad and the other 50% proud that I AM a dad.

So, be careful.

It's not cowardice to run away from an argument or confrontation.

Bruce Lee can fight, but he also died young at 32.

Live long for your family.

If not for all the beautiful things in the world - hargow, ramen, charsiubao, korean fried chicken, xo fried rice, laksa, Japanese white rice, roti canai ...