Char Siu Pork Lettuce Cups —rsquo; A Sunday Lunch Offering, Made with Love

James's parents are coming in ten days. Ming and Wei-Chen Chen. His mother goes by Ming; his father goes by Wei or WC depending on the context. They will be staying at a hotel in Bellevue (James insisted; his mother wanted to stay with us, which would have been a disaster) and they will have dinner at David and Karen's on the Saturday they arrive, lunch at the condo on Sunday, and breakfast at a place on Bainbridge Island on Monday before flying home. James has written an itinerary, color-coded, with backup plans for the Seattle rain. He is a product manager. This is who he is.

I have been nervous. Not about the dinner itself but about the meta of the dinner. David and Karen do not know Taiwanese food. Ming and Wei do not know Korean food. Neither set of parents has a reference point for the other. Our entire relationship, in a sense, is a reference point we have built for ourselves. Now we are presenting it to the originators of our separate cultures.

I talked to James about the menu. He said, "Let's make it simple. Not fusion. Parallel. You make Korean. I make Taiwanese. My mom and Karen can each eat the thing they recognize and the thing they don't, and we all just eat." I thought about it. I agreed. The menu for Saturday dinner at the Bellevue house: bulgogi, doenjang jjigae, pajeon, rice, kimchi, kkakdugi (Korean); beef noodle soup, scallion pancakes, dan bing, rice, Taiwanese pickled cabbage (Taiwanese). Karen is making her apple pie for dessert. Ming is bringing pineapple cakes from a San Jose bakery. We are going to eat a lot.

I wrote Jisoo about the in-law dinner. She said she was praying for it. I appreciated this, and I also asked if she prayed for everything or only for dramatic things. She wrote back that she prayed for many things, including small things like the weather on washing day and large things like in-law dinners. She said she had been praying for me since she gave me up. She said she prayed me back, in a way. I do not have the faith Jisoo has. I respect what she has. I am thinking about whether I want to find something of my own that is adjacent. James grew up nominally Buddhist-adjacent and is functionally secular. David and Karen are culturally Protestant, not practicing. Jisoo is the only person of deep faith in the family. I am thinking about whether that is a gap in me that I want to close. I do not know yet.

Work: ordinary. The project is stable. Priya and I talked about Q4 planning. I am leading a new initiative in Q1 of next year. I will be even less technical. I did not fight this. I am saving my fighting for the things I want to fight for. This is not one.

I made oolong tea on Sunday — the good kind James brought back from a Taiwanese tea shop in Seattle's ID. I made it in a gaiwan, the traditional way, three steepings poured into small cups. James sat across from me and I poured for both of us. It was a gesture I had been practicing in my head. Pouring tea for him the way his mother would pour. A small thing. I wanted to honor where he comes from. He watched me pour. He said, "You're good at this." I said, "I've been practicing." He said, "I love you."

The recipe this week is tea. Taiwanese oolong. Three steepings. The ritual of pouring. A practice I will keep doing. A practice that is not mine by birth but is mine by love.

The tea ritual I practiced on Sunday—three steepings, small cups, the quiet gesture of pouring for James the way his mother might—made me want to carry that same intentionality into Sunday’s lunch menu. These char siu pork lettuce cups are what I landed on: a dish that belongs to James’s side of the table, that I can learn and make my own, that is easy enough not to panic over but meaningful enough to feel like an offering. I am not Taiwanese by birth. But I am making this anyway, with care, because that is what love asks of you.

Char Siu Pork Lettuce Cups

Prep Time: 20 min (plus 30 min marinating) | Cook Time: 25 min | Total Time: 45 min (plus marinating) | Servings: 4

Ingredients

• 1 lb pork tenderloin, sliced into 1/2-inch strips
• 3 tablespoons hoisin sauce
• 2 tablespoons soy sauce
• 1 tablespoon honey
• 1 tablespoon oyster sauce
• 1 teaspoon sesame oil
• 1 teaspoon Chinese five spice powder
• 2 cloves garlic, minced
• 1 tablespoon rice vinegar
• 1 teaspoon neutral oil (for cooking)
• 1 head butter lettuce, leaves separated and washed
• 1/2 cup shredded carrots
• 3 green onions, thinly sliced
• 2 tablespoons toasted sesame seeds
• 1/4 cup fresh cilantro leaves

Instructions

1. Make the marinade. In a medium bowl, whisk together the hoisin sauce, soy sauce, honey, oyster sauce, sesame oil, five spice powder, minced garlic, and rice vinegar until smooth and well combined.
2. Marinate the pork. Add the pork strips to the marinade, tossing to coat thoroughly. Cover and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes, or up to 2 hours for deeper flavor.
3. Cook the pork. Heat neutral oil in a large skillet or cast iron pan over medium-high heat. Remove pork from marinade (reserve marinade) and cook in a single layer for 4–5 minutes per side, until caramelized and cooked through. Work in batches if needed to avoid crowding the pan.
4. Glaze. Pour the reserved marinade into the pan during the last 2 minutes of cooking, letting it reduce slightly and coat the pork in a sticky glaze. Watch carefully so it does not burn.
5. Rest and slice. Transfer pork to a cutting board and let rest for 5 minutes. Slice or chop into bite-sized pieces.
6. Assemble the cups. Lay butter lettuce leaves on a serving platter. Divide the glazed pork among the cups. Top each with shredded carrots, green onions, sesame seeds, and fresh cilantro.
7. Serve immediately. Arrange on the table family-style and let everyone build their own. Best eaten right away while the pork is still warm.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 230 | Protein: 25g | Fat: 9g | Carbs: 13g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 710mg