What’s a Hapa?
I’m hard pressed to say which of my friends are the better chefs.
For my money, Steele’s probably the best but that might just be because I’ve had his food the most.
Bryson and Pak are both close behind, with Pak working in restaurants practically his whole life and Bryson just taking it seriously like Steele.
I will say this: Before my dad died, Steele and Bryson both came by so he could show them how he made sushi.
It’s one of my fondest life memories, ever.
As for me, I’ve been trying for some two-plus decades to get invited over to Bryson’s for a meal and, earlier last week, it finally happened.
Because the Firecracker and I had such a great experience at the Frenchman’s for dinner last year, we all decided to have hot pot again, but this time at the Brysons.
Their pad was absolutely ginormous – four bedrooms in Queens, which isn’t very common.
With an outdoor area to boot.
Me: Man, this place is just tiny.
Him: (laughing) Come on, I’ll give you the tour.
Bryson moved a lot in the past few decades but, like me, stayed in the same building, just moving from one unit to another.
The last time I visited Bryson and his wife, Nikki, they were both sans kids; this time around, they had three, with one a freshman in high school.
Her: I saw you on YouTube and told my friends you were friends with my dad, that was fire.
Me: Sweeeeeeet, I’ll take it. Tell your friends.
Bryson wanted me to just sit and chill but it was just him prepping for this small army of people.
So, I rolled up my sleeves and got to chopping, first deboning and cutting the chix and then the flat iron steak.
Bryson took the chicken and made some Karaage – which my dad used to make for me alla time (god, I miss him) – for the kids, although we ate some as well.
Firecracker: OMG, that is so good.
Me: That’s for the kids! The hot pot’s the main attraction.
Her: I’ll try…
But Bryson didn’t make it easy for her anyone to pace themselves because he kept bringing out these delicious dishes that we all loved.
Like, I mentioned how much Tess and I liked spam and how much the Firecracker had grown to love it and so he made a bowl of musubi for us to all enjoy (which is what the kids were eating in the last photo of the last entry).
By the time the hot pot rolled around, we were all already pretty full.
Which is not to say that we didn’t kill that all as well.
On that note, Bryson bought a slab of wagyu beef which, being the absolute animals we were, we devoured before Bryson got to try any.
Me: So sorry we killed the wagyu before you had a chance to try it.
Bryson: Whatever. Super happy you guys were able to enjoy. That’s my happiness
Afterward, we all had some of the tart and chocolate cheesecake that the Frenchman and Tess brought over.
Oh, I suppose I should explain the main pictures of these two entries: My back has been absolutely killing me these days.
I’ve been doing this back PT called the Mckenzie Method but you gotta do it like every 60-120 minutes all day for it to work.
I’d be slacking for a while so my back’s not been improving.
Ergo, I gave myself a goal of a minimum of eight times a day and – because these were all good friends of mine – I asked Nikki for a yoga mat and did them.
It was fine – it was my comedic contribution to the night.
Well, that and alcohol.
It was a great night, as always, with good friends.
We took an Uber back and the boy was beat tired when we got back.
Me: Did you have a good time, kiddo?
Him: Yes. I’m so full. I’m so tired. Did you, papa?
Me: Good. Yes, I did. Bryson’s one of my oldest friends and the Frenchman and his family are nice aren’t they?
Him: (nodding as he dozes off)
Me: Good night, kid. Papa loves you.
Him: (smiles with his eyes closed)
Location: a train to the Morgan Library and Museum from Newark
Mood: starving
Music: if we go down, at least I’m in good company (Spotify)
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