Truth or Fantasy

Why is it that parents or the oldies have to lie their way just to satisfy a child’s curiosity ? Why can’t they just tell it as it is and give the child the responsibility to understand. Am not saying, that a child should be told scientific or graphic details, but one that is understandable to the level he is capable of absorbing.

Most little minds would ponder on the question “who made me” and the proverbial reply would always be “God made you!”…why can’t they just say that parents have sex and after nine months, out comes a baby. Well I guess, talking about sex in those days was taboo. Even just the words ‘sex’ was rarely mentiond unless some bisdak with a loose tongue would say that it’s the number which comes before seven.

Then also, the tradition of leaving peso coins under the pillows when a molar has been extracted. The real tooth fairies I realized where those gay dentists who pull out your good teeth and charge you exorbitant rates for a porcelain implant.

When we were younger stories we were often told were that of princes saving the princesses and then lived happily ever after….NOT…In reality, they get married which translates to moments of passion, hours of leisure, and days of ceasefire from arguments. The rest is spent in juggling children’s activities, balancing house budgets, cleaning, washing, cooking etc..etc..etc.

How do you know Snow White’s prince didn’t leave her because of the meddling seven dwarfs? Or that Cinderella’s step sisters were successful in achieving their wanton desires over the prince leading them to have affairs? Or that Beauty had botox because every time she looked at the Beast, was a reminder that when you get married, you end up looking alike. Who knows, right?

The truth of the matter is, we only realize that most of what we had read when we were young, were either myths or far from reality. And adding to our curious and rambunctious state, how many times were we told to behave or else…
….the police will lock us up in jail
….or that your daddy will give you a whacking when he gets home.
….the moomoo would come and get us

Fear is a very powerful tool in instilling discipline in a child. That is why our parents often would concoct stories of monsters, evil persons and beings, who will be responsible for stealing the comfort or happiness in our lives. But fear is not the absence of courage, it is the absence of knowledge. It is because we did not know any better.

As we grow older, the truth will often reveal itself and the myths that once held our belief would be discarded. Being creative in disciplining children to be good persons, is the ultimate goal of every parent. Therefore, we often adhere to what our own parents had taught us because, hey..we came out to be fine, didn’t we? If not, how else would we train if not from our very own experiences.

But like it or not, what may hold true in their time may not be relevant in ours. It is time for us parents, to face our children with utmost honesty but with the creativeness of handling situations depending upon the level of maturity.

Take this holiday season, where Santa is the flavor of the week. Mike told my grandchild that Santa does not exist and that the real Santa was just daddy and mommy giving them presents. Elise, my grandchild, started getting teary eyed. She did not want what Mike had said. And she blurted, “no, lolo, mommy and daddy has no white hair and don’t have beard, so they can’t be santa!”

Oftentimes, we believe what we believe because it brings comfort to our understanding . It gives us assurance that what we know is indeed the truth and veering away from it would lead us to an unknown territory needing to be explored anew. For a little child, Santa represents judgement of being good during the year and rewards of gifts are inevitable. Whoever invented him is brilliant because he has created a multi billion industry that brings the economy into a rock and roll mode.

And speaking of Santa, weren’t we told that he would go back to the North Pole and start preparing for next year’s Christmas? Well, that’s a LIE. Santa lives in New York, drives an SUV (and not reindeers anymore. He goes with the times, you know) His red suit is an ARMANI and he doesn’t hire elves , but has an assistant just like his size. He probably realized that he’d get in jail for hiring child labor. You don’t believe me…I have proof…probably joining in the ‘After Christmas’ mega sales since it’s easier to buy the ‘made in china’ stuff than making their own. Here it is:

Aay Doe Beng Menak ala Noo Yok

You are not Filipino if you do not know how to cook adobo. But there are many ways of cooking adobo. It's either pina-uga (dry) or sarsiado (with lots of sauce). But the commonality of the dish, is that it is made with vinegar, soy, garlic, (sometimes onions),salt/pepper and a little sugar for added flavoring.

Adobo in spanish really means marinade. My tagalog friend normally marinates her adobo for a few minutes before boiling them together. After which, she takes them out from the sauce and fries them. After frying, she puts them back for a few minutes more and then serves it.

My aunt, stews it for awhile and instead of frying, she takes it out of the pot and places them in a cookie sheet to bake (frying them per piece is tedious and oily). Then she places them back with the reduced sauce.

Some prefer to stew them until the sauce is all gone and if your meat pieces have a lot of fat, they will eventually just fry in it's own oil. This is the dry kind.

The procedures above, although handed down through generations, are a bit dry due to the shrinkage of the meat. The sauce camouflages its dryness and gives it the wonderful taste that Filipinos love. I decided to make my own version of adobo by innovating and still keep the juiciness of the meat.

With 4 pieces of leg quarters (cutting them in half thus making 8 pieces composed of legs and thighs) I massaged the meat with salt, pepper, garlic onion and garlic powder, herbs such as rosemary and tarragon. I fried them until golden but half cooked. Place them on a pot with 1 piece of cut up celery rib. Then I poured 1 can of chicken broth. Boil till tender. This way, I not only have cooked chicken but the sauce/broth I can use to boil my vegetables for later use. Cooking it this way retains the juiciness and flavor of the chicken.

In a sauce pan, I placed balsamic vinegar, datu put vinegar, bay leaf, lots of garlic and onion. (No need for soy sauce since the balsamic vinegar is dark as it is) and a little sugar. This is the basis of the adobo sauce. When the sauce has been reduced and the spices are soft, I mashed them and returned them to the sauce pan. If the concoction is too thick, I took broth from the chicken, and mixed it with the sauce for the right consistency.

this is my aay doe beng menak ala Noo Yok





Of course nothing is complete without the side dishes.

The mangoes here do not compare with what we have back home. They are not as fibrous and lacking in flavor. I grated the mangoes, chopped one piece of small red onion, placed cut up salad and mixed them together. To add flavor, I mixed a few tablespoons of the olive juice which is salty.

Another side dish I made was cucumber in salty kyamoy. And that's just what I did. Peeled the cucumber. Separated the skin from the flesh. Mixed the flesh with kyamoy and bwalah! Red flat strands of cucumber.

The other pinky item is the Japanese ginger--store bought and still yummy to go with my adobo.



Notice in both pictures above, you can see the kyamoy sticking out.
The above picture, I placed the sauce right below the chicken piece, and garnished it with my cucumber and manggo side dish. This plating, I gave to my husband who is my critique.

Below is another plating style, where I placed the sauce separate like a condiment, and the side dishes atop the rice.



Okay, so if you want to know how to make it the regular way, check this out.
(my aunt sent this to me last year, but I saw it again last week from a friend's site)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HTwagrvCJ4o

Oon-oonan nga Salmon

During the week, I am bombarded with bagels and cream cheese for breakfast; pizza, hotdog, mac and cheese/quiches for lunch and cheese casseroles for dinner. So overwhelmed with American junk that when I get my weekends off, I look for rice and any filipino viand I can think of.

Yesterday, my sister in law had a pre-thanksgiving dinner since the whole family was leaving for Ohio to spend Thanksgiving there. So again, I was bombarded with the traditional turkey, green beans, yams, cranberry sauce and mashed potatoes. Typical American Thanksgiving dinner.

So early this morning, I find myself at the Oriental Store looking for pork to make humba, crispy pata or lechon kawali (whatever meat fits the above criteria) There was chicharon that was too hard to resist. But the best find that morning was a plastic bag of discarded salmon fat and bones that had too much meat still on them. The fish vendor would fillet several salmons and the discards were collected and sold for a song. Since I was an early bird, I had the choice, and they were really very limited items. And this find cost me a dollar. (about 3 lbs total at least).

I prepared my slow cooker and washed the salmon parts. Seeing the translucent fat of the salmon and the thick meat still stuck to the bones, made me salivate just thinking of the dish I was going to make.

I placed cut up tanglad, green onions and ginger at the bottom of the slow cooker, Then I spread a fourth of a pack of sinigang mix. I strategically placed the salmon pieces then covered it again with cut up tanglad, green onion and ginger. I then placed again a fourth of a pack sinigang mix with a cup of water. Placed the lid, set it to low and forgot about it for 2 hours. (well that was about how much time I forgot it)....My son said it was delicious....

(sorry! couldn't take pictures since I left my camera at my sis-in-laws house after the thanksgiving dinner-- however, this time, I have my digi cam cable with me--- now that's what I call having a senior moment- BIG TIME!)

Okay...so before I leave you, don't think that we filipinos eat all those lechons, crispy patas, chicharons and yet have fewer heart attacks....well...they say...

THE JAPANESE eat very little fat, and suffer fewer heart attacks than the AMERICANS

THE FRENCH eat a lot of fat, and suffer fewer heart attacks than the AMERICANS.

THE MEXICANS drink very litte red wine, and suffer fewer heart attack than the AMERICANS.

THE ITALIANS drink excessive amounts of red wine, and suffer fewer heart attacks than the AMERICANS.

THE GERMANS drink a lot of beer and eat a lot of sausage and fats, and suffer fewer heart attacks than the AMERICANS.

CONCLUSION: Eat and drink what you like: Apparently, speaking English is what kills you

Fish Sticks and Fish Soup

During the week, my meals are American inspired because of the company I keep. However, when weekend comes, my palate tends to be more on the adventurous side, when I have more time to make recipes from scratch.

I am not one to go for ready made frozen food, but when necessity dictates, I have no choice. However, if there is one item that I would rather make from scratch is the fish sticks. First, because ready made frozen fish sticks have more of the breadings than the fish. And second, I really don't know what kind of fish they put in. Since they are so even like, I presume they mash it and then shape it to uniform thinckness. Similar to the fish ball type which I have never really liked even when placed in those chinese soups.

So given the time and resources, I do my own



Cut the fish into desired finger shapes. Wash and pat try with paper towels
Season with salt and pepper. Then toss in seasoned flour to coat.
Dip in beaten egg and then roll in bread crumbs. Then fry.
Serve with your favorite dip. In this picture, I got the garlic caesar salad dip. There are so many gourmet dips in the market today that you should try at least some. There is this wasabi dip made from rothschild farm, that is to die for. If you get a hold of it, try it. (that's if you like wasabi).

Yesterday, after visiting my son, Mike decided to make fish soup (his version) I was too tired to cook, and so I let him be. He wanted a sweet version so I told him to use miso. Well! he didn't listen and instead was very adventurous.



He had half of a huge fish head cut up into pieces. He sauted chopped onions and let it carmelize, then added water. He then placed the cut up fish head plus all the other ingredients which included the juice of one orange. (I guess this also took the langsa out), a small piece of glazed ham, scallions, and some seasonings. When the concoction boiled, he turned off the heat and dropped the bokchoy. The pinkish thing on top of the fish is my garnish of pickled ginger. Yummm...Surprisingly, the taste was excellent. It had a sweet taste (due to the onions and ham), the fatty meat of the fish melted in your mouth, and there was no fishy smell nor after taste (probably the citric orange did this). When I asked Mike what he called his soup, he said VOS (Victory for Obama Soup) since he thinks his soup was also a success.

Chicken Liver Canape and Bihod Tempura

In the Philippines, there is no food wasted. EVery part of the animal is eaten or used for a variety of purposes.

Let's take the case of a chicken. The feathers are used for a duster or as adornments for a dress,and the rest for food. We all know the edible parts such as the breast, thighs and legs which are fried, adoboed or stewed. Then the parts of the neck, wings, backbones and wingtips can be used for broth while the innards such as gizzards and liver are often made into cocktail bit sizes like what I did.

wrap chicken liver in bacon and bake/broil
serve with your favorite dip. I would have placed a decorative bamboo toothpick on it but I ran out of it. My favorite dip would be aoli -smashed garlic mixed with a little oil to form into paste. Or the ranch dressing with little mustard is doable.Especially if you have vegetable strips to go with it.


My next project on this will probably be the famous chicken feet in soy sauce. But I have to process my thoughts on this yet. Am not so keen on making it if I also don't make steamed fried rice to go with the chicken feet in taosi.

Anyway, when we went to chinatown last weekend, Mike saw bihod (fish roe) from a huge fish. It costs a dollar a pack and I guess it weighed about a kilo per pack. It was so cheap that he couldn't let go of it. This is one third of a pack.


Mike washed the bihod and placed a lot of salt. The next day, I drained the water that build up because of the sale. Then I patted it dry with paper towels and cut them into bite size pieces. I rolled the roe in flour to seal, and then rolled them again in crushed black pepper. I made tempura batter and fried it. The result was just amazind and this is the outcome





I made tempura sauce by grating ginger and mixing it with ready made tempura sauce which we bought in the oriental store.

Here in America, there are places where you can get this kind of fish roe for free. In the next town where we live, there is a fish market that gives away tuna head and tuna belly. And boy! we have a feast everytime we visit our suki...in return we buy the most expensive fish cut of whatever fish he has in season. So either way is a winwin situation.

And speaking about fishes---it's one of the best pet you can have. Why? because you don't have to scoop poop like you would in a cat or a dog. You wouldn't have to bathe your pet since a fish is always in water. A fish is quiet yet talks to you all the time. Just watch his lips and figure out what he's saying...It can be theraphy ..and when you lose your job, well! he could be your last meal, as well.

Plating

Lately, I have been obsessed with presenting my food in artistic ways. Even my own lunch of crackers and Mike's cut sashimi, I just had to have presentation.



Then if there are any leftovers, like quiches, I look for ways to make it appealing.. As they say, you eat with your eyes, before you really put it in your mouth and confirm if it tastes as good as it looks.




Near our place in New Jersey is a fish store where they just almost always give away what the 'puti' don't eat, and this includes salmon fish heads and belly. So when the opportunity came, that there were fresh fish delivered, we had sumptious sashimi..and this is what we had

For Women only (reader discretion advised)

the article you are about to read is intended for female readers only...Unless you have joined the sisterhood--then I guess its okay.

I have been contemplating for a while about writing what I have learned and experienced about being a woman. I have issues as a woman, as I bet many other women have, and it becomes even more complicated when culture, race, and religion all intertwine itself.

Stereotyping women with regards to culture and race, does not help in a woman's individuality and self worthiness. Where many cultures regard women as lesser in hierarchy and that considering a woman as a ‘good catch’ would mean knowing how to cook, raise children and coming from a ‘Buena familia.’ In terms of religion, ‘the submissive one’, ‘the quiet and gentle spirit’, and one with ‘a noble character.’ would be the epitome of such description.

When I ponder at all these words many times over, I am faced with a mythical persona. Why? Because there is no such woman who fits all these things. It is WHAT we in society would want a woman to be--- NOT GOING TO HAPPEN! Unless one tries to be a faux damsel, then good luck! If and when someone tries to be the epitome of a perfect woman, then she is bound (kandado, de serrado --yale lock pa!) to all those descriptions and tries to be just that---- In other words, she tries to be what society dictates of her and therefore it is not her authentic self------she is a fake…..when a woman lives up to someone else’s connotation of womanhood, then it’s a fake….faux…hindi totoong tao…a dream…panaginip...

Earlier in my married life, fights with my husband often would be like this:

He: “the bible says you have to submit….AT ALL TIMES.”

Me: “is that so?

He “yes, just look it up.!”

Me: “then drop dead!” .

He: “why should I do that!..that’s not nice!”

Me: “di ba the bible also said, love your wife as Christ love the church and died for it…

So if you love me, drop dead….or in a nicer tone---If I submit, will you drop dead, please?!.”

TOO-SHEY (Touche)

But then I‘ve learned that in every good marriage, learning how to have a good fight without going overboard is therapy. Of course our arguments become hysterical and then historical at times, whose doesn‘t?!….but then as I said ,. ‘away nalang aron walay gubot!’

As I pondered and searched on the whys of these gender roles, I stumbled into something very amusing which I would like to share with all women. I found out that in the pre historic times, women were considered to be ‘godlike’ in the sense that they had a special ability to bring ‘new life’ into this world. Women were the Power! Women RULED!--In those days, women were very tribal among themselves. Keeping their secrets about them. They only chose the best males to propagate with since these will eventually lead to better races. The weaklings were discarded. Even the men where under their spell. …UNTIL….the men discovered that they had a role in this ‘new life’ process. There and then, there was a shift of power. Men realized they were the key to that secret…….Now I realize where the phrase, “the men think with their BALLS!”

came from.
So here’s the deal! Now with this shift in power, men started to come up with exclusivity, and that these men were responsible for removing women from their groups. Women had to give in, because they wanted to keep the race growing and moving. They had no choice if they wanted the human race to survive.

Here’s another catch into this survival thing. Men, because of their physique, were considered protectors and providers. But when there were no more lions, tigers and bears, their main focus now was to keep on having that dominance and superiority over the women. These ways of thinking were their comfort zones, and thus preventing their women from having higher level needs. Needs such as purpose, meaning and status in life.

Now let me bring you to our own culture before the Spaniards came. Pigafetta, the historian who came with Magellan, wrote in his journals, that the women (Cebuanas, although they weren’t called that yet) were on equal footing with men. They had their own cliques and own tribal system of government. The women had a say in everything to the point that when Magellan invited Humabon to be a Christian, Inday Juana wanted to be part of the deal too…She was not invited to participate, but she insisted to be part of the pact. And poor husband couldn't say, "for men only ni, inday!"..He had no choice but to succumb to his wife's wishes even if she was the only female ruler...So, poor unsuspecting girl, didn’t know what she got herself into. Embracing the culture where women were considered second class citizens, and putting her own life into submission, was a total mistake..……. but then you know the rest of history…

Moreover, fast forward many years later when we were bombarded with fairy tale stories about Prince Charming saving the helpless princess from the wicked stepmother, or from the evil witch that put you to sleep forever. Or have you heard about that dwarf stealing your baby unless you knew his name,just so you could keep your prince? Did you know that was one way to brain wash us into thinking that we owe our happiness to men who save us?! Yeah! Right!

But the fact is, THERE IS NO HAPPILY EVER AFTER, and we didn’t really need to be saved.

The reality is that after the saving---what next? Here's the real score. straight from them:

Snow White has to do more laundry now that the seven dwarfs are old and has no pension. She owes it to them for leading the prince. As for the prince, Snow White doesn’t know he has his own little princestress stashed away because Snow White is too busy washing clothes.

As for Cinderella, well Prince is always out of town, conquering kingdoms leaving Cinderella at home talking with her rats, horses and birds. She’s always bored.

Beauty just stopped her Botox treatment since the Beast lost in the stock market a few weeks ago. Now Beatuy looks so much like the Beast. For real!

So…what am I saying. Don’t put your hopes on your man to give you that happiness you think you deserve….but then, I don’t know your man. (Frankly, I think they’re all the same--they just have different names to tell them apart)…but then again,…..you fill in your own ending…

But as for me and my house…..I’m just rock n rollin’

Here’s something I think you women would enjoy and maybe think about…..

FOR WOMEN ONLY:

1. I have three sons and I know that sooner or later they will get married (my eldest is already married) and I often tell them this advise: “Your wife is always Right, unless your mother SAYS SO!”

2. If you have nothing nice to say, CALL ME. A good gossip won’t hurt a counseling ear.

3. Your husband need not know everything. Keep some amount stashed up for rainy days. That way he will think that you are a good budgeter. Otherwise if he knows about all the money you have, he might also plan on it.

4. Do not console a whiny kid or husband. Whine with them and let them see their reactions through you. Mirroring their actions will help them realize how ridiculous they look

5. Never contradict your husband. Just do what you have to do.

“ Making a damned fool of yourself is absolutely essential.So whatever you want to do just do it. Don’t be stifled by the fear of a good mistake.” Gloria Steinem

6. If you’re married to superman, why compete with him? Lilly Tomlin says, that for fast acting relief, slow down.

7. If you’re married to Juan Tamad, then don’t feed him There’s a saying, he who does not work, does not eat.

8. If you feel or think that you don’t fit in, it’s not you, it’s the culture you’re in.

9. Jane Fonda said when making a choice,they can do one of two things. It’s either to shut up (which many married ‘submissive’ women think its safer) or learn an awful lot very fast and stand up for yourself.

10. When someone labels you, don’t get stuck with it.

11. When you’re trying to woo a guy, act dumb. And when you marry him, boy! Don’t act anymore, chances are you are dumb for marrying him.

12. Nowadays, never judge the book by its cover, only the checkbook, you judge!

13. If you have to say no to having sex with your husband, come up with a more creative excuse. Having a headache and being sleepy are passe. here’s a hint: in a sexy voice tell him you’re going to take a shower and make yourself very presentable….(bring a book to the bathroom)…then stay in the bathroom for as long as you can until he falls asleep…then the next day, you can blame him for not waiting for you …sounds good?!

Okay, enough already…..I just feel like I want to ride on my broomstick….it’s the witching hour…if you know what I mean….'Adlaw man gud sa inatay.'

How to drink tequilla

The recently concluded Food and Wine Festival in New York left me with so many memories that even up to today, am still reminiscing from it. Who could imagine that a Cebuana like me would end up talking with celebrity chefs that only many can just consider a dream. But dreams do happen!

Because of my passion for cooking, I have been subscribing to food magazines many years now. Sometimes, I renew them, others I discard and get new sources. It’s in these magazines where I get new ideas, new recipes, people to watch and events to go to. And that is just what happened .

Most of the events easily sold out many months before the festival. I was disappointed when I couldn’t get those that my favorite chefs were on. But then, new events were added as the festival was nearing. To avail of the book signing with the celebrity chefs, I had to attend at least one paid event.

They had tours around the meatpacking district, symposiums on a particular produce like heirloom tomatoes, designing restaurants, and even a talk on the experiences of a waiter. There were also several wine tasting events, and many restaurants were featured on their specialties . Parties were held for a fee with the “who’s who” in the food industry. Every hour of the festival, there was an event. I got tickets for 2 events, one of which was the “Tequila Tasting and Food Pairing Event”.

So, what’s so special about tequila aside from having a high alcohol content and gives you hangovers like no other alcoholic drink can? Unless you‘re just in it for those purposes, you‘re missing a lot of information, so I learned.

Chef Sue Torres of Los Dados, NY was the speaker for that event. As a chef for Mexican cusine and owner of two restaurants, Chef explained very well the history and make of tequila. Tequila shouldn‘t be confused with mescal- which tries to imitate itself to the real drink. There is a criteria that has to be met before a drink can be called tequila. First, tequila is made only in designated areas, primarily in Jalisco, Mexico and it has to be made from the blue Weber agave plant. Both these criteria are not met by mescal. Mescal can be made from other types of agave and in other parts of Mexico, often in Oaxaca. So check your tequila when you purchase one, it might just be mescal



We were given 3 shot glasses with 3 different kinds of tequila. These were situated on a paper placemat which we also used for note taking As chef said, there are over 130 types of tequilas in the U.S. (and even more in Mexico). There are more restaurants serving a range of fine sipping tequilas made from 100% blue Weber agave




The first shot glass we had was the tequila blanco (white/ silver) or the unaged tequila. This type is processed from the plant straight to the bottle kind , thus its clear color. But before we could take a sip, Chef instructed us just how to drink it.

“To taste Tequila is just how you would taste wine. Check out the nose, see what you find, then look at the color while you let it sit for a minute to breathe. Take a sip and roll it around with your tongue and let it sit in your moth for a while, don’t swallow right away! Pucker your lips like you would do when you’re about to kiss. Let your drink mix well with your saliva. Aerate it in your mouth, and then swallow. Then, think about what you’re tasting after it’s left your mouth, and for how long and what flavors are staying in your mouth. If you taste right, there is a before, during and an aftertaste.”

I did just what she told me. And frankly, my amusement overwhelmed my taste buds. A bisdak like me trying to be sophisticated when in days of yore we would just gulp down any alcoholic beverage we could get a hold of. But, there’s always room for improvement. And I had to concentrate on what we were doing.
After I sipped my first taste, I immediately ate the first hors d’ oeuvres which were served.



The next shot was the the reposado or rested. After the tequilla is distilled, it is left to rest in a vat of some sort for about 6 months. The change takes on a lighter yellow-gold color and an there was a tinge of added flavor. The food paired for this drink had a citrus, spicy taste to go with the nuttiness of the drink.


And finally, the anejo (old) which is aged for one year and adds on a golden flavor. It is usually this kind that is served with sweets or dessert. And this one really had that nice taste especially paired with churros and chocolate/cream sauce.


.When making your margarita, Chef Sue suggests that it is often best made with real tequilla rather than what others call the mixto or (mixes). When going for the high scale mescals or the real tequilla, it is better savored slowly, rather than downed as a shot so that you can revel in the complexity of the spirit.

So , what did I learn from all this. A lot. But am thinking?!..How can Mexico be so famous for its liquor when we can very well also market our own lambanog and tuba? Then my mind is racing again to these coconut farmers who farm coconut, ferment them and turn them into sweet tuba.

If we were to go to the country and educate our farmers into becoming sommeliers---Call Manoy Mangtutuba into a master sommalier and teach him the art of puckering his lips while he sips the tuba in his mouth and lets him mix his drink with his saliva before drinking it, maybe we wouldn’t have too many drunkards. We probably will end up having quality tuba for the export market…And farmers will be earning dollars. Who knows, it only takes one real, excellent, doable concept before it becomes into an industry. Any takers?

Bata, it's okay!

After last weekend, I had decided to stay home for a much needed rest, bodily and purse. After work last friday noon, I went to the library and did some writing. I was so thrilled when I got an email from my school....Yes! that's right, at 50 years of age, I am taking a course!..and I am down to my last assignment after which I will be given a certificate of completion on Children's Literature. I have decided to write literature specifically for filipino children since I think there is a need to get rid of all those foreign books and come up with our very own.

My desire stemmed from the past experience as a child and having too many foreign books. First of all, who ever heard of having sleigh and snow in our country. But growing up, we did have those stories of children in thick clothes, riding on sleigh and having snow flakes for decorations. Or that making a snowman with carrot nose, a pipe and button eyes completed the christmas spirit. Much more we were singing "white christmas", which really doesn't relate to our seasons.

Next, whoever saw a big fat old man in red suit and a loud voice giving away gifts. Worst of all, we didn't have chimneys where this fat guy they called Santa, could slide through. What's a chimney? How will Santa deliver my gift without a chimney in our house?

And my first book in Grade One said, "Look, Dick, Look. See Jane run. See Jane run and play." Who is Dick?--Ricardo is much better sounding.

Moreover, our parents concocted stories when our curious minds needed answers. Remember the proverbial, "why mommy?" statement of a toddler? Why do we have to eat, mommy? Why do we sleep and not play the whole day? Why are we brown and Mr. Smith is ghost colored? Why, mommy, why? Parents sometimes will give absurd answers, but then it will ultimately lead to an existence of a spiritual being--because God made it that way, because God said so, because that's how God works. And thus, our belief system was established. Be good or God will get angry, Eat your food or magagalit ang Diyos. Brown ka kasi exacto ka lang linabas sa oven ni Lord. Yung mga puti, hilaw, tapos yung mas ma itim/negro, nasunog sa oven ni God.

Although some answers are absurd yet maybe logical, still more often than not, is far from reality. Limiting a child's understanding of a situation hinders him from gaining a better perspective of what is in the real world. We have to respect our own children, if we need them to respect us in return. And by responding truthfully with the right perspective makes you more respectful in the eyes of a child. And being sensitive and attentive to the needs of a child is the best way to do it.

A friend of mine here in America was chatting with her niece. In the middle of their conversation, the niece's toddler interrupted because she was upset that her little dolly could not be found. Instead of brushing the child away and telling her to play with something else, the niece excused herself to attend to her toddler. My friend was flabergasted because her niece gave more attention to the little child than to her. She fumed within her that if this child was in the Philippines, she would be brushed aside to the care of the maids. As an elder, she should be given more attention than the child.

One of the issues that filipino children encounter and which parents often overlook is the need to be honest with emotions. As a people, we are patient and forgiving. The core of People Power is the quintessence of such contained emotions that needed an outburst.

Growing up in a filipino household, anger and loud outbursts were signs of disrespect. Or that whining and hitting were grounds for punishment. We needed to control whatever emotions we had, because anything which is not contained, is a sign of weakness. No wonder, children channeled their outbursts either by being violent, overeating or had used some other ways as coping mechanisms.

That is why, I wonder if our society is the way it is because of how we were raised. I asked my auntie if the phrase, "children are seen not heard' was a norm in our family. She exclaimed that as kids, we were allowed to speak whatever we wanted to, however, we were not allowed to question the elders. I thought about what she said, although there was a form of liberalism, the issue remained the same.

This keeping quiet while elders talk has brought repercussions to the baby boomers. Cousin Luis confirmed just that. In one of his office parties in Manhattan, they were playing Trivial Pursuit, wherein there were 2 groups formed. An all Filipino was considered one group, while the other group consisted of all whites. Guess who won by a HUGE lead! Of course THE FILIPINO TEAM. After the game, Luis' American boss was surprised how the Filipinos knew so much information. The boss said, "I didn't know you knew so much since most of you are so quiet at work. I even thought most of you were dumb because you spoke so little." Either the Filipinos were afraid to make mistakes as part of growing up, or that was how filipino children were reared---seen, not heard.

Books are important tools in giving information. . It is informative, entertaining and even educational. It can even console a hurting child, when physical comfort is absent. It is through writing that I want to deal with the questions of every filipino child. I would want to tell him so many things like :

"it's okay!" that papa/mama is abroad. They still love you even if they're far away.
"It's okay!" to feel angry, and tell him how without hurting others as well
"it's okay!" if you have much less than what your classmate has
"it's okay if you're color is brown," and explain about melanin cells
"it's okay!" to be disappointed, because we all feel that way.
"it's okay!" to be afraid, but it's because we don't know any better........"IT's OKAY!"

Writing for children is a means to reach inquiring minds and be creative in the explanation without suppressing truth. Who knows?! While reading a book, even a child's own caregiver can learn, if he doesn't already know it. I want to be part of a Filipino child's life, it is part of my quest as a Filipino myself . And I hope to be.....SOMEDAY

Ako at si Idol (Part 3)

The first time I saw him, I had such a huge crush on him. Did you know that I only knew him and about him, the day we met? My daughter has been telling me so much about him--gwapo and all....And tonight, I felt so sad because after 4 weeks on "Dancing with the Stars", he and his partner got booted out....He is a well known chef, of course and has been in the Philippines promoting his book. Very accomodating and as of now, very available!

Hain Na Chicken

Last week, our stove was dismantled because Mike wanted to clean the whole thing. So what was I to do for dinner? Mike wanted to grill outside but I felt that it ws so much hassle, so I opted to use the slow cooker.

I cleaned the chicken legs which were already fully thawed out.
Washed them very well, and then patted them dry.
I placed them in a bowl, placed about 3 tbsp. salt on top.
Then I grated about 2 inches of ginger on top of the chicken.
I massaged the chicken and ginger together and placed them on the slow cooker.
There were left over cut up leeks and poured it in as well.
I poured about 2 tbsp. water on top of it and covered with the lid.
Turning the setting at high Then left.

2 hours later, I came back and had the chicken..so good, ayos na ang kasunod.

Ako at si Idol (Part2)

If you know Mario Batali, you'd know this guy. I've been to his resto and it was really good.

Where's my digi cam cable?

Last weekend, I could have posted so many stories about my continuing culinary weekend making latik, biko, puto and budbud. Then there was the encounter with Giada de Laurentiis at the Mall, and then the street fair in our town. I could have posted my blog complete with pictures and all! But NAH! I couldn’t because I FORGOT THE CABLE of my digi cam at my son’s house.

How could I forget? The only link that proves to the world that I’m still alive, and I had to forget it?! OMG! The irritation of forgetfulness plus the realization that it could have been avoided equals frustration!

Call it senior moments, short span memory loss or unintentional forgetfulness, but take comfort, because we all go through this one way or another. We are so preoccupied with Alzheimer’s disease or dementia that are considered the signs of possible trouble. But we forget (there’s the bad word again) there is such a thing as normal memory loss and it happens to all of us, no exception.

Just think of these familiar scenarios at home with kids and hubby:

“Hay naku! Where are my glasses? I would ask. And the reply would be, “They’re on top of your head, mom!” Or when I’d ask again, “Oh! Where did I put my keys?” and the response would be, “You’re holding them, mom!”

Or the fact that you’re dialing your calculator , thinking it was a phone, or that you’re punching the numbers on your telephone thinking it can add up like a calculator.

Or what about those instances when you meet a friend, excited that you haven’t seen each other in ages, only to realize that you completely forgot her name. What do you do? Tell her if she remembered your name so that she can tell you hers. What if she did remember yours but you forgot hers. What would you do without sounding rude?

Or maybe in the middle of a discussion, you cut yourself short because there was something else you wanted to say. Then the proverbial saying, “it’s on the tip of my tongue.” Or that when going back to the discussion you just couldn’t remember what it was you were talking about earlier.
So here’s one other thing. Men and women have different ways of remembering things.

Yesterday, I asked my husband if he remembered the kind of car Steve McQueen rode that made him so famous. And of course without batting an eyelash, he gave me a whole summary of McQueens movie (Bullet ?) and the make of the car (mustang?). But when I asked him if he remembered what dress I wore on our first date, he just couldn’t remember. Would you consider that selective memory? Is a car more important to a man than his wife?ahhhh--Yeaahh?

Oh well! Nowadays, we are bombarded with brain food such as nuts and spinach. Or that we need to continue doing mental calisthenics to sharpen our mind. But even with all those cures and prevention, it is inevitable that our body mechanisms will malfunction and eventually cease.
Technology has made us more knowledgable than we can imagine by just a touch of the computer keyboard while surfing the internet. We do not need to memorize nor do mental gymnast because we can get information by just a touch of a key. We do not need to remember who called us because voice messages just pops up from our phones when we missed our calls, or that PDA’s are all we need to remember schedules.

Placing a chip in our brains is a probability more today than it was 50 years ago. There are people who have chips in their heads because they were deaf and needed cochlear implants. Some people even have chips implanted in their retinas and others have external cameras connected to chips implanted in the visual cortex. Technology in the coming ages will give us more access to memory.

Imagine if technology brought us to the point that we had virtual Web browser in our brains to find out what we need. Like: there’s that woman with short, pudgy nose, freckles, papaya boobs, recall name! And then you wait..downloading…downloading…downloading and then ..Aha! ADRIANA!.

That would be cool, wouldn’t it? We would remember everything, but it would not be able to relate to feelings of joy, laughter, pleasure and emotions such as love , hate, and compassion. Nothing beats the real thing.

So what if I forgot my digicam cable, at least I still got my sanity and my wits. In the meantime, life must go on. This weekend I will visit my son again, and get that digicam cable. There is also an exciting event I will attend in New York. That will even be a bigger blog. So I just can’t wait for that to happen and write about it in my blog. In the meantime………

A culinary weekend

This weekend, I had decided to try making pressed pork after being inspired by Gordon Ramsey's recipe . And I am also on the chapter of food presentation (plating) and garnishing. So with both in mind, I decided to take up a personal challenge.

Before going to my son's place, I decided to stop by the deli/butcher shop to get that slab of belly. Then there were chicken necks that were on sale for fifty cents a pack (of 10 pcs or more) which were irresistible, so I got that as well. From there, I went to the oriental market a block away, and got a few more ingredients.

My grandkids met me with shrieks of joy, upon entering their apartment. I was wondering if they were happy that I came to visit, or was it the expectation of their "something" (pasalubong) that is often the case when I come. Nevertheless, I am always happy to be with my brood.

While putting away the purchased stuff in the pantry, I saw a can of coconut milk and a half mound of panela sugar (pressed muscovado). I decided to make 'latik' to pair with the plantain bananas I just bought. I didn't want to wait on top of a stove, so I placed the can of coconut milk and the panela sugar (oh! I chopped it up of course) into my 3 quart slow cooker. Every now and then I would just stir, if I remembered.

Then the purchased slab of pork I pre boiled with the regular seasonings, such as bay leaf, peppercorns, garlic, etc..etc... I didn't follow Ramsey's own recipe with the wine and chicken stock, but I placed some of my own secrets as well. After simmering the pork to make it tender, the slab formed into a huge mound. This is the part where you take off the meat and put some weight like a block wrapped in aluminum foil, and leave it for a couple of hours. Then I cut it up into perfect squares and then baked it.

Halfway into the baking, I saw that the meat was turning rich brown and not the pale golden as I was expecting. So I took it off the oven and was going to fry half of it and the other half, I would make a humba style plating with that rich gravy sauce. The cuts in themeat were so nicely done and this was really what my experimentation was all about. Appearance. I asked my husband to make the pieces smaller for frying (lechon kawali style)...and...before I knew it, he had cut up every piece---so! there goes my humba experiment. And this is how the unexpected L-kawali style looked like.

While my husband was frying the pork, my latik was almost ready. I then took out the plantain bananas from the pantry. (A few years ago, my aunt taught me how to substitute boiled saba bananas. Just get a ripe plantain banana, cut off the ends, wrap it in clear plastic wrap and microwave for 3 minutes or so. And bwalah! Nilat-ang saging!)

Oh! and by the way, the chicken necks, I just marinated it with lots of garlic, salt, pepper and a dab of cumin. Then fried it after the lechon kawali batch.

The fresh rice, I mixed with a little cumin and the spicy bagoong that was in the bottle, and boy! was this really so delishhhhhh! Ma-anghang na ma-alat...or something. The chicken was just crispy and you can make kitkit the bones.

Traditional cuisine service had always been presented on platters or casseroles, where the service staff often portions pieces and then transfer it to the diners plates. Until recently, nouvelle cuisine wanted to control the appearances and arrangements of the food they prepared until the last detail.

The chef is not someone who just fills your stomach, but is also an artist. The diner always start to eat with his eyes. First impressions are always important. The sight of food stimulates our appetites, gets those gustatory juices flowing and pushes us to dig in. If a chef took so much effort into making his creation look good, then, one can imagine the effort he also took in preparing it.

Whether one is a cook or a chef, his main concern is when a diner comes in excited to try their concoctions and leaves happy to talk about it. That is all that matters.

A few weeks ago, my daughter corrected me on my spelling of kari-kari and that it was spelled with an “e” rather than an “ I “ . I told her, I couldn’t care less since I’m bisaya and am so proud of being one .I’m still Filipino, ain’t I. But nevertheless, yesterday I decided to make my own version of kari kari or oxtail stew.
I had 4 cuts of oxtail, but didn’t have the other ingredients. Since it was Sunday, and that an open market in the town’s parking garage would be there, I decided to see if there were vegetables to add to my oxtail stew. I only found some Japanese eggplants for the stew, bitter gourd (ampalaya) and leeks for salad, plus a bagful of chocoloate chip cookies for dessert.

So here’s what I did:

4 cuts oxtail
Ginger, onion, peppercorn
3 Japanese eggplants
Bokchoy (purchased days ago)
Kari kari mix

I submerged the 4 pcs.of oxtail in water just to cover . Then turned the heat to boil.
When the water starts boiling , notice that the scum starts to rise.
When you don’t see much red meat on the outside, although it’s still uncooked,
Turn off heat and throw out all the liquid. (I would rather do this than let it continue boiling
I don’t like the smell of langsa meat which is contained in all that scum and first liquid boil).
Then I put fresh water just to cover the meat, put ginger, peppercorns, and onions.
This time I let it boil, then simmer til tender. (if I still see scum, I scoop it out)
I then cut up the Japanese eggplants and put it with the meat.
(this time I cheated since I used the kari kari mix)
I dissolved the mix in a little water and poured it on the stew.
I placed a little salt to taste. Not much since I still have my sidings of bagoong.
I then turned off the heat and placed 2 bunches of bokchoy

I’ve always liked the way Koreans eat, wherein they have so many side dishes. And that’s just what I did.
Aside from the bagoong (which had already been sauted when I bought the jar), I had the ampalaya salad with balsamic dressing, leeks sauted in crab paste with sesame oil and steamed cauliflower for that fresh taste.
So here is how our meal looked like.

Wall Street and Pinoy Road

It's a Saturday afternoon and I'm just slouching on my bed, practically being so unproductive. It has been almost 24 hours since I left work for my weekend sabath. Normally, i would go visit my grandchildren, but I decided to stay home and spend my alone time. It gives me the much needed retrospection and meditation after the bustling week that just transpired.

Last week was a hectic and trying week for many a wall street people in New York. I should know because I work for one executive of Lehman Brothers. He is the nicest, most respectable, down-to-earth person and one of the best employers I have ever had. And he became a victim, like so many other mid-level executives, by that gruesome Chapter 11 decision. Why do bad things happen to good people? I really wouldn't know but if I speculate, greed must have had a say in this.

Every few minutes or so last week, i would turn on the financial channel. Linggos of mergers, lay offs, tax cuts, bankcruptcy and other economic jargons continue to hit the airwaves. Not one commentator or talk show host passed without giving their thoughts on these matters. Even the presidential campaigns took a back seat for the moment.

In our household, it was never a dull moment. Friends would call offering words of comfort. Or others would just email their sentiments or send funny messages to alleviate downcast spirits. Even mere acquainances would just ring the Mrs. letting her know how good and respectable a man my employer is.

Then there were talks of how the "creme de la creme" of the once dairy lot were coping after the economic fiasco was spilled. Oh! So bad for Mr. So and So, he had to sell his 40 million dollar vacation homes at the Hamptons! I wonder if he will also sell his Manhattan penthouse? Or that Poor Mr. Dodo Head can't go to work anymore in his helicopter since it got sequestered by the bankcruptcy court. Or Mr. Poopoo Brain's wife can't shop anymore at Tiffany's or at any stores in 5th Avenue. She'll have to make do with Target or T.J. Maxx. Poor Thing!

After hearing all these comments all over, my thoughts shifted to my home country in the Philippines. During economic crisis, like rumors of increasing gas prices or news of possible storms, people with money went on a panic buying spree. Others just panicked for lack of funds.

People in crisis often react similarly, yet quite different in a way their circumstances prevail them to.

The Wall Street crowd have to stop going to Starbucks, refrain from eating fillet mignon at fancy restaurants, ride subways instead of bringing their own cars and just watch tv instead of going to broadway musicals.

The Pinoy Street crowd have a similar belt tighting scenarios like making baon 3 in 1 coffee pouches, bring home dinner from the street vendor or what we sometimes call the McDuko Duko and BMW's are good forms of transportation (Baktas Mentras Wala). Not to mention that the neighborhood drama of screaming and slapping a wayward husband is so much better than TV. It's surreal and in full color, sensuround pa. Besides electricity is so expensive.

The Wall Street Crowd have to cut down in buying Armani black suits or Ferragamo shoes, Mont Blanc pens, and cut off the weekly massages, barbers and spas. This helps the budget go farther.

However, this is one luxury the Pinoy Crowd has over the other. There will always be Armani clothes and Ferragamo shoes for as long as there is ukay ukay. (the suits come in handy for mountainfolk because of the cool air). And whoever heard of Mont Blanc pens, Bic ballpens are reliable. As for massages, hair cuts and manicures, every pinoy has a relative who does all those for a living. So no need to cut down, since you can get them free at family gatherings.

The basic difference between families of Wall Street and Pinoy Road are the number of zeros in their balance sheets. The zeros are the determining factors in people's way of life as dictated by society.

Change to a different lifestyle is often difficult when the level of comfort has been altered. We may often feel embarassed for our failures and finger point on who's to blame, not realizing that control comes from within and not from outside forces. Characters are often revealed not as a result of some circumstance, but rather how we react to adversities.

Wisdom is the fundamental tool that is functionally used in resolving dysfunctional relationships and situations. Wisdom is acquired through experience, and experience is acquired through failures .

So whether one is from Wall Street or Pinoy Road, the journey is never done till one says so. And travelling people never quit, they just take a different path to reach the destination.

Pacman vs.Jose Rizal

I have been writing on another website called Kamusta.com and had fun joining their essay contests. Nevertheless, there are comments that I am not particularly happy about and it was about writing in the pilipino text. But then what is pilipino? Eh! bisaya man ta...anyway, here is the content of my article:

Pacman vs. Jose Rizal

Kamusta.com, in my understanding is a website that seeks overseas Filipino workerswishing to communicate and express themselves in whatever and however they feel comfortable in. Excellent Pilipino is better than awkward English is a suppression of ones personal expression because it dictates how one is to relay a message, like a teacher instructing to write a sanaysay.

I opined that people who write their essays, comments, or reviews in English though not proficient are not aspiring to become Pulitzer prize winners or "authors of the week', but basically are just expressing the best way they can. And to control the freedom of expression is a violation of a personal human right.

Wikepidia describes the Philippines as having 172 dialects. According to the Philippine National Statistics Office, among the 18 major dialects, Cebuano speaking Filipinos top the list of spoken dialects comprising 22 million as against tagalogs with only 20 million. And the list goes down to Bicoloanos, Chavacanos, Hiligaynons (Illonggos) etc... Based on these facts, shouldn't we consider cebuano as the base of the pilipino language. Mang Jim said pwedeng isulat sa Pilipino, sabi din ni Mang Jim pwede ring Inggles. So then what is Pilipino?

When a filipina writes to her employer a resignation letter stating, "I wish to resignate my position because my work is many and my pay is few of which my boss makes a little loving loving to me and I say Oh not! Oh not!"--- anyone teaching the essentials of English will consider this REALLY AWKWARD. But the filipina had made her point...to be understood. And understand, we did!

If the truth be told, all languages are crazy. As Walt Whitman might proclaim that languages contradict themselves in someway. That's because language is invented, not discovered, by everyone and not by computers. As such, language reflects the creativity and fearfulasymmetry of the human race, which of course isn't a race after all.

And the pilipino language is as crazy as the English language.

Whoever heard of women's underwear (panties) as salungguhit. (to catch or salo a guhit? is that what women's private parts are called?)
Or men's brief is called salungganisa (would the men want theirs to be compared to a longganisa?) hmmm...
If salumpuwet is for a chair, is salungmgapuwet for a sofa?

Or let's widen our horizons to more islands.

When someone screams "LANGGAM!", a tagalog would look down, while a bisaya will look up. Why? because langgam for a tagalog means ant, and for a visayan means bird.

And if a tagalog in cebu goes to a sari-sari store and buys cigarettes, and the tindera says, "pila", wouldn't that tagalog be pissed off why he is told to line up when he is the only customer. That's because 'pila' in visayan means, 'how much' or 'how many'.

But then, isn't English a crazy language in itself.?

English is the most widely spoken language in the history of our planet. Half of the world's books are written in English and the majority of international calls are made in English. More than seventy percent of international mail is written and addressed in English, and eightypercent of all computer text is stored in English...however, we should also come to realize that English can become as messed up as those that speak or read it.

In this crazy language, the blackbird hen is brown, blackboards are green or blue, and that blackberries are really green that turn red when they ripen. Or isn't blackberries considered cellphones as well. And even if blackberries were really black, and blueberries reallyblue, what do you think strawberries, cranberries, gooseberries suppose to look like.?

And if that's not bad enough, we Filipinos contribute to that craziness. Why do we say, 'open the light?' Should we dissect the bulb? Or did we mean to turn it on? Or closing the faucet really meant that we should shut it off.?

If we conceive a conception and receive a reception, why don't we grieve a greption and believe a beleption? If a vegetarian eats vegetables, what does a humanitarian eat? If a firefighter fights fire, what does a freedom fighter fight? If pro and cons are opposites, is congress the opposite of progress?

Many filipino blogs use English as their medium of expression because of its global exposure. If the scope of a website should limit itself just to be understood by a special breed of people, so be it. And if the website should cater to a much larger scale, then let it beas well.

For as long as one can be understood..that is the bottomline.

And so my friends, this is it? Or is it that is?
It is it, that is!

I'm a CIA

Not only am I a Cebuana In America, I’m also a Cuisine- nera In America .

Cooking is my passion, therefore, I live to eat. But I’m very picky at what I eat.

1) No blood. My husband always orders his steak, rare, and the blood that comes out when he slices it, cringes me. I like steaks that are dry aged which simply means that fresh meat is left hanging to dry in specially controlled environment as against those that are newly cut then packed and sold in the supermarkets. My lamb chops should also be perfectly seared on the outside and pink on the inside, no meaty red flesh, please. The only blood I eat is when it’s cook and made into blutwurst, boudin noir or morcilla. I am even picky when I eat our own dinuguan or blood stew. I have to know what’s in it, and who made it. Innards and entrails in dinuguan are not for me.

2) The smell of what I eat should synchronize with the taste I‘m expecting. I know that durian tastes like heaven but smells like hell or that blue cheese stinks like old socks but is divine to the palate. Normally when it smells rotten and tastes spoiled, then it probably is. Unless I know the food’s characteristics and how it should taste, I refrain from indulging myself.

3) Anything that moves is a no-no for me. We used to have a fisherman vendor come to our house to sell his morning catch. There would be slimy eels or jumping shrimps, and my husband would take the smallest of the shrimps, smother it with ‘pinakurat’ vinegar and eat it. I flinch at the site of maggots in cheese which Italians call Casu Marzu and I don’t care how expensive they are, I‘m not eating them that way. I just don’t want sucking the life of living creatures. Don’t get me wrong, I like raw food, like sashimi, seviche, kinilaw or even carpacio which is raw meat pounded paper thin. But they have to lay still.

I love food, anything I don’t like I don’t swallow. I love those tiny little eels which the Spaniards call angulas. I cook it with evoo and lots of garlic for a sumptuous appetizer. Or I fry then bake pieces of bone marrow, scoop out the buttery center and spread it on a slice of toast. The taste is just divine.

I don’t have to travel many miles around the world to taste different kinds of food, but I'd love to if my pockets permit. Here in America I join food shows, exhibits and festivals where the world congregate and show off what they have back in their home country.

I still have to try Kopi Luwak which is considered the most expensive coffee in the world. They come from excrements (sh*t) of a civet feline found in Indonesia, and in the Philippines it is sometimes called Coffee Alamid. I’ve ordered some and can’t wait to try it. I still have to try the ‘almas’caviar or the roe (eggs) of the Beluga sturgeon, a kind of fish only found in the Caspian sea. This is not the black caviar as commonly known but is lighter in shade due to the age of the fish. Can’t wait to try that as well.

In totality, my taste is simple. I just like the best.

My Italian Mafia

The Italians are a breed in themselves . They are most known for their clannish and obscure ways but when together , will exhibit loudness and a gymnast of hand gestures. I know , because two of my previous landlords were Italians but my favorite one is Donna,my friend.

I met Donna at my sister in law’s wedding a few years ago. Her boyish dark auburn hair revealed a chiselled face, an inquisitive nose held round rimmed glasses that covered her brown velvety eyes. Her thin lips revealed only a few shades darker than her fair skin, and the svelte frame gives justice to the way she moves about. Being same in age, we had so much in common, that our friendship grew deeper in the years that came.

She grew up in the Bronx and had the streets as her playground. Often reminiscing as a kid, she would relate how life being ‘in the hood’ was. She grew up tough and strong, surviving a hefty divorce from an Italian as well. She has none of those feisty, loud traits of an Italian, but instead, she displays one of a serene and melancholy demeanor. If there was a phrase to describe her it would be like a duck swimming in a pond, gracefuly keeping herself above water, but paddling like hell down below.

Donna has always been a people person. Always around when someone needed a baby sitter. A helping hand when friends relocated, and an assistant cook at parties. Sometimes even offering to drive for whoever needed rides at her own expense. She doesn’t like to be the center of attention, content to be oblivious, yet a team player to the max.

Working in the medical field has made Donna expose herself to a lot of Filipinos. Although Italian American, she has more Filipino friends than her own breed. She has attended numerous Filipino funfare and is not new to the ethnicity of our Filipino cuisine. But her own repertoire of eating habits is so limited mostly to chicken with an occasional beef. Her preference for food or lack of it is nothing religious nor medical. She just hinders herself from gulping anything that is a reminder of something cute. She will not eat fish because it will remind her of Nemo, nor much of pork as this is Babe, and she will never eat a rabbit because it reminds her of THUMPER and the fact that Bambi is venison is totally out of her list. Pasta and coffee is all she needs to survive on. And of course, she loves our Filipino pancit.

Last week, Donna had a mammogram test and was diagnosed with a suspicious carcinogenic cell
I’ve asked her how she felt after the news hit her and her answer was, “I don’t know”. What do you say to someone who was unsuspecting and was caught off guard by such debilitation? At these times no words of comfort or wisdom can penetrate the deep emotional roller coaster seeping into Donna’s innermost thoughts.

She has never questioned her God, nor even gotten angry, yet the proverbial challenge that she faces is the need to know what the near future holds , and what must be expected of her. Right now, she is only concerned with her daily existence, not planning for anything and not wanting to disappoint anyone for unfulfilled commitments. . I know she will not recluse herself, but will go on double time. Like an athlete, doubling her strokes to reach whatever goal she has in mind.
I am sure that many things come into her mind as of this moment. Her pain is my pain. Her sadness is my sadness. Her doubts are my doubts. And even the joys she will experience are my joys as well.

Yet inspite of all that is happening ,she is a fighter, she will do what needs to be done at all cost. And in the end, the two phrases she will be hearing will be, “well done, good and faithful servant……..you have fought the good fight, you have finished the race, you have kept the faith.”

That is the iron lady in the Donna I know. She is my ITALIAN MAFIA (Most Amazing Friend In America.)

All In A Day's Work

ALL IN A DAY’S WORK
I had just recently arrived from the Philippines, when my brother, Steve called to ask a favor. His co-worker was going for an R&R and he needed a reliever. It was only for 2 days anyway , so I agreed to help him out.

Steve’s assisted living facility had only 2 patients but could occupy 4. Sonya, a Caucasian in her 70’s stayed in Room 1. Her bouts of dementia and the inability for her only daughter to care for her due to work commitments, led Sonya’s confinement in an assisted living set up.

Dillo, an octogenarian Italian widower who had lived in America half of his life, occupied Room 2. He had family nearby but they couldn‘t get along with him so they opted to put him in the facility . Although Dillo’s mind is still sharp, he was having hallucinations of the mafia following him .

One morning while changing Sonya’s bed sheets, and dusting the furniture , I was singing to my heart’s delight. I twirled and pirouetted around the room oblivious of my lone audience, who was sitting in her wheelchair.. When I finished my chores, Sonya beckoned me and said, “Missy, you are so beautiful, but you know what? You don’t sing nice?!”

I just winked, smiled and said, “ooo-kay, there goes my singing career!”

After breakfast, I wheeled Sonya to the living room. I parked her by the wall to wall window, which revealed a small garden before visibly showoing the street. Since the next door neighbor was a nursery school, Sonya was entertained by the traffic flow of mothers carrying their children and cars passing . I would then be free to do my other chores of clearing dishes and getting ready for lunch.

More than an hour passed when Sonya decided to call for me.

“Missy, can you come over? She screamed over her shoulders.
“What’s up?” I answered swiftly walking to the living room.
“Can you change the channel, please?” she said.

I looked at her. And then I looked outside the window. No more cars, nor people were passing by. Did she think the window was a television? I looked back again at her face. She was dead serious. AND BORED!

“Is there another channel?” she reiterated. Was her dimentia in ‘play’ mode, I wondered.

I immediately ran to my brother, who was cleaning Dillo’s room
“Steve! Steve!” I said,
“what’s wrong?” he asked.
“quick! Put on some fast music!”
“Why? “
“I want to go outside by the window and dance. Quick put on the music of Macarena so I can dance the ocho ocho. Then Sonya will think it’s another channel!” I excitedly proclaimed.
“Stop your foolishness and go back to work!” Steve commanded. With a pout and a snapping of the fingers, I went back to Sonya. There goes my dancing career again. It had already ended before it even began.

I wheeled Sonya to the kitchen while explaining that there were no nice channels that morning. I asked her to keep me company while I prepare for lunch.

Just then, Steve walked in and asked what was for lunch. “I’m making Lengua” I said. Steve’s demeanor was a cross between disapproval and anxiety. “Why?” I wondered.

“Huwag mo nalang sabihin anong linuluto mo kasi hindi kumakain ng dila ang mga puti! Baka magka ulcer itong mga matanda at magka problema pa tayo” Steve explained.

Dillo, who was in his room watching t.v. all this time, suddenly appeared in the kitchen. He saw Steve and I conversing and became suspicious.

“Are you talking about me?” he asked with squinted eyes.

“Of course not!” I said. “we’re reminiscing about our Filipino food!”

“what about it?” he asked

Glancing at Steve I said, “Well, in our country, nothing is wasted. From chicken feet that we call adidas, chocolate porridge made of pig‘s blood, and even ox tongue which is a delicacy.”
“Yuck! I wouldn’t want to think of eating feet stomping on dung, nor do I want to eat something that’s tasting me back such as your ox tongue. Disgusting!” and with that he turned and headed back where he came from. Steve’s “I told you so” look further concluded his earlier remark.

Away from Dillo‘s hearing distance I said, “Well, MISTER , you’re going to do a lot of French kissing with your food today . There will be wagging tongues galore.”

Lunch was served with utmost restaurant ambience. The rectangular table was set for 4 . The centerpiece was a bowl of fresh fruits honing with fresh roses scattered among clutters of grapes, apples, peaches and pears. The main dish was glamorously plated with the lengua encircled over a mound of mashed potatoes at the center . Buttered corn kernels, cubed carrots and peas surrounded the meat and a sprig of parsley on the top center of the plate added the finishing touch.

As the dish was handed to the elderlies, Dillo was curious “What’s this?” , he asked.

“It’s beef?” I answered. “Try it!”

He picked a slice with a fork and placed in his mouth. He was chewing and nodding at the same time and then declared., “This is the softest meat I have ever tasted.” He exclaimed. “ What kind is it?”

Without realizing, I blurted, “That is called Visayan beef. And the reason it’s soft is because it has been pressure cooked.”

Then I turned my back and muttered under my breath. “Tinawag kong Bisaya yan kasi matigas ang dila ng mga bisaya pero lumalambot kung napipressure. There!

Sonya and Dillo ate with gusto that day. Dillo complimented me again and wished that the Visayan beef be served in the future. At least I have a promising career in the culinary industry even if I don’t have one in entertainment industry. But if there is one thing I really learned from this experience with Sonya and Dillo is this: be kind to your children, you’ll never know what kind of nursing home they will send you to---and if they do, make sure the cook from that nursing home isn‘t from Haiti.

My First Foreign Romance
(a foreign affair)

I am a 50-something mother of four grown children and live in New Jersey with a husband of 30 years. This has been my home for a couple of years now. Previously, home was in Cebu, Philippines, where I was living a comfortable yet stressful life. Juggling work, home and social commitments like a headless hen brought me to the point of exhaustion. I was living yet I had no life. So with packed bags and confident determination, I headed for a different surrounding . America!

Coming to the U.S. was a challenge and a relief. Here, I could dress any way I wanted to without the reprimands of my fashion conscious children. I can now visit places where I only see on t.v. and probably bump into the likes of Richard Gere, Josh Groban and Julia Roberts. And most exciting, I can flirt with whoever I want to without the wagging tongues of neighbors, relatives and well meaning friends. So in short, I am FREE.

Not that I’m a flirt, but being convent bred has always contained my every move. Loud guffaws, indecent skin exposures and immoral behaviors were often condoned. The stare and pouting lips of Sister Lutgard would flash before my eyes every time I am confronted with such situations.

The realization of such restricted movements came during cocktails after a symposium I attended at the U.N. in New York. In one instance, I went to the bar to replenish my drink of merlot. While waiting, a man in his thirties donning a black suit brushed up beside me. I was mesmerized by his Adonis look and Herculian build, the type that makes any woman's knees wobble. Simultaneously extending our hands to the bartender, he looked at me, smiled and then winked .
Just then , I froze. With wine glass in hand, I darted from the bar as fast as I could looking for my husband, who was with me then. I felt like a foolish schoolgirl running away from a pack of wolves and probably from possible danger. Heck those nuns!

Thinking about the incident that night, I just couldn’t sleep. Friends having affairs, flings and adventures of promiscuity dazed my mind. Was I experiencing mid life crisis? Was I combining the 7 year itch and the 15 year anxiety to break the existence of my mundane life? America is huge and no one will know.

Then came the time when my musician son invited me to see him play with his band, a group of 3 Caucasians and himself, at a Brooklyn bar. My daughter in law and I, with some other Filipinos decided to support the group by watching them perform. As we were standing at the far corner of the bar holding our drinks, Paul, the lead singer of my son’s band approached the group . Mind you, I have never met any band member before that night.

Among all the sexy, young brown skinned girls within the group, it was I whom Paul approached to strike some conversation.

“So” Paul starts, “How do you know Wiggy?”
“Wiggy?” I asked questioningly.
“Yes, Wiggy, our drummer in the band. How did you meet? ” said Paul.
“Oh, you mean Wiggy, my son!” I exclaimed.

Paul looked at me intently and was starting to turn shrimp red. Finally he got his composure and said., “Oh! I’m so sorry!” If he was trying to hit on me, then I am flattered.

What’s with these young men anyway?! Just for the record, I’ve never had botox, nor liposuction, but I must say I can still pass for a good catch to to be hit on twice!

That night thoughts of the movie, “The Graduate” roamed through my mind. Is it possible? I wonder how Demi Moore is feeling right now. Just then, Sister Lutgard’s face appeared and the thought immediately vanished . Shame on you , woman, for those sinful thoughts!

Then I met Matthew. His mother introduced us. The moment I set eyes on him, I was in love. Blue eyes, blond hair, Caucasian with the sweetest smile. Although abdominous and many years my junior, his white butt is delicious to behold and he is indeed properly endowed.

Ours is an open affair. Four nights a week, I spend with my husband, and the three nights with Mathew. Don’t get me wrong. I love my husband, but Matthew makes me feel young and energetic.

With Mathew, it’s those special moments of feeling vibrant again. A walk in the park while holding hands, strolling in the woods then playing hide and seek. And the rewards of a find is a tight embrace.

During winter, we would just cuddle with blankets rolled over our legs, eating popcorn while watching T.V. We would have snow fights in the backyard and then drink hot cocoa in between laughters.

Ocassionaly when he wanted something, I would put my face nearer for clarity and on cue, he would plant a kiss. I would snuggle up his neck and sniff as hard. He always seem to smell so good.

On rainy days, we stayed in the family room where we would just have downtime I would be content reading my books while Matthew would be pounding on the computer or doing his puzzles.

Our relationship is more on “old goat teaching new tricks” mode and Matthew just loved it.

In due time, Matthew will realize that his feelings for me will wane and that freedom of some sort is innevitable. I will then have to accept my fate and cherish the moments spent together.

With Matthew it is reminiscing youth with all its trimmings. It is a unique and special kind of love affair. There is no sexual innuendos, nor is there any communication of intellectual comprehensions. Instead, it is a nurturing experience, a learning growth and an unforgettable one of a kind romance which overcomes the difference in race, sex and age.

After all, Matthew is only 2 and a half years old and I’m his nanny.

Three Things Pinoy Kitchens Must Have

The first thing I often miss when I am out of the country is the Filipino food. Many times, it is difficult to look for ingredients, like tanglad, achuete , batong , or ubod. They can only be found in oriental stores. And Ethnic stores are hard to come by especially if you‘re in the midwest. Even eating Chinese food such as the ‘pancits’, lumpia shanghai’s or sweet and sour ‘whatever‘ is not even as close to satisfy the craving for real pinoy food.

However, we Filipinos are creative and we try to improvise just to satiate our palate. I make my fresh lumpia with jicama, ham, and coleslaw veggies while friends wonder where I get my ubod from. Or that I flavor my puto bisaya with orange zest. Or I make my own bagoong by sautéing lots of garlic with anchovies, and eating it with plain rice.

Tools, equipments and appliances, as well as ingredients also play a major role in the preparation of delicious home made cooking. Having said that, let me enumerate a ’must have’ for every OFW who just loves to cook pinoy food and still not be contstrained of time and added resources.


1) RICE COOKER - Rice is the staple diet in the Philippines therefore a rice cooker is a must. We have a National brand Rice Cooker that is turned on 24 hours a day. My family can come home to a meal of hot rice to eat with leftovers or canned something. The only time the cooker is turned off is when it is being replenished by a new batch. Isn’t it that when someone walks inside a pinoy home, the proverbial question is, “Kumain ka na ba?”

2) SLOW COOKER - time constraints often hinder us from cooking favorite dishes like nilaga, kari-kari, tinola, caldereta and other stewed Filipino dishes. By placing the ingredients in the morning and having it ready when you come back after work , makes you feel like you’re in the Philippines sans the maids. Using a slow cooker to cook beans without having to check on it every now and then is a safe way to do and it comes out really soft especially when mixed with your favorite chorizo. Home made beans are better than canned ones, I should say.

3) TURBO BROILER - the best invention for those yummy to make lechon kawali, crispy pata and my favorite ‘bisayang lechon manok’ without the hassles of deep frying or grilling. You can even make bibingka in the turbo.

And if you are truly filipino, there are two ways of preparing adobo. You can either use the slow cooker and when cooked, let it laze in its sauce.

Or after it has been cooked and softened in the slow cooker, you can broil it in the turbo to make it dryer and a little crispy. Then pour a little sauce over it when serving. Now that is truly FILIPINO.

Whether you are just having your own meals at home or planning guests over, the three must haves are all you really need.

I can’t think of anything else….Can you?

Journeying

I am on a journey of finding myself. I realized I have so many unresolved issues that I have to deal with. Issues that I alone can handle if I want to. I may need help along the way or I may not. It remains to be seen and I can only be the one to make that choice.

On my journey I have with me a backpack, a waist belt and a carry on. These are all filled with memories, traditions, cultures and habits. I have also brought along pride, guilt, fear, faith and many more. Inside my bag, I also hold people that are dear to me, my spouse, my children, my relatives, a few friends and my past. Some I may keep, others I may let go.

I don't know what's going to happen, but I know that time will just tell if my journey was worth even the trip or in consequence, was it ever worth the thought.

My journey will have my two feet firmly planted on the ground, with ears open, eyes shined and thought as sharp and loaded with gigabytes, ready for sponging in favorable information and picking off the bits of useless ones.

I will chose my own path, so I will have no one to blame for any lost directions. I will do what I think is right so I will not be judgemental of anyone but myself.

It's all about me. Yes, everything is about me. The sin of the world. The ego of life. The center letter of the word sin is the "I". Me, mine, my..That's just what this is all about.

How can I give, when I have none.
How can I heal, when I am hurting
How can I teach, when I haven't learned.

Now, I am ready for the walk. Let me do baby steps, where each foot is a struggle, and every stretch is a challenge. Yet, like a baby who says, " My do it .." or "no help me," or "myself." I will prevail.

Yet when I reach that age of enlightenement when my life just passes before me like a click of a mouse, I would have deleted the unfavorable and retained the important.
Then when the realization comes, I will all tell you of my journey.