all things food
We’ve teamed up with our friends at Stanley—makers of beautiful flasks, pitchers, tumblers, cocktail shakers, and more—to bring you 10 of our favorite holiday cocktail recipes to make all season long.
Cozy season is upon us, and I am stoked. It’s ti…
We’ve teamed up with our friends at Stanley—makers of beautiful flasks, pitchers, tumblers, cocktail shakers, and more—to bring you 10 of our favorite holiday cocktail recipes to make all season long.
Cozy season is upon us, and I am stoked. It’s time for flickering fireplaces, heartwarming movies and family moments, and best of all, cozy seasonal cocktails (or mocktails) to imbibe while enjoying it all.
I have vivid memories of visiting my grandmother’s house as a child. I know the way so well—the exact subway car to get off at so we’re closest to the exit stairs, the swirl ice cream machine we always pass where I beg my mom for a cone (“just this one…
I have vivid memories of visiting my grandmother’s house as a child. I know the way so well—the exact subway car to get off at so we’re closest to the exit stairs, the swirl ice cream machine we always pass where I beg my mom for a cone (“just this one time!”), the correct right turn to make (it’s the second one, not the first or the last). In my memories, we arrive at her gate, the one with giant lion-faced metal door knockers with rings in their mouths. I reach out quietly to grab one, knowing as soon as it creaks her dogs will start barking like mad.
I know tons of people have similar childhood memories of visiting their grandparents, whether it was a long, cross-country drive or a quick bike ride up the street. But my grandmother, who I saw every summer, lived on the other side of the world.
My Korean parents never drink. On occasion, during his birthday party perhaps, my dad will drink one beer and his face will immediately turn beet red. My mother can barely stand the smell—one whiff and she’ll complain of an oncoming headache. So it’s a…
My Korean parents never drink. On occasion, during his birthday party perhaps, my dad will drink one beer and his face will immediately turn beet red. My mother can barely stand the smell—one whiff and she’ll complain of an oncoming headache. So it’s a mystery to them how I, their first-born daughter, came to be the best drinker of all time.
This is hubris, of course, but hubris is what drives the Korean drinking experience. It’s common to be asked, “How many bottles of soju can you drink?” as a measure of sizing up someone’s abilities. Drinking is not only a challenge in Korean society, but a way of life—you learn how to accept a drink from your elders, drink socially with your friends, commiserate over drinks with coworkers, meet for drinks with clients to land big deals, and pour a glass to honor your ancestors.
I first spotted a coffee pouch on my friend’s Instagram story when he was visiting Korea. I didn’t think much of it at first, but a few weeks later when I was visiting Korea with my parents, they resurfaced the video for me. “Oh we must go try that cof…
I first spotted a coffee pouch on my friend’s Instagram story when he was visiting Korea. I didn’t think much of it at first, but a few weeks later when I was visiting Korea with my parents, they resurfaced the video for me. “Oh we must go try that coffee pouch that Dan tried!” exclaimed my dad. And so we did, on our first jet lagged convenience store run.
Replicating my friend’s video exactly, I first located the correct counter height freezer (not the one with the ice creams), slid open the glass door, and extracted a plastic cup full of ice. From the shelf above, I chose a blue and brown “Cantata” pouch with a photo of iced coffee on the front that dripped with condensation. After paying, I popped open the ice cup, peeled open the coffee pouch, and poured the liquid in, which filled up right to the edge of the cup like a perfectly measured science experiment. After snapping the lid back on and spearing with a straw, I swirled the coffee around the crackling ice and took a big refreshing sip.