This interview is part of a new Golden Hour conversation series spotlighting Asian diaspora chefs, mixologists, hoteliers, storytellers, and creatives—sharing both the hard truths about Asian representation today and the joy, pride, and complexity of shaping it (This conversation has been lightly edited for length and clarity).

Six months ago, when I stepped into Nicola Yem’s San Francisco home for the first time, I was nervous. I’m a natural introvert, and a supper club with strangers is about as daunting as it gets. But I’m a writer, and writers are incurably curious about other people… so, in I went. Nicola and I found each other on Instagram a while back, but—not to be dramatic—the moment we saw each other, just two girls who grew up in Hong Kong, it was as though we’d known each other for years. We skipped the small talk, and went directly into catching up!

If I were to send someone like me to their first supper club, Six for Supper would be the one, no contest. The food is delicious and inventive, and the setting (her gorgeous home!) is intimate and relaxed. But the bigger draw is Nicola herself, a host and chef whose energy is infectious and whose warmth is genuine. I was one of the only guests experiencing Six for Supper for the first time that evening, and it’s no wonder the rest keep coming back to gather, eat, and make memories.

I’m thrilled to share Nicola’s story in her own words: how she prepares each meal, what she’s learned about belonging, and her most unfiltered takes. Read on!

Hi! Tell us about yourself. Who is Nicola, and what were some of the chapters that led you here?

I’m Nicola, and I run a culinary venture in San Francisco called Six for Supper. My life has gone something like this: I was born in London and moved to Hong Kong with my family when I was five. At 16, I went back to the U.K. for boarding school in Oxford, then on to university in London. I landed in San Francisco at 21.

My corporate career took me to Los Angeles, New York, and back to San Francisco. When I was 37, I quit corporate to travel for 14 months. And when I returned, I worked at a few smaller real estate companies—but finally at the end of 2023, I started Six for Supper officially.

Where did the idea for Six for Supper come from? What was the moment you knew you actually had to make it real?

I’ve always connected to people through food. It’s so embedded in my culture and my family, and how we show and express love. Not in words, but in having high tea at the Mandarin Oriental Hotel in Hong Kong; sharing Chinese desserts as well as the chocolate bunnies at Easter; and eating dim sum every Saturday at Luk Yu Tea House, Indian food at Southorn Playground in Wan Chai, Czarina Restaurant on Bonham Road, or Teppanyaki in Causeway Bay.

In many ways, it’s how I keep my dad with me. It’s through cooking, eating, tasting, and sharing a meal that I keep him with me. After 30 years in corporate, I wanted a new chapter. I didn’t understand it at the time, but it probably had something to do with losing my dad at 40.

Life is precious. Don’t wait to do what you want, and don’t worry about all the reasons why it might not work. Focus on making things happen.

Thank you for sharing that with us, and you’re right—food is such a loaded carrier of culture and memory. Do those layers weigh on you when you host, or does the table feel more like a space of freedom and reinterpretation?

For me, it’s a space of freedom. My style of cooking is really an amalgamation of the places I lived in and traveled to. I don’t really have a specific style or cuisine that I focus on. I love it when I introduce flavors to guests and it’s something they haven’t tasted before.

Things don’t have to be just one thing. Why not serve stir-fried cabbage seasoned with chili oil alongside a frittata? As long as the flavors work. My signature pavlova is a pandan-infused meringue base topped with mango and passionfruit—a quintessentially Australian dessert with a Southeast Asian twist.

Have your ideas around home, cultural identity, or belonging shifted over time, especially through building Six for Supper?

Yes. I went to British school in Hong Kong, so only my home life was Chinese. My parents grew up in the sixties and met in London at that time, so while we were very “Westernized,” my parents, especially my dad, had grown up in a large traditional Chinese family—his father had 11 brothers!

I remember as a child going to Chinese banquets where we had to greet each great uncle and aunt individually. The respect for elders was very prominent. For me, it was this strange co-existence of two worlds. I then remember going to boarding school and not being invited to a Lunar New Year celebration because I wasn’t considered Chinese enough.

Then, after moving to San Francisco, people couldn’t understand why I had an English accent, so there was always this sense of not really belonging in any world. Now, it has shifted. Instead of feeling discomfort, I embrace it. I belong everywhere, and there’s a part of me in all places. And this comes through in my food that I’m able to share with others. It’s not just one cuisine or one type of food—it’s an amalgamation of my experiences on a plate.

Walk us through the making of a supper club. There’s such a strong social element to what you do. How do you shape the menu, mood, and energy of an evening?

It’s very dynamic, which is what I love. The creative process is really immersive for me and it’s something I do mostly alone. It can be based on a specific cuisine—Indian, Singaporean, or Thai—and what’s in season; or it can be inspired by a single ingredient. Last year, I did a tasting supper club based entirely on soybean. I made a makrut lime leaf oil, then decided to try it on gravlax. It worked really well, so that became the first course!

The energy is definitely dependent on the guests, and they’ve all been different, which is what I love about supper clubs. No two are alike, in terms of people and food.

As a fellow Bay Area resident, I’m always curious to know this. For people wanting to experience San Francisco beyond the tourist traps, where would you point them to for great Asian food?

I’m more focused these days by really well-executed dishes and places with character, rather than Michelin stars. My top recommendations would be the squab and the sea coconut + geoduck soup at New Jumbo Seafood Restaurant on Noriega Street, and phở or bún chả at Pho Huong Viet on Geary Boulevard.

Soba Katsu in Japantown feels like a spot straight out of Tokyo, and Clement Street is really having a moment. There’s a mix of old and new, and the sticky rice bun at Wing Lee Bakery is excellent, but that’s the only thing I’d get there!

Give us a hot take! It can be as mild or spicy as you’d like.

Perceptions of Chinese food have come a long way, and for the better—but we still have so far to go. The biggest thing people get wrong is treating “Chinese food” as a single cuisine. It’s not. China is vast, and each region is its own world—Cantonese, Sichuan, Hunan, Shanghainese, Northern—and as different from one another as Italian is from French.

I’d love to see Chinese food given the same care and curiosity that Japanese food gets, because there’s so much more there to discover. And honestly, some of that is on us: we haven’t always been good at sharing the knowledge or telling the story. That has to change.

Before we let you go, what’s next for you? Anything that we should have on our radar?

Tomorrow, on August 29th, I’ll be partnering with Nido Club for a Six for Supper dinner, with paired wine tastings provided by Baker Canyon Wine. You can still RSVP here if you’re in town!

I’m launching a new series called Sunday Sessions, which is a daytime gathering. I’m exploring an idea for a cooking retreat up near Sea Ranch. And I’ve always launched my Small Joys program. Every few weeks I choose one of my Six for Supper regulars and invite them to send a little joy onward. They pick someone in their life who could use a lift, and I bake something and deliver it to that person’s door, free, as a gift from them.

And then there’s the dream. I’d love to go back to Hong Kong and capture the stories and skills of its older craftspeople—in particular the food places I use to frequent with my family—and help preserve their legacies before they slip away-some may have already gone. So much of my love of food and connection is rooted there, especially in my childhood memories of my father. I feel such a deep nostalgia and yearning for the place and the precious memories it holds.

I think it’s wonderful that younger generations are discovering cha chaan tengs and dai pai dongs. But these were places I frequented as a child; I experienced them and I’d love to preserve that memory and offer a different point of view.

Thank you so much for reading my newsletter, and hope you enjoyed it! If there’s anything you loved or didn’t quite connect with, I’d love to hear your thoughts. Your feedback is truly appreciated and will help me make this a more enjoyable read for you!

Until next time, Laura x

This interview is part of a new Golden Hour conversation series spotlighting Asian diaspora chefs, mixologists, hoteliers, storytellers, and creatives—sharing both the hard truths about Asian representation today and the joy, pride, and complexity of shaping it (This conversation has been lightly edited for length and clarity).

On a trip to Taipei a few years ago, while perusing one of my favorite bookstores, 朋 丁 pon ding, I caught a glimpse of the word “TAIWAN” and its Chinese characters, “台灣” largely stretched across a zine’s cover. It was impossible to miss, and with my interest piqued, I flipped through, instantly hungry. A year later, the zine found me again—this time at Heath Newsstand in San Francisco. I wanted to know who was behind this beautiful love letter to Asian culture and flavors.

That would be Chris O’Leary, the founder and creative director of FatBoy Zine, a publication he describes as “a greedy attempt to document a small part of Asian food and culture.” Chris doesn’t see food as just nourishment, but rather as something that carries cultural depth and the ability to heal. He’s deeply connected to a network of chefs and creatives shaping how we eat, cook, and tell stories—and it’s no coincidence. Spend a few minutes chatting with Chris and it becomes clear: he’s thoughtful, disarming, and easy to be around.

I’m so thrilled to share Chris’ story in his words, his passion for food and zines, and his most unfiltered takes. Please read on!

Hi! Tell us about yourself. Who is Chris?

I’m a creative director living in London with my partner, Emily, and our cat, Cora.

I’m originally from Hong Kong. My mum’s Filipino and my dad’s British. I grew up in Hong Kong until I was around 8-9 years old, when we moved to the Philippines. I loved my childhood in Hong Kong, and I’ll say Hong Kong in the 90s as a kid was unbeatable—everything just seemed so exciting and freeing. When we moved to the Philippines, we moved to my mum’s village in the countryside, which had a very different vibe. I learned to love the quiet and nature a lot more. Eventually, we left and moved to Liverpool—again, a very different vibe.

I don’t know if I’d say any specific place or culture was the most formative. Although in my heart I feel the strongest connection to Hong Kong, I think each place taught me something different: Hong Kong taught me to be ambitious and excited, the Philippines taught me to be free and appreciative, while Liverpool taught me to be resourceful and less serious. They’re all beautiful places, for different reasons, to me.

Let’s chat about your publication, FatBoy Zine, which seems to embody a wide range of cultures, perspectives, and experiences—much like your own life. How did the zine first come to be?

I wish it was a simple, straightforward journey, but to be honest, it was quite a difficult time. I’d lost my mum quite suddenly in 2017, and of course, that absolutely destroyed me. We were really close, and I was struggling a lot.

There were a few factors that led me to start FatBoy Zine from that. Firstly, I was looking for comfort, and I tried making dishes she’d cook for me as a kid. But there weren’t any recipes written down, so I tried to recreate them as best I could. Also, in the aftermath, I felt a distinct lack of connection to my culture and roots. It was like I’d realized I hadn’t been engaging with my heritage for a long time, and I hated that. Lastly, I went to bereavement therapy, and my therapist encouraged me to pursue more writing—specifically stream-of-consciousness writing to help me process.

I started to cook and write in a stream-of-consciousness way—making recipes and writing them down alongside how I felt. After a few months, I felt better and had this stack of writing, with no idea what to do with it. A few friends in publishing and photobooks suggested I make something, for myself and for other people out there who might be struggling, so I did. It took around eight months to get my ideas and process in order, but when I released it, the reception was amazing.

People were messaging me saying they had similar experiences and were looking to reconnect with their heritage and culture. It was the best response I could’ve hoped for—that people could see themselves in the work and open up—so I decided to keep publishing.

Thank you for sharing that with us, and I’m so glad that what you’ve created has resonated with so many people. How many issues have you released so far? How do you decide on the theme, stories, and featured guests?

We’ve released six issues so far, ranging from specific geographic locations to more abstract themes. Originally, I thought about doing them all based on places, but I soon realized I didn’t want to become a “city guide” or potentially ignore the diaspora I was a part of. I decided to pursue bigger-picture themes like “multi-heritage.”

To be honest, there’s never a big, strategic moment that decides the themes. It’s always down to conversations I have that are interesting and get me thinking. It’s totally based on gut feeling, and I think that works because it lets me pursue really intense topics and doesn’t limit me.

Once I’ve decided on a theme, I spend a few weeks writing and rewriting a statement about it: how I want people to feel, what’s interesting or boring, observations on what other people think—still all in stream-of-consciousness form. From there, once I have my idea formulated, I look at people I admire, from chefs to writers and artists, and I think about whose work and point of view would bring an interesting perspective to the theme. Sometimes it might seem obscure, but I pay a lot of attention to a person’s work, their underlying points of view and beliefs. I base my commissions on that, and it always leads to an interesting conversation for the zine.

You’re based in London, which is widely viewed as a global hub for diverse culinary traditions. Does that feel accurate to you? How would you describe Asian representation there today, in both the food scene and media?

I would definitely agree with that statement. As a place for diverse food, London spans not just geographic locations, but ideas, ambitions, skill levels, and history—it’s unfathomable, and I love that about this city. I’ve been running FatBoy Zine for around eight years now, and I’m still uncovering so many things, which is great.

Asian food representation in London, in my experience, has always been quite tricky. There are a lot of historical dynamics that can lead to a narrow view of Asian food, like associating certain Asian countries with automatically being “high-end” and others as “cheap and accessible.” Some people may judge a restaurant on its authenticity, equating it with quality, without wanting to find out what the owner and chef are trying to achieve. This isn’t unique or limited to London or Asian food, but it is annoying.

There has, however, been more understanding of these dynamics, and a lot of great writers advocating for more open-mindedness. It has been improving: general awareness of regionality, lesser-known cuisines, and dishes is growing, and people are more interested in asking questions rather than going straight to comparison.

I’ve been most excited about these newer groups of chefs and creatives who are exploring the boundaries of art and food simultaneously. Bao definitely helped lead the way, and now we have people like Lil Wong Bakes, Swilipino, Lai Rai, Mae Maglanoc, Rahel Stephanie, Ana Da Costa, and loads more. They’re messing with flavors, textures, regionality, art, community, and business in ways that felt unattainable a few years ago. And what’s brilliant is everyone knows each other—you can go to a pop-up, bake sale, or book launch, and every talented chef and artist is there, supporting each other as friends.

As for what’s missing, sadly it’s always funding. There are so many talented people, community groups, and support systems, but that next level of financial access and growth—though slowly improving—remains tricky.

You’ve just listed off some really cool and talented people. For those of us wanting to explore London through a more cultural lens, where else should we be looking?

If you’re in the Soho/Covent Garden area, you must hit up Mae Maglanoc’s spot, Donia, or Panadera, then head over to Gosh! Comics for a browse, followed by a drink at TOKKIA.

Walk around Earl’s Court for great Filipino shops and restaurants, like Lutong Pinoy, then head up to the Design Museum or Japan House for some art and culture.

Check out the Southeast and East Asian Centre’s events, like supper clubs and pop-ups—there’s always something good happening there. From there, you can take an eight-minute bus ride down the road towards Hoxton and eat at any of the sick BYOB Vietnamese restaurants there. Everyone’s got a favorite and will assure you their spot is the best, but simply try them all and see what you like.

I haven’t been yet, but Rice Paddy has got people talking. Also if you’re here at the right time, check out Peckham 24’s photo exhibitions. We try to go every year, and it’s always great.

You could also come down to my neck of the woods in Clapton. Within a five-minute radius, there’s an insane collection of brilliant Asian restaurants like Mambow, Uchi, Hai Cafe, and My Neighbours the Dumplings. After a meal, take a walk through the Marshes and enjoy the vibe.

Moving away from London for a minute, have you ever traveled anywhere where you thought: “Wow, the food here is incredible”?

Taiwan, 100%. We traveled there for our fifth issue (and I also proposed to my partner on the same trip). I expected to enjoy the food, but I had no idea how much of an impact it would have on me. From breakfast and night markets all the way to the cocktail scene, it’s all so genius and varied. I’m always thinking about going back.

Give us a hot take! It can be as mild or spicy as you’d like.

I swear this list could be so long, but I’ll stick with one thing. It’s not something that’s necessarily wrong (OK, it kind of is), but it definitely annoys me. It’s when people and businesses decide an Asian ingredient (e.g., matcha, ube, books, films, chilli oil) is popular, then proceed to explain it back to you like you need educating. It’s crazy how people have the confidence to repeat soundbites back to you, thinking you haven’t also been overexposed to the exact same video on Instagram or TikTok.

This happens every time something from Asia gains popularity, and I almost instinctively expect people to tell me why this is important for me to understand.

This has been truly lovely. Before we let you go, what’s next for you? Anything that we should have on our radar?

I can’t lie, this is going to be a big year for me, and I’m just hoping I can stay sane long enough to pull it all off. I’ve just helped organize London’s first-ever publishing fair dedicated to food. The Food in Print Magazine Fair was a cooperative effort between myself, Vittles, and Pit Magazine to bring indie publishing to a bigger audience and connect people to new food writers.

FatBoy Zine issue 7 is also coming out this year. As a sneak preview, it’s all about Asian sweets and desserts. Some incredible chefs agreed to be involved, so I’m really excited.

Lastly—and this is my biggest life change since last year—I’ve recently quit my full-time job as Creative Director for Warner Music Group to build and expand FatBoy Zine. I’ll still be publishing the zine, but I also want to slowly build out FatBoy Zine Studios, a creative studio dedicated to food, music, and publishing.

Thank you so much for reading my newsletter, and hope you enjoyed it! If there’s anything you loved or didn’t quite connect with, I’d love to hear your thoughts. Your feedback is truly appreciated and will help me make this a more enjoyable read for you!

Until next time, Laura x

Hi everyone,

I’m writing to you from Shanghai, where I’m visiting family, and as it turns out, walking down memory lane. Golden Hour usually lives in the world of travel and hospitality, but today, I want to talk to you about mahjong. It feels only right to tell this story from the city where I first encountered the game.

I didn’t grow up playing mahjong. My mahjong education came late, and with it, a nagging insecurity of not feeling “Chinese enough” throughout my 20s. Growing up, I was taught to keep my distance from the game. Mahjong is gambling, my family warned. Don’t touch it, or you’ll get addicted. I was told that women who played too much were considered “白相人嫂嫂” (frivolous and unserious). And as a child, I remember stealing quick, forbidden glances into the dim interiors of “棋牌室” (poker and mahjong parlors) with both caution and curiosity. The rattling of tiles paired with wafts of cigarette smoke made me shudder. I was convinced something shady was going on.

Being back in this city now in my 30s, softer memories have surfaced. Just days ago, I walked by a group of elders playing mahjong on a street corner. A small ring of neighbors and passersby formed around them, hands clasped behind their backs, chiming in whether invited to or not. I used to see this everywhere—at Fuxing Park, on Huashan Road, or in front of a “弄堂” (a residential alleyway)—the way a single game could magnetically pull strangers into a tight, animated huddle. Last week, I also learned that my late grandmother used to take a 30-minute bus ride across town every week just to play mahjong and banter with her girlfriends all afternoon. I didn’t learn the game from her, but somehow it still feels inseparable from me, from Shanghainese culture, and from Chinese life. For many people in the Asian diaspora, it has become a way of finding our way home.

If you’ve been online lately, you’ve probably noticed that mahjong is having a moment. Much of the coverage, however, centers on American style mahjong, specifically its aesthetics and profitability, rather than mahjong’s origins, cultural depth, and 40+ regional variants. A recent Vogue article traced a writer’s introduction to the game through a non-Asian-owned mahjong brand, ending with shopping recommendations for $15,000 luxury designer sets (and slightly more “accessible” options, though most of them not crafted by Asian makers). The Boston Globe highlighted how a growing number of white women are turning mahjong into their next business venture—“an alternative, perhaps, to the real estate agent or life coach pivot.”

Even on social media, its own kind of newsroom, an NPR Instagram post resurfaced an earlier story (aired nationally for All Things Considered) that featured Nicole Wong of The Mahjong Project, a leading voice in the space, yet failed to name her, tag her, or reflect Asian representation in its imagery. Two weeks ago, Diet Prada’s post about Oh My Mahjong’s “Glitterville Mahjong Sets” and $1,000+ “Heritage” starter kit sent the internet into a tizzy, bringing the conversation to a boiling point. The post also featured the brand’s now-deleted social media post, in which they “slapped” the New York Times logo and a pull-quote from a recent NYT’s Real Estate story about various game brands onto a photo of their founder and her interior designer—leading many to believe they were the main subjects of the story. In the article, the founder was quoted saying: “Mahjong is becoming this beautiful way of hosting—not just slapping a game on the table,” taking issue with the very way families have been playing for generations.

The list of examples goes on.

I think the cold hard truth is that history has a habit of repeating itself. Ever since Joseph Park Babcock brought mahjong from Suzhou to the U.S. in the 1920s, the game has been caught between two anti-Asian, racist extremes: exoticized for its “Oriental appeal” and patronized as something in dire need of “Western refinement” (I recommend watching this video for a mahjong history lesson with Dr. Annelise Heinz, and if you have the stomach for it, search for the 1924 song “Since Ma is Playing Mah Jong” by the Original Memphis Five).

We’re seeing a romanticization of Chinese culture play out again with the rise of “Chinamaxxing”—the viral trend where Westerners adopt Chinese lifestyle habits and aesthetics for the “vibe.” And when it comes to mahjong, it feels like something unmistakably Chinese is once again being repackaged, renamed (e.g., mahj, mah-jongg), aestheticized, and sold back as something entirely detached from the culture it belongs to and the people who created it.

To be clear, my goal isn’t to demonize American mahjong or sneer at anyone whose first exposure to the game was American style. After all, games evolve over time, and not everyone grew up playing with their grandparents or lives in a city with a thriving mahjong scene and large Asian population. American mahjong has its own layered history, including a deeply meaningful place in Jewish American communities throughout the 20th century. I simply want to share that there are many Asian-led mahjong clubs in the U.S. whose voices and stories remain largely absent from the mainstream media narrative. Whether it’s intentional oversight, cursory research, or a belief that these aren’t the stories that “sell,” the missed opportunity is glaring. I hope this can be an invitation to start shifting the spotlight onto the people that have been playing all along.

Meet the Community

About a month ago, I started doing some armchair research on mahjong, but didn’t feel like I was getting the full picture. A friend introduced me to Kiem Sie, who teaches mahjong across the San Francisco Bay Area. Over coffee in Oakland, we talked about her family’s roots in Java, Indonesia, and how she first learned mahjong 25 years ago from her friends. She didn’t realize it was American mahjong until her late father corrected her (“Kiem, that’s not real mahjong”). Eventually, he gifted her one of his vintage, hand-carved 144-tile sets, which I was lucky enough to see in person.

Over the following weeks, I spoke with 15 different Asian Americans in the mahjong space—instructors, event organizers, club founders, and restaurant owners—representing Chinese, Hong Kong, Taiwanese, and Filipino styles of play.

Kiem introduced me to fellow instructor Cindy Chiu, who runs “Teaching Tuesdays” at San Francisco’s Mr. Mahjong’s, as well as Jenn Lui and Alan Chen of 13 Orphans, an Oakland-based mahjong den and speakeasy. Likewise in the F&B space, I connected with Randi Lee of Brooklyn’s Leland Eating & Drinking House, who hosts mahjong events in their restaurant space; and Nancy Hsu and Samuel Wang of LA Mahjong League, who met serendipitously at Steep LA, the Chinatown modern tearoom, bar, and eatery co-owned by Samuel.

I also reached out to several folks already familiar with the media spotlight to pick their brains on the recent mahjong boom: Nicole Wong, founder of The Mahjong Project and author of Mahjong: House Rules from Across the Asian Diaspora; Sarah Teng, co-founder of NYC-based Green Tile Social Club (with Joanne Xu, Grace Liu, and Ernest Chan); Subhas Kandasamy, founder of NYC-based Mahjong Palace; and Angie Lin (QQ), founder of LA-based East Never Loses.

Lastly, I spoke with founders building mahjong communities outside the major NYC-LA-Bay Area hubs: Jacob Chang of Tampa’s Red Eye Mahjong, Tan Macaraeg of Seattle’s QTMahjong Club, Michael Wang of Chicago’s 144 Tiles Mahjong Club, who kindly introduced me to Jay Zhao of the San Gabriel Valley’s Common Ground Mahjong (a local alternative to the LA circuit).

I discovered a community that’s heartwarmingly tight-knit. They share articles in group chats, show up to one another’s events, and champion each other’s work. It was a gift to get a glimpse into their world. So, what did I hear from them? Let’s get into it.

The Real Talk

1. Mahjong doesn’t have a media visibility problem—it has a respect and depth-of-coverage problem.

Most people agree that mahjong’s sudden spotlight is, overall, a positive thing. Subhas describes the recent attention from the Financial Times, Vogue, and CNN Travel, among others, as surreal and flattering. Sarah also notes that the surge in popularity is worth celebrating, pointing to a New York Times feature on a Green Tile Social Club event as a rare example of a well-rounded article that did the community justice.

Having seen the game thrive in her home state of Texas, however, Sarah says that the cultural recognition hasn’t kept up with the hype: “We’re very plugged into how mahjong has grown there. Dallas mahjong clubs have really blown up, but the plug-in doesn’t go both ways. I’d love to gently tap these communities and ask: How much research did you actually do?”

Jay offers an analogy for this lack of depth: “Refusing to recognize the roots of mahjong is like refusing to learn the pronunciation of someone else’s name. Asian players learn other styles all the time. We do the work.”

As Subhas and Sarah pointed out, not all coverage misses the mark. In May 2025, Vogue published a personal essay by Nicole titled “Mahjong, My Grandparents, and Me,” which really moved me and prompted me to reach out to her. During our conversation, Nicole told me that while the game’s sudden popularity is thrilling, the coverage often falls short.

“It’s been disorienting and disappointing to see how the game is being covered by some mainstream media outlets,” she explains. “If someone is broadly covering the popularity of mahjong, I think it’s incredibly important they acknowledge the various styles and communities who play. It’s important to show that they are researching the game and can write about it with nuance and specificity.”

2. For many Asian Americans, mahjong’s big moment is tied to a generational fight to be seen.

Randi, who is half-Chinese, recalls how his father didn’t feel proud of his Chinese heritage until much later in life—a byproduct of living through a time when assimilation felt like the only survival strategy. “Now, we’re actively seeking out that culture,” Randi says. “As a third-generation Chinese American, I feel proud of what my family carried forward, but I don’t know if our voices are always fully heard.”

Fellow restaurateur, Alan, adds: “If we flash back to The Joy Luck Club and Better Luck Tomorrow, you really see that Asians have been assimilating for decades. We’ve slowly clawed our way forward—we built the railroads and we’re not done building!”

Speaking of clawing our way forward, I’m reminded of Jay Caspian Kang’s 2021 book, The Loneliest Americans, and how progress for Asian Americans often hits a ceiling within a Black-white racial binary. That tension between being seen and being ignored surfaced in my conversation with Cindy: “As an Asian American, it’s hard to be in this limbo of visibility and invisibility. Sometimes I think, maybe there shouldn’t be a spotlight on mahjong, because it’ll get ruined. There’s real-time erasure happening, and it’s offensive when they’re taking us out of the equation.”

Beyond media narratives, this dilution shows up in the very language of the game—reducing tiles to “cracks,” “bams,” and “dragons”—and in the redesign of the sets themselves. Games evolve, but many mahjong club founders draw a firm line on erasure: “People can create new variants,” Michael says. “But anything that contributes to a deeper culture of exclusivity and further erasure of our language feels wrong.”

For Samuel, the mechanics of the game and the Chinese characters on the tiles are non-negotiable. He isn’t offended by different styles of play, but he won’t tolerate the claim that a Westernized version of a centuries-old game is “better.” Sitting on the same call, Nancy says that it’s personal: “I’m not a purist. I know things evolve and take on new iterations, but I grew up playing mahjong, so it’s not just my culture—it’s my family too. When I see erasure and misappropriation, it affects me.” Kiem’s solution is pretty direct: “Can’t read Chinese? Learn it then.”

There’s a particular gut punch that comes with seeing Kung Yau Cheung Mahjong—a legacy Hong Kong shop that hand carved tiles for half a century—close its doors on March 28, while elsewhere, the founder of Oh My Mahjong tells Vanity Fair: “People want new. They appreciate the beauty. Three years ago, it was all very not pretty. It was ugly. It was black font, green, red, and very not this fun, beautiful thing.”

When sets are whitewashed, stripped of Chinese characters, or “beautified” into something barely recognizable, the game becomes a flattened version of what it once was. “Sets are now designed in ways that lose their original intent and Chinese numbers are bastardized to a point where you can’t even recognize the tiles,” says Jay.

To Nancy, it mirrors the 2019 Lucky Lee’s controversy, where a white woman marketed her now-defunct restaurant as serving “clean,” “not too oily” Chinese food that won’t leave you “feeling bloated.” “If you’re claiming you’re ‘clean’,” she says, “then you’re saying other versions ostensibly made by Chinese people are ‘dirty.’”

3. American mahjong brands are generating millions, but the profits aren’t flowing back to the Asian American community.

Growing up, I saw mahjong as a game of the people, so the $15,000 price tags—and reports on certain American mahjong lifestyle brands racking up $30 million in annual revenue—came as a shock. It certainly doesn’t feel like that massive windfall is finding its way back into Asian and Asian American pockets.

But it’s not just the price; it’s also the empire-building, “pay-to-play” business model that further creates inaccessibility. Players often purchase an annual card from the National Mah Jongg League to access official hands for gameplay. Between paid lessons, $1,300 instructor training programs, and high-premium equipment like racks and mats, a communal game has morphed into a luxury good or something closer to a country club membership. To play, you must pay. To stay in the club, you must keep paying.

To Tan, the commercialization violates the game’s spirit: “I have a huge problem with paid mahjong classes. I just think it is fundamentally wrong. [And] there is no reason to be buying mahjong sets from non-Asians.”

It effectively puts a paywall around something that never had one to begin with. As Angie puts it: “Elite, wealthy white women are using mahjong to build their lifestyle businesses, monetizing it without cultural understanding or recognition—and our Asian communities are not profiting from what they’re doing. I really can’t sell what is inherently ours.”

Most Asian-led mahjong clubs aren’t in it for the money. Cindy taught free classes through the San Francisco Parks Alliance, and even now at Mr. Mahjong’s, seniors play at no cost. Jay started Common Ground mahjong nights in the parking lot of SGV’s 626 Hospitality Group, prioritizing Asian-owned businesses over profit. By hosting Thursday mahjong nights at non-alcoholic cocktail lounge, Free Spirited Lounge, they helped drive enough traffic for the business to now invest in its own sets. In Chicago, 50% of proceeds from Michael’s 144 Tiles events go toward social justice organizations. In Seattle, Tan and QTMahjong Club keep their events rooted in Chinatown-International District, putting money back into local businesses.

The Bottom Line

Mahjong is meant to be shared, but it still needs to be handled with care. It’s oral history, a bridge between generations, a sanctuary, and an inextricable part of Asian and Asian American identity. Yet through the erasure and misappropriation, the people I spoke to aren’t trying to gatekeep the table. They’re making sure there’s a welcoming seat for everyone while also maintaining a safe space for queer and BIPOC communities.

For Randi, that means keeping the doors wide open for the community to eat, drink, and play. In Florida, Jacob has found joy in being one of the first movers there, building a scene from the ground up, where his audience skews largely non-Asian. “While this is a Chinese game, it resonates with all sorts of people and backgrounds, and that’s what I specifically love about it,” he says.

Subhas, who creates inclusive spaces for mahjong players over 40 to feel seen, believes that centering the conversation solely on one demographic isn’t true inclusivity: “I don’t feel I’ve become any less Asian, just because I cater to a non-Asian crowd.”

For some, the game is actually a way to heal. “I’m grateful for mahjong as a community builder,” says Jenn. “After COVID, people were really seeking connection. We’ve seen a lot of good times and happy faces because of the game.” Within the Asian American community, Angie has seen mahjong mend families where the sound of clacking tiles used to serve as a trauma trigger.

I’ll end with this: We have a narrative to reclaim. Please follow all these incredible Asian-led mahjong clubs on social media, watch their videos, attend their events, and spread the word. Many of them regularly share instructional resources and cultural commentary too.

If you’re looking to join a game, check out Connor Wan's Global Mahjong Community Directory for a comprehensive list of Asian mahjong clubs around the world.

If you’d like to learn more about the game or get a refresh on the rules, I recommend taking a look at Nicole Wong’s book or downloading Lili Chin’s pocket guide.

Thank you so much for reading my newsletter, and hope you enjoyed it! If there’s anything you loved or didn’t quite connect with, I’d love to hear your thoughts. Your feedback is truly appreciated and will help me make this a more enjoyable read for you!

Until next time, Laura x

This interview kicks off a new Golden Hour conversation series spotlighting Asian diaspora chefs, mixologists, hoteliers, storytellers, tastemakers, and creatives — sharing both the hard truths about Asian representation today and the joy, pride, and complexity of shaping it.

As a city that attracts the bold and self-expressive, it’s no surprise that Berlin has its fair share of fascinating people — and Polly Yim is absolutely one to know. As the founder of QU Fermentation Studio and the creative and technical mind behind Oukan Dining’s Fermentation Lab, she’s proving that fermentation isn’t having a comeback, because it certainly never left. And no, we’re not just talking about kimchi and sauerkraut.

A bit of backstory: I met Polly at a makgeolli workshop she co-hosted with Haru Project last year in the stunning dining room of Oukan Dining, a Japanese-inspired vegan fine dining restaurant in Berlin’s Mitte neighborhood. It felt less like an event and more like being invited into her home, as she shuffled in and out of the kitchen in her apron, preparing personal banchan sets for each guest. Early afternoon melted into early evening — easily the longest I’ve stayed at a workshop without once eyeing the door. I couldn’t stop thinking about it, so I let her know. And just like that: she’s our first guest of 2026.

Read on for Polly’s fermentation origin story, her candid take on where Berlin misses the mark on Asian cuisine, and the boundary-pushing Chinese fine dining restaurant she swears by.

Hi! Tell us a bit about yourself.

I’m Polly. I grew up in New York City, specifically in a small neighborhood of Brooklyn called Midwood, where many Chinese immigrants and Orthodox Jewish families live side by side. My family is originally from Hong Kong, so I grew up in a Cantonese-speaking household. It’s a childhood many second-generation Asian American kids will recognize — I remember going to Chinese school on weekends and eating dim sum with my family. I’m grateful I grew up with exposure to both cultures.

You’ve been in Berlin for a decade now. Let’s jump back in time — What was the move like?

Moving to Berlin opened up a third space for me. Growing up in Asian America, you’re always oscillating between certain cultural reference points, making sense of your identity between two worlds. But Berlin’s Chinese migration history isn’t like New York’s, so suddenly, I became my own cultural reference point. Moving as a young adult meant I had more agency in shaping who I was becoming, and because I had to start from scratch, it was both freeing and lonely at the same time. I started out by learning German, but there’s a very small and temporary community in that.

I don’t think I was able to find a true sense of long-lasting community until quite recently, actually. Partly because more Asian people have been moving to Berlin, but also because I’ve reached a point where I have my own career here, my own projects. The more I immersed myself in fermentation, the more community found me.

Fermentation! Let’s get into it. How did it all start for you?

Kimchi is the answer! I attended Korean church when I was younger, and Sunday dinners was where all the 아줌마 (ajumma — a Korean term for middle-aged women, used familiarly, like calling someone "auntie") made their own kimchi. All I could think was: this is f*cking amazing. Every kimchi version felt like a self-expression of the person who made it. Even when everyone made cabbage kimchi, no two were the same. From there, I’m mostly self-taught, learning through internships at breweries. My first production internship was at Hana Makgeolli in Brooklyn, where I worked under the amazing owner and head brewer, Alice Jun.

You’re now the Head of Fermentation at Oukan Dining. How did that role come about, and what does it look like day to day?

I originally came into Oukan for a trial as a production assistant in the fermentation section. When the former Head of Fermentation left, I was asked to step into the role full-time.

The work is deeply seasonal. Certain things, like miso or shoyu, are better when started cold. You can make them during the summer, but they become too active too quickly and it affects the flavor. Conveniently, it works out well for me: Berlin winters have limited produce, so I’ll spend that time on miso, shoyu, and grain and legume-based ferments. Come spring and summer, I shift toward capturing microseasons with plants, flowers, and vegetables.

We’re also very lucky to have close relationships with small local farms. Last year, for example, we made umeboshi with green strawberries, and I just texted the farmer: “Hey, how do they look this week? Send me a picture.” If you’re working in gastronomy in a large city, farmers are often too busy to bother with that kind of back-and-forth. We’re at exactly the right scale for it.

On a weekly basis, it’s a mix of maintenance, like stirring shoyu, with R&D and production for the mise en place.

Let’s talk about QU Fermentation Studio, which you founded. What inspired the concept, the name, and philosophy behind it?

I started QU in 2021 before working in restaurants. I was working as a recipe developer at the time and wanted to do something more fun and engaging, so I began teaching public workshops, mostly on miso or lacto-fermentation. I also ran a six-seat supper club out of my apartment in Berlin for two years. The dinners were always built around a theme, and over time, fermentation became the main theme. QU’s mission these days is to demystify fermentation for the public through workshops, community events, and collaborations with farmers and chefs.

As for the name: “qu” (麴) is a Chinese yeast starter, sometimes called Shanghai yeast balls. It’s traditionally used to make soy sauce and grain liquors, and what makes it special is that it’s wild fermented. You don’t add any culture; you just let them hang out, and they eventually develop their own microbial ecosystem. It’s a reflection of myself. I draw on tradition, but I adapt to what’s local and high-quality. At Oukan, for example, instead of wheat, we use Grünkern (half-ripe spelt) to make soy sauce, because it’s deeply rooted in German agricultural and baking tradition.

As an Asian woman working in Berlin’s gastronomy scene, how would you describe the state of Asian representation today? What do you feel is missing or still evolving?

In the food scene here, European styles of cooking are still very dominant. When it comes to Asian cuisines, people expect it to be cheap — that’s been the default, shaped by early immigrant communities building businesses from the ground up and making do with what they had. They’ve gained a reputation for being low-quality, regardless of the reality. I have friends trying to start everything from casual bánh mì shops to fine dining restaurants, and it’s not easy. They’re slowly finding their base, but they’ll still get customers asking: “Why are your bánh mì €15? Shouldn’t they be €10?”

There’s also a real tension around sourcing. In Berlin, buying local is a marker of quality and it’s what all the high-end restaurants are doing. But that logic was built around European cuisines. If you’re cooking Asian cuisine, then you have to think: “Well, what if I want to source lemongrass or Szechuan peppercorn? What percentage do I have to source locally?” There’s a lot of mental gymnastics involved that French or Italian restaurants simply don’t have to do.

There aren’t many Asian people working in Berlin’s gastronomy scene yet, but I think we’re just at an earlier stage and these things take time. A lot of children of immigrants here are still navigating parental expectations: become an engineer, become a doctor, live an upper-middle class life. Going into gastronomy may never be on the table. But I’m excited to see how it develops, especially how Asian-German people develop their own unique food culture, rather than take cues from the U.S.

For those wanting to dig into Berlin’s Asian food and culture scene, where would you send them?

• UUU is my favorite casual fine dining restaurant. Yuhang is awesome, and I think she’s doing something really special for Berlin, because there aren’t that many places that serve Chinese fine dining. She’s making tofu from scratch, using okara (soybean pulp) for desserts, making her own century eggs, and sourcing soy sauce straight from China. All of these are small details, but they add up. I love that she doesn’t treat Chinese food as a static thing. She brings a contemporary voice to it while staying rooted in traditional techniques.

• Dotori is a Korean-owned anju bar with great food and great wine. It’s one of the only places in Berlin where I always run into someone I know. There’s almost a birthday party every time I’m there and the whole restaurant starts singing — I love that. I find the atmosphere to be warm, not pretentious.

• Soi & Co. started as a soy milk shop, originally selling different types of soy milk (but I’m not sure that landed well with the German market). Now, they’ve pivoted to making tofu and soy-based cheesecakes, and some of the best vegan pastries I’ve ever had.

• Gelispark is a new Chinese-owned cultural space near Görlitzer Park, mostly female and queer-led. They host workshops on things like furniture-building and zine-making. It’s a great place to create, cook, and gather.

• Mr. Noodle Chen is a super casual chain, but I love it. The noodles are handmade and the food comes fast. It’s like being in China.

Give us a hot take! It can be as mild or spicy as you’d like.

People often misunderstand fermentation. They think all fermentation is stinky, and that it’s just pickles and hot sauce. I find that very offensive! Coffee is fermented. Chocolate is fermented. Wine — the most foundational alcoholic beverage in many European countries — is fermented. Fermentation has existed across cultures for centuries. I want people to look back at everything they've ever eaten and realize how much of it was fermented all along.

This has been so lovely. Before we let you go, what’s next for you? Anything upcoming we should have on our radar?

Later this month, I’m co-hosting a Sichuan cooking and fermentation workshop, Infinite Paocai Pickles, with food writer and recipe developer Xueci (who also writes on Substack). That workshop has actually sold out already (details shared above anyway!). Separately, at Oukan, I’ll be collaborating with Stephanie of Berlin-based fine spirits and fruit schnapps distiller Schnapserwachen to make our own distilled spirit out of koji. Lastly, on April 26th, I’ll be hosting a miso workshop and this one still has open spots. If you’re in Berlin, come ferment with us!

Thank you so much for reading my newsletter, and hope you enjoyed it! If there’s anything you loved or didn’t quite connect with, I’d love to hear your thoughts. Your feedback is truly appreciated and will help me make this a more enjoyable read for you!

Until next time, Laura x

Happy Lunar New Year — we’ve made it to the Year of the Horse! 🧧🐎

For those who celebrate, I hope you had the warmest gathering with family, friends, and loved ones this week. And if you weren’t able to be with the people you love, this post is a little note of solidarity from me.

When I was 14, I left Shanghai for boarding school in upstate Connecticut. Not because my parents shipped me off — as 2000s TV shows would have you believe — but because I was a nerd who wanted a college-prep education and naively thought boarding school meant nightly sleepovers and ultimate freedom. What I didn’t account for was the kind of cultural shock that would completely reshape me from then on.

That’s when the long stretch of Lunar New Years away from home began. No more 年夜饭 (Lunar New Year’s Eve dinner) with three generations of my family. No more firecrackers at midnight. No more crowding around the TV for the CCTV New Year’s Gala.

High school in Connecticut turned into college in D.C. and Philadelphia, which turned into working life in San Francisco. Some years, my parents would fly an absurd number of hours just to spend the week with me. Other years, I’d 拜年 (offer New Year’s greetings to elders) through a screen, and then ugly cry over a mediocre bowl of fried rice I whipped up. Over time, the distance stopped feeling so loud. Last year in Berlin, my husband and I made wontons in our apartment with ground pork from Edeka and wonton wrappers from Asia Market Lee. It wasn’t home-home, but at least I wasn’t crying.

For 18-odd years, I’ve been searching for home in all sorts of places, and a handful of Chinese restaurants have done the emotional heavy lifting for me when I missed it the most.

Here’s my list — I’d love to hear yours.

1. Meet You Restaurant (Berlin, Germany)

Tucked into a quiet neighborhood in Wilmersdorf, Meet You was a small trek from my Kreuzberg apartment, but wow, did I love every visit. This is authentic Shanghainese cuisine through and through. While I ate, I’d hear the playful banter and laughter of the Shanghainese aunties who run the place, and they switched fluidly between Shanghainese, Mandarin, English, and German as new diners would come in (another reminder that immigrants are amazing).

What I ordered: Gluten with peanuts and black fungus (四喜烤麩), smoked fish (老上海熏鱼), braised pork in casserole (砂锅东坡肉), sautéed Chinese cabbage in hot and sour soup (酸溜白菜).

2. BUND 39 (Zurich, Switzerland)

Four summers ago in Zurich, after three straight days of cheese fondue, I was craving something, anything, non-dairy. After scanning a list of disappointing restaurant names — from Royal Panda to Nihao — I saw Bund 39 and remember hope re-entering my body. Our server, who looked like a college student helping out for the summer, asked where I was from. When I said “Shanghai,” her eyes widened. “My boss is from there. Let me grab him — you can chat in Shanghainese.” We spoke for ages. By the end, I knew which universities his kids graduated from, and he knew which neighborhoods my parents grew up in.

What I ordered: Wontons in chili oil (红油抄手), cucumber salad (凉拌黄瓜), Noodles with spring onion oil and soy sauce (上海葱油拌面), Shanghai braised pork (上海红烧肉).

3. Tofu Vegan (Islington branch in London, UK)

London has no shortage of delicious Asian food, but this one arrived at exactly the right moment. My husband and I were at the tail end of a three-month trip around Europe, dabbling in a short-lived plant-based phase, missing some leafy vegetables. Everything we ordered tasted great, and the lack of meat was refreshing. I’d go back in a heartbeat.

What I ordered: Cloud ear fungus salad with coriander and pickled chili (香菜木耳), sizzling friend tofu in a house special sauce (鱼香铁板豆腐), twice cooked “fish” (回锅鱼包), dry-fried green beans (干煸四季豆).

4. Little Alley (New York City, New York, USA)

For Shanghainese cuisine in New York City, I tend to recommend Joe’s Shanghai (a 32-year old Chinatown staple), Che Li (viral darling of St. Marks Place), and Xie Bao Crab House in Hell’s Kitchen. But I have a soft spot for Little Alley. Their website reads: “Little Alley is a group of NYC-inhabiting Shanghaier who grew up eating and cooking great Shanghainese food, unwilling to compromise and seeking a cure for homesickness.” The first time I went, I ate alone, and both the food and environment really did do something to cure the ache.

What I ordered: Tossed fragrant tofu with Ma Lan Tou (马兰头), Little Alley’s Lion Head (弄堂红烧狮子头), baby eel with scallion and ginger sauce (响油鳝丝), rice cake with capsella flower (荠菜炒年糕), crispy pumpkin pancakes (脆香南瓜饼).

5. FEY Restaurant (Menlo Park, California, USA)

FEY, a Sichuan restaurant in the San Francisco Bay Area, has been around for two decades. With all the shiny new development popping up on El Camino Real, I exhale every time I drive by and see FEY still standing. The last time I went with my mom, we were the only ones there, and an instrumental cover of “Where Is My Mind” by the Pixies played softly in the background. And yet the way FEY heals my homesickness for Shanghai is joyful. On weekend mornings, they serve the classic Shanghai breakfast trio: you tiao (fried dough), dou jiang (sweet or savory soy milk), and ci fan tuan (sticky rice rolls).

What I ordered: The three items above!

6. The Kitchen (Millbrae, California, USA)

Old-school trolley cart yum cha spots are becoming increasingly rare, even in Hong Kong. Last September, one of my childhood favorites, Metropol, closed after operating for 35 years. Walking into The Kitchen feels like time travel — it brings back the steam, the shouting, the spinning lazy Susans, the stacked banquet chairs, and the carts weaving between tables.

What I ordered: One of everything on the cart!

Thank you so much for reading my newsletter, and hope you enjoyed it! If there’s anything you loved or didn’t quite connect with, I’d love to hear your thoughts. Your feedback is truly appreciated and will help me make this a more enjoyable read for you!

Until next time, Laura x

Hi again, Substack!

I hope you were able to ease slowly and comfortably into your new year! And if it felt more like a rollercoaster drop… I hope February is kinder to you.

Golden Hour is approaching its one-year mark, and I’ve been spending some time reflecting on where it’s been and where it’s headed. I’m excited to expand my content this year, but I also don’t want to permanently strip away the parts that struck a cord with you last year. So, I’ll test the waters in 2026 with a few new formats. If that makes you groan or if you find yourself missing the old newsletter over time, send me a DM. I’ll always welcome your feedback.

Here’s how Golden Hour is changing in the meantime:

1. But first, what’s not changing: free stays free. Many of you have been here since day one, which I’m so grateful for, so all posts will remain free for the foreseeable future. If the day ever comes when I decide to turn on paid subscriptions, you’ll hear it from me far in advance — especially if you’ve pledged. I hate surprise credit card changes as much as the next person.

2. Posting frequency is bumping up to 2x per month. Posting once a month has given me room to marinate on ideas, but it’s starting to feel just a touch too infrequent, especially with Substack moving at the speed that it does. I’ve also been lightly teased that some of my newsletters read like CVS receipts (iykyk), so moving forward: expect shorter pieces, more often.

• Post #1 each month will be field notes. This will resemble the ROOTED section from my previous newsletters, but consider this its Pokémon evolution: city or neighborhood dispatches that explore local arts and culture in addition to food and drinks. Maybe that looks like dipping into a few Japanese-owned hi-fi vinyl listening lounges in NYC or the unlikely hubs where Hong Kong’s emerging artists gather. One thing I’ll promise: the food recommendations aren’t going anywhere!

• Post #2 each month will be a conversation. After publishing my interview with Kayla Doris (fellow travel writer + content strategist) last year, I was really hoping it would become a series. So, it’s happening! Every month, I’ll be chatting with one Asian chef, artist, mixologist, hotelier, travel writer, or someone equally fascinating from the creative and/or hospitality world. We’ll unpack cultural heritage and belonging a bit, and I’ll make sure I ask for their best travel recommendations and hot takes.

3. I’ll be more active on Substack Notes. I recently realized I have nearly 3x as many Substack followers as subscribers, and I’ve just been letting you sit there with no snacks, magazines, music, anything. I’m sorry, folks! This year, I’m aspiring to show up more on Notes to share articles I love (on or off Substack), quick travel recaps, and off-the-dome ramblings. For those of you who liked my CHARMED and CURATED sections, Notes will also be their new home.

4. I’ll get a little more personal than I usually do. Being an Asian woman travel writer has given me a very particular vantage point within an industry that remains overwhelmingly white. It shapes how I build relationships, how I approach my reporting, and how I pivot like high hell when needed.

This isn’t Golden Hour’s regular programming, but I’d like to occasionally share some of these personal experiences and reflections with you, because sometimes you just have to sound off. Some moments have been wholesome and affirming; others are worth cringing through again in the spirit of honest, open storytelling. If it helps emerging Asian women travel writers — or anyone who’s ever felt a bit on the margins in travel media — feel less alone while telling the stories that matter to them, then that feels right to me.

Thanks, as always, for reading! My next post will be out in a week: a Lunar New Year special. See you soon! x

Thank you so much for reading my newsletter, and hope you enjoyed it! If there’s anything you loved or didn’t quite connect with, I’d love to hear your thoughts. Your feedback is truly appreciated and will help me make this a more enjoyable read for you!

Until next time, Laura x

Welcome to the November edition of Golden Hour! ✨

Happy, happy Thanksgiving to all of my U.S. readers! May your turkeys be tender and your relatives behave.

Well, we’re here. Second-to-last month of the year. I’m genuinely so grateful you’ve chosen to ride along with me this year. In the moments where I thought, “who is even reading this newsletter??” your comments, your DMs, and your wide-eyed “I ordered that beef noodle soup!” exclamations reminded me why I should keep writing. Growing it with you has meant more than you know.

I’ll be taking a little break next month to cocoon, so there won’t be a December edition, but new content is coming your way in 2026. I hope you’re all carving out some time to rest or sneak in a little adventure. Wishing you all the happiest of holidays!

Here’s the last kitchen-sink roundup of the year — all the things I’ve loved, learned, or stumbled upon this past month:

• I loved this SAVEUR piece on South Korea’s craft soju boom. It’s full of rich history lessons and such a warm intro to the five sool makers we should all have on our radar. Won-jeong Lee, an 18th-generation family matriach behind Ellyeop Pyunjoo brewery, is an absolute legend.

• Case in point for why localized marketing is where the fun’s at: China’s Olympic sprinter Su Bingtian, teamed up with Nike to open a pop-up herbal soup house on Ersha Island in Guangzhou. Runners can refuel on Cantonese herbal broth using a specially designed spoon shaped like the Nike swoosh, because… it would be a missed opportunity otherwise.

• Lastly, Broadsheet — started in Australia — might be one of my favorite lifestyle publications for how they cover a city’s dining scene. They create space for Asian restaurants to shine, and for Asian writers to shine alongside them. Check out this piece on Poon’s at Somerset House or this one on Thai diner Khao Bird in London.

I’m so excited about this month’s city feature: Sydney, Australia. A tiny feather of worry started itching at me (then evolved into full-on clawing) when I realized that the last few months skewed heavily toward Europe and the U.S. Naturally, I began daydreaming about what perfect days in Buenos Aires, Auckland, and Lagos would look like. Luckily, we have friends to crowdsource from.

Remember my best friend from last month with the incredible East London food recommendations? Well, impeccable taste runs in the family. For this issue, I turned to his sister, Marilynne, who’s now pursuing a master’s degree in Sydney, for her favorite spots down under. We share Hong Kong and Shanghai roots (we were once neighbors!), so I trust her palate completely. She kindly shared a few of her hand-picked gems with me, and I feel so lucky to be the one passing them along to you.

BREAKFAST: Marilynne loves a coffee-and-pastry combo, and Pantry Story in Sydney’s Inner West starts her day right. Co-owned by Mutiara Sucipto and Hari Wibowo, Pantry Story is a love letter to their Chinese-Indonesian heritage. Expect unique hits like fudgy brownie mochi (“Brochi-Brownie Mochi”), pandan custard buns, and even an Indomie pie. Marilynne’s go-tos: the beef rendang and potato hand pie and the black sesame mochi cheesecake kouign amann. “The explosion of flavors and aroma of the pie is just incredible,” she says. “As for the kouign amman, it’s a great balance of buttery, nutty, and creaminess — and most importantly, not too sweet!” Passing the Asian taste test with flying colors.

Coffee lovers should check out Diggy Doo’s Coffee by Paul Lee, a hole-in-the-wall, basement specialty coffee spot with larger-than-life energy. Marilynne is drawn to the warmth and eclectic vibe — random knick-knacks, handmade ceramic mugs, and postcards on the walls — that sets itself apart in a city already spoiled with top-notch coffee.

LUNCH: Whenever she’s feeling homesick, dim sum at The Eight in Haymarket hits the spot. “They’re not skimping on ingredients here,” she tells me. Char siu bao (BBQ pork buns) are all pork, no air. Har gao (steamed shrimp dumplings) are plump and juicy. And the aunties and uncles pushing the dim sum carts aren’t exactly the patient type, which stirs up a lot of nostalgia for me — someone who deeply misses the tsk’s and aiya’s echoing through the old Hong Kong dim sum halls I grew up in.

For a quicker bite, Marilynne recommends Marrickville Pork Roll, a no-frills bahn mi institution in Marrickville, a suburb famous for Vietnamese cuisine. “Order the Crackling Pork Belly Roll,” she says. “The bread is crunchy on the outside and soft on the inside, but doesn’t scratch your mouth!”

DINNER: Ito, a Japanese-Italian neighborhood izakaya, is Marilynne’s pick for stylish aesthetics, creative shared plates, and fizzy cocktails (she loves the Hiragana Highball with yuzu gin, lychee, and jasmine soda). You should try the shio kombu bread with garlic seaweed butter, the veal katsu with wasabi mustard mayo, and the prawn and scallop ravioli with hotaru ika (firefly squid) and tobiko (flying fish roe). Want to fully send it? Ito also has a Festive Feast Menu for $139 per person featuring their greatest hits.

For something fast-casual, delightfully greasy, and oversized in portion, Marilynne usually heads to Fortune Alley in the CBD. “I might be judged for this,” she laughs, “but I secretly love Chinese-American food.” No judgment here — sometimes you just need an orange chicken fix.

Auyl, a Central Asian restaurant tucked into the mountainous Medeu region of Almaty, Kazakhstan, is breathtaking — thanks to the architects at NAAW (Elvira Bakubaeva and Aisulu Uali) and designers at DUNIE. It’s a collaboration among creatives where food is only one of many stars.

The handmade chairs, carpets, and draping — especially when the dinner candles start dancing — make it dangerously easy to imagine Auyl as your future living room. And the restaurant is all about openness. Everything is cooked over an open fire, in the open kitchen, plated on an open stage. You’ll watch the team roll dough, bake flatbread in a tandoor, and char meat to sizzling perfection — all to the soundtrack of wind, birds, and rustling leaves courtesy of the great Kazakh outdoors.

You can read more about the intentional and culturally grounded vision behind Auyl’s design here.

This section doesn’t usually focus on travel, but it’s another chance to spotlight amazing Asian creators, so I hope you’ll read just a little bit more!

• COMEDY SPECIAL: Atsuko Okatsuka: Father. Atsuko’s oddball, charming-disarming sense of humor has never failed to make me laugh. Her newest special feels like a smooth continuation of her last — chaotically zigzagging through jokes about tandem bikes, laundry hiatuses, and her dad’s body — all bizarre to hear out of context — but the magic of her comedy.

• DANCE COMPANY: Tao Dance Theater. I stumbled on this video of the Beijing-based Tao Dance Theater performing at the opening of the Shenzhen Bay Culture Square recently, and since then, I’ve watched it… maybe 17 more times, give or take. As someone who often mistakes my left side for my right, I look at every single dancer with total admiration. This dance company is so fluid, precise, and beautiful.

• FILM: Sabar Bonda (Cactus Pears). A gorgeous, gorgeous film about family grieving and queer longing, and the first Marathi-language film to premiere at Sundance. The story follows Anand, who returns to his rural Indian hometown following his father’s death. In the midst of mourning, he rekindles a romantic connection with his childhood friend Balya. It’s so tender and layered, and one of those stories you hope the world treats gently.

Thank you so much for reading my newsletter, and hope you enjoyed it! If there’s anything you loved or didn’t quite connect with, I’d love to hear your thoughts. Your feedback is truly appreciated and will help me make this a more enjoyable read for you!

Until next time, Laura x

Welcome to the October edition of Golden Hour ✨

It’s been a big month for cultural celebrations. Happy holidays to everyone celebrating Diwali, Mid-Autumn Festival, and Filipino American Heritage Month!

I’ve gone through a bit of a life whiplash lately, so I’ll share a tiny peek behind the curtain before we dive into this month’s newsletter. After a life-changing year in Berlin, my husband and I packed up and moved back to the San Francisco Bay Area last month. There were a handful of personal and logistical reasons behind it (which I’ll save for another time!), but it definitely wasn’t because we got tired of it. Quite the opposite! I’m still grieving and processing the move, and hopefully, someday, I’ll find myself back there, picking up my €3 LAP lattes and whining about the BVG strikes. For now, I’m doing my best to dodge the arm-and-a-leg lattes and praying I still remember how to drive.

If you’ve ever toyed with the idea of moving abroad, even for just a few months — do it. It won’t make your problems go away, but it’ll expand you in the best ways.

For anyone who’s new here (welcome!), I kick off every edition with a kitchen-sink roundup of things I’ve loved, learned, or stumbled upon since the last edition. Here are my latest favorites:

• If you like Greta Lee (who is the moment right now), cocktails, and films that’ll go down in history, you’ll enjoy this 11-minute video where she teams up with bar consultant Don Lee to make six cocktails inspired by her six favorite movies — including a few iconic picks by Asian directors. For Bong Joon Ho’s Memories of Murder, she mixes up a Bokbunja Yuja Sour with two parts Bokbunja (black raspberry wine) and one part honey syrup. It’s an unserious, entertaining watch from Vogue, and you’ll walk away with six new cocktail recipes to try at home.

• The World’s 50 Best Bars list for 2025 just dropped. Hong Kong’s Bar Leone snagged first place. While founded by Italian bartender Lorenzo Antinori (formerly of Four Seasons Hong Kong’s Argo) and intended to recreate the charm of Rome’s neighborhood bars, it’s putting Hong Kong’s vivacious cocktail scene even more firmly on the map and spotlighting the local mixology talent behind it. I highly recommend checking out a few others on the list too. Sitting pretty at #9 is Jigger & Pony in Singapore, which was one of my most memorable pre-dinner cocktail dates.

• This one made me clutch my heart and audibly “awww” — the world’s oldest jazz band is still performing in Shanghai, with an average age of 82. And not just on any stage, but at the city’s historical and legendary Fairmont Peace Hotel. For the past 46 years, this dapper crew with perm-pressed suits and bow ties has played for everyone from Shanghai locals to Barack Obama. I love stories that capture the heartbeat of a place, and this one definitely does.

• My (last) Berlin gem of the month (for awhile!): UUU, a Chinese restaurant in the Wedding neighborhood. One of my last meals in Berlin was here for a Hunan dinner pop-up co-hosted by a group of chefs from Shanghai — the team behind Yuan You Tao (Where Peaches Grow). This space is cool in every sense of the word: minimalist interiors, a U-shaped table to be shared amongst strangers, fermentation jars as decor. But what makes it extra special beyond its appearance is its spirit of experimentation. It’s essentially a Chinese food test kitchen, with rotating pop-ups, evolving menus, and even curated trips to China to eat incredible food straight from the source.

After bidding Berlin goodbye, I spent about a week in London to decompress and catch up with friends. A few days in, I realized that London isn’t built for someone like me to decompress. There’s too much to do, see, eat, and try, and I get antsy. I just have to suck it up, pound espressos, and do it all.

One of my best friends lives in East London, somewhere between Angel and Hackney, and I’ll trust his food recommendations until the end of time. This part of town has been home to Asian communities for over two centuries, beginning in the 19th century when lascars (Indian sailors employed by the East India Company) and Chinese sailors settled around in the dock areas like Limehouse and Shadwell. After World War II, more immigrants from South Asia, especially Bangladesh, arrived to rebuild post-war UK. Today, the East End is buzzing with generations of Asian Londoners and truly has some of the most diverse and dynamic food spots.

BREAKFAST: To the London first-timers: go to Dishoom for your breakfast rite of passage. There are locations all over London, but if you’re sticking to the East London trail, head to the Shoreditch or Canary Wharf branch. Once you’ve been properly initiated, make your way to Ngopi in Dalston — the UK’s first Indonesian specialty coffee shop, founded by Birama and Elmira Gladini. They roast coffee of Indonesian origin and serve it alongside delicious snacks, dishes, and desserts like Martabak, Ayam Penyet, and Pisang Bakar. Go give them some love!

LUNCH: Keep heading East — past Hackney — and you’ll end up at Uncle Hon’s BBQ, proudly billed as the “finest Texas BBQ in London” with a distinctly Chinese flavor twist. It’s located inside a vibey, social hangout space called All My Friends, which sells a lot of vinyls and throws a lot of parties. My friend took the reins on ordering, and our spread did not disappoint. We got the BBQ tray (Asian spiced ox cheeks, Black bean plum glazed pork belly cubes, spicy Xian cumin pulled lamb, jasmine rice, and some sides), plus Sichuan beef short ribs and smoked gouda mac n’ cheese. (I know it sounds like we had a serious editing problem, but there were four of us and a very cute pup, and we left no crumbs).

DINNER: I’m ready to call Miga, on the corner of Mare Street and Regent’s Canal in Hackney, one of the best Korean meals I’ve ever had. Bonus points in my book for being family-run — I loved watching dad Hyun Sang Ko being the boss in the open kitchen while his kids ran the front of house. Earlier this year, Condé Nast Traveller dubbed Miga “the hardest table to book in East London right now” and I can vouch for that experience. But once you’re inside, there’s zero ego-fueled pretense, and that’s what makes it marvelous. Many recipes were passed down from Hyun Sang’s grandmother. Order the seolongtang (ox bone broth), galbijjim (soy-braised short ribs), and dwaejigogi jolim (braised pork belly with apple salad and mustard sauce). Vegetarians and vegans, the japchae is incredible.

DRINKS: If you’re somehow still upright after a Miga-induced food coma, Seed Library inside One Hundred Shoreditch is worth a little nightcap. It’s sleek and helmed by cocktail maestro Ryan Chetiyawardana, also known as Mr. Lyan, who grew up in Birmingham to Sri Lankan parents and opened his first bar in London in 2013. Open from Wednesday until Sunday, this spot spins vinyl records and serves Mr. Lyan’s creative classics, like the C.R.E.A.M MARGARITA (one of the ingredients is just listed as “really good cream”) and the Lada Lada (with, amusingly, “lager sizzurp”). There’s also a solid line-up of booze-free cocktails for the sober-curious crowd.

This month’s feature isn’t about one person or project, but rather a whole cohort. Earlier this month, Design Anthology — the publication spotlighting best-in-class design across the Asia-Pacific — announced its 2025 award winners. After reviewing hundreds of entries, a judging panel of industry icons selected 18 winners across three categories: Products (e.g. textiles, furniture), People (e.g. emerging talent, creative giants), and Places (e.g. hotels, retail spaces).

Great Asian designers are everywhere, but it feels especially meaningful to see them intentionally celebrated in this way.

Here are the three that caught my eye most:

• Product: Ubique lighting by Hiroto Yoshizoe Studio (Japan)

• People: Kelvin Thengono of K-Thengono Design Studio (Indonesia)

• Place: Deqin Meri Poodom Hotel by W.Design (China)

You can explore the full list of winners here.

This section doesn’t usually focus on travel, but it’s another chance to spotlight amazing Asian creators, so I hope you’ll read just a little bit more!

• DESIGNER: Reike Nen. Founded in Seoul in 2010 by creative director, Rei (Hongmi Yoon), this brand makes shoes that are funky, elegant, girlish, and grown, all at once. I wore a pair of their Riviera Bit Convertible Floral-Mesh Mules (pictured above) to my wedding welcome party, and with their low kitten heel, I’ll probably be wearing them to most dressy events from now on. They’re comfortable as hell, too.

• BOOK: Mokonuts: The Cookbook. I wrote about Mokonuts owners, husband-and-wife duo Moko Hirayama and Omar Koreitem, in my first edition of this newsletter. Since then, they’ve released a cookbook with Phaidon, which is so exciting. Now you can recreate 100 of their beloved dishes at home, from Shrimp with Romesco and Corn Relish to Tahini and Black Sesame cookies. With the holidays coming up, this one’s a perfect gift for your food-loving friends and family.

• BAND: deca joins. This indie rock band from Taipei makes music I can only describe as lo-fi easy listening, layered with a few sweet guitar riffs. I love putting them on when I’m writing, editing, brainstorming, or just trying to focus through a banal admin task. Their newest single, “我不用問” (“No Need to Ask”), which dropped at the end of last month, is a perfect fall listen — a little more upbeat than some of their usual tracks, but still mellow and smooth.

Thank you so much for reading my newsletter, and hope you enjoyed it! If there’s anything you loved or didn’t quite connect with, I’d love to hear your thoughts. Your feedback is truly appreciated and will help me make this a more enjoyable read for you!

Until next time, Laura x

After half a year of writing this newsletter, I wanted to try something new and see where it lands with all of you.

I never wanted Golden Hour to feel like me standing on a street corner with a giant megaphone, preaching about what’s best — I always imagined it evolving into more of a community hangout. If all goes well, In Conversation With will become a monthly interview series where I sit down with both old and new friends, and chat about traveling with intention, chasing great meals, and living wide open. I only know my slice of the pie, but with all of their voices and life experiences combined, I’ll get to share the whole damn holiday feast with you!

So, without further ado, I’m so excited to introduce you to my very first guest: travel writer and content strategist Kayla Doris.

Kayla and I met on Substack, which was honestly a comforting reminder that we can still meet friends on the internet, not just Hinge dates and LinkedIn recruiters. She’s on a mission to make responsible travel more exciting and engaging, and believes that traveling responsibly means celebrating people and culture as much as the planet. Her truth-telling, provocative, and brilliantly written newsletter, Kayla Doris is Away, blends thoughtful takes on modern-day tourism and ideas for deeper cultural exploration. It’s one of my favorites and often makes me pause and wonder if I’m the kind of traveler I want to be yet. I got her thoughts on how to do cultural immersion right — check out our interview below:

1. Your newsletter Kayla Doris is Away digs into some uncomfortable truths about travel and invites your readers to question their relationship with it. Can you share more about your own “love/hate relationship” with travel, and why you feel it’s important to bring these issues to light?

My relationship with travel is complicated! The newsletter is the result of me being stuck in this cycle of obsessing over travel, but finding it’s not what I imagined it would be, and then trying to figure out why that is. Is it because over-tourism and the rise of ‘fast travel’ have changed the places I’m visiting? Am I doing something wrong or were we sold a lie about travel being ‘magical’ and effortless in connecting us with different cultures? Or is it that I’m trying to find happiness elsewhere through yet another form of consumption? Likely, it’s a mix of all of them.

Yet despite being aware of this and knowing the major issues caused by the tourism industry, I’m still obsessed with learning about other places and cultures, and I spend much of my time daydreaming about where I’m going next. I try to be open about all of these conflicting feelings and nuances about travel through the newsletter, such as my recent piece on my feelings around traveling ‘off the beaten path’ in Gambia. With tourism numbers growing each year, we all need to be more thoughtful about the way we’re traveling, which is why I think it’s important to encourage readers to explore these questions with me.

2. Before starting your newsletter, you were already writing content and creating strategy for travel brands, with an emphasis on cultural competency. How did you get into that, and what does that work involve?

I started creating my own content several years ago with the aim of making responsible travel feel more engaging and accessible to younger travelers. A travel brand came across my work and asked if I’d like to join them as their Instagram manager, which is how I first started freelancing.

Since then, I’ve completed a postgraduate degree in Responsible Tourism Management, which gave me a much deeper understanding of the industry and its challenges, and helped me realize that responsible destination marketing is where my real interest lies. For me, responsible storytelling goes far beyond the environmental side. It’s also about representation, community impact, and how places and people are portrayed. That means thinking carefully about which stories are told, whose voices are included, how images and language shape perception, and how destinations are presented to audiences. I try to make sure the content I create reflects the people and cultures behind a place, not just the surface of it.

3. I’ve noticed that there’s growing interest in culturally immersive experiences in luxury travel. How do you personally see the line between immersion and appropriation? What are some common mistakes you see travelers and travel writers/creators make when interacting with new cultures?

When I talk about cultural immersion, I mean it as exploring a place with depth, as opposed to surface-level exploring, i.e., traveling for Instagram photos or skimming through a list of places just to say you’ve ‘done’ them. It means intentionally engaging with and learning about the local culture and history, plus making your trips more personal by connecting with the parts of a place that resonate with you. I would say that’s different to appropriation as it isn’t about taking or using something from another culture.

In terms of travel writers and travel brands, I think the line is around whether credit is given, who is in charge of the narrative, and whether the people from the culture are benefiting. For instance, the hotel in the example you shared looks like it’s a Saudi company that compensates Saudi artisans, farmers, etc. If it were an American-owned company and they were importing mass-produced items ‘pretending’ to be local artisan pieces, or turning a tradition into a performance, then I think that’s a different story.

4. What advice would you give to both travelers and travel writers/creators who want to approach cultural immersion more respectfully and meaningfully?

Be intentional with where you are visiting. Question what’s pushing your desire to go somewhere — whenever someone tells me they want to go to Bali, I want to ask what it is about Balinese culture specifically that they’re interested in. Most likely, it’s not the culture they’re really interested in; they’ve heard stories about it or have seen content by influencers that shows a certain type of lifestyle, and that’s what’s drawing them (which is often where the respect for the culture itself gets lost, as they’re arriving with no awareness of it and no intention of really getting to know it).

Get curious about what makes the destination you’re exploring unique. For example, what’s a dish or a drink that can only be found in this city? What’s an art form that originated from this area? How is music expressed here? It’s very easy to travel now without actually leaving your mental and even physical bubble. In many places, it feels very easy to find European-style cafes, Brooklyn-style hotels, trendy restaurants serving small plates and natural wine, a Soho House, etc. With everywhere slowly becoming more homogenized, I think seeking out those differences is how you can start becoming more curious about the culture. Plus, if you’re just visiting exactly the same sorts of places you do at home, then what’s the point?

5. I’d love to know what inspires you and shapes your perspective — what you read, who you listen to, and where you look for information on travel and cultural immersion. Mind sharing a few go-to sources with us?

In terms of my perspective, I would actually say I get a lot of inspiration from outside of the industry. I like to look at climate activists or slow fashion advocates, and think about how the same concepts translate to travel.

In terms of storytelling, I love the writing of the late British columnist A.A. Gill. He writes in a way that would probably be very controversial now, as he doesn’t hold back on his opinions. Even if you don’t agree with his words, I’m in awe of how he uses them. I think he does an amazing job of really informing the reader about the place and capturing cultural quirks. Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s talk ‘The Danger of a Single Story’ has also hugely influenced how I think about travel writing. Lastly, I love what Jonathan Nunn has done with Vittles Magazine. He’s an extremely talented writer who deeply researches all of his pieces and offers a fresh perspective on the food scene in London. The pieces feel very inclusive, community-first, and also critical of the food industry — all the things I want to do with tourism.

If I’m planning a trip, I don’t have one specific go-to, but will usually look to local magazines, local creatives and YouTube!

6. Last but not least, because food is such a core part of Golden Hour, I have to ask… you’re currently based in Brighton, UK — what are some of your favorite Asian-owned spots around town? (We’ll see you there!)

• UniThai — A restaurant so informal, I’m not even sure it can be called a restaurant. It’s a family-run Thai supermarket with a few tables in the back of the shop where they serve delicious food. It’s BYOB, service is quick, and the food is really reasonably priced. The green curry udon noodles are a must!

• TeeTea — I’m a Vietnamese coffee fiend, and I will travel wide and far to find the best one. This place makes my favorite one in Brighton and they also sell the salted versions too (plus the owner is so friendly).

• Coconut Island — This Sri Lankan restaurant has become a new favorite. It’s the place to feast on egg hoppers, mouthwatering kothu, and really good cocktails (I would recommend the mango martini).

• Kitgum — Small, intimate, and with a great story behind it. Kitgum’s menu draws attention to the owner’s family history — in 1972, the president of Uganda announced that all Asian residents had 90 days to leave, which is how the owner’s parents arrived in England. The menu takes inspiration from the unique cultural heritage of East Africa and India. One of the best restaurants I’ve been to in Brighton.

• The Permit Room — A sister restaurant to the famous Dishoom restaurant in London. Personally, I think the breakfast here is better than the dinner — the menu includes bacon naan rolls (a must), banana and date porridge, and bun maska chai. I love the interiors so much and could spend all day in here when it’s quiet.

• Noodle Soup — Comfort food at its best: giant steaming bowls of delicious noodles, ranging in spice level, and you can adjust the noodle style too. I haven’t tried them myself yet, but I overheard another customer saying they sell the best wontons in Brighton.

Thank you so much for reading my newsletter, and hope you enjoyed it! If there’s anything you loved or didn’t quite connect with, I’d love to hear your thoughts. Your feedback is truly appreciated and will help me make this a more enjoyable read for you!

Until next time, Laura x

Welcome to the September edition of Golden Hour ✨

Quick note: With some travel on the horizon, I’ll be sending future editions in the third week of each month. Thanks for hanging in there with me!

I started writing this one in Bath, UK earlier this month. The soft patter of rain and celebratory energy around Jane Austen’s 250th birthday put me in a pensive writing mood (leaving Bath made it so much harder to write!). Being in Bath — and the UK in general — always takes me back to my childhood in Hong Kong. As a kid, I’d scurry around from Marks & Spencer with my mom to HMV with my dad, never realizing how much of my Hong Kong childhood actually carried a very British imprint (which, for anyone who knows the history, isn’t groundbreaking news). It still never ceases to amaze me how layered the idea of a “home” can be and how I can feel homesick in places I’ve never visited before. Anyone else feel this way?

For anyone who’s new here (welcome!), I kick off every edition with a kitchen-sink roundup of things I’ve loved, learned, or stumbled upon since the last edition. Here are my latest favorites:

• About two weeks ago, the team at Bon Appétit dropped their “20 Best New Restaurants of 2025” list for the U.S., and it’s a scroll-worthy list with more than a few Asian-owned restaurants. These are the three that I’m most excited to try soon: Sun Moon Studio in Oakland (by chef-couple Sarah Cooper and Alan Hsu), Baan Mae in Washington DC (by veteran chef Seng Luangrath), and Giovedì in Honolulu (by another chef-couple team, Bao Tran and Jennifer Akiyoshi).

• Whenever I’m missing Japan, I turn to Miki’s Japan Wellness Lab on Substack. Miki is a medical doctor and wellness travel consultant who shares some of the most thoughtful and well-curated travel tips for health-conscious travelers. Her “Hidden Gem Series” takes you beyond Tokyo and Kyoto into places like Kagawa Prefecture and Akita for some great daydream fuel and trip-planning intel.

• My Berlin gem of the month: Kuréme, a relatively new Asian gelato spot in Kreuzberg. They have the usual suspects (matcha and ube), but their rotating specials are what spice things up. Last month, they scooped dòuhuā (tofu pudding), Thai tea, and makgeolli. This month, they have tahin pekmez, hojichatella (hojicha and stracciatella), and what I hope is a permanent addition, mango sticky rice.

P.S. The wonderful Kayla Doris interviewed me for her Culture Club newsletter section recently, and you can read the full interview here. We chat about why Asia so often gets painted as a self-discovery backdrop for foreign travelers and how we can all shift towards a more sincere and respectful way of traveling. I’m also thrilled to be sharing my interview with Kayla in the coming weeks, mix up the Golden Hour format a little, and bring more diverse voices to it!

I was about ten years old the first time I visited Athens, Greece. It was a big group trip with my parents and our family friends, and I vaguely remember being shepherded from the Acropolis (for photos) to the Ancient Agora (for more photos), all while sporting damp armpits. So, finally getting to come back and really explore last month — still sweaty, but without paparazzi parents this time — felt long overdue.

From what I’ve seen, Athens doesn’t have a huge number of Asian-owned food and drink spots just yet. And understandably so — Greek food is sublime (I could happily eat at Manári forever). But perhaps it’s that very rarity that makes the Asian-owned places here feel especially distinctive. Let’s take a closer look:

BREAKFAST: Start your day in the Metaxourgeio neighborhood at 阿锡早点 (translates to “Axi Breakfast”) with a bouncy bowl of sweet or salty “dòuhuā” (tofu pudding), though here it goes by “dòufunǎo” (soybean pudding). This one’s a little surreal for me to recommend because it goes by its Chinese name on Google Maps, as if we’ve been transported out of Athens altogether. Besides the pudding, you’ll find fried dough, wonton soup (with thin wrappers too), and steamed buns stuffed with all types of goodness.

LUNCH: Head over to Syntagma and grab lunch at Dachafan Asia Food Tea Restaurant. Athens Voice calls Dachafan “the smallest Chinese restaurant in Athens,” but between the Bruce Lee portrait and Hong Kong street signs beckoning you in, the energy is big. The menu nods to Hong Kong cha chaan teng’s, and you can order anything from a full dim sum spread to vermicelli with intestines and duck blood.

DINNER: Greek-Japanese chef and TV personality Sotiris Kontizas is behind two phenomenal dinner spots: Hafu and Tanpopo. Sotiris co-founded Nolan back in 2016, a Greek restaurant with Asian twists that earned a Michelin Bib Gourmand the following year. Tanpopo opened in 2023, and in 2024, Sotiris and Nolan officially parted ways, paving the path for a new chapter with Hafu.

My husband and I tried Hafu, which is still getting its sea legs but fantastic nonetheless. Some locals may grumble over the fact that the menu mostly reprises Nolan’s greatest hits, but for us newcomers to both Hafu and Nolan, that approach was perfect. The meal was light, balanced, with just the right hits of acidity — I especially loved the mackerel and the mung bean noodles.

POST-DINNER SNACK & DRINKS: Swing by Kitschen, where Greek-Indonesian chef Dimitris Liem and Greek-Korean chef, Spyros Minetos serve up pan-Asian dishes with mild Greek influence. The music is funky, the interior is stylish, and you’re open to hang out here until midnight. If you’re in the mood for a drink or two, they’ve got 11 fun signature cocktails to choose from.

Excuse my language, but there’s a quiet and elegant “f*ck you” energy to Joyce Wang Studio, her namesake interior design practice based out of Hong Kong and London. According to the International Interior Design Association (IIDA), while 69% of interior design practitioners are women, only 1 in 4 design firms are female-led. And in the U.S., only 1 out of 5 interior designers identify as people of color. Yet with that statistic, Hawaii-born and Hong Kong-raised Joyce Wang has carved out her own lane, shaping some of the world’s hottest spots: Equinox Hudson Yards in New York City, Mandarin Oriental Hyde Park in London, and the Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel in L.A.

In a past interview, Joyce described Mott 32 — a Chinese restaurant in Hong Kong and one of my all-time favorites — as her big break. Mott 32 now has nine locations around the world, with four designed by Joyce’s team. The Hong Kong branch, which is tucked beneath a historic bank building in the Central district, has an escapist and time-traveling aura to it. From a wall full of Chinese calligraphy brushes to chandeliers echoing the Victorian era, Joyce’s designs seamlessly marry British and Chinese cultural, social, and political references. Check out some of the studio’s other projects here.

This section doesn’t usually focus on travel, but it’s another chance to spotlight amazing Asian creators, so I hope you’ll read just a little bit more!

• FILM: Ne Zha 2. I first saw this animated film in its original Chinese version, and now, A24 has tapped Michelle Yeoh to voice the English dubbed version (once again, A24 knows what’s up). The story of Ne Zha — the rebellious, hot-headed child-god from Chinese mythology — is one I grew up with. Yet I’ve never seen a Ne Zha narrative depicted in this totally fresh way: heartrending, action-packed, hilarious, and visually stunning.

• BOOK: Homeseeking by Karissa Chen. I’m only halfway through this and I’ve already told a dozen people how obsessed I am. The novel follows a man and a woman — once young lovers — over 60 years as history drags them apart and bumps them back together, from Shanghai to Hong Kong, Taiwan, and eventually L.A. It’s heartbreaking, but also meticulously written. Karissa flows between Sinitic languages, so the spelling of her characters’ names change with local dialects and their identities shift subtly with geography (Incredible, right?). If you’re into bittersweet love stories that stretch across time and oceans, this one’s for you.

• ARTIST: Ini Ceramique. After arriving back home and already missing Athens, I stumbled upon Inhee Ma’s work. Originally from Seoul and now based in Bourgogne, France, Inhee describes her work as “evoking emotions, sparking inquiries, and nurturing a renewed appreciation for the beauty intrinsic to our everyday lives.” Her ceramic vases, which are playful takes on Greek columns and deities, trick the eye, looking like paper but carrying real weight. A seriously fun addition to any dining table or living room.

Thank you so much for reading my newsletter, and hope you enjoyed it! If there’s anything you loved or didn’t quite connect with, I’d love to hear your thoughts. Your feedback is truly appreciated and will help me make this a more enjoyable read for you!

Until next time, Laura x

Welcome to the August edition of Golden Hour ✨ If you’re a new subscriber, thank you for being here.

After three weeks of on-and-off rain showers, Berlin is back to its sun-drenched, sweaty self. I’m currently marinating in the café at Michelberger Hotel as I write this. Several fans are blasted in fixed directions, none of them toward me. If the no-AC life is resonating with you, I hope you’re staying cool and hydrated!

I kick off every newsletter with a kitchen-sink roundup of things I’ve loved, learned, or stumbled upon since the last edition. Here are my latest favorites:

• I spend a lot of time writing about food and drinks (and even more time taste-testing), so here’s one purely for the culture: I recently read “Why Seoul Is The World's Best Club Destination Right Now,” and I recommend it for anyone curious about Seoul’s layered and complex music scene beyond KPop (says the woman who screeched “Golden” from KPop Demon Hunters in the shower yesterday). With over four million tourists under the age of 30 visiting South Korea, DJs in Itaewon’s clubs are increasingly experimenting with their sound to keep the energetic crowds moving. Even Kpop is shifting, with some tracks leaning heavier towards UK garage (listen to Blackpink’s “Jump” and you’ll hear it). I’m in my 30s and tired-after-10pm is where my energy’s at, but even I’m tempted to see what’s up the next time I’m in Seoul.

• I love Hong Kong and I love ice cream, so T Magazine’s “In Hong Kong, Inventive Ice Cream Is Everywhere” piece was easy clickbait made for me. I attribute much of my penchant for snacking to growing up in Hong Kong, where egg tarts and pineapple buns are ubiquitous. You finish one, and the next one’s already in your hand. This summer, Hong Kong’s one-upping itself with quirky, bold ice cream flavors, like salted duck egg milk jam gelato at chef Vicky Cheng’s Liz & Tori (dedicated to his two daughters named… you guessed it, Elizabeth and Victoria). Vanilla too vanilla? These ice cream spots will fix that.

• My Berlin gem of the month: Boii Boii. My recent deep dive into Berlin’s hottest Asian pop-up supper clubs led me to THAI NOODS, a Pad Thai bar that “just gave birth to boiiboiiberlin” per their Instagram profile. So, as a predictable person who loves cheeky taglines, I wound up at the pop-up-turned-restaurant on a random Wednesday. With its artsy purple branding, sartorially savvy crowd, and one unforgettable starter called TANG MO that I will be recreating in my kitchen (chilled watermoon, topped with cucumber-mustard greens granita, mint, caramelized cashew, and shaved smoked tofu), Boii Boii is a good time. Most importantly, the Pad Thai is delicious. A little steep for the portion size, but the meal as a whole hit the spot.

In the early days of dating my husband — when he still lived in Oakland and I was in San Francisco — we’d take turns crossing the Bay Bridge to see each other. Most weeknights ended with us holed up in some soul-hugging Chinatown restaurant in Oakland, chatting our little hearts out.

Oakland’s Chinatown is special. It dates back to the 1850s, making it one of the country’s oldest. Many Chinese immigrants made their way to California to help build the Central Pacific Railroad, but were forced to resettle in Oakland after the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882. Out of that displacement came a resilient, tight-knit community, and even now, that’s palpable. Of all the Chinatowns I’ve ever been to, this one has always struck me as a quietly indomitable one.

Beyond Chinatown, Oakland brims with incredible Asian-owned businesses — places that shaped some of my fondest Bay Area memories. If San Francisco is on your travel list in the near future, take a detour to Oakland. Cross that bridge — it’s delicious on the other side. And these are the spots I’ve returned to time and again:

BREAKFAST: Ruby King Bakery’s egg tarts and pineapple buns will whisk you to the streets of Hong Kong. Open since 2002 and still cash-only, it’ll take true willpower to leave with just one pastry. The egg tart is buttery, airy, and flaky, with custard that carries a gentle jiggle to it. Try the shredded coconut-filled cocktail bun too. Its name originates from Hong Kong bakers who once repurposed day-old buns by mixing their crumbs, sugar, and coconut into a new filling — as if they were making a breaded “cocktail.”

For caffeine guaranteed to buzz you awake, head to House of Phin. Phin-dripped and topped with silky egg cream, their Hanoi Egg Coffee is indulgent like dessert, but not overly sweet (the highest praise for anything with sugar in it, according to my parents).

LUNCH: Huangcheng Noodle House is the place for handmade Shanxi-style, knife-cut noodles — a culinary craft that mesmerizes me to this day. There’s almost always a line out the door, with strangers sharing long tables on busy days. The owner, Jimmy Huang, told Eater that his dad hails from Shanxi and his mom from Sichuan, so he likes bridging both Chinese cuisines in his dishes. With that, us lucky diners get a whole host of options: Some days I crave saucy tomato-and-egg noodles, and on other days, I need the nourishment of braised pork ribs in steaming broth. They serve both.

DINNER: Head up Telegraph Avenue and you’ll start to spot more Korean restaurants left and right. Pyeong Chang Tofu House is our go-to. It’s hushed on some days, with only the occasional noodle slurp breaking the silence, and filled with boisterous laughter on other days. I love coming here for tofu soup in the colder months, but during the summer, the Kong-guksu (chilled soy milk buckwheat noodles) and Kimchi Bibim-guksu (spicy mixed buckwheat noodles) are absolute refreshers.

DRINKS: Make your way back towards Downtown Oakland and end the night at Viridian, a cocktail bar co-founded by William Tsui, Raymond Gee, and Alison Kwan. I’ve written about San Francisco’s Moongate Lounge before, and the two share the same instantly recognizable pop-Asian aesthetic and moody lighting brought to you by Soon and Soon Studio. Viridian’s award list is stacked, but it still retains the intimacy of a neighborhood hangout. Every Lunar New Year, they run the Red Envelope pop-up, where they shake up unique, on-theme creations like “Red Bean Egg Cream” with Hennessy and “Mala Hot Pot” with Baijiu. My personal favorite is the “White Rabbit,” a sweet nod to a candy that defined my childhood. I believe my first words after the first sip were, Oh sh*t, can you believe they turned this into a drink?

This month, we’re temporarily stepping away from interior design to talk about the power of branding. Don’t worry, we’ll return to the beautiful hotels soon!

I’ve been just as charmed by the branding behind Kuala Lumpur-based dessert shop TUG Gelato as by its mission. TUG stands for The Unusual Greens, referring to what founder Hailey Yong and her team do best: combatting food waste by taking unusual, odd-shaped, or “ugly” fruits — the kind that most grocery shoppers pass over in the aisle — and turning them into gelato and other desserts. Because once it’s in our bellies, it’s all the same, isn’t it?

TUG Gelato’s visual identity and imagery is young, fresh, and a bit loud, speaking to Gen Z without tipping into obnoxious. Little mascot characters appear from one post to the next, with the “t” and “g” of TUG doubling up as eyes and the “u” as the button nose. The photography makes every scoop look dangerously delicious. In some ways, it reminds me of how Christina Tosi’s Milk Bar brand won hearts — by being bold, sensory-driven, and completely unafraid of a camera flash.

Through all that color and personality, the core message of “saving fruits one scoop at a time” and “imperfect ≠ inedible” stay salient. They’ve even lowered the price of their fruit-forward flavors, like Mango Sorbet and Avocado Pistachio, so more people will give them a try. In some of TUG Gelato’s social content, they also share practical tips on spotting fruits that are unsafe to eat, using cues like scent, texture, and blemish color.

Who says you can’t do good while eating ice cream?

This section doesn’t usually focus on travel, but it’s another chance to spotlight amazing Asian creators, so I hope you’ll read just a little bit more!

• MUSIC: I love Sakamoto Days, an anime series about a retired hitman turned family man whose past won’t leave him alone, but the soundtrack has me hooked even more. It’s a blend of J-pop, indie, and alternative rock, featuring tracks like "Dandelion" by go!go!vanillas and "走れSAKAMOTO" by Vaundy. Some of these artists tour exclusively within Japan, so discovering them feels like unlocking some truly hidden gems.

• TEXTILES: Keeping up with my personal goal to try something new and creative every month, I recently attended a workshop with six other women, hosted by she she retreats. Textile artist Chiaki Fujii flew all the way from Tokyo to be with us, bringing a soothing energy that cut through the bass-thumping vibe next door. She foraged a lush selection of plants, flowers, and avocado seeds for us, and guided us through “kusaki-zome” — the traditional, sustainable art of botanical dyeing. After boiling down the plants, adding various solutions, and soaking a handmade silk bag in the “soup,” with Chiaki’s help, I took home a bright orange bag. Chiaki’s beautiful work is a true love letter to the earth, and this bag has become my most prized possession from my time in this city.

• CERAMICS: I follow a Berlin-based initiative called White Label Project, which labels itself as “a concept store, community and service platform for impact-led design brands and artists from all over the world.” Recently, they introduced Claymen, a series of playful, smile-inducing clay sculptures by New Delhi-based artist Aman Khanna. These sculptures are perfect for home decorating and gifting, and range in size from salt-and-pepper shakers to stools you can actually sit on. Once you start scrolling their Instagram or website, it’s near impossible to stop.

Thank you so much for reading my newsletter, and hope you enjoyed it! If there’s anything you loved or didn’t quite connect with, I’d love to hear your thoughts. Your feedback is truly appreciated and will help me make this a more enjoyable read for you!

Until next time, Laura x

Welcome to the July edition of Golden Hour!

Happy peak summer season to those of us sweating in the Northern Hemisphere. It’s been a big month for food. Michelin stars have been earned and defended. James Beard medals awarded. And the World’s 50 Best list unveiled. Fresh off watching Season 4 of The Bear, the significance of earning “that star” feels even more visceral. So, let’s all raise a glass to that.

If you’re new here, I kick off every newsletter with a kitchen-sink roundup of things I’ve loved, learned, or stumbled upon during the past month. Here are my latest finds:

• JinJu Patisserie (by Kyurim Lee and Jin Caldwell) just won the James Beard Award for Outstanding Bakery. I’m still emotionally recovering from their win (and this video of their double fold croissant filled with espresso cremeux, vanilla bean caramel, vanilla bean mascarpone-masala mousse). Lee and Caldwell — partners in both life and business — are the duo behind JinJu, and this win is both well-deserved and heartwarming. Cheers to this cute power couple.

• Theo James fans, you’re in luck. The man has opened a restaurant. He’s partnered with chef Naz Hassan and restaurateur Ed Templeton to launch Lupa in London, serving up traditional Roman comfort food. But let’s focus on the main star here: the chef. Born in Bangladesh and raised in Milan, Naz cut his teeth in London starting at 19 years old. He has since earned his stripes at Clipstone, Neo Bistro, BiBi, and Pidgin (London eaters, counting on you to know this list). Lupa is a beautiful reminder that Asian chefs don’t need to cook Asian food to be recognized. On the menu and hopefully soon on your table: fior’ di zucca (stuffed with anchovy and burrata), bucatini all’amatriciana with guanciale, and abbacchio scottaditto (grilled lamb cutlets).

• It’s happening, Capella Hotels is coming to Europe. If you caught my Shanghai guide, you’ll know that I’ve got a soft spot for Capella — Asia’s quietly luxurious hotel brand. Until now they’ve kept their properties firmly in the Asia-Pacific region, in cities like Ubud, Shanghai, Sydney, and Taipei. But in 2027, they’ll be debuting right in the Duomo’s neighborhood in Florence and reimagining the historic Via San Gallo complex. Knowing Capella’s track record, it won’t be some copy-and-paste job from another hotel they run. They’re going to give us Firenze their way.

• My Berlin gem of the month: Ở ĐÂY DELI, a charming Vietnamese cafe by co-founders Phung Vu Thanh, Tuan Anh Nguyen, and Anni Nguyen. I made a trek across town here last week, just so I could try their Black Sesame French Toast (brioche toast stuffed with black sesame paste, topped with condensed milk and butter), and it sent me to another dimension. Once I snapped out of it, I discovered the rest of the menu to my pleasant surprise: Chicken & Rice, Spicy Peanut Udon too, and a revolving weekly special, to name a few dishes. It’s not just a breakfast spot, but an all-day, eat-and-chill joint. Come for the French toast, stay for more.

A month ago, I flew to Amsterdam to cover the opening of the newest Rosewood hotel – and the whole city was pumping with adrenaline. Amsterdam is celebrating its 750th birthday this year, and it felt like everyone showed up for the party. Trying to catch a glimpse of Vincent van Gogh’s Self-portrait with Grey Felt Hat at the Rijksmuseum felt like elbowing my way to see Beyoncé at Coachella. Every tram I got on was packed like a can of sardines. There was even a bouncer outside of the popular cookie shop, Banketbakkerij Het Koekemannetje, who was taking his job very, very seriously. I have to say, it was all a bit overwhelming for me. But once I had a moment to breathe — and figuratively and literally put away those cookies — I discovered a food scene that was absolutely worth carving out time and space for.

Anthony Bourdain once said: “If you can't go to Indonesia for its food, go to Amsterdam.” For over 300 years, Indonesia was colonized by the Dutch. I’ll never forget what my guide in Bali told me when I visited in December. We were driving through Ubud when he started recounting the story of how Indonesia fought for its independence in the 1940s. His face lit up with pride, eyes glistening, as he said, “Do you know how our national flag became a red stripe over a white stripe? We took the Dutch flag, ripped off the blue stripe, and made it our own.”

After Indonesia gained independence in 1945, many Indo-Dutch, Moluccan, and Javanese families made their way to the Netherlands, navigating the uncharted messiness of post-colonial life. What they brought with them, and what’s been preserved or decolonized today, is all part of that legacy.

(Note: Some Indonesian restaurants in Amsterdam serve “rijsttafel,” a Dutch-colonial-style spread of small plates. Given its colonial origins, it’s a dining experience that carries mixed feelings. For that reason, I’m choosing not to spotlight any rijsttafel-focused restaurants in this edition of Golden Hour.)

BREAKFAST: Toko Makassar isn’t your classic breakfast spot. Located in the Geuzenveld district, it’s an Indonesian supermarket that’s been around for 40 years and is known for its takeaway-ready dishes and jajan pasar (traditional snacks). Aside from nasi goreng (Indonesian fried rice), they serve sugary treats like kue talam (a steamed coconut and pandan cake). Grab a few bites and stroll over to any of the nearby parks, like Eendrachtspark, for a laid-back morning picnic.

LUNCH: Head back towards the canals and stop at Koeah, run by Chef Andhika. They call themselves the “home of soul-warming soups,” and that’s not being presumptuous, but rather, spot-on. The space is compact and casual, and while the portions aren’t huge, that’s reason enough to order a few extra things. The soto betawi is a must-have, kind of like a warm belly rub — a Jakarta-style beef soup with coconut milk and potatoes, spiced with cinnamon and star anise. For vegetarians, the lodeh miso with tempe and tofu is a great pick. If you’re craving rice, go for the nasi campur. It’s a versatile one. They like to switch up their specials each week to highlight ingredients and styles from different Indonesian regions, so your rice may come up with an alternating protein surprise on the side.

DINNER: Choosing a dinner spot for each newsletter tends to be a nail-biter for me, so I’m sharing three options with you this time.

• Looking for Balinese fare? Go for Paon Bali.

• In the mood for a dinner spot that effortlessly morphs into a casual party on the weekends? Chef Petra Moerbeek’s Café Warung Pas delivers a good time with bold food and unserious energy.

• There is a new kid in town: Omahe looks intriguing, and I just missed its opening, so one of you lovely subscribers will have to try it and report back!

Just the thought of staying at Tokyo’s TRUNK(HOUSE) one day gets me giddy. It’s a one-bedroom guest house that’s deeply, distinctly Japanese, and impossibly stunning.

Seven years ago, TRUNK’s founder, Yoshitaka Nojiri found a two-story former geisha house tucked into Kagurazaka, a stone path-lined corner of Shinjuku. With his design crew in tow, Yoshitaka beautifully restored it into a townhouse — discreet on the outside (like the geisha house it once was), but a living, breathing design museum on the inside. My personal favorite element might be the disco room that feels worlds away from the rest of the house, but unmistakably Tokyo. It’s touted as Japan’s tiniest disco, but is still fully equipped with a bar, disco ball, dance floor, and karaoke machine. If I make it to TRUNK(HOUSE) one day, odds are you’ll find me here.

The interior was brought to life by TRUNK’s in-house studio, TRUNK Atelier, and Tripster, a Tokyo-based interior design firm. Bespoke touches are everywhere. Most pieces are crafted by Japanese artists: from ceramics by Nara-based New Light Pottery, to a collage-style bath wall piece by Masumi Ishikawa, using a technique called harimaze-e, where multiple images are printed onto a single sheet.

This section doesn’t usually focus on travel, but it’s another chance to spotlight amazing Asian creators, so I hope you’ll read just a little bit more!

• BAKERY: Continuing this week’s Rooted spotlight on Indonesians in Amsterdam briefly — Bella Soeprapto’s Pandan Bar doesn’t have a physical storefront, but stick around Amsterdam long enough and you’ll likely spot her signature pandan cakes, cookies, and brownies at special pop-up events around the city. For those unfamiliar with pandan, it’s a tropical plant native to Southeast Asia that’s often used in Indonesian cooking and baking, with a subtly sweet, nutty, and floral flavor. Know that you’ll be in Amsterdam soon? You can also DM Bella on Instagram to place an order.

• BOOK: Good Girl by Aria Aber — I’ll start off by saying, this book won’t be for everyone. There’s definitely a thread of “a lost girl parties her pain away in Berlin’s drug-riddled club scene.” But if you were raised in a culture different from the one you were born into, there’s a good chance this story will cut deep. Main character, Nila, is a 19-year-old daughter to Afghan immigrants in Germany. The story weaves in self-destruction, ennui, aimlessness, and toxic relationships, but underneath it all is a raw search for identity in a post-9/11 world. What starts out distant slowly starts to feel universal.

• ARTIST: Liliana of Naicha Studio — I picked up a Chopstick Hands Hardcover Journal at New York City’s Renegade Craft Fair back in April, and it’s become one of those things I need nearby when I write. Liliana’s art is so whimsical, psychedelic, celestial, fresh, and just plain beautiful. The colors somehow massage and electrically shock my brain at the same time, and every image makes you linger a little longer on why something like this ever came to be.

Thank you so much for reading my newsletter, and hope you enjoyed it! If there’s anything you loved or didn’t quite connect with, I’d love to hear your thoughts. Your feedback is truly appreciated and will help me make this a more enjoyable read for you!

Until next time, Laura x

Earlier this month, I asked my readers what bonus article they wanted most: a mini city guide, a detailed hotel spotlight in Asia, an interview with a tastemaker, or a personal travel story. The votes are in, and mini city guide wins! So, welcome to my hometown: Shanghai, China.

As a fifth-generation Shanghainese, I’ve explored countless gems over the years — not just my own, but also my mom’s, my grandma’s, my second cousin’s… you get the gist. Consider this my family’s unofficial guide to staying well-fed and inspired in Shanghai!

[ STAY ] CAPELLA SHANGHAI, JIAN YE LI (480 West Jianguo Road)

Shanghai’s hotel scene is stacked with your usual 5-star suspects, which is par for the course in Asia’s biggest cities, where Peninsulas and Mandarin Orientals claim prime real estate in the glossiest skyscrapers. But some feel like meaningful luxury — where time slows down and the atmosphere turns intimate: Capella Shanghai is one of those sanctuaries.

Tucked inside the city’s last remaining cluster of Shikumen (stone-gated townhouses that blend Chinese and Western architecture), this hotel has 55 villas, serene gardens, a fully decked-out spa (flotation tanks and all), and a Michelin-starred restaurant. My great-grandmother once lived in a Shikumen house where my mom used to race around as a kid, so I can’t pretend this recommendation isn’t a biased and sentimental one.

[ EAT ] FOUR SEASONS FARM 四季农圃 (137 Tianping Road Road)

It feels cruel to recommend just one restaurant, because there are so many good ones. I’ll go with my newest favorite among the Shanghainese cuisine heavyweights: 四季农圃 (loosely translated as Four Seasons Farm?). I’m not even sure it has an official English name (a sign of authenticity to me), but I borrowed the translation from a blogger named J and I like it! And if there is an official English name, my apologies in advance.

The environment is elegant, the service is on point, and the food is sensational. When Shanghainese folks dine out, we often start with a few appetizers known as 冷菜 (cold dishes), even if not all of them are technically cold. I’d recommend doing the same. If you like fish, try the 上海烤子鱼 (listed as “Shanghai Flavor Roasted Mullet” on the menu). It’s a little sweet and super flavorful. For the main dishes, you can’t go wrong with the 上海酱方 (Shanghai-Style Stewed Pork Cubes) and the 蟹粉豆腐 (Stewed Crab Meat with Tofu).

After lunch, take a stroll around the neighborhood. “Four Seasons Farm” is smack dab in the middle of the Former French Concession, which is my favorite part of the city and where I grew up. The streets are shaded by parasol trees, keeping things cool even in the summer; and the French-style architecture still shapes the whole neighborhood’s look, giving a faintly “Are we still in China?” feel. This whole area is a social media influencer hotspot on weekends, but on weekdays, you’ll find a much calmer vibe.

[ DRINK ] CONSTELLATION (Several locations around the city)

There are certainly sexier spots in the city when it comes to cocktail innovation and interior design, like Sober Company and The Odd Couple, but Constellation will always be my nostalgic pick.

Many of the watering holes I frequented when I was younger are now closed, but Constellation — 25 years strong with five locations across the city — feels like a permanent tattoo (I once knew them by their not-so-imaginative names like Constellation 1 and Constellation 3).

As China’s very first whisky bar, it’s a quiet staple on the cocktail bar scene. The decor is unfussy. The Old Fashioned hits just right. Anthony Bourdain even drank here before crashing a wedding on an episode of Parts Unknown, and said the Moscow Mule was good.

[ SEE ] THE BUND

Me telling you to see the Bund is like a Parisian telling you to see the Louvre. Obvious, but worth it. You don’t need to hit all 22 buildings along the Huangpu River, but time flies by when you’re leisurely strolling past these Neoclassical, Baroque, and Art Deco gems. The Bund’s heritage buildings once housed some of the most powerful foreign institutions during Shanghai’s Gilded Age in the 1920s and 1930s. If you’re an architecture or history buff, you’ll love this stretch. If you’d rather just soak in the killer views, there should be a rooftop cocktail bar every few buildings or so.

Step into Three on the Bund, and you’ll find that the 109-year old former Union Building has been transformed into a stylish hub of art, food, and shopping. Keep walking and you’ll get to Bund No. 12, the former HSBC building and once the largest bank building in Asia. Just inside the entrance, if you look up, you’ll see a beautiful dome mosaic ceiling decorated with frescos. Before the Cultural Revolution, an architect had the foresight to cover it up with stucco, so it wouldn’t be destroyed. It stayed hidden until it was rediscovered in 1997 to everyone’s amazement.

If you have the time and the stomach for heights, head across the Huangpu River to Pudong (the east bank). Flair Rooftop Restaurant & Bar on the 58th floor of the Ritz-Carlton has a breathtaking view. On a clear day, as dusk starts to rolls in, the Bund glows golden below and it’s impossible to miss, even from up high.

[ DO ] GET A MASSAGE

Massages in Shanghai are solid, and more affordable than what you’d pay in most major cities. Make an afternoon of it and get those knots worked out. There’s a whole range in terms of style and setting — from Thai to Swedish, and from more bare-bones to full of bells and whistles. There’s a large number of blind massage therapists and parlors as well. Personally, I’m a fan of Zen Massage on Fuxing West Road — soft in vibe, but ruthless when it comes to deep tissue work.

QUICK TIP

When in Shanghai, take Google Maps with a grain of salt. Most of the locals don’t use it, so chances are you’re reading a 1-star review from a one-off, dissatisfied tourist. If you’d like to download another reviews app while you’re there, Dianping will give you more accurate results (if you don’t mind doing a little translating!).

Hope you enjoyed reading this! If you’re looking for more recommendations, feel free to reach out. I’m happy to be your tour guide from afar.

Until next time, Laura x

Welcome to the June edition of Golden Hour!

I’m sorry for going radio silent on you all, especially (and ironically) during Asian American and Pacific Islander Heritage Month. The past few weeks swept me up in weddings, travels, and family time. I’m also a little hoarse from screaming — my story about an incredible Bay Area Asian-Blasian winemaking duo just dropped on Eater (!!!). But I’m back, catching my breath, and excited to reconnect with you all.

Since I missed May’s edition, I’d love to make it up to you with a little something extra. I’ve got a few ideas and would love your input. Vote for the option that sounds most interesting to you! I’ll go with whatever gets the most love and drop it later this month.

If you’re new here, I kick off every newsletter with a kitchen-sink roundup of things I’ve loved, learned, or stumbled upon during the past month. Here are my latest favorites:

• By now, I hope most of you have watched Ryan Coogler’s gory, haunting, unforgettable ride of a film, Sinners. If not — run, don’t walk. Not only because two Michael B. Jordans are better than one, but because of Bo and Lisa Chow: a cultural shoutout I didn’t expect, but representation I felt deeply. Fun fact: Prior to filming, Coogler discovered that his father-in-law had Chinese ancestry from the Mississippi River Delta. He teamed up with filmmaker and cultural consultant Dolly Li to depict the lives of Chinese grocery store owners during the Jim Crow era — highlighting historical details like how a married couple, Bo and Lisa, would run two separate stores: one for Black customers and one for white customers. Here’s Smithsonian’s take and a short documentary if you’re curious about the Mississippi Delta Chinese and their relationship to the local Black communities. It’s a powerful and overlooked piece of American history.

• Can we all agree that Central Asia deserves more love as a travel destination? And even as someone who’s very “one day yes, one day no” about hiking, I’m excited about the expansion of the Kyrgyz Nomad Trail, rolling out by the end of this summer. If you’re itching for a picturesque and challenging mountain trek later this year, skip your favorite Alpine trails and head to Kyrgyzstan instead. The view above Lake Ala-Köl’s pretty worth it.

• My monthly Berlin gem(s): Last month, I attended a rice wine workshop and tasting hosted by Polly Yim (founder of QU Fermentation Studio), featuring special guests Sanghyun Cha and Eunji Park of HARU PROJECT — who led the workshop and taught us how to make makgeolli. It all went down in the stunning dining room at OUKAN, where Polly also serves as Head of Fermentation. The best part? It turned into a six-hour hangout, chatting about our Asian upbringings and making a serious dent on the leftover banchan. Every single one of them is putting Asian fermentation culture and craft on Germany’s F&B map, and are well worth checking out.

While I was visiting New York City in April, I told one of my best friends that I’d love to write about the city in Rooted someday, but truthfully, it feels like trying to wrangle a giant. She nodded in agreement and without missing a beat, said: “It’s too big. You’ve got to do it one neighborhood at a time.”

With that wisdom in my back pocket, I’ve decided not to bite off more than I can chew. This month, I’m skipping Manhattan entirely and heading to Brooklyn. And because I’d be delusional to think that Brooklyn is somehow more manageable, I’m narrowing in even further on Greenpoint — the northernmost edge of the borough.

For many New Yorkers and frequent travelers, Greenpoint needs no introduction. In the late 20th century, waves of Polish immigrants made this corner of Brooklyn home, drawn by shipyard and factory jobs. Many stayed, and you’ll still find family-run, no-frills jadłodajnia serving up delicious pierogies. But like much of the city, Greenpoint has changed. These days, you’ll spot more matcha cafés, natural wine bars, and… a Caffè Panna. We know gentrification is complicated, as it shape shifts neighborhoods, sometimes erasing and other times layering. That layering has led to a new wave of Asian-owned businesses in Greenpoint, bringing fresh energy while echoing the same immigrant spirit that molded the neighborhood generations ago.

BREAKFAST: ACRE — owned by Ayaka Suzuki and Nami Tomimaru — does a killer Japanese comfort food lunch, but let’s ease in with a light breakfast, because lunch options are coming. Grab a freshly brewed coffee or a latte, and pair it with a cheeky scallion scone or a slice of matcha cake. ACRE also doubles up as a gift shop, so if you love browsing funky-shaped ceramics and bold coffee table books as much as I do, you’re going to love it here. And here’s the final catnip for humans: It’s about to be prime summertime and there’s a cute garden out back.

On the weekends, head to Rule of Thirds, which boasts one of my favorite restaurant interiors (I love an airy space). You can’t go wrong with ordering the Teishoku (Japanese breakfast set), or mix and match some of their greatest hits: Hottokeki (soufflé pancake), Chicken Katsu sando, and Smashed Potato. I know $3-4 add-ons can sometimes be a bit of an eye roll when it comes to sauces or garnishes, but trust me — get the soft serve for the Hottokeki.

Like ACRE, our friends at Rule of Thirds are multitalented and offer more than just a place to eat. The team also runs Bin Bin Sake, a sake bottle shop next door, and regularly hosts comedy nights and other fun events.

LUNCH: Here’s a choose-your-own-adventure situation, and if you’re in the area for a few days, try them all!

• For the grab-and-go gang: Taku Sando is for you. Whipped up by the creative team behind Takumen in Long Island City, with chef and baker Hisashi Murakami at the helm, their sandos are something else. The bread here, known as “shokupan,” is a Japanese-style fluffy milk bread freshly baked in-house daily.

• For the year-round noodle soup crowd: All of my Brooklyn friends rave about Đi Ăn Đi, and while I haven’t made it there myself yet, I’ve been told (repeatedly!) that I’m missing out on the best beef pho I’ve ever had. If you decide to eat here, add a side of chả giò. These are dishes easily recognizable at other Vietnamese spots, but word on the street is that Đi Ăn Đi takes them to their own special level (Adding a quick update: They’re actually only open for lunch from Friday to Sunday, but they’re open for dinner all week!)

• For the lunch set lovers: Breeze is a haven for people who love trying mini portions of everything on the menu. From Monday to Friday, 12 - 3 pm, you can have any of their mouthwatering entrees with rice and a side as part of their lunch special. I’m a “Crab Tofu in Claypot” and “Scallion Sauce Cucumber” gal, but you do you.

Both Đi Ăn Đi and Breeze are also bringing cultural oomph to their craft cocktails. For anyone who’s ever had baijiu, you’ll know that this liquor is no joke, so Breeze’s “Dance In The Heavy Snow” (served warm with Mingriver Baijiu, dehydrated red date, and honey) is going to come in like a wrecking ball. Over at Đi Ăn Đi, they’re stirring fish sauce and condensed milk into their “Red Boat Espresso Martini.”

AFTERNOON DRINKS: A day in Greenpoint wouldn’t be complete without a stop at Hana Makgeolli Brewery & Tasting Room — a beloved neighborhood staple with guided tastings, brewery tours, and community hangs. Founder Alice Jun has brought traditional Korean brewing methods to Brooklyn, using just organic rice and nuruk for fermentation. Try the tasting flight for the fastest introduction to Hana, which comes with 2-ounce pours of their signature brews: Takju 16, Omija, and Yakju 14. If you’ve still got a bit of an appetite, you can always snack on some anju like dubu kimchi or pork belly suyuk.

DINNER: My favorite thing about Nura is its interior design (another airy space). Plant moms, this one’s calling your name, but don’t let the leafy greens and glowy ambiance overshadow the food. Breads and dips are the main characters here, where you can sink your pillowy naan and roti into harissa yogurt, poblano hummus, and leek butter. For an entree, the “Black Pepper Prawns” are a saucy fan favorite. Co-owner Michelle Lobo-Hawley first imagined Nura as a love letter to just her Indian heritage, but she soon gave full creative freedom to executive chef Jackie Carnesi, whose New American influence brings a twist to every dish. Layered and fused, just like Greenpoint itself.

You know that super well-lit garage scene in The Dark Knight where Michael Caine says, “Know your limits, Mr. Wayne” and Christian Bale fires back with “Batman has no limits”? That same room that you’ve probably seen in a dozen music videos? Central — an underground dumpling bar in Brisbane, Australia — reminds me of that.

Tucked below street level, Central channels major 90’s Hong Kong crime film energy with its steely color palette, 150-year-old exposed stone walls, and grid ceiling lighting. Moody, sleek, and industrial, the space was once a jazz and poetry venue, and you can still feel that creative pulse. One of my favorite design touches: a curated playlist throwing back to Hong Kong’s disco era and Cantonese pop days. There’s even a disco ball hidden above the kitchen, ready to descend when the space flips into party mode.

But co-owner and executive chef, Benny Lam, and his team didn’t stop at chic lighting and thoughtful music. Central’s tableware was custom-made by a family-run pottery workshop in Thailand that their design partner had discovered at a local market over a decade ago.

This section isn’t technically about food, but I’m me, so I’ll leave you with this mental image off of their menu: Salty prosciutto and smoked butter folded into a Hong Kong-style pineapple bun. Cue the cravings.

This section doesn’t usually focus on travel, but it’s another chance to spotlight amazing Asian creators, so I hope you’ll read just a little bit more!

I recently watched three different movies, and each of them tore me apart in different ways. I grieved my grandma all over again in the first film. I missed my mom in the second. And I blubbered all over my husband in the third. If you’re looking for a good cry, grab some tissues and throw on one of these tearjerkers. I'll give each one my softest, spoiler-free spin:

• How To Make Millions Before Grandma Dies (Thailand): A young man moves in with his ailing grandma for selfish reasons.

• Girls Will Be Girls (India): A teenage girl in the Himalayan foothills quietly rebels against her conservative school and her watchful mother.

• Lost in Starlight (South Korea): An astronaut and a musician meet one day and fall in love.

Thank you so much for reading my newsletter, and hope you enjoyed it! If there’s anything you loved or didn’t quite connect with, I’d love to hear your thoughts. Your feedback is truly appreciated and will help me make this a more enjoyable read for you!

Until next time, Laura x

Welcome to the second edition of Golden Hour!

I woke up this morning to discover that I’ve passed 100 subscribers. What on Earth did I do to deserve all of you?! Thank you for giving this Substack a chance and for making me one very happy gal. I have to give a huge shoutout to for believing in my little publication enough to recommend it to her readers and select my piece as her first GuestStack post. If you’re here because of her—hi, and welcome!

Let’s get to the good stuff, shall we? Every month, I’ll kick off with a kitchen-sink roundup of things I’ve loved, learned, or stumbled upon over the past month. Here’s my April brain dump:

• I’m in denial that Severance Season 2 is a wrap. I wince when it’s Friday and the Apple TV page does not refresh. I blast Mr. Milchick and the Department of Choreography and Merriment’s performance on YouTube often, loudly and shamelessly. But one of the real stars of this past season was Eng’s—the upstate New York Chinese restaurant in Episode 6 (“Attila”) where Mark is wolfing down plates of food and Helena voraciously eyes both food and man. I’ve since discovered that Eng’s is truly an institution, two years shy from its 100th birthday. I won’t try to retell the fascinating life story of owners Tom and Faye Sit—still grinding impressively in their 80s—because they’ve told it in the best way themselves.

• I have a love-hate relationship with lists, but whenever Asia’s 50 Best Restaurants or James Beard Nominations drop, I’m tuned in. In the last few weeks, both lists revealed a glossy new lineup, with some familiar faces. It’s a win to see Asian chefs earning their stripes in fine dining, as well as industry experts showing home-cooked magic some love. Personally, I’m most excited to check out these three spots: Gaggan in Bangkok (I know that choosing #1 is predictable, but I need to know what keeps this man at top spot year after year), JL Studio in Taichung (Taichung’s stepping into the spotlight as an F&B destination to watch after debuting the world’s first Michelin-starred ice cream shop, Minimal, last year), and anything by The Fried Rice Collective in California and the DMV area (because that name is too good).

• Did you know that Din Tai Fung—the beloved, Taiwan-founded xiao long bao soup dumpling chain with outposts in more than 13 countries—first started serving meals on EVA Air 23 years ago? If that partnership surprises you, I’m right there with you. While this experience is currently only available to business class passengers (what diabolical gatekeeping!), I’m holding out hope that one day, from humble row 46, I too can enjoy braised beef noodle soup at 35,000 feet.

• Since Berlin and I are still in the honeymoon phase, and everything still feels shiny and new, I’m going to throw in a local gem each month. Last week, I had dinner at the newly opened REI Bar & Izakaya. To only call it a “bar” feels inaccurate, and “izakaya” doesn’t quite capture it either. It’s more like the love child of a speakeasy, neighborhood hangout, and listening lounge—the kind of place I’d take out-of-town friends to show them exactly why I love this city. The cocktails are flavorful—My favorite is the “Not A Name Yet,” a smoky-sweet blend of mezcal, lychee cordial, and oat milk. The food goes beyond bar bites—I’m already planning my return for the katsu spicy quail eggs.

Last November, my husband and I decided to do something very German for our first Thanksgiving in Germany: Hit up the Christmas markets.

We were torn between Düsseldorf and Nuremberg, ultimately landing on Düsseldorf because of one simple reason that had nothing to do with Christmas markets: It’s home to one of Europe’s largest Japanese communities and Little Tokyo scenes. If there was a place that could help balance out the copious amounts of Kartoffelpuffer and Glühwein we were about to consume, this would be it.

To give some context on the origins of the Düsseldorf-Japan connection: After World War II, Japan looked for ways to rebuild itself. Düsseldorf’s steel industry, industrialization, and proximity to Europe’s largest river port made it an attractive location to expand to. Over time, the Japanese community grew to over 15,000 in and around Düsseldorf, and Little Tokyo was born. Today, Immermannstraße—the beating heart of Little Tokyo—is as electric and lively as ever, with some of the best Japanese food I’ve ever had just behind a glimmering row of window displays. I loved Düsseldorf, and I’ve been eager to share why.

BREAKFAST: Growing up, birthday celebrations in my house always came with a bonus: leftover cake became breakfast the next day. I know that not everyone supports a 9am sugar high, but even now as I’m married to one of those breakfast purists, that hasn’t stopped me. If you’re team sweet tooth, start your day at Wakaba Japan Shop & Café with a matcha latte (or matcha chocolate macchiato, or maybe a matcha cappuccino!) and a slice of their delicious roll cake or mille crêpe, available in matcha, black sesame, and hojicha flavors. All their matcha comes directly from a factory in Uji, using tea leaves grown in Kagoshima. For the savory-loving crowd, lunch will be your moment, with omurice and curry options on the menu.

LUNCH: Soba-An proves that soba—often the unsung hero of Japanese cuisine outside of Japan—can absolutely hold its own against other carbs. The icing on top is that Tamaki Hamano, Germany’s only female soba master, works here. For my lunch, I opted for a tempura soba set with a side of inari, and while I was too full for dessert (a first!), the soba mochi and soba pudding looked phenomenal.

AFTERNOON SNACK: Make a quick stop at cozy KUMO Dorayaki & Soft Ice, where dessert-making is a performance in itself. If you order a Mont Blanc, it’ll be hard to look away as the spaghetti-like purée swirls down and coats the ice cream. The chestnut flavor takes me right back to my childhood in Shanghai, where my mom used to frequently buy chestnut cake (栗子蛋糕) for the whole family. Though a staple in East Asia, chestnut flavor is still a rare find elsewhere. Give it a try if it’s your first time—it might just surprise you.

DINNER & DRINKS: I want to start by saying that 1oder8 is standing room only, so be prepared to be on your feet the whole time. But if you are able and willing to stand, this place will transport you straight to a Tokyo izakaya at midnight and it’ll be worth it. Picture flames licking the hood in the open kitchen and the sound of karaage crackling in hot oil, as the irresistible scent fills the air. Koki Takahashi, the mastermind behind 1oder8, has lived many lives—from studying under a Kaiseki legend in New York to working as a photographer in the Netherlands. And I can tell you this: Some of the most tender karaage I’ve ever had was here, all paired with a Toki Highball packed with a punch.

If standing while eating is not your cup of tea, just around the corner is Tonkatsu GONTA. Run by the same folks behind Soba-An (Brickny Europe GmbH, started by Saeki Haruhiko), GONTA only does one thing—make katsu—but they do it extremely well.

BONUS: This one’s a bit off the eating-and-drinking track, but I kept seeing Jimu Kobayashi’s elegant and minimalistic ceramics sitting on shelves around town—in the trendy concept store BEYOND STUDIOS, and at local café favorite Rösterei VIER. I couldn’t resist shouting him out here. If you’re interested in visiting Jimu’s studio in Düsseldorf, you can book an appointment here.

Moongate Lounge in San Francisco had been on my radar for awhile, because of all the chatter I had heard about its interior design and cocktails. I finally got to check it off my list last year—and now it holds an even more special place in my heart, because it’s where my husband and I had our final date night before moving away from the Bay Area.

Owned by chef Brandon Jew and Anna Lee—who first opened its iconic sister restaurant and downstairs neighbor, Mister Jiu’s—Moongate Lounge lives up to its name, housing their liquor display in a circular “moongate” shape inspired by traditional Chinese garden archways. Designed by Steph Wong-Swig Architects, this space blends tradition and modernity, drawing on past decades and future visions, like a Wong Kar-wai film crossed with a spinoff of The Fifth Element.

One of the most beautiful touches is the restored 1940’s mural, which depicts two of the Eight Immortals from Chinese mythology—Han Xiangzi playing a flute and He Xiangu offering him a peach. The plush red velvet booths, bold teal lounge chairs, and porthole-style “skylight” come together to create a luxurious and eye-catching space—and the perfect setting for a great night out.

This section doesn’t usually focus on travel, but it’s another chance to spotlight amazing Asian creators, so I hope you’ll read just a little bit more!

• ENJOYED a magical hour at Berlin-based fashion designer William Fan’s boutique. While the street-facing store, Fan Plaza, offers a selection of lovely accessories and gifts, some of the best finds are tucked away in the back house. Through his designs, William pays a subtle but striking homage to his Chinese roots (think: mandarin collars, knotted buttons, and flowing sleeves), all while keeping that effortlessly cool Berlin vibe.

• EXCITED TO WATCH the 2025 remake of the 1993 romantic comedy The Wedding Banquet, which had the elder Chinese generation everywhere clutching their pearls after its first release. The cast is fantastic, and while there’s a fresh twist to the original story, the core essence remains the same. Here’s the IMDB one-liner: “A gay man makes a deal with his lesbian friend: a green-card marriage for him, in exchange for in vitro fertilization treatments for her.” Intrigued yet?

• DISCOVERED Mallorca-based artist Tamara K. Lloyd-Cox, founder of Cocowear, who designs everything from relaxed-fit shorts to bucket hats to help you get summer-ready. I absolutely love her artwork, which you can also purchase as prints. Her style is whimsical, abstract, and vibrant, with motifs that beautifully nod to her Asian heritage.

Thank you so much for reading my newsletter, and hope you enjoyed it! If there’s anything you loved or didn’t quite connect with, I’d love to hear your thoughts. Your feedback is truly appreciated and will help me make this a more enjoyable read for you!

Until next time, Laura x

Welcome to the first edition of Golden Hour—coming in hot from Charleston, South Carolina!

Oof, I had really hoped to get this newsletter to you sooner, but I overestimated my ability to be productive on early morning flights, so I’m truly sorry for the delay! Not the best start to my hopefully long-running Substack journey, and I’ll do my best to smooth out the bumps next time!

With March being Women’s History Month, it felt only right to kick things off by giving incredible women everywhere their well-deserved flowers. Every month, I’ll do the internet sleuthing so you don’t have to! Here are a few of my latest finds and musings on amazing Asian women in travel and hospitality:

• Like many people, The White Lotus has me in a chokehold. Season 3 is drawing droves of tourists to Thailand (CNBC says “Let’s go to Thailand” social media chatter has gone up by 60% since the premiere). Naturally, I went down a deep rabbit hole and discovered some pretty iconic female chefs in Thailand—experts in everything from haute cuisine to cooking over a sizzling stove in goggles. If you’re making a beeline to Koh Samui for that stress management meditation anytime soon, consider a little detour to these restaurants first.

• Speaking of women who wow the taste buds, I stumbled upon Eva Che after seeing an ad for her five-course interactive Chinese tasting menu at UY Studio last Halloween (truly, peak Berlin). A private chef and founder of the dining service, CheHub, Eva grew up in Guangzhou and now creates bespoke dining experiences for brands like Saint Laurent (and regular people like me!), each one a wildly creative, one-of-a-kind, fever dream.

• Did you know many of our favorite travel bag brands, like Dagne Dover and Away, were founded or led by Asian women? I swear by my Dagne Dover neoprene bags, so shoutout to Melissa Mash, Deepa Gandhi and Jessy Dover for keeping the color drops coming.

• This week’s feel-good story I can’t get enough of: There’s a new resort in Dambulla, Sri Lanka—Amba Yaalu at Kandalama—run and staffed entirely by women. In an industry where men still call most of the shots, this all-female team is shaking things up in the hospitality world, and change in that direction is always exciting to witness!

There’s no right or wrong way to do Paris. I’ve explored it with my parents, a group of girlfriends, my husband, and solo, and I’d hit repeat on every version in a heartbeat. Each new trip adds a few more dots to my growing, trypophobia-inducing Google Maps saved list, and unsurprisingly, Paris always has more to give. I appreciate that it’s a city where the international cuisine can often give the French restaurants a run for their money—either way, my belly is always happy. This month, I’m going to take you through a day of eating and drinking in Paris, particularly at places with amazing Asian women at the helm.

BREAKFAST: Start your day at Mokochaya, a cozy, homey nook where you might just find yourself lingering for two meals and a snack—perfect for a do-nothing kind of day. Opened by the wife-and-husband duo, Moko Hirayama and Omar Koreitem, the brilliant minds behind the super beloved Mokonuts restaurant and bakery, this breakfast spot offers irresistible cookies and a fusion of Japanese and Lebanese flavors (If you’d also like to eat at Mokonuts later in the day, I recommend getting a reservation early. Summer is coming!)

LUNCH: If you’re up for a cute day in Montmartre, make a stop at Bleu Bao for some dim sum and, of course, its signature blue aesthetics. After all that hilly wandering, you’ve earned it. Steamed or pan-fried? Why not both?? Bleu Bao also serves Dongpo Pork, a dish I’ve loved since my Shanghai childhood.

I’m a big fan of the Bao Family, Bleu Bao’s restaurant group co-founded by Celine Chung and Billy Pham, which has five additional bao spots across the city for every kind of eater. If Bleu Bao doesn’t fit into your schedule, check out one of their quicker options like Petit Bao!

AFTERNOON TEA: If the dim sum doesn’t send you straight into a nap, head to Rue Béranger in the 3rd arrondisement for afternoon tea at Bing Sutt (meaning “ice room” in Cantonese, like a classic “cha chaan teng” coffee shop in Hong Kong). Founded by Hong Kong native, Davina Chang, it’s the perfect spot to indulge guilt-free on a pineapple bun and egg tart… or five. For those in need of an afternoon caffeine boost, go for the Yuenyeung (a milk tea and coffee combo).

DINNER: I love ending the night in Belleville (I could really write a whole newsletter just on Belleville… *noting that down for a future issue*). Head to The Hood for Nasi Lemak, Laksa, and a whole table of mouth-watering dishes. Co-founded by two visionary women—Pearlyn Lee (a Paris-based Singaporean and professional vibesetter) and Khanh-Ly Huynh (a French-Vietnamese private chef and winner of Masterchef France 2015)—The Hood is as much a place to make new friends as it is to enjoy comfort food.

DRINKS: Just a ten-minute walk from The Hood, Dirty Lemon can wrap up (or start!) your night with a few drinks—Tammy’s Margarita and The Lebanese Girlfriend are both unique and delicious choices. Dubai-born, Paris-trained, Palestinian chef Ruba Khoury gives this place its energy. With former stints at some of Paris’ it-kitchens, like Frenchie, Septime, and Yam’Tcha, Ruba knows her food and cocktails, so you’re in good hands here.

Having spent part of my childhood in Hong Kong and fondly remembering taking the Star Ferry back and forth across Victoria Harbour, The Fleming Hotel is a nostalgic treat. I still remember spotting the massive hotel sign from the highway for the first time and immediately wanting to know who designed it.

While The Fleming is not woman-owned, the hotel’s design team (A Work of Substance) is notably women-heavy, with designers like Judy Chen leading and creating many of the most thoughtful, custom details of the brand. From the room key cards and desk stationary, to the elevator signage and shampoo bottles, you can see hints of the Star Ferry in almost every design.

If there’s ever been a seamless blend of Hong Kong’s 1970’s industrial history with contemporary chic, the Fleming Hotel nailed it. And if you happen to be heading to Hong Kong for Art Basel later this month (I’m jealous!), this could be your next stay.

This section doesn’t usually focus on travel, but it’s another chance to spotlight Asian creators, so I hope you’ll read just a little bit more!

• JAMMED OUT to Rosé’s Rosie album—it’s got that early-to-mid 2000’s pop vibe with all the dramatic flair. Like if your crush didn’t like you back in middle school, your world was over.

• FINALLY READ Yellowface by R.F. Kuang. I’m very late to the party, but this book has been topping charts for months (and for good reason!). It’s infuriating, creative, thought-provoking, chilling, and the type of book you want to simultaneously hug and throw at the wall. Prepare to get a little angry.

• VIEWED “Many Worlds Over” by Ayoung Kim, a solo exhibition as part of the European Month of Photography Berlin (EMOP). One thing I love about living in Berlin is the sheer amount of non-traditional art on display. Ayoung used AI, virtual reality, video, and game simulations to create a bizarre world where identical twins deliver packages as “delivery dancers.” Make of that what you will!

Thank you so much for reading my very first edition, and hope you enjoyed it! If there’s anything you loved or didn’t quite connect with, I’d love to hear your thoughts. Your feedback is truly appreciated and will help me make this a more enjoyable read for you!

Laura x

Hi!

Hope everyone enjoyed a beautiful International Women’s Day! Berlin was buzzing with energy yesterday—the sun was shining, people were eating and drinking outside for the first time in months, and I’ve happily thawed from my apartment.

Before Thursday’s newsletter drops, I want to share the story behind starting Golden Hour and what you can expect from me moving forward. After that, I’ll step back and we’ll begin exploring together! ✈️

Last October, just a few weeks after my husband and I moved to Berlin, we grabbed dinner with a friend of a friend (Let’s call him Jim). This was our first time meeting Jim, and with no friends in the city yet, we were open to dinner with just about anyone. All we knew beforehand was that he was Chinese.

We said hello, dinner started, and since small talk isn’t my strong suit, the pleasantries quickly fizzled after our server brought over our noodle bowls (We ate at Kongfu Chili, which I highly recommend!). How long have you lived here? Do you like it? How do you survive these long winters? Are you dead inside yet?

But then we started talking about travel (ahhh, my favorite topic), and Switzerland came up. Like us, Jim and his wife had visited Grindelwald—a 4,100-person Alpine village—a couple of years ago. And similarly like us, after a week of rich and regrettable cheese and potatoes, their bodies were screaming for some 炒青菜 (stir-fried vegetables).

“We looked for a Chinese restaurant in Grindelwald and managed to find one…” I started.

“Jasmine Garden! In a basement, right?! That was such a good meal.” Jim practically yelled. We nearly spat out our noodles, because that memorable dinner in the cozy basement of Jasmine Garden was also a long-overdue reset for our guts and souls.

I barely knew this man, but I felt like he got us. It was a reminder that as much as people seek out novelty and thrills when they travel, they also search for a sense of home and connection. I still advocate for eating as much pasta as humanly possible when in Italy, but as I get older, I also understand why my parents—the ones who first sparked my love for travel—always long for a hearty bowl of wonton soup after days away from home.

Golden Hour is about fostering those “I see you, and you see me” moments with others. As a travel writer, I have the privilege of visiting some of the world’s most stunning properties and experiencing things out of my wildest dreams, but those stories often get told, and outlets for them will always exist. There is still a visible gap, however, in Asian representation in travel media, and I’m itching to see more stories written by and written about people who look like me—to give credit where it’s due, amplify cultures at risk of being erased, and support local businesses.

So, here’s what I’ll promise you:

1. If my pitches don’t land with travel publications, but they fit Golden Hour’s focus, I’ll bring them here.

I believe our community’s visibility is growing (You love to see it!), but unfortunately, some angles just don’t align with an editor’s or publication’s priorities for one reason or another. This newsletter will be a container for those overlooked or unsung stories that are stuck in editorial limbo.

2. I’ll cover everything from budget-friendly spots to luxury experiences, but authenticity will always come first.

There are plenty of well-crafted and visually pleasing Asian-inspired brands, but I’m prioritizing those that feel respectful of and rooted in cultural tradition—rather than simply capitalizing off of them. If a global luxury hotel chain takes the time to do their research, collaborate with local artists, or integrate local wellness rituals, I’ll give them their due too.

3. I’ll write to you as though I’m sharing my travels with my closest friends and family.

I’ll post the more unpolished and from-the-heart versions of my travel writing, not the top 10 lists. This newsletter will be an honest account of what excites me and moves me. Travel is a gift I don’t take for granted, and I can’t wait to share my experiences and discoveries with you.

Golden Hour is my personal passion project, but it’s ultimately for you! No matter where you call home, I hope you’ll find little snippets of it here and in your future travels. It’s not lost on me that I have some supportive non-Asian subscribers too, and I just want to say this newsletter is just as much for you. Thank you for showing up—your support means a lot to me and really gets to the heart of why I do this: to spread awareness even further.

One final thing! To everyone who has already pledged to become a paid subscriber, I am genuinely moved and humbled by your trust in me as a writer. Thank you! 🙏

Ok, that’s a wrap—enjoy the rest of your weekend, and I’ll see you on Thursday!

With love,
Laura

P.S. I owe a huge thank you to my super talented friend and fellow travel writer, Macey, for encouraging me to take the leap, start writing, and hit publish. She recently launched an amazing Substack of her own: (Go check it out!). Thanks for reminding me that stories worth telling are always worth telling 🧡