By Memorial Day weekend. James and I took Hana to Portland to see Kevin and Lisa. The drive was three hours. Hana napped for two of them and screamed for one of them and James and I took turns singing to her — Korean songs, Taiwanese songs, "Blackbird" by the Beatles (David's contribution to the family songbook). The screaming stopped during "Blackbird." David would be proud.
Kevin's new café — Bridge City Café, opening in June — is beautiful. He took us on a tour. Twelve tables. A long bar for pour-overs. Local pastries from a Portland bakery. Artwork from a Korean-American printmaker Kevin found at a Saturday Market. The space is warm and intentional and exactly Kevin: meticulous, personal, built with the care of a man who knows what it costs to build something from nothing because he built himself from nothing. Lisa stood behind the counter during the tour and served us espresso. She has learned to pull shots. Kevin taught her. She taught him to love someone. The trade seems fair.
Kevin and I walked to the Alberta park on Sunday while James and Lisa watched Hana. We sat on a bench. The Portland sun was out. Kevin said, "Steph. I've been thinking about Jisoo's visit." I said, "What about it?" He said, "She held my face." I said, "I remember." He said, "Nobody has ever held my face like that. Not Karen, not David, not Lisa. Jisoo held my face and said I was family." He paused. "She didn't have to do that. I'm not her kid. I'm not her anything. She did it because you are her daughter and I am your brother and the connection was enough." He looked at me. "The connection is enough, Steph. That's what I learned from watching you find Jisoo. The connection is enough. You don't have to share blood. You just have to share love." He was quiet. He was not crying. Kevin does not cry easily. But his jaw was doing the thing — the set, the tightness — that means the feeling is big and Kevin is holding it in his body the way he has learned to hold things: without pills, without escape, just sitting on a bench in the sun and feeling it and surviving the feeling. I put my hand on his. We sat there. The sun was warm. The bench was old. The brother and the sister, both adopted, both Korean, both remade by their own hands, sat in Portland and felt the feeling and the feeling was love and the love was enough.
The recipe this week is Kevin's pour-over coffee — his technique, documented properly. Medium-fine grind (Bridge City Ethiopian). Rinsed filter in a V60. Water at 205°F. 30-second bloom. Slow pour in concentric circles. Total brew: 3:30. The coffee is floral and bright and tastes like Kevin's care. The pour-over is Kevin's love language. He pours it slowly. He pours it for the people he loves. He poured it for me on a Sunday morning in Portland and it was the best coffee in the world.
Kevin’s pour-over is not something I can replicate at home — not yet, not without his hands and his patience and his Ethiopian beans — but I came home from Portland wanting to make something cold and sweet and celebratory, something that felt like the afternoon light at Bridge City and the way Lisa smiled from behind the counter. This Thin Mint Milk Shake is my version of that: a café-spirit drink I can make in my own kitchen, for Hana when she’s older and curious, for James on a Saturday, for the days when I want to feel the warmth of that Portland weekend in a glass. Kevin would approve of the mint. He has opinions about mint.
Thin Mint Milk Shake
Prep Time: 5 min | Cook Time: 0 min | Total Time: 5 min | Servings: 2
Ingredients
- 16 Thin Mint cookies (approximately 1 sleeve), plus 2 for garnish
- 3 cups vanilla ice cream
- 3/4 cup whole milk
- 1/4 teaspoon pure peppermint extract
- 2 tablespoons chocolate syrup, plus more for drizzling
- Whipped cream, for topping
Instructions
- Crush the cookies. Place 16 Thin Mint cookies in a zip-top bag and crush them with a rolling pin until they are a coarse crumb — not dust, not chunks, but something in between.
- Blend. Add the ice cream, milk, peppermint extract, chocolate syrup, and crushed cookie crumbs to a blender. Blend on high for 30–45 seconds until smooth and thick. If the shake is too thick, add milk one tablespoon at a time. If too thin, add a scoop of ice cream.
- Taste and adjust. Taste for mint intensity. Add a small additional pinch of peppermint extract only if needed — it is strong, so go slowly.
- Serve immediately. Drizzle the inside of two tall glasses with chocolate syrup. Pour the shake evenly between the glasses. Top with whipped cream, a drizzle of chocolate syrup, and one whole Thin Mint cookie rested on the rim of each glass.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 620 | Protein: 9g | Fat: 28g | Carbs: 84g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 290mg