Three Meals, One Unexpected Reckoning
A field guide for the quietly curious—from someone who doesn’t just eat anywhere.
🥄 The Bite
hi friends—sorry i’m a little late this week.
i was in a quiet spiral.
the kind that sneaks up on you when life looks fine on paper,
but your brain won’t stop poking at the old bruises.
it’s been a month since i left fintech.
a month since we moved to new york.
and while this new chapter has been full of warmth (thank you, truly)
some days, the noise still gets in.
so, storytime.
my husband flew to san francisco this weekend.
i stayed in new york—to feel the things i usually postpone.
and what surfaced wasn’t about the distance.
it was something older.
an ache i’ve carried since moving to the U.S. five years ago.
the kind of ache that doesn’t show up until you finally slow down.
the kind that’s easy to outrun—until it isn’t.
starting over at 31 in a new country is brutal.
no context. no shared history.
everything i built back home suddenly irrelevant.
and still, i was expected to keep up.
don’t get me wrong—i’ve landed on the other side.
i’m married to someone who truly sees me.
i’m finally doing work that feels like mine.
i have a small but sacred circle in new york, jackson hole, and san francisco.
and a quiet army back in southeast asia who never stopped rooting for me.
but the bar i hold for connection is high.
and maybe you know what that’s like.
not because you’re not loved—
but because being fully seen is its own kind of work.
slow. honest. sometimes lonely.
even now, i still have days where i feel lost inside a life i built from scratch.
fifteen years of hustle.
of hiding the parts that hurt.
of trying to prove—i’m here, i’m okay, i’m enough.
and if you’ve felt that too—
i hope this space gives you something to hold onto.
something to take with you.
what i’m building here is simple:
food as a portal. pain as permission.
and a soft place to land when the hard parts of life finally catch up.
🧠 The Shift
This weekend, something opened.
I tried a platform my husband built—🧠 part AI, part curiosity machine.
A side project called TwoCuriousMinds.
It pulls in videos that challenge how you think,
then pairs them with AI-generated prompts.
Not just about the content—but about what it stirs in you.
He trained the AI to do what he does best:
ask questions that land soft but stay with you.
The kind that shift your perspective—gently, but deeply.
Basically, it’s his brain in software form—with heart.
And one of the prompts stopped me cold:
“What’s an unusual analogy for your inner voice—that helps you remember it’s not really you?”
And the AI replied:
“Think of it like a radio. A radio plays voices from different stations. Your mind does too. You don’t have to believe every voice. You can choose what to tune into—or turn off.”
I read that and froze.
Not because it was new—
but because it gave shape to something I’d been trying to outrun.
I took a walk. Made lunch.
And when I came back to the keyboard, the voice had softened.
Not because it disappeared—
but because I remembered I didn’t have to keep listening.
🍽 Three NYC meals I’d return for
After a weekend of spiraling, this was the question that grounded me:
What brings me back to myself?
Sometimes it’s a walk.
Sometimes it’s a sentence from a stranger.
But most times—it’s a really good meal.
I get asked where to eat all the time. And how I choose.
Here’s how:
I follow energy. I follow instinct.
And yes, I do the homework.
I look for places that were built with intention, not just execution—
the ones that don’t scream for attention, but reward you for noticing.
This week, I’m sharing three of them.
A fine-dining spot with a hidden entrance.
A casual lunch built for the friend group with all the dietary flags.
A menu update that wasn’t announced—but arrived like a quiet breakthrough.
All different. All worth your time.
🍷 Frevo – W 8th Street
It starts like this:
You walk into an art gallery. Someone pushes a hidden door.
Behind it—an unmarked 16-seat tasting counter, lit like a secret.
The night I went, the room felt curated.
Phones out. Voices low. Everyone trying a little too hard to look effortless.
I had a moment of panic—
“Did I just make my friend sit through a 2.5-hour dinner that’s all vibes and no soul?”
But then the food started arriving.
And everything shifted.
It didn’t demand attention—it just held it.
If you gave it your full presence, it gave something back.
The menu changes seasonally, but the real magic is in the restraint.
No showing off. Just clean, clear choices that land.
Frevo doesn’t always make the typical NYC fine dining lists—which honestly makes me love it more.
They’ve been open six years under Chef Franco’s helm.
Quietly consistent. Still getting better.
And yes, there was a table with kids. Surprisingly wonderful ones.
If you want to bring your own, call ahead—they’ll likely say yes.
Go when you want New York to whisper, not shout.
🥪 Counter Service – W 14th Street
Some sandwiches lean green. Some don’t. Fully intentional.
No branding campaign. No manifesto.
Just a menu that understands the modern friend group:
One dairy-free. One meat eater. One that only eats beige.
I went out of curiosity, because a friend said,
“It’s the best new sandwich spot in NYC.”
I grew up in Southeast Asia. We don’t really crave sandwiches.
So I brought my husband, who does. He agreed.
Oh, don’t sleep on the cookies—or the sweet-and-spicy broken pretzels.
I asked if I could try the cookie. They just handed me one.
No big deal. No performance.
That tiny gesture told me everything I needed to know about the place.
Andrew was sous chef at Eleven Madison Park.
Neil at Quince.
Their investor? The founder of Chipotle.
And yet, the vibe is completely unbothered.
Like someone in sweats—but moisturizers.
🪷 Fish Cheeks – NoHo (soon: Williamsburg)
They dropped some new items on the menu. No fanfare. Just quiet excellence.
Chef Dustin is leaning into what Fish Cheeks has always done well
—sharp, authentic, citrusy Thai food—but now it feels more rhythmic.
More confident. Less polished, in the best way.
They’re opening in Williamsburg soon.
Go to the original while it still feels like yours.
🥄 The Nudge
Next time you go out—don’t just eat.
Notice who leads.
Notice what you default to.
Notice what’s said without being said.
Ask yourself:
What meal have you been putting off?
Because it feels too far.
Too indulgent.
Too much.
Maybe it’s time.
If this landed somewhere between your stomach and your soul,
send it to someone who always orders the right thing.
Or someone you want at your next table.
Till the next bite,
stay hungry—stay human.
hungryhelen
@yourhungrybff