It all started in Hong Kong, where my cousins and I gorged regularly on dim sum: pork buns, mango pudding, dumplings of every conceivable variety. Alas, when we attempted to recreate the experience in Boston’s Chinatown, the restaurants were all too authentic; none offered evening dim sum. So instead, we indulged in fatty, sweet, savory duck, passing dishes and rolling pancakes and thinking that we’d found a pretty good substitute.
on the road
It's Sunday morning and we have no plans. How nice!
A late summer afternoon Boston South Station, about to head west on the Commuter Rail
Walking through Boston, thinking about life. It is weird how those two feel strangely connected.
Paying it forward
The view from the deck of the Charles W. Morgan. She's visiting Boston for a few days, and I had the lucky privilege of an early-bird tour!
Ordinary things: but they mean I am settling into a new home. (Also, after three months, I finally have something to put my clothes in.)