MEN Just can't Leave me Alone

I don't know what's in the air, but lately, I've been having my shares of flirtatious moments. Not that I am the one initiating such actions, but it's just that these dirty old men won't leave me alone.

Last year, on my way to a food show, I was briskly walking to the train station when a man a few meters walking opposite me stopped in his tracks and upon nearing him, he asked me, “you look so pretty.” I smiled and said thank you, but he followed it up with, “would you like to have a date with me?” Shocked was my reaction that I almost gagged at my reply, “Gotta go, am late for the food show.” And this was broad daylight at 10 in the morning. Geesh, loooweeessss!

Then another time, while waiting for a subway train, an MTA attendant at the station struck up some light conversation. Why he chose me amidst all those people waiting, I had no clue. But then I realized that his chit chat was leading to asking me out that I had to cut him short and say I was meeting my husband uptown, and that was when he backed off.

Don't get me wrong, but love affairs here in American can start out in situations like this. Just like with my friend, Kay, who I was to meet up at a mall with her sister. She had met her beau while traveling on a train, they chatted while in transit and one date led to another. And yes, they are now a couple.

So I was suppose to meet her at a mall last Saturday, and while I was waiting for the bus, a man driving a light blue car pulled over, right in front of me and said, “I hope the bus lines are working good today.” And I said, “Oh yes they are, one just passed by but am waiting for a friend.” (not true since I was really alone and the bus takes longer on weekends) Then he smiled, and said, “okay, have a good day.” And then he sped off. I instantly knew that was a pick up line, because why else would he stop on a busy highway to talk to me, right? If only he drove a lamborghini instead of a clunker, I might have reconsidered...heheh... they have to have some CARacter to be considered.

And a week earlier, I posted on my wall a similar situation were a guy from the post office wanted to engage in some communication. MEN!!!!!

AT my age, it is very flattering to be noticed and appreciated even if the wrinkles are visible and the love handles are oozing out of my clothes. It is good for my esteem, and I do get different reactions everytime I tell people my experiences. My kids would say, “yuk! Ka lu-od nimo!” which to them I can only conclude that I am way past my egg producing days, thus I am useless in those flirtatious moments. But to my husband, he is proud that his wife is still desirable. (kuno)

Friends my age, have experienced similar incidents theirs are even much more applauding. I like the incident where a young male in our group went up to my classmate and told her he fantasizes about her many times.

So what do we do when faced with moments like this: Smile and be glad that at our age, we're still “hastang lami-a”( eatable as my husband would adjectivize) ....and of course, brag to your friends about it. That's just what we did last Saturday, and even if you get older, story telling your experiences will get good laughs always, like this story:

Three old ladies were sitting in their retirement home reminiscing. The first old lady recalled shopping at the greengrocer's, and demonstrated with her hands the length and thickness of a cucumber that she could buy for a penny.

The second old lady nodded, adding that onions also used to be much bigger and cheaper. She then used her hands to demonstrate the size of two big onions that she used to be able to buy for a penny each.

The third old lady remarked: “I can't hear a word you're saying, but I remember the guy you're talking about.”

On Beauty Queens

The newspapers in the Philippines recently covered many issues about the recently concluded Miss Universe Pageant. Miss Philippines, who had an equal shot at getting the title, did a 'major, major' blunder in the question and answer portion. For someone who is suppose to be top of her class, Venus Raj's reply was short of being impressive.

To add insult to injury was the statement made by a former Philippine Miss Universe (saying her name just makes it stinky) insinuating that 'Cebuanos hardly speak English' is just a denigration to the dignity of a Bisaya.

Any Cebuano's reaction to that statement must have blown their top thinking what an A.H she was. I too was not spared from being angry. But then again, what if Pokwang ,Annabelle Rama, or Pilar Pilapil , true bloodied Cebuanas, would have said it, will we be as offended as we are now?

How is it when the blacks insult their kind or that the gays make fun of themselves, it is okay. But if someone other than their kind makes fun of them, it is derogatory and discriminating?

In his book, “the Four Agreements”, Mexican author Don Miguel Ruiz advises on truths that lessen the sufferings of men.

One of the agreement is to speak impeccably the truth and without malice. Which probably the ex-Miss Universe failed. If she meant that beauty queens should speak in a language and manner comfortable to them, then she should have said it in clearer way instead of saying what she did, as seen in the video being circulated.

Another agreement from the book states that we should not take anything personally. What most people normally say and do is a projection of their own reality, and is as much a scenario in their own dream. When one is immune to the opinions and actions of another, then one can not be a victim of suffering. How many of us are often victims of statements not really intended for us, yet we take it as if it were our own. In my Philosophy class in college I remember Madame Quisumbing and Miss Hernando make statements of “If's...thens...” So if given the statement, “Cebuano's hardly speak English”....and I rephrase that statement to , “I am Cebuano,but I speak English.” is the statement true or false?....

Although ex-beauty (in her follow up statements) erred in her words about the language, the gist of the matter is that Cebuanos have hard tongues---oh! So that's it! Didnt someone say she has a Cebuano boyfriend? In case of power failure, he has the--- Oh! Oh!!! and OOOOHHHh! See that's why our Cebuano men are great lovers...hehehehe!

Making assumptions in any situation often leads to misunderstanding. The word 'assume' has the acronym phrases that when you make assumptions, you make an ASS out of U and ME. It is better to clarify than conclude. The reporter who re-interviewed the ex-beauty should have showed her the video of her statements. Not only has she earned the title of EX-Beauty, she has now garnered the title, “MISS DENIAL QUEEN”.

It is very difficult to unscramble a beaten egg, or to collect back feathers that flew. It is even harder to take back what has already been said. And added to that, the three most difficult words to say is ,”I AM SORRY.” Pride has its cost, and could be a very expensive one.

As a Cebuano, I can forgive what Ms. Gloria Diaz said,(there I gave her name) but the pain I have with my fellow Cebuanos can only be healed through time. I do not know how long this scenario between the Cebuanos and GD will end, but I hope it will be a happy ending. We are after all Filipinos.

And I do like what MARGIE MORAN ,Miss Universe 1973 replied when she was asked : "What’s the difference between being Miss Universe and being a Filipina?" Her reply: "Being Miss Universe is like having a birthstone, you may lose it. Being a Filipina is like having a birthmark, its forever."

Now that's what I call ….good answer!...good answer!!!...and being Cebuana to me is just icing on the cake....




the one and only beauty queen of my heart...gorgeous..stunning...

Two Birds with one stone

What does a girl do right after she has gone to school and is ready for the 'real world'? As far as our culture is concerned, weren't we taught to be good girls, learn to cook and sew so that we could catch our Mr. Right? How many of you were taught like this, raise your hands.

Nevertheless, those story books that depicted of a prince saving a damsel in distress probably rubbed into us the wrong way. The prince would come running to our rescue and would save us. From what? From strict parents who deny you freedom even at 21?, from poverty? From being an old maid? My take on this is we're jumping from one Calphalon pan to another Creuset one. Same fried dish, different frying pan. Rescuing us by a Prince Charming is the number one myth we all grew up with..

Once rescued, (so to say) the next thing a Prince has to do is protection. Probably in the prehistoric era, women needed protection from the bears and the wolves . But in our day and age, we're probably better off protecting ourselves. Besides most men nowadays only want one thing---to get into a woman's pants...not that they're gay---You know what I mean.

Those story book tales and cartoons of yesteryears are such a misconception. Popeye rescuing the screamy, whiny Olive with her shrill voice that could waken the dead. For all its worth, Popeye is better off without Olive. Considering how thin she is, she probably doesn't know how to cook. And by the way, if you were a teenager, would you want to marry a guy that smelled like your grandpa, just like Popeye with his pipe?

Protection and Security expected from your prince is a thing of the past. If you marry for protection, you might as well get an insurance guy because he can give you the best policy for your protection. And Security?...get a guard from an agency, or some policeman who moonlights---both will give you security, don't they?

Sometimes marrying Mr. Right has its challenges. It's just like saying, you won't know how strong the tea is until it has been thoroughly infused. You just have to take chances and calculate your risks. Because, in life there are no guarantees except taxes and death.

A few years ago, Mike placed in facebook his status as “open relationship” which to me meant that we had no secrets between us. Our friends went abuzz inquiring, “what's with you guys?! How are you doing?” Frankly, I didn't know what the term meant until I looked it up, and it had something to do with promiscuity and sexual liberation. So I myself, had to ask my hubby “is there something I need to know?” He laughed and said, “what do you think?”

Mike and I have been married for 33 years plus 5 years of M.U. (in today's lingot's Mutual Understanding, but during my time it's Mag Una-una). We are not a perfect couple as we do have our quirks and misunderstandings. But there's a saying, the best gift a dad can give his children is to love their mother”, and that's just what Mike has been doing since and continues to do so. For that, I am forever grateful....... So to my hubby,

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY!!!!

by the way an advise for those guys wishing to marry - - since most of you at one time will forget an anniversary, why not get married on your birthday. ....that's just what my hubby did and he has never forgotten one single anniversaryyy ever since......sooo, to my palalabs!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY as well!!! TAGAY ta ron!

August 29 for us is just like hitting two birds with one stone



a pensive mike on our way home in a train....what is he thinking? did he make a mistake in getting married? hmmmmm

Wisdom with Age and Reunions

A few weeks ago, facebook was bombarded with high school reunions, especially since STC Cebu was having their annual alumni celebration. Most of the pictures of different levels from the Theresian community, consisted of parties, trips or just get togethers.Even if I wasn't there, reminiscing about those carefree days brought about such humongous nostalgia into my system.

In many reunions I would recall a classmate who revealed to us that while seated in class, she would fan both her knees to reveal her underwear to the delight of our male physics teacher.(but really, she wore shorts-- didn't we all, because then kulots was making its graceful exit out). And those tea parties we had during high school, making the nuns think that this was a noble way to socialize with the opposite sex under their very watchful eyes, was hilarious.

Then when we were in our Junior year in high school, there was an exchange of letters with boys from the junior class of an exclusive boys school. We used aliases and during the year, we'd receive letters from guys we didn't know. By the end of the schoolyear, we revealed ourselves, and you can just imagine the mixed reactions we all had. Every reunion brings about same stories of high school days, and it always makes us laugh everytime. But then new stories are added because we had moved on to much bigger roles and more challenging responsibilities.

During our silver jubilee many years back, we'd talk about careers, husbands and children. Intermixing with tales of the mundane to that of exhilarating experiences. We all have stories to tell and the few years away since high school, can not be compressed into the weekend getaway with the girls. Too many experiences to tell, too little time.

Then fast forward 5 years later into the next reunion, it is the same high school friends, reminiscing that same high school scenarios and still laughing at it everytime. But then, new experiences have emerged like a soap drama that has not completed its story. The twist from earlier events have turned into a mellowing crescendo. Deaths of schoolmates, love affairs , children marrying and births of grandkids. Each tale holding a special meaning to the story teller.

As I look at the pictures, I cannot help but smile. My classmates have grown – some sideways, others well, just like what my classmate Lennie S. said and I quote, “.... Each of you has developed into different variances of vintage wine. Some have developed like the sparkle of Champagne, characters with the richness of character of Merlot, the tenderness of a White Zinfandel, the deep commitments like the Pinot noir. All in all, 1975 was a year of good harvest of girls that have transformed to the basketful of varied, quality, vintage wines that gets better with each year.”

Lest we all get drunk and be carried away by our rambunctious thoughts, I cannot help but smile and be hopeful to take part in the next reunion !!! So before I end, let me tell you about this story, so graciously adopted....

A 72 years old cook was walking through the woods
and was looking for truffles to make some soup for her king.

She stopped and sat on an old log to rest,
when she heard a voice say, "Pick me up."
She looked around and couldn't see any one.
She thought she was dreaming when she heard the voice say a gain,
"Pick me up." She looked to her side, and saw a frog sitting on a tree stump.

The cook said, "Are you talking to me?"
The frog said, "Yes, I'm talking to you. Pick me up, then kiss me
and I'll turn into the most handsome man you have ever seen.
I'll make sure that all your friends are envious and jealous because I will be your groom!"

The cook looked at the frog for a short time, reached over, picked it up carefully,
and placed it in her apron pocket.

Then the frog said, "What, are you nuts? Didn't you hear what I said?
I said kiss me and I will be your handsome groom."

She opened her apron pocket, looked at the frog and said, "Nah, at my age I'd rather have a talking frog."

With age comes wisdom.....

Okay, by the way, Mike , my hubby was named “Baki” (visayan translation of frog) by his siblings. Why? Dunno, ask them....So, I had my groom when I was young, now I have my talking frog. Hehehe! I am blessed!

mama mia!!!

If my mom's life story was to be portrayed in a movie, we'll probably be rich. It has all the makings of tragedy, romance, drama, mystery, horror, war stories and tons of comedy to boot. And my mom can shame the acting prowess of Meryl Streep or Vilma Santos many times over.

Oh and yes! She too had the proverbial slap that most tagalog movies are famous for. It would be interesting if she were to write her memoir, because this was one turning point of her life. It was after the war (1940's kind of thing) when my mommy was a teenager, that she was prohibited by my grandma from seeing my dad. But the rebelliousness in her defied this rule. So one day, a snitch told my grandma that my mom was watching a movie with my dad. Off goes lola, waiting outside the moviehouse until the show was over. When lola saw mom come out with my dad in tow, my mom got the slap of her life . From then on, after the humiliation she got, mommy vowed she will have to marry my dad no matter what.

As a disciplinarian, my mom brought us up in fear with the “don't do this or else....” If there was something she didn't like in us, she would then relate to us about making the moomoo, the abat or the madre unhappy and they would sweep us off to their abodes! By the way, the mabolo convent at that time was really horrifyingly huge for a child and the carmelite convent had invisible nuns singing from a caged enclosure. So you can imagine how careful we were lest we displease the spooks mommy talked about.

But the one thing that my mom was famous for was her being a comedian and the life of many parties.
My mom was comfortable with just about anyone. She could rub shoulders with the crème de la crème of Philippine society and make them laugh. And she could also be sipping sikwate and eating budbud with the tinderas of carbon and pasil, while reading them their fortunes through playing cards.

Then in one of her friend's reunions, she would don a colorful long gown (mumu) and decorate herself with whatever fancy jewelry she could handle just for fun and then make a grand entrance. Her friends would laugh and cajole with her even while she was limping from walking with high heels she never was accustomed to. If there was a lady gaga in costume during her time, she was it.

In the later years of her life, mommy became very religious. She would attend prayer meetings, often hear mass and join bible studies. She and Tita Nena Garcia, her confidante and best friend, would be seen together in many of those events. Last year, there was an occasion where she graced a function intended for the widows/widowers of Bukas Loob. A young lady obliged her in a conversation and asked, “Tita Lolly, when diay namatay imong husband?” (Tita Lolly, when did your husband die?)
My mom looked at her with a devilish glance, “Na unsa ka man, inday (What ever happened to you?) I have two husbands and they're both alive.” After which my mom would guffaw to her hearts content.

Lately, my mother was not feeling well. And in many of our phone calls, she often reminded us that if anything happened to her, we were not to come home but instead move on with our lives. She had also told that to her sisters, who are all residing abroad. Then the inevitable happened.

Last week my mom was hospitalized and her health was slowly deteriorating. She was rushed to the hospital and stayed in the Intensive Care Unit, where tubes and medicines were her bed mates. My oldest brother Steve, who is techno savy, was burning the lines from facebook, emails, text messages etc , informing us of her condition every moment necessary.

Every day, I would cry when I'd hear that although she would respond to the medicine they were treating her for, another complication would arise. It was a roller coaster of emotions, because when you think you'd have hope for a treated finding, a new one would occur.

Then the inevitable thing happened. A life threatening decision of which only the immediate members of the family had to decide. We had to be pragmatic at the same time sensitive to the many issues presented. Is it about the quality of life she will go through if ever, religion?, money?, time?, relationships?

It is moments like these that make a family (even the extended ones) closer together. It is moments like these that you will know and realize who your true friends really are. And it is moments like these, when prodigal children, sibling rivalries and broken relationships slowly ties you back like the umbilical cord that you once had shared at one time in your lives. And that was a good thing.

A couple of days ago, we had decided to let nature take its course and ease her suffering by not allowing too many tubes poke into her. From the ICU, where she would receive only one guest at a time, we believed that she wanted to be with family, listen to them and be with them. So, together with only the necessary machine mates, she was transferred to a regular room. The doctor said we had to hope for the best and prepare for the worst...And that's just what we did....Wait, Pray and Love...

Yesterday, I had a chat with my sister. She said mommy's tube had been taken off, her color is returning and she is now on her way to recovery. She has started to talk but with a blur. ALLELUIA ! My GOD BE PRAISED!

Things are steadily getting back to normal. My mom is being herself again, arguing with the doctors orders of wanting to go home. Welcome back, mom! And in this comedy of life, my mom had the best laugh after all!

And as my tita would say........to be continued...sa susunod ulit na kabanata....(until next time)






my mom with 'the look"...you know, that kind that a kid knows there's something going on. Maybe mom was kinda upset that i wore my favorite dress which was too small for me revealing my undies..."but MOM, it's the trend nowadays to show your undies and I set the trend 50 years ago."

Eat, Pray and Die

Not many people know how to eat, and when I say that, I do not mean it in a derogatory way. The majority eat to live but there are those that live to eat. The former basically do so for survival and the latter is either a connoisseur or a glutton.

Hunger is the best appetite, and for many underpriviledged ones, for as long as that pang is satiated, the quality of food is not in their primary concern. There are those, however, who have relationships with food in the sense that all their senses come alive. What am I saying?

Well, imagine you're in the green market, and you see a mound of bloody red apples . They're so beautiful, you pick one. The firmness and plumpiness in holding them just excites you. As your mind goes through the databank of recipes, you can smell the overwhelming freshness in the atmosphere. Then as if not contented with the touch, you bite into it like a vampire claiming it's victim. Soon all the juices start trickling down the sides of your lips and flows through your neck. It's sweetness and juiciness just absorbs you. You have finally met your mate. This time, you take it home with you, and there is no turning back. The sin has been comitted, your affair with the apple begins.

And of course, there are those who don't care so much about food. And I'm speaking about those that feed their souls first before the body. And don't confuse this with soul food—now that's a different story.....anyway...

The Supreme Buddha, Siddhartha Gautama ate his way to enlightenment. That's what they say though. Legend says that a woman took milk from a thousand cows and fed it to five hundred cows. She milked them and fed it again to half that number and so on. (talking about degressing multi level marketing scheme)..Anyway, from the final milk of eight cows, she prepared a sweetened dish of milk-rice, which was served to Gautama in a golden bowl. Gautama divided the meal into 49 rice balls and consumed them. He then tossed the golden bowl in a river and declared, “If today I am to attain full enlightenment, may this golden bowl swim upstream.” And it did.

The meal of 49 rice balls sustained Gautama for the next forty nine days, a time when he ate nothing and sat under a bodhi tree, and became Buddha.

Okay, and talking about Buddha, why is it that they often show him as a fleshy creature considering how frequently he fasted? And to top it all, his meal normally consisted of ONE sesame seed, ONE grain of rice, ONE jujube, ONE pulse pod, ONE kidney bean and ONE mungo bean...(the best organic diet to loose weight for anyone who wants those excess pounds off)

The Bible depicts Jesus Christ as a kind and forgiving man, but the story about the fig tree seems to repudiate that quality. It is said that a hungry Jesus entered Jerusalem, spotted a fig tree in the distance and approached it. But finding no fruit, he cursed it to remain fruitless forever. So the tree quickly withered. Why did Jesus pick on the tree which appeared to be harmless and blameless, right? And according to the gospel of Mark, it wasn't even the season of figs. Now that's what I call 'hunger kills.'

And if someone asked you what your last meal would be, would you know what to answer?

Well, for Buddha who often was a very gracious guest at many social events, a blacksmith named Cunda invited him and his monks for dinner. He served a dish called 'sukaramaddava' which translated into a 'pig's delight” Religious scholars have long debated whether this dish was pork or it could be one which is delightful to pigs such as truffles, roots or mushrooms.

Anyway, the Buddha alone ate the dish, forbidding his companions to partake. This is a tip-off, since Buddha wasn't really a selfish guy. Soon after eating, he felt violently ill but did not complain. He said it was not the food that was to blame and Cunda should feel no guilt. In fact, Buddha said, Cunda should be honored that he had served the Blessed One's final meal. Which indeed he had, because the Buddha soon died.

And as for Jesus, we all know about the Last Supper, it's pictures are all over. But what did it really consist of? Some unbelievers would probably consider the picture as a group of Jews having a men's night off, drinking wine and having bread with oil as amuse-gueule (sumsumans). Scholars believe that since they were all Jews, they'd probably have the Jewish seder dinner which Mathew, Mark and Luke depicted it to be. But John says that the supper occurred too early in the year to be a seder.

But if indeed it was a seder dinner, it would have consisted of horseradish, parsley, hard-boiled egg, celery leaves, lamb shank, and haroset (a mixture of nuts and chopped fruit). But there were several sweeping changes about the seder traditions after the 1st and 2nd century CE.

Oh and speaking about the Last Supper paintings, Leonardo de Vinci's last supper shows both lamb and fish on the table. Salvador Dali's “The Sacrament of the Last Supper” includes only bread and wine. But of course both paintings didn't come from memory.

And finally, have you seen Joey Velasco's version?...He's one great Filipino artist who just recently died. His version of the Last Supper is really one to behold.

Oh, and one more thing, does anyone know what kind of apple Adam and Eve ate? Was it granny smith, fuji, gala, delicious,McIntosh.........hmmmm....

Independence!

Ever since I first came to America more than 20 years ago, I was already impressed by what I saw. But the one thing I didn't like to hear was when an American asked if we Filipinos were perceived as people living in jungles. I did take offense in that, and even if I thought of the white foreigners as living in a developed society where they were high up there like monkeys on trees, from my point of view of looking up like cave people, all I could see were assholes. But I am not getting into that......

I like the perception of that so called 'freedom' and the land of opportunity that America advertises but I shall not forget the tropical paradise that my own native land entices . It reminds me of some that I will enumerate a few which are very distinct of both places.

1) Filipinos marry for money...well, pretty much I should say. Many families, because of the economic situation would often push their children to marry someone with that “CARacter” and the “PESOnality” rather than love. The proverbial visayan quote of, “sagdi lang kung saging, basta labing.” (it's okay if we just eat bananas as long as we are in love.) does not hold true anymore. In those days, (or shall I say ''during my time') bananas were just picked from trees in anyone's backyard. But now, with smoke belching cities and well guarded farms, bananas are sold 5 pesos a piece...so there's always a math involved.....
On the other hand, Americans DIVORCE for money. Pinoy families come here for a better life, own a house, accumulate wealth and then find themselves into uncompromising situations that end up in divorce. I know of some Pinoy couples who have gone awry but the classic celebrity examples are those of Tiger woods and Paul Macartney to name a few...

2)“ON TIME” in America is just that. Seldom can you see schedules listed that are not followed, unless something comes up, then an announcement of a reason is made. In Pinoy land, whether its a function or a plane ride, people are always late, and even a bizarre explanation is never an excuse. Otherwise if the event is on the dot, then a foreigner must have been the organizer.

3)The Philippines which is predominantly Christian with Spanish influence can send conflicting messages to those that adhere much to its teachings. For one, the submissive wife is not meant to be a doormat and be considered a light house (ilaw ng tahanan is what I mean). It is difficult to become a Maria Clara on the outside when inwardly one feels like a Paris Hilton. It just doesn't work. The dictates of cultural values and christian upbringing does not jive with the modern way of thinking. You cannot be yourself without scrutiny from those that comply with traditional beliefs and/or established norms. For majority of the Americans who are broad minded and have been exposed to instant gratification, life just comes as you please it to be.

Having been in America for a while, I have learned to appreciate the diversity of customs and heritages of many countries. Communicating intellectual conversations with people from all walks of life with different cultural backgrounds has broaden my myopic views of what the outside world is. Such is the life here. As I freely learn to educate myself in this country, I tend to be more understanding, more liberal and less judgmental. I am freer to be me.

But I also miss my motherland, the Philippines, where the people are more respectful, more courteous and more generous with the less they have. I am grateful for the roots I have, since it brings substance and meaning to my existence. And no matter where I am, the home of my birth will always be where my heart is.

Okay, so before I go here's one for you, guys:

A man was walking through Chinatown when he saw a sign saying, “Hans Schmidt's Chinese laundry
Being curious, he went into the shop and was greeted by an elderly Oriental man who introduced himself as Hans Schmidt.
“how come you have a name like that?” inquired the stranger. “you don't even look German.”
“Is simple.” said the Oriental shop owner. “Many, many year ago when come to this country, I stand in immigration line behind big German guy. Immigration lady look at him and go, “what's your name?” he say, 'Hans Schmidt.' Then she look at me and go, 'what your name?' I say, 'Sam Ting.'”

HAPPY JULY 4th everyone..

Generation Gap

I always thought that I was a cool mom, and that my children were proud of me because we were on the same 'wavelength'. The relationship was not that of someone in authority over juveniles but rather like 'dudes/dudettes with limitations', after all, I am still a parent.

It was only many years into motherhood, that the tide shifted from that of a disciplinarian ally, to being that of a submissive follower. One time as we were on our way out for dinner, my daughter insisted I change my wardrobe. “Why?” I asked.
“you look old and your colors are not coordinated.'
“who cares, “ I said,
“WE DO!!!” cried my husband and children in unison.

I'm not a fashionista, so I guess it was more for their sake of facing embarrassment than my being criticized as having no taste. Oh, and speaking about taste and intelligence, my husband and I would have countless debates on who was the smarter person. But in the end, I would concede that my hubby was the more intelligent one and the one with taste, after all, he married me.

Even when it came to music, I thought my kids and I were synchronized. We were woodstock baby boomers, and today's head banger music is no comparison to the led zepilin and jimi hendrix of our days. To me, music is universal and therefore had no barriers, but I guess I was wrong because when I asked my son if he wanted to watch a concert, our conversation went something like this.

“Isaiah, you want to go see the APO? They're good you know.”
“Who are they, mom?” asks Isaiah. (my 21 year old son is clueless about this group)
“ You know, they're those three funny guys who sing and dance and tell jokes.”
“am I suppose to know them?” ask my son.
“YES! They're icons of the pinoy music industry, they're famous, anak!.”
“what do they sing? English, bisaya or tagalog.” asks my son.
“they sing English, but mostly tagalog, and I think they did some bisaya songs for fun.”
“but I have a hard time understanding tagalog, mom” he said, “and why should I see them?”
“because one of them is my friend and I want you to.” I said.
“Oh! Now I know who those three guys are. And which one is your friend?” He says.
“The tall cute one.” I answered.
“Ah you mean Tito and the other two are Vic and Joey.” said Isaiah ......... I fell off my chair.!



Two weeks ago, I posted in facebook some pictures of the Philippine parade in New York City. The TFC float featured young stars, whom I had no idea as to their identity, but my friends knew them as a Sarah G. and a Christian B. Then a week later, I posted again pictures of the Puerto Rican parade where a picture of a famous rapper I photographed whom I later found out was a p. diddy.....diddy know him at all is what I can say.

I normally take it when my kids call my attires baduy or my music bakya, but when they start ridiculing me that 'am old' I say---”WAIT A MINUTE!!!” But then when I reflect that life is indeed moving too fast at a speed I can't even keep up with, I now think twice.

Being termed as 'old' has its advantages, it depends how you perceive it to be. For one thing, your secrets are safe with your friends because they won't be able to remember them either. And besides, experience is the best resume just like the best wine and fruit cakes taste excellent when aged.
And before I end let me make you smile by reading this:

Having been playing outside with his friends, a small boy came into the house and asked, “Grandma, what is it called when two people sleep in the same room and one is on top of the other?”
His grandma was surprised to hear such a forthright question from a six year old but decided to answer as honestly as she could. “Well,” she said hesitantly, “it's called sexual intercourse.”
“Oh okay,” said the boy, and he ran outside to carry on playing with his friends.
A few minutes later, he came back in and said angrily, “ Grandma, it isn't called sexual intercourse. It's called bunk beds. And Jimmy's mom wants a word with you.!”

Surprises! Surprises!

Today is to be my dad's 80some birthday, and I was suppose to surprise him with a phone call. However, he surprised me instead. AGAIN! This facebook has its way of startling you with the unexpected.

After my morning rituals done, I sat my mug of espresso and logged on to check my emails. I was perplexed at someone who wanted to befriend me and included a note asking about my dad . Apparently, she had longed to know of her maternal grandfather, and the video my brother posted plus my essay seemed to resonate. She gave me details and finally inquired if my dad was her long lost grandfather.

As I read her note, my jaw dropped realizing that indeed her mother was the long lost child my dad wanted to find but didn't have any idea of her whereabouts. Instead, they found us.

Surprises are the spices of life. Whether they be fun, perplexing or unpleasant, they still come in many packages. Mine came in astonishing disbelief. The memories we have can only be triggered by the emotions it carries with it.

Male infidelities or promiscuity is not without its share of thrills in unwanted delusions. More often than not, it is not surprising for a woman's anticipation of a child. After all, she is part of the act and it is her body that can only bear witness to the coming of life. But for a man, his seed can be thrown, without him knowing if it blossomed or not. Such is the biology of life.

Earlier in my married life, I've tried some tricks on my husband to see if he had any flings or affairs on the side. One favorite prank I did was to wake him up in the middle of the night, while he was sleeping. I then whispered his ear, “Sir, mata na. Uli na sa inyo, basin naghuwat na si Misis.” (Sir, wake up. Go home. Your wife is waiting) He didn't budge at first, and I kept poking him. “Sir, mata na lagi, basin di na ta ka usab. Uli na diha, bah!”(Sir, wake up. We might not be able to repeat this. Go home!!!)

To which he would just turn on his side and say, “saba diha! Tulog na oy!” (shut up and go to sleep!)Then he would turn his back on me. I've always wondered what that meant? Should I give meaning that he doesn't have any side kicks? Or is he too smart for such indecencies...One never knows.

Last week, my son wrote on his Wall , “I live in a world full of stories.” Indeed, everyone has a story to tell. And it is only through our memories that we can relate to those stories. As I ponder and write many an amazing anecdotes, I realize that the stories we recall, are those that carry emotions with it. They are the ones we remember that changes our lives, redirect our intentions and shape our destinies.

There is nothing new in life that has not been experienced. Names, places and dates have only been changed but the wheels of human emotions, beings and experiences have always been a continuous existence.

Celebrities are not spared from such scrutinies, but simple people like us have as much intrigues by our neighbor's gossips or by the society we associate ourselves in. Some are more secretive about their lives than others, but as for me, I always believed that how painful or fun filled a life we have, the truth shall always set us free

Goodbye, Dad!

It was 4 in the morning when I woke up with a slight asthma attack. I've never had asthma, but the spring allergies have caught up on me big time. So I ran to the bathroom and drank my ration of Claritin to suppress my incessant cough. I didn't know why I still couldn't sleep, so I took my laptop and started checking on emails. I was still high from the messages my friends and my daughter were raving regarding the previous APO show, that my demeanor was light and cheery. I was happily chatting in facebook with my bff when my half brother in Manila, just popped up and said, “Ate, namatay na si daddy kanina.” (Big sister, Dad just died awhile ago."

 Confusion and disbelief was all I could feel. I then made small talk enough to gain the information needed to relay the news to my siblings in Cebu . I thanked him for the information and told him if there was anything we could do, to let us know. My dad was not sick nor did he have any lingering illness. For a man nearing the eighties, his mind was lucid and sharp. Probably the years of analyzing, speculating and investing in the derivatives market plus that of a trader has kept his mind in constant progression of his mental faculties. But the one investment that he gambled and failed was that of relationship. And I speak only for myself . 

 The hurts and humiliation of having an absentee dad was what prompted me to create a wall of indifference and apathy towards him. Unanswered issues made the barrier even higher as the years went by when his visits to us where scarce and few, as he had other responsibilities that needed his attention. It was only when he was back in Manila and on the verge of retiring, did my dad try to reach out. I was already abroad and we communicated by emails. At one time, he disowned me and vowed never to write again after I hurled some invective insults. He was giving me vague answers of “that's life” which was insufficient for my inquiring mind. But then he would reconnect by greeting me on my birthdays and christmas.

 About 2 years ago, I had the opportunity to speak wholeheartedly to my dad, when he came for a visit. In those few weeks that we were together, he had laid bare his soul and the gaps that were once darkened with doubts in my growing years, inched its way with some specks of light. Slowly as revelations were uncovered and issues addressed, I saw a different side of my father. When the news came of my father passing away, initially I did not cry. Maybe the years of absence had numbed the pain or that I was just in denial. Then I thought of him during my childhood years when he was very visible and alive to me. I thought about his life and everything associated with it. I remembered his last words as he was leaving the apartment on his way to the train station for the trip back to the PHilippines. He uttered an “I love you ,van.” I smiled as I hugged him, but I couldn't give him the same reply he wanted to hear.

 And just as these thoughts were going through my mind, tears started to flow, first in trickles and then I broke down into grueling sobs like a wounded child. I cried not because I had lost a father, who is in a better place now than I am. It was more on the realization of what an egocentric person I had become. I was empowered by my own selfish desire of wanting my own father to beg for my forgiveness for being an absentee dad. I was held down by my own ideals of my own righteousness. It was all about me.

 Life does not come without its flaws, including the choices we make. There are no wrong choices in this world, there are only consequences of those choices. By accepting all that has happened, and releasing them is a step towards recovery. As Paul Boese says, “Forgiveness does not change the past, but it enlarges the future.” 

 My dad will be laid to rest today, so I am told. I imagine myself being transported back in time as a little girl. I look out of the window waiting anxiously for my dad to come home, but he never does. Then, I remembered what he told me two years ago about life, then I understand. It is part of death. And as I bend my head down, I release a whisper, “I'm sorry for waiting dad. But that's okay, I'm all grown up now, I can take care of myself. You have your rest. Goodbye, Dad!”

Of Politics and Sex

The political atmosphere in Paquiao land is getting into full gear what with a few more weeks before election day. Presidential candidates who are sliding in the polls are resorting to black propaganda just to win back which really was never theirs in the first place.

Time and again, we have been told to vote “Wisely”...But time and again, even if the ideal candidate wins, they will be absorbed in the zarzuela of what we call politics. Where the actor makes the rules, and the politicians act them out for entertaining.

But who are we to know the face of “Wisely” and how can we discern his sincerity. Even the learned and knowledgeable would have difficulty to choose the right candidate, because appealing to which authority on best to follow, is really tricky.

The problem here does not lie on the candidate, but on what the candidate would say that will make us happy on what they would say. Like this joke: IS SEX WORK OR PLAY?

A man wonders if having sex on the Sabbath is a sin, because he is not sure if sex is work or play. So he goes to a priest and asks his opinion.
After consulting church teachings, the priest says, “My son, after an exhaustive search, I have concluded that sex is work and is therefore contrary to the commandment to rest from your labor on the Sabbath.”
But the man thinks, Is a celibate priest really the best authority on sex? So he goes to see a married minister. The minister consults the bible and reaches the same conclusion: SEX is work and therefore not permitted on the Sabbath.
Not pleased with the reply, the man turns to another authority: a rabbi. The rabbi ponders the question briefly and says, “My son, sex is definitely play.”
The delighted man replies, “Rabbi, that's wonderful news, but tell me, how can you be so sure when so many others tell me sex is work?”
The rabbi answers, “If sex were work, my wife would have the maid do it.”


We all have choices this coming May for the leader we want....But, don't feel bad if your own candidate wont make it...Like the saying goes, “there are no mistakes...just consequences.”

Of Birthdays and Facebook

What is the significance of blowing birthday candles that corresponds to your current age? Tradition says that by blowing, you release the smoke to the skies for the 'gods' to grant your wishes.

If they are right in their thinking, then I might as well broaden the ritual and not limit it to birthdays. Like, when I'd fry food in the apartment, and light several candles to camouflage the after effects of frying then I could make more wishes. Now that's what I call increasing the bets...

Now, on the other hand, if wishes on birthdays are longer than the smoke that a candle can handle, then it would be practical to use an incense stick so the flow of smoke is continuous and the flow of several requests are also ceaseless....

Oh and talking about birthday cakes...I am suspect to eating a cake with candles that were blown by a celebrant. Why?...the germs, hija...you just never know. And imagine if it was a trick candle wherein you blow it once, it lights up again, and you have to blow again and again and again.....Gosh! Before you know it, the celebrant's saliva is all over....So this year, no cake for me, even if it was my own drool that is involved...yukkk!...gross!!!

Waking up to the long list of well wishers on my birthday is such a pleasant....and yes, I mean a pleasant surprise. Those that think facebook is a waste of time don't realize the fun they are missing. The things that people do are just what makes them 'compos mentis' in this insane world.

So what if you're telling the world you're drinking orange juice at the moment, or in the airport waiting for your flight? So what, if you're eating cebu inasal lechon and showing pictures of it. Who cares if after 15 years you suddenly paste your picture to show your balding hair or that your bulging bilibilations are parallel to your boobs. As Bing Cosby says, Middle age is when your classmates don't recognize you anymore....So what?!!!

Facebook is just one of those programs that get you in touch with the world and reconnect with friends from your past. It can also make your fantasy virtually real. Such as being an haciendero in farmville, or a villain in those war games. It can make you word savy in scrabble or a super secretary in typing maniac. Whatever you want to be, even for a moment, is just a touch of your fingertips.

And to many who uplifts you with scriptures, phrases and quotes from everywhere I leave you with a part of a dialogue from a christian friend I met at Union Square- c.s. Black's Inherit the Mirth:

Jesus: Come, follow me.
Simon: You mean on Twitter?
Jesus: No. Just follow me. I’ll be your Lord, your Savior, your Friend.
Simon: Friend? We’d better make it official on Facebook.
Jesus: Look, I simply ask you this: Do you want to live life to the fullest and help reveal the kingdom of God to the lost sheep of Israel?
Simon: Sounds cool! Is there an app for that?

All this new technology can be wonderful. It’s making our lives better in numerous ways. But sometimes I think Ralph Waldo Emerson was right: “Things are in the saddle and ride mankind.”

agree...agree...agree.

Thanks again to the many people who have greeted me on my special day.

oh and by the way, people are asking me for my age....I am very consistent...I am 38, and if you ask me next year, I will still be consistent at 38.



this is the only dish i made during my birthday...Bacon Crusted Meatloaf....see my grandaughter in the background...she loved my dish as well

Story Telling a Lie

Telling stories to children can bring you to the utmost exhaustion since it will bring you eternal regression when they start with their “Why's?” But then that's just the tip of the iceberg. The not so good thing in explaining is when the children doubt your stories.

I've had my own experience when I was asked to speak in front of elementary students somewhere in Springfield, Ohio. It was Women's Week and my topic was Asian Women. What better story to tell than the very women that ran our country. So I started with something like this:

“Have you ever heard of a woman that had 3,000 pairs of shoes, 500 pcs of underwear, and 200 gowns? she lived in a palace but is not a queen.”
At this point, all the children were glued to my face. A 'How could that happen?' was the expression I got...and so I continued.

“She was the wife of our 5th president. They were very extravagant people. They had parties all the time, ..while the people were hungry and poor. They ruled our country for 20 years until the people said, “ENOUGH!” So they stormed the palace and got rid of the evil president. And guess who was the leader that kicked them out?....A WOMAN! Her name was Corazon...

Then I continued with my story about the Philippines, touching on interesting points of our history and ending again with GMA, another woman, who at the time of the speech, had just gotten re-elected.

After the symposium a little boy came up to me and said, “Is your story for real? I've never heard of the Philippines.” And another one said, “ I like your story, but is it true?”

These kinds of comments ignited a flame within, that made me want to share the beauty and the richness of our very own Filipino culture. So what do I do: Enroll again, what else.

When I was young, our elders were embarrassed when there were questions they couldn't answer, so they resorted to 'spritual answers'- that God was THE all that no one questioned. And instead, we'd end up more confused than ever. Here's what am talking about:

Kid: Why didn't Adam die when God said he would?
Ans: Why do you ask that?
Kid: Because you said the moment he ate the apple, Adam would die but he didn't, so God lied!
Ans: No he didn't. God doesn't lie.
Kid: Then you lied!
Ans: No I didn't
Kid: Then, can someone please tell me the truth....

or to put it clearly:

Kid: Does God sleep or he just rests?
Ans: God does not have a body so he doesn't rest
Kid: Okey! So why did it say on the 7th day He rested.
Ans: Because he stopped doing things.
Kid: Can someone, again, tell me the truth here......

or finally...

Kid: If God gives us everything we ask for, how come we don't have everything.
Ans: God only gives what's good for us.
Kid: Oh...I think Santa's better.

As a grown up, we shouldn't be embarrassed that we don't know everything and accept humbly our shortcomings. And if all else fails, my quick response would always be, “Just google it, Kid.”

Fishballs and Pinyakurat ala cuisine-nera

Last week, I felt like eating inununan or pickeld fish, so I went to the Oriental Store to purchase some fish. Since it was only I that was going to have it, I took the pack of 'extras' from the salmon. YOu know, those discards from the salmon fillets which contain tons of fish fat, and tons of meat still left on the bones.

When I got home, I made my own version which is really a whole lemon I cut up, salt, pepper, ginger and a tablespoon of butter. I layered them and stewed it in low fire for a few minutes. When it was done, I had my lunch with a glass of reisling wine. Since I was the only one who ate it (hubby and son were on tour for the band, daughter in law was working and kids were in school), I still had so much left over. So I decided to make my own fish balls.

This is what came out of playing with my food: Fishballs ala cuisinera

My Bisaya Comfort Food ala Cuisine-nera

One of those comfort foods I really miss back home is the 'Saging gisawsaw sa gipusil'. Sounds like a title to a gory movie, right? but truly it's banana dipped in ginamos that was pinched with chili peppers (GInamos na PUSlitan ug SILi). We can't get saba bananas much less the ginamos found in carbon, so this is CIA's (cuisine-nera in America's) version of the dish.



first, mike cleans the sardines, extracts head and entrails and cures it with the 'salting' method
lots and lots and lots of kosher salt....then leave it for a couple of days





Then he cleans it again bu discarding the old salt which would then have accumulated some blood from the fish.
Cure again with lots and lots and lots of salt. Leave for a couple of more days.






wipe off the salt from each fish and then you can now put it in a ceramic dish or bottle. layer your fish after wiping off the salt (do not wash). Then you can add your olive oil and spices.





your anchovies will keep whenever you need it, for as long as it is submerged in olive oil and that the oil is above it. Add your favorite spices like peppers, and garlic.


Then I made my own version of bananas. We don't have saba so, we just have those plantains which I formed into cups. And then plated it. One side the banana, center is my garnishing of shredded green manggo with mini sprouters plus a dollop of storebought spicy bagoong. Then the third side was the home made anchovies.



Kaon na ta!!!

Buen Provecho says Daisy M.

The first time I saw Daisy Martinez' show on t.v. was during my visit to a friend in Michigan. I was fascinated by her flair of handling Latino cuisines because it was so familiarly similar to what we have back home in the Philippines. Years later I finally meet her face to face during a symposium I attended “How to publish your cook book, “ in which she was the main guest speaker. Her prettiness plus the 100 miles per hour blabbering, a combination of comedy and chef, just amazed me. I was star struck.

And yesterday I went to Borders bookstore near Central Park just to hear her discuss and sign her latest book, “Daisy: Morning, Noon and Night.” She was gorgeous in her red flowing dinner attire, with matching bib around her neck that characterized her more of an elite debutant rather than an author/chef.

Her latest book is inspired by her trips to latino populated areas like Mexico, Ecuador, and the like. And for a Puerto Rican , what more can add to her adventure than finding out that there are several names you can call one dish. It depends what area you're coming from. Let me give you an excerpt of the book”

Empanadas with Creamy Corn Filling
==Humitas

“ When it comes to the names of certain dishes, Latin America can be a very confusing place. If you were to order humitas in a restaurant in Ecuador, what you would most likely get is something similar to tamales-- dried corn husks filled with a cornmeal stuffing studded with any number of ingredients. However, in Argentina, ask for humitas, and you will—very happily, I might add-- end up with a plate of empanadas filled with delicious creamed corn. If you have a couple of sprigs of thyme in the vegetable drawer, throw them in with the bechamel sauce (fish them out before adding the corn).

4 T unsalted butter 2 c. fresh or frozen corn kernels
3 T all purpose flour 1 heaping T. chopped parsley
1 c. milk empanada wrappers (homemade or storebought)
¼ tsp. Paprika salt and pepper to taste

melt butter in pan. Add flour and cook stirring until mixture is smooth and bubbly around 3 min.
Whisking constantly, slowly add the milk. Bring to a simmer, stirring constantly paying special attention to the corners of the saucepan.

Add paprika and salt and pepper to taste, stir in the corn and parsely, and return to a simmer
scrape the bowl and let cool completely.

Using 1/3 c. filling for each emapanada, form and cook the empanadas. (you can either bake or fry empanadas. But frying takes faster to cook)


Chicharon Carnitas is similar to our Pinauga na Adobo in the sense that the former uses beer to braise then when dried would just fry in its own fat, and the latter uses vinegar and soy sauce.

Asado in South America (like Argentina, Uruguay, and Paraguay) is what we call Sinugba in the Philippines. In Brazil, Asado is called Churrasco but the meat is done with Brazilian spices.
So you see, one name of a dish can mean another depending on what area you're coming from. It's like saying, “There are several ways to skin a cat.”

APOtizers

I met the Apo Hiking Society when they were stepping up their foothold in the music industry. I was still in my teens, just a year shy of being in College. I recall that summer, when a testosteronic organization sponsored them to do a show in Cebu.

My Gazebian friend asked me if I wanted a summer job as secretary/gofer for the Apo Concert and I'm talking about the Summer of 1974.

Danny J. brought along his pretty wife (he was married then to a t.v. Comedian) Boboy was the playful one, but Jim was the eloquent one, whom I had an easy rapport with. Even when he was back in Manila, Jim and I used to correspond through mails. And the next summer, vacationing at my aunt's place in White Plains, Jim and I hooked up.

But just like all summer charms, it was good while it lasted.

The Apo went on to become one of the Philippine's top entertainers of all times. They did several more shows in Cebu after that and even conquered the Pinoy community around the world. I was too busy with my own schedule, a family to raise and several businesses to run, that I haven't had the chance to see any of their shows when it came to town. In retrospect, I should have at least seen another one. Our paths have not cross since.

After 30 years and thanks to the internet, I was able to hook up with Jim again. Moreover, I am now friends with Danny and Boboy in facebook. No sooner was my elation upheld when the news came that they were retiring from the industry after 40 years. I felt so sad, because now, my chances of seeing them perform together is gone kaput! Nada! Muy pasado!!!! Pastilan!

Hooking up after all these years, the only commonality I have with my good friend Jim is that he feeds the soul with his Joseph Campbell, while I feed the body with concoctions of Campbell soup (the one in can). And so as a tribute to them, I made my own version of amuse gueule or APOtizers. I have named my pieces using the first initials of their names.

To the APO HIKING SOCIETY:

-The only group that calls themselves, the hiking society, but in reality never walked—they rode planes or cars. The only time they walked is when they'd join rallies in Manila.

-The only group that used the name of Apolinario Mabini – but none of them looked anyone like him even when they reached Mabini's age.---maybe one..and I'm not telling.

-The only group that has 3 members and call themselves a society ....... by the way society in bisaya is called sosyidad.....it's probably why they feel they have to”go?” ...kasi Society na may Idad--Sosyidad


My memories of the APO , I will always cherish. And hopefully when my stars will allign with Mars and Jupiter is in the 4th house of Venus and it will be in the age of ARIES (my sign) I might get lucky to see them all together even if it's just for a day in summer. Love you guys!



WELCOME THE APOtizers!!!!!


Bulalao in Garlic with parsley on crackers.

Many Pinoys love bulalo or bone marrow in soup, but it can also be served on toast or crackers since they have that rich buttery taste.
Have your butcher cut up beef bone marrow in pcs about 2-3 inches each. ) Clean off the beef meat from the sides of the bones.. Season with salt and pepper, then bake for 15 minutes or until the marrow loosens itself from the sides but still gelatenous.. Top with aoili (garlic paste)
Prepare parsley salad with mixture a mixture of balsamic vinegar,capers and evoo. Place on top of cracker or toast. Scrape of some buttery marrow and spread on toast. Top with aoli. YUMMM!


Daing on Java rice puto

Puto is rice cake, so I wanted to make it as my bottom canape for my home made daing. (Mike makes one of the best anchovies. When it comes to fresh anchovies, he's like a surgeon deboning it and places lots of spices, garlic and seasonings. If we can't have daing because it might make the apartment smell, we resort to homemade anchovies)
But Java rice is just like fried rice with a mixture of ingredients such as lemongrass, onions and much more. If I had the powdered ingredients above, I would have mixed it with my puto ingredients, but instead, I just minced some and placed it on top before baking it. Even my grandaughter kept on coming back for more.


Jazz Patatas

I went to the grocery to buy kamunggay leaves to put as topping for my crispy potatoe chips.
When I got home, I realized I bought ampalaya leaves, so I used nalang my parsley and used that
but you can use any herb you want, to make this crispy potatoes.

LITRATONG PINOY

Everyone can cook, but not all cooks are chefs. The difference though lies in experience and passion.

Growing up, I was often shooed away from the kitchen by our kusinera because she didn't want anyone invading her territory. Only after marriage, did I learn the basics of boiling, frying and baking. Many years later, I had myown bakery then branched out to a catering business which was inherited by my daughter, who is the real chef in the family.

My passion for the culinary was intensified into creating a family cookbook that I could pass down as my legacy (kuno). However, hiring a photographer to record my every epicurean motives of such an ambitious project would entail time and expenses, and a lot of hard work.

So my question is: Why am I a photographer? Or would like to become one? Simple—First, I'm a cheapeepay/barat-- can't afford a photographer who might charge me an arm and a leg for my project. Second, time is uncontrollable. I can't have any photographer come at the last hour because I want him to get good shots of my creations. And third but most important, I wanted to become a photographer because as someone who loves to cook, I not only can write about it, but record it as well ---THROUGH MY OWN EYES!!!!!”

So when I want something done, what do I do?: I enrolled of course!!! Trying to hit two birds with one stone. Cook and shoot!

Here are the first three things I learned in taking good photos and I'd like to share them

1)A good photograph has a clear subject ...(that's my food)
2)A good photograph focuses attention on the subject –(that's still my food)
3)A good photograph simplifies. (how simple is food, well as explained it only includes those elements that draw the eye to the subject.)

Okay, so I have been a couple of months into the program (which by the way works out just fine for me since it is geared towards achieving at my own pace) But I still have difficulty in balancing apertures, f-stops and shutter speeds. But honestly though, I am appreciating the knowledge of learning the why's and when's of the clicking . And the first basic tip ever if you're going to have a love affair with photography is : Know your camera, then it will teach you what you want from it.

The skill of a good chef lies on how he presents his dish, because in reality, you eat first with your eyes. And a photographer with a good eye, can record that moment. I want to have both.


Here are three photos that explain three kinds of lighting techniques...and my subjects: MY FOOD, of course!


ARTIFICIAL LIGHTING : using flood lights to illuminate one side while the other is shaded


NATURAL LIGHTING (basically what you get from the sun) . this was taken during late afternoon when we were going to have
our 'sninner' (its the bisaya term for snack na dinner)...with us it's called merienda cena..




AVAILABLE LIGHTING - taken when I got my 'biko' out from it's parchment paper and the stove light was the one that showed it's sexy granules...Like just awakening from it's steamy slumber.

So, my question again: Where does a good picture come from? The photographer, the equiptment or the subject? Aba eh, paki sagot nga, ineng?!

litratong pinoy - husay

Appetizer and Dessert Spring Rolls!

Ever since Anthony Bourdain's comment about why Philippine cuisine is not highly represented even if there are numerous Filipinos abroad, I have had this desire to challenge him at his words. He was totally, totally right in saying that the Filipinos are such nice people, too compassionate not realizing that we are a compromising lot as well.

Why do I say this? Beacause we are too westernized in our ways. Someone told me that there are many Paris Hiltons in the Philippines, carrying their own dogs; and that wearing leather boots until the knees in the heat of the tropical weather is justifyable. But let's not stray from the topic.

In the next couple of weeks, my goal would be to innovate filipino dishes into the global arena, wherein I can introduce a new way of presentation without compromising culture and taste. After all, I once read that “Taste is relative. Everyone has taste, but not everyone has experience.”

Fried spring rolls can either be a dessert or an appetizer depending on what's inside the rolls. My sisters in law, after visiting the Philippines, would come home with frozen ngohiong rolls and storing them in their freezers then reheating them when the craving for Cebuano ngo hiong creeps in.

I have read that there are many 'best' ngohiongs in Cebu. Either its in Guadalupe, or Plaridel in Chinatown, Mabolo Atik's or near the vicinity of San Jose Recolletos, ngo hiong is all over. And have you ever heard of “Ngo Hiong House, home of the best barbecue? (What the?....) Let's face it, everyone has a story to tell about their own experiences. As for me, I will replicate what is best for my needs...and am sure it's you'll agree.

Ngo Hiong in America

1 pc. Turnip (the white kind) , shredded
1 pc. Jicama (try to get same size of turnip), shredded
1 clove garlic
1 small onion
1 T. oil
½ cup ground meat
soy to taste
4 Tbsp. Ngo hiong or 5 spice powder
1 cup broth

square spring roll pastry wrapper (5”x5”)
oil for frying

Saute onion and garlice. Add meat, when cooked, place in the rest of the ingredients until
the turnips and jicama are cooked but still a little crunchy.
Strain and cool. Place a teaspoon of filling on a 5 X 5 wrapper, and wrap.
Meanwhile, in another pan heat the oil for frying and the batter for dipping the wrapped rolls.

Batter:
1 cups cornstarch
3 tsp paprika/white pepper
350 g water

Dip roll in batter before frying.
Ngohiong Sauce:

strained sauce
2 tbsp dark soy sauce
2 tbsp castor sugar
1/8 tsp Chinese five spice powder (ng heong fun) or ngo hiong hun
1 T cornstarch
1 T. red chili garlic pepper (depends also on your taste. Add more for heat, or lessen)

ngohiong sauce:
Combine all ingredients in a small saucepan.
Bring to a low simmering boil over a gentle heat and cook for 1 to 2 minutes.
Stir occasionally until sauce turns smooth.
Set aside to cool then use. Garnish and plate





Mike said that the secret of ngohiong is it's thick crust. More on the wrapper and batter, rather than the filling. In my opinion, the reason why ngohiong was so very well remembered because it was a meal that was affordable for a students limited allowance. But best of all, I think we remembered the moment when ngohiong satiated our hunger, the taste was just incidental.

So that was the appetizer part, here is the dessert part!

Turon with Latik:

I made latik earlier with 1 can coconut milk and a half round panela sugar
I placed it in my slow cooker and left it to took. Every now and then (at least
every ½ hours I would stir it) At the end of the day, I had latik without constantly
stirring.

The other ingredients can be bought at any grocery store.

12 pcs. Wrapper
1 pc. Banana plantain
2 Tbsp. brown sugar
oil for frying

cut banana three ways crosswise
from one crosswise portion cut again cut into 4 pcs.
(so you will now have 12 small pieces altogether)
coat the banana pcs. In 2 Tbsp. Brown sugar
wrap banana pcs. In wonton wrapers sealing in water
in another bowl, place brown sugar and sprinkle with little water
quick soak your turon then fry in hot oil
(to know when your oil is ready, dip a wooden stick in the oil, if the sides bublle up
then the oil is hot enough)
fry till brown..then serve.

Our Valentine's Dinner

Remember a few weeks ago, I made my very first dinuguan with chocolate? Well it's valentines season and wouldn't it be great to have chocolate and hot spices as part or the main ingredients in a recipe? And who better people to come up with such a combination but Ming Tsai to provide the asian flavored spice with Jaques Torres, the chocolate master.

Ming Tsai is such a nice guy, having met him last year. I almost missed him at the book signing when he was in New York, but it was one of those days that being late sometimes pays.. He was almost about to board his waiting car when he saw me clicking away with my camera, trying to get last glimpses of my favorite Asian chef. He finally beckoned me over and asked if I wanted a picture with him. What an understatement...Of COURSE !!! And so here I am.


Then I remembered watching one of his episodes about making something spicy and something aphrodisiac and something Asian. He called it “Asian Mole with Seared Duck Breast” . A mole is mexican and is usually made with a mixture of chocolate and spice. And that's what he just did.

So yesterday, even with the wind chill and icy weather, Mike and I took a walk and braved the cold just so we could buy some duck breast at the deli and ingredients to make our own version of the recipe. This was to be our Valentine Dinner.



Asian Mole with Seared Duck Breast

4 duck breasts
1 Tbsp. 5 spice powder
1 cup bittersweet chocolate melted
1 onion
2 inches ginger
2 pcs. hot red Pepper
macadamia nuts
¼ c dried cranberries
about ½ to 1 c. stock
salt and pepper to taste

Score and season duck with salt and pepper
place on a heavy metal skillet skin side down and sear on slow fire
as soon as the skin is brown, set aside (you will finish cooking as soon as the mole is done)
discard (but do not throw away) all the oil except 2 Tbsp. In a container.
sweat out the onion and ginger in the skillet, meanwhile put all the remaining ingredients in blender.
When onions have turned transparent, place onion and ginger on blender together with the others, and pulse to liquify.
Salt to taste. If it is too dry, add a little of the duck oil.

When mole is done, return a little of the oil back to the skillet and brown the raw side of the
duck to thoroughly cook about 5 minutes. Take from skillet and rest.
Spoon some sauce on plate. Cut the duck in slices, then lay it on the sauce. Garnish and serve.

I tell you, after Mike and I made out ---- this dish of course, what did you think,! It is a sure winner in every couple's dinner date. If I ordered this at a restaurant, it would have cost us an arm...and the wine with it would cost us a leg...But with this dish, and we both made it.....it was priceless..