foodhuntress

Blog Closed

2009-07-26T22:50:00.000-07:00

No more lengthy speeches for now. Foodhuntress just had a great trip on this blog, but for some reasons she had to move on. Thanks to all of you who visited. It's been a great ride.

Just in case you still have want to have fun around here, I am leaving you the Cheshire Cat- there atop a tree. You won't get bored.

However, if you do find me interesting, you can still find me on this site.

Thank you all!

Cooking the Perfect Dish...

2009-07-24T07:41:00.000-07:00

From a sweet- faced cook...

...to this. Either way, the two babes work with blades.

Love seeing heads on a plate. One is au poivre with lots of black pepper. Another is sauteed in chili jam. The other is hammered tender then glazed with soy and ginger. And the other is jellied in court bouillon.

Before anything serious happens, Foodhuntress remembers she keeps knives under the sheets. And seconds later... -zhing! Another head flew off the bed.

This blog is getting a little too bloody I'm closing it soon.

Seduction of the Fruit Trees

2009-07-22T04:43:00.000-07:00

Times like this when my health is betraying me (been very ill since weekend) is when, with Enya's “Exile” playing in the background, I tend to think more of warmer days, more sunshine and more fresh air. Living on the fifth floor of the buliding, the closest distance I have to trees are the bamboos outside our bedroom window ten meters away. I long to step out, just breathe deep and catch a few sundust in my hands. Like two weeks ago, I had to sleep for a few nights outside of Manila because one of my provincial restaurants is having kitchen problems. Instead of staying in a hotel, I phoned my college friend Guada (though has been feeding me with so much sausages and high- cholesterol what not, proved to be a great host ) - and stayed at her place. 'Love you girl!

Every morning at Guada's place I would go out in her backyard and feast on the verdant growth of a somewhat swampy wild garden overgrown with water spinach. I was half expecting some alligator to appear somewhere and gobble me. Guada has said that it used to be a nice garden back in the summer, until the waters crept up and drowned the place.

I took some pictures of papaya trees and flowers. Papaya flowers have a seductive intoxicating scent... and I was thinking that if I would describe myself as a fruit, I'd say I'd like to be a papaya. (or peach or avocado...). Look at that. When the lovely flowers shed off, there grow the healthy plump clusters of papaya fruit...smooth and bountiful...and ripe or unripe, you can create something out of them. I want my papaya prawn salad. Now!

There too, are these lovely guavas. While some guava fruits are patiently waiting to ripen, some of them have miraculously worked out their sensual chemistry with nature – and now are ready for picking. Crunchy, juicy, succulent guavas, when lightly salted, is a prelude to a good chewing and swallowing.... and mouth cleaning. Have you heard of that? Old people say guavas have antiseptic properties that eating them makes your mouth cleaner afterwards. When was the last time you chewed on something fresh and adulterated and unpretentious? And when a little overdone and left unplucked, the guavas all ripened at the trees leave the birds no choice but to peck on them. Look at that pink interior, beautifully revealed after what seemed to be a long time of nibbling.

Then of course there are the custard apples. Custard/ Sugar apples can be a little tricky to grow. Because they are very sweet, insects and aphids can't wait for their turns to have a taste of the sugary fruit that sometimes they are already under attack way before they are ready . So smart people pick them from the trees and let them ripen on a fruit basket. It may take a little patience to wait for the sugar apple to be ready for eating, but rest assured that when they are, with just a small press of your fingers, they'd open themselves easily for you. When you break into the fruit, scoop out with a spoon the insides of the pulp and you'd feel a somewhat sandy, gritty texture there. You spit out the black seeds, and suck in the beautiful sweetness.

Connecting the Pepper Dots

2009-07-17T18:37:00.001-07:00

I would have wanted to take a long break from blogging for a while due to work, but the cloudy, rainy weather in Manila middle of July just made me want to lean back instead from work and - write blog. Who would want to go out today? Some parts of the city are flooded, and damn, just the other night, our car stopped in the middle of the flooded road I had to get down and push it. How horrifying is it, pushing an old car on a three- hour traffic, andother drivers are blowing horns at you, on a rainy evening? Some kindly men assisted us and, another ironic thing is that when these men started talking to us, they realized they were helping two uniformed women in distress: My sister in her pilot's suit was at the wheel, and I in my chef's whites, had to do the pushing outside. Good thing I had my off the following day.

The following morning, my phone received a message at 8 am. I was still in bed. "I'm on the train- going to your place." My friend/ sous chef Pablo Miguel.

Gracious.

FH: "We can postpone it- it's raining mad outside."

P:"No, I've come this far. We'll cook today."

I jumped out of bed.

Yeah right. I admire your discipline and fierce determination, Pablo Miguel. But dammit. I wanna sleep.

I just looked at my calendar and yes, we're supposed to work on donburi today. Katsu, salmon teriyaki, ebi tempura, unagi, hamburg hayashi, pork ginger stew...

Ok, ok.

So we met the grocery and did the shopping. Was it hard to get a cab! The streets are flooded.

A few hours later after cutting vegetables and arguing over sauces and meat cuts, we were both exhausted.

FH: "Break time. Would you like some milk tea?"
PM: "Of course!"

Earl grey milk tea was served a few minutes later.

PM: "This is better than what I had in Hong Kong..."

FH:" Thanks... Now stop staring at me."

PM: "Why?"

FH: "Because you're making me feel uncomfortable."

PM: "One...two...five... seven..."

FH: "What are you doing?"

PM: "Counting the dots on your face."

FH: "Stop counting. There are fourteen of them. And a Chinese said those dots make me lucky in business."

PM: "They remind me of freshly cracked black pepper..."

"....like the ones we have on this salad...

"...maybe the black peppers fell in love with you they dispersed themselves beautifully all over your face...

"...I want to be like the black peppers."

FH: (Choking on the milk tea) "Shut the hell up...."

PM: "This salad needs more wasabi. What ratio did you use?"

FH: "1/2: 3. Half part wasabi, three parts mayonnaise."

PM: "Let's go back to work."

On Blog Vacation...

2009-07-13T15:51:00.000-07:00

Busy.

Life is changing.

Might sit back from blogging for a while...But will be back - though not sure when :)

Thanks for dropping by.

Count Your Happiness - and Your Desserts

2009-07-07T23:20:00.001-07:00

Yesterday has been a great day for me- full of productive activities.

Looking at my calendar, my schedule is full until October and there's still a lot of cooking to do. It means I have to spend more time literally in the kitchen, and, I do admit that I need a little help around here. I cannot tell you that I could do all of these alone...so...so I have to drag my sous chef along at the kitchen stadium . Sorry. I only have two hands and one stomach and I have to cook a freakin' 100++ dishes to perfect them for the menu pictorial.

Ten in the morning after meeting in a cafe, I divided the grocery list in two and gave the other half to my assistant.

"Do your own shopping, push your own cart and meet me at the counter."

Somehere in the shopping crowd he waved back at me, fifteen minutes later-

"Is this chicken thigh fillet correct?"

"No, no, no...find one with a skin."

"But there isn't..."

"Then you have to fillet it yourself."

You have to be as professional as possible- specially if your sous chef blushes with infatuation whenever you come close. Perfect that poker face.

And remember, you are here to work on a project, not goof around.

Yesterday was just a day- come true for me. I have long planned to perfect the recipes I created but I just didn't know how to get started, and I recall how many times I've looked for an assistant with a Japanese background and has never been very lucky finding one. Then from out of the blue came Pablo, holding a plateful of desserts in a desperate offering.

"I really want to work with you."

"Tell me what's on that plate."

"Err, chef... it's poached pears, awayuki kan, crepe cake, kasutera..."

"You don't put anything on the rim of the plate..."

"But do you like it?"

"I'll let you know."

**************

When you work with a cook who wants more of you than mere cooking, you must learn to draw the line between professionalism and your humanism. It isn't that easy. Chefs have their own share of bloated egos, and I should tell you straight on the face, chefs are a different breed of lovers. No, no, no... you can't find in any other profession the amorousness so innate in a cook from all the line up of human professions. Sometimes you want to let lose and react- and feel silly. Once when we were eating at a Japanese cafe and he commented on chicken teriyaki-

"I can do better than this."

"Yeah right, " I thought, rolling my eyes.

And also importantly, chefs rise into high ranks, perfect their craft over time, but an important rule is to never underestimate the skills of those below you.

Up in the kitchen, I observed Pablo making a brunoise of onions for the Japanese vinaigrette while half expecting that he slices across the globe (which I never do). He didn't slice across the globe.

We can cook together around here, I thought.

More -

Big Crush : )

2009-07-06T06:49:00.000-07:00

Hmm. I just woke up one night, thinking, who would be the chefs I wanted to meet before I turn 90 years old?

One of them is Harold Dieterle. I don't know who the rest are.

Photo Credit: Here

The Kitchen Vaudeville - and Other Crooks

2009-06-28T17:11:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I wonder that if I were in any way as pretty as Catherine Zeta Jones, I wouldn't have much problem in the kitchen or dealing with men in general. Looking at such beautiful face in the mirror everyday might be enough to tell you that the gods are kind after all. And, for all that beauty promotions in the media, you won't have any difficulty choosing what to put on your face..because... because you are already naturally beautiful. You bun your hair, slip on that kitchen jacket and start working on the sauce. You never had to worry who's going to ask you out for a Saturday night.

Would you have this babe cook for you?

But whether or not you look like Zeta Jones, the kitchen life is full of dramatic incidents- such that your own life is like a vaudeville of flavors, dramas, funny and awkward moments...toss all of these together and there you've got a nice movie stew. Funnier, because you happen to be a woman working with a bunch of unpredictable men- swinging from genial artists to mad scientists doing kitchen experiments in the stock room.

To further illustrate our topic, I am presenting to you the colorful cast:

1. Javert - Four years my senior, he does French- Mediterranean cooking. Has a habit of sleeping in the kitchen office, taking a bath in the sink, and smuggling fancy ingredients home. A true kitchen genius, he has a talent for making women melt in their kitchen clogs. You'd wonder if that was just a natural charm, or if he was charmed by you as well... those stares across the kitchen, those nuzzling on your neck when you are peeling potatoes... Opening the kitchen once, I caught him slouched on the couch in his chef's whites, snoring after a long night of booze- and god knows what else. "I ain't no womanizer! I swear!" - he said, jerking from sleep, and swearing that he looked like a turkey so early in the morning. I nodded. Dangling from his backpack - with his knives- was a lacy red bra. Beware, though, when Javert cooks, you will really levitate.

2. Pablo - Has worked at Portuguese and Chinese kitchens touring all over Asia. A quiet and laid- back guy, he could toss vegetables in a wok which will remind you of Jet Li. Continuously asking for your number from the other cooks, you might mistake him for a stalker- sending you emails that are enough to make you choke on a banana. "I am shaking whenever you walk in the kitchen, chef. I swear. I adore you." He will beat around the bush to get your attention- talking from the perfect Portuguese tarts to yakiniku - the end of all is that he just wants to have a date with you.

3. The Sugar God - A non- cook, but has a great power over our supply chain. Keeps you up late at night talking on the phone, and, if you are not firm enough to keep your guards up, you might book plane tickets and fly to his place the following day. Owning acres of lands, he would talk about how his farmers would smuggle fertilizer in the black market; talks about taxes. When I gave him pain au chocolat once, he put it in the microwave and the chocolate filling splattered all over the machine. "I'm not gonna eat this thing again."

4. Foodhuntress - Main task besides cooking and doing maths, is to be fully composed when steams rise. From mediating between two men about to stab each other (true story, a day ago) to working on the recipe manual, to hiring and firing people, to talking to contractors, to research on market prices for supplies - probably it is because of such busy- ness that she forgets she is in a vaudeville after all.

Status: Currently not dating.

You can walk into a room feeling like a hot babe, and just as you thought that lovely women don't have any difficulty with men, you might think more than twice. Sure, you might not put 100% attention on what you put on your face, but you have to deal with crazier things with those creatures from Mars.

Food- and Poetry From a Deserted Island

2009-06-27T05:15:00.001-07:00

My favorite hobby on a quiet night. Poetry by the lamplight.

somewhere i have never travelled

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience, your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully, mysteriously) her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility: whose texture
compels me with the colour of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens; only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands

e. e. cummings

If You Forget Me

I want you to know

one thing.

You know how this is:

if I look

at the crystal moon, at the red branch

of the slow autumn at my window,

if I touch

near the fire

the impalpable ash

or the wrinkled body of the log,

everything carries me to you,

as if everything that exists,

aromas, light, metals,

were little boats

that sail

toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,

if little by little you stop loving me

I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly

you forget me

do not look for me,

for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,

the wind of banners

that passes through my life,

and you decide

to leave me at the shore

of the heart where I have roots,

remember

that on that day,

at that hour,

I shall lift my arms and my roots

will set off to seek another land.

But

if each day,

each hour, you feel that you are destined for me

with implacable sweetness,

if each day a flower

climbs up to your lips to seek me,

ah my love, ah my own,

in me all that fire is repeated,

in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,

my love feeds on your love, beloved,

and as long as you live it will be in your arms

without leaving mine

Pablo Neruda

I Carry Your Heart

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in my heart)

i am never without it(anywhere i go you go,my dear;

and whatever is done by only me is your doing,my darling)

i fear no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)

i want no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)

and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant

and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows

(here is the root of the root

and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;

which grows higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)

and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

e. e. cummings

Ode to Salt

This salt
in the salt cellar
I once saw in the salt mines.
I know
you won't
believe me
but
it sings
salt sings,
the skin
of the salt mines
singswith a mouth smothered
by the earth.

I shivered in those
solitudes
when I heard
the voice
of the salt in the desert.
Near Antofagasta
the nitrous
pampa
resounds:
a broken
voice,
a mournful
song.

In its caves
the salt moans, mountain
of buried light,
translucent cathedral,
crystal of the sea, oblivion
of the waves.
And then on every table
in the world,
salt,
we see your piquant
powder
sprinkling
vital light
upon
our food.

Preserver
of the ancient
holds of ships,
discoverer
on the high seas,
earliest
sailor of the unknown,
shifting
by ways of the foam.

Dust of the sea, in you
the tongue receives a kiss
from ocean night:
taste imparts to every seasoned
dish your ocean essence;
the smallest,
miniature
wave from the saltcellar
reveals to us
more than domestic whiteness;
in it, we taste finitude.

Pablo Neruda

**************************

The Field

Out beyond ideas of wrong-doing and right-doing,

there is a field.

I'll meet you there.

When the soul lies down in that grass,

the world is too full to talk about.

Ideas, language, even the phrase

each other

doesn't make any sense.

Rumi

Foodhuntress's Baby... On The Way

2009-06-24T23:48:00.000-07:00

We often hear from the metaphysics gurus that you are what you repeatedly do. Circumstances arise from mere thoughts; the physical world is made of pure energies that emerge from the abstract. We are what we create out of our lives, and all these creation arise from where else- but our thoughts.

I guess the same theory applies to me because of my repeated listening to stage plays. When we were growing up, my sister used to listen to Miss Saigon while "Do You Hear The People Sing" was a natural anthem to my ears. Now my sister literally got herself into "a strong GI's embrace"... for godssake.

I have to confess, I am almost bursting with the anxieties of birth. The checklists, the plans, the what-to-do's... this is my first time.

And while I stay late at night doing food costing on Excel,

PHANTOM'S VOICE
Insolent boy!This slaveof fashion basking in yourglory!Ignorant fool!This braveyoung suitor, sharing in mytriumph!

CHRISTINE
Angel! I hear you!Speak -I listen . . .stay by my side,guide me!Angel, my soul was weak -forgive me . . .enter at last, Master!

PHANTOM'S VOICE
Flattering child,you shall know me, see why in shadowI hide!Look at your facein the mirror -I am there inside!

CHRISTINE (ecstatic)Angel of Music!Guide and guardian!Grant to me your glory!Angel of Music!Hide no longer!Come to me, strange angel...

PHANTOM"S VOICE
I am your Angel ...Come to me: Angel of Music ...

Listening to that music for years now has got something to do with my alleged... 'pregnancy.' But I am feeling a little guilty because I am into an affair ever concealed in the shadows, considering that the one responsible for my 'baby' is involved with someone else. Why, can I resist the intensity? Can I be a fool to fall in love? Could it be a big mistake to... to be responsive to one's passion?

Here's the analogy to that predicament. There is the reality and the real reality. Raoul, Christine's lover, is a creature of reality, the safer, easier choice. And there's the Phantom, the other lover, who's the rightful genius behind Christine's career. A glass-melting chemistry, a perfect merging... and yet, the wrong circumstance. So they meet at night. He makes the music, she sings.

The Phantom could very well pass as a figment of Christine's imagination, but such imagination materialized into a triumphant end: a fantastic music all for the world to hear. What could be a better end to a love affair?

In essence, you can choose to believe the reality you want to live in- the physical world that you see around you, or, you can choose to believe the reality that your mind chooses to see: all that is loving and creative. In this realm is where all creation takes place, whether it is of music, literature...

- and if you're a chef, could it be possible that your 'Phantom' provides the recipes... and you cook?

That is exactly how my 'baby' was conceived. The passionate meeting in the shadows.

************************

On this site is where my 'baby' will be born.

Due: October 2009

...And Don't Forget Those Old Houses

2009-06-22T00:10:00.000-07:00

I have a strange fascination for old houses- the kind that the early ilustrados lived in back in the days. In our community, there's just a lot of them we call 'haunted houses' - just because. Old kids' tales, if you ask me.

Foodhuntress circa 2005. That house behind me is a house of a landed family. Walking into the door, into the marbled halls, I was reminded of old parties of the Spanish family who used to own it. It was brought down in 2007.

Spanish house in Irosin, a town in Sorsogon. The occupants lived in the second floor while the ground floor is used as a granary or bodega (warehouse).

An old lighthouse.

This one is better- maintained than the ones I saw earlier. When you go inside these houses, you'll only be fascinated by the polished hardwood floors (which I like sooo much), the long dinner tables, the four- post beds with curtains...hmmm. I like. As a teenager, I would go with my best friend Frances, who has much of a Spaniard in her veins than Filipino, to one of her grandmother's old houses. Endless feasts took place on the grand tables, while all the preparation were done in the huge kitchens at the back. This is where I learned my basic Spanish cookery...cocido, embutido, callos, paella...

Church bells, too, I like. Where art thou, Quasimodo?

A Preview: Enrique's Coffee Table Book

2009-06-18T00:28:00.000-07:00

I hardly use this blog to advertise the two restaurants I opened this year but this one for sure is something that I should never miss.

Meet my brother Enrique . This kid is launching a coffee table book he has been working on the past months. I heard that the idea of the project sprouted during those beer sessions at the old apartment together with my sister Maria Victoria. Four bottles, five bottles... and genius speaks at its loudest. (You see, beeer is good for you.)

This is the first coffee table book to be produced by the province (I - we - grew up here, ok)- all aimed at promoting tourism and ecological preservation.

The front cover:

A few peeks at the inside pages...

Sorsogon Map. Sorsogon is down south of Manila... about 12 hours drive or just an hour by plane.

Mountains, rivers, and lots of fresh air. That mountain in the background is actually an active volcano.

Rice fields.

Life's a beach. With white sand.

Life is really a beach.

More beach.

And more!

A lagoon.

Old Spanish church ruins. A place called Barcelona. Strange, isn't it. We're 100% Asians with so much Spanish influence.

Kingdom of the King Crab.

Go diving with the whale sharks.

Food. Tropical fruits, etcetera...

Fish be with you...

Pili nuts and other whatnot. Souvenirs!

Back cover.

Coming soon!

Midnight Kitchen Workshop

2009-06-14T19:44:00.000-07:00

It's 11 pm and you're up in the kitchen doing your thing. I love it.

If you live alone and you can't sleep (because of too much coffee sipped the whole afternoon), I think a nice preoccupation is to stay up at the kitchen in your sleeping gown and do something. I took out some argula and leftover smoked bacon and thought of a dish where I could put the two things together besides pasta or salad.

Not really knowing what to do with the two ingredients, I flipped through one of my books.

Madame Julia Child has been very inspiring with her cooking techniques. Every time I work at something derived from her writings, I could almost hear her "voice" in every word written there. I don't think there'll ever be any culinary female who could be as legendary as her.

Then I started getting my colored pencils to move.

Hmmm... HB Eggs on a Bed of Arugula... the left over smoked meat can be topped on the filling...

After a few minutes, your eyes start to droop. The caffeine is starting to subside and you want to sleep because you have to work tomorrow.

A few minutes more and you're in that REM... half expecting that Julia Child will spring to life and give you the trade secrets of grand cuisine.

Your clock says 1:09 am.

After placing the food in the fridge, you turn the lights off and fell on the mattress.

Goodnight.

When Steams Rise

2009-06-13T01:40:00.001-07:00

Mood: Bored, anxious, confused, un- challenged, un-creative, low energy...

Remedy: Meditation. Zen- ness.

More (Pissed Off) Musings of a Kitchen Apprentice

2009-06-12T00:46:00.000-07:00

Times like these - when I'm all slouched on my computer desk reading work- related mails is when I really think of my career life over. I get so bored at the on- going problems brought by too many little governments in our company... the operations, the marketing... the copycats (who I wanna tell- take your hands off my kitchen!) Has my life- and taste for fine food really deteriorated?

To go into the details would be like being a little too immature- I might get executed by my boss and other members of the board room who I know are reading my blog. This is a personal page and I am entitled to express everything... the devil may care.

Well this is my point. Much as I wanted my chefs to participate in the conceptualization of new ideas, I should have known that there's a peril to it after all. So true was the saying that too many hands ruin the cake. The other day, a leaflet landed on my lap and a stranger (who happened to be a chef) approached me, "You see that banner of yours over there? That menu was copied from this..."

I wanna scream. "You're nothing but second-hand, trying hard- ...!!"

I thought from the start that it was an original idea of a chef from the south. Now I realize that that menu was full of crap... you would know it at first glance on the recipe because baked macaroni is made with a crappy concoction. In a way I could blame myself for this. But I remember that at the time when such project was presented to the boardroom and I was making comments, the board room people were opposing my suggestions including my boss (who at that time I was into a heated argument with). So there you got it- you won't listen to your executive chef, and now you had your way. And the one who speaks against it - to me now- was a total stranger. Of course, the chef who made it won't go into the frontline of the war- I do. (I defend you all when things got screwed, you...you helpless brats... Now, pay homage to Sun Tzu!)

Really, I wanna throw a chopping board against the wall.

I mused much about my kitchen life. Five years I have worked with a highly respected man in the business (which I really consider my true mentor) , whose sense of values and business ethics provided the true grounds of my career. All employees who underwent his tutelage enjoyed many privileges in the culinary world- the first choice of employers from everywhere. When I was having interviews, the interviewers asked all sorts of question of what the secret of Boss Mao* was. However, when I got here in the company, it was all too different.

God, Boss Mao's art of war was entirely passive. He didn't give leaflets to customers to come to him - he stayed put, made good food and the customers by natural instinct went to him. The marketing strategies of our company right now puzzles me.

If I didn't learn the other rules of the kitchen from Boss Mao, then at least I learned refinement, business ethics (utter professionalism in the truest sense of the word) and a pioneering attitude. Boss Mao was an originator of things, not a follower of them. That alone, even if your boss screams at you, is enough to earn your respect.

My current boss had sometimes told me that I can get all too cocky - speaking my mind and answering back when all the board room people are "yes- man". (I.e., "What makes you think you're better than anyone from the group?") I despise the free lunch with the board room people and stay in the kitchen with my cooks. I stayed at the kitchen in my chefs whites during the opening of our new restaurant (while everybody was rubbing elbows with celebrities) and looked over the food. I said, my place is in the kitchen and not in the limelight.

Times like this is when I look back at the great people who influenced my life. Sometime this week I sat in a monthly meeting of the managers. I wanna cover my ears at the exchange of words (i.e., the cursing, the labeling at the people who were not around, etc.). I sat there as an observer. I said, I'd rather have everyone think of me as snob, indifferent - throw any crap - but I am embracing the fact that I do not belong, and cannot belong.

Besides, Boss Mao also taught me to be bold.

******************
Advertisement:

If you want a taste of Boss Mao's creations (and see for yourself what I'm talking about- quality business that is), here's a preview. Click on this link and enjoy the menu. Or better yet, go to the branch nearest you.

*Name was changed? Oh, but you got it right there at the links.

Hhmmm... Rainy Day

2009-06-10T21:29:00.000-07:00

7 AM: Wake up to an egg with twin yolks... some toast and butter... hot coffee.

Read. Listen to music. Read.

10 AM: Whip up some corn soup.

Read. Listen to music. Read.

12 PM: Mess around the kitchen.

I dunno why I took a snapshot of this wine bottle holder. This is the quintessential French chef sitting atop my fridge, the one responsible for the stardust where I get my cooking magic. He whispers great tips when I have a cook's mental block. (Counterpart of the writer's block?)

Whatever.

12: 10 PM. Hmm... take a nap. It's raining hard outside. Stay at home.

What's Eating in the Land of Chairman Mao?

2009-06-08T01:04:00.000-07:00

I don't know what's with China these days. My sister and brother in law are packing up for that trip to the Forbidden City and the Great Wall. Somehow it feels good to remember my own travels to China.

A few years ago, China has been a big subject during my graduate school days. There had been a lot of lecture sessions wherein the only subject was China and its ascension to the WTO. I somewhat seemed to enjoy those discussions, but when I was about to make my graduate paper (pretending to major in international trade) and went to China- Hong Kong myself, I was entirely into different things. What had I been doing during the trip?

I wrote down notes and pointers on the airplane, feeling scholarly. But when I landed in Mao's territory, all thoughts of my studies just vanished into thin air. I went around, ate around, goofed around...

- hunted for fruits at the backstreet Shenzhen market. I wasn't much into the thought that Shenzhen was the first city of China to embrace globalization - I cared more about finding dragon fruits and plums (which I smuggled on the way back home).

- searched for bloody diamonds at a jewelry store in Hong Kong...

- watched the Chinese junk boats at the harbor.

All of that, besides finding the handprints of Jet Li, eating dimsum and sipping sugarcane juice, paying homage to the statue of Bruce Lee... eating noodles at Kowloon and marveled at the duck offerings at the street boutiques... That and much, much more. One should book a trip to China/ Hong Kong himself - immediately!

The Chinese have had close ties with Filipinos that even our food here has a lot of Chinese influence. I didn't remember much what I studied for my graduate paper. The statistics, the theories, the business terms...Oh, over time, what truly stayed with me was the food that the people eat in the land of Chairman Mao.

Foodhuntress and the Art of War (Part 2)

2009-06-03T22:09:00.000-07:00

This is all about the five employees, who because of me, lost their job.

That group of rebel cooks was led by Chef Jacques, whose name has had a bad rap with his managers since time immemorial. The reason why the managers were not in good terms with Jacques is because the latter has been guilty of many work- related infractions such as consistently high food cost, ballooning inventory variances, and flunking all evaluation appraisals. I did have a bad experience with the chef, and at that time I really walked out the kitchen. (Remember Zeta- Jones in No Reservations? ) The kitchen can get really hellishly- hot, sometimes you have to get some fresh air somewhere. However as Jacque's superior, I did have the tendency to overlook minor flaws and correct them accordingly. There is a noticeable diffrence too, the way Jacques talks to his other managers and they way he does to me.

The managers had long weighed the decision to fire Jacques, but Jacques had earned a tenure with the company, and to fire him for petty reasons would add another case in the company's long list of labor issues. I said I didn't want to add anymore case in that list. And forgiving that I was, I told the managers to please give him another chance. Give him another chance to improve.

May 27 was when I talked to Jacques that he would serve a 24- day suspension (this has something to do with boiling eggs), and in that dialogue, Jacques did tell me that he was willing to undergo such corrective measure. I had been warned by the area manager that Jacques should no longer go to work the day he signed the suspension notice for he did have tendencies to sabotage his kitchen. Since I wrote that May 29 was the effectivity of Jacques's suspension day, I gave him the consent to go to work on the 28^th – with all good intentions in mind. I said, please endorse the stations properly, clean up the kitchen, etc., etc.,

Jacques said yes.

I didn't know that Jacques would be holding a cook's rebellion on his last day at work.

May 29- no line cook reported to work. All these line cooks were reputed to be followers of Jacques.

The managers borrowed cooks from other outlets to see the operations through.

May 30, donning my warrior suit, I reported to work in Jacques's restaurant and got everybody to move. The dishwasher did some grilling, the pantry chef did some frying and I think I became a mutant with six hands and four legs. Since that restaurant was found in the province, I had to sleep in a hotel room after closing the kitchen the night before and opening it again the following day.

Sunday, May 31, Jacques's rebel cooks reported to work- all too proud of their accomplishment. I stayed quiet near the kicthen door, and with folded arms, watched them intently. In sideway glances under my stare, I could feel that they were somewhat a little guilty of what they have done.

Then one by one, I summoned some strangers to do a cooking test in the same kitchen. When the rebel cooks were away the day before, I had start interviewing their replacements. So there they were, the new kitchen warriors, tossing vegetables expertly at the wok, while Jacques's men watched questioningly. They were quiet and uneasy.

I told Jacques's staff quietly, in a half- whisper, “Be afraid...be very afraid.”

Thus the new batch of cooks were hired, and I told the restaurant manager to end the contracts of those rebel cooks for we have no more use of them. We had just overhauled a kitchen team.

Two days later, without much resistance nor labor threats, Jacques resigned voluntarily out of personal shame.

But the day before Jacques personally decided to resign, the boss told the board room people that I was an amateur at handling people. Because the boardroom people are always used to talking to lawyers and a lot of due process involved...

I shrugged my shoulders. I am a woman of simple understanding.

I remember telling Jacques when we were talking to each other on the 27^th, “You know, if you unravel the threads of anything, of those labor cases, of any crime for that matter- only the absolute truth will surface. It is easy to see what is right and what is wrong. When we stick to that truth, you'd see how simple things truly are. You won't really need lawyers to defend yourself at the court, right, Jacques?”

Jacques nodded.

I'm glad he remembered.

*****************************

All difficult things have their origin in that which is easy, and great things in that which is small.
Lao Tzu

Foodhuntress and the Art of War

2009-06-01T04:48:00.000-07:00

As execution chef to a chain of restaurants, I think your highest potential is not that of cooking nor being a good manager, but that of being able to distance yourself calmly from the chaos of everything - and win numerous wars unscathed.

I fired five people this weekend. One head chef and four line cooks. It is a long story, and I do feel a little sad about everything. But sometimes, we have to cut off the horns of a monster before it devours the whole empire.

You have guessed my bedside book all these days...

To fight and conquer in all your battles is not supreme excellence; supreme excellence consists in breaking the enemy's resistance without fighting.-Sun Tzu, the Art of War

If You Are What You Eat...

2009-05-30T20:28:00.001-07:00

... then you, too, are the people you live (and lived) with.

My ex- apartment, overlooking rooftops.

... where the music of Yann Tiersen is the daily anthem...

.... and this film is the craze...

... balut + beer is a regular ritual...

... if you are the dumb with a "duh?" look, it's considered normal. If you're stupid, it's normal too.

... anything goes, from wines to parasols..

... and forks speak their own language.

.... cats are sacred.

...and this is our role model.

Those Food Tasting Sessions - and Conversations

2009-05-28T02:57:00.000-07:00

There's always a big advantage if your profession is close to your heart. I classify myself as one of the world's luckiest people (i.e., you fly with angels at night, etc., etc.) and at daytime I am faced with a lot of food- all I have to do is say no. Ugh, I'm full. Just today, one of our suppliers gave me samples for soft- serve ice cream which I will work on tomorrow :) The other night I was invited to an opening of an exhibit in a really cool cafe/ art gallery, dragged by a chef friend who was a consultant of the cafe there. I said, what a great combination: food + the arts - and a lotta vodka :) Those are the little perks of life and I am very thankful.

Food tasting sessions aren't exempted from those little happy- happenings. Last week, the chef consultant of a multinational company visited our kitchen and did some cooking with us (using their products. Of course, they're selling). Dish after dish... from teriyaki to mashed potato to tocino...

Chef Kaizer of Nestle Philippines is a friendly young man who got to study in Switzerland because he had said, "My blogging got me to study there." That was years ago, though, and he is no longer active on the net.

Those food tasting sessions with other chefs from outside are some of the moments I enjoy the most. While I just eat with a wee- bit of everything, the conversations are just too much for the heart and fills your stomach as well. Funny how cooks notice all the small things on the dish, I said to Kaizer "Hey, look, I love these black beans...they're so plump and healthy."

He started giggling. "You saw them too? I noticed that last night and I said the same thing."

Food tasting sessions could take hours. The panel is the whole management committee (the board room people) and they have these sheets of paper on which to evaluate the food. The sessions are a highly subjective activity and I honestly hate breaking the food down like a critic... I don't know, it's just me. So while that was going on, we the two cooks sat at the end of the table answering questions and talking kitchen stuff-

Kaizer: Have you tried using pressure cooker to cook azuki?
FH: Nope, I'm not a pressure cooker fan.

K: You too?! I thought I was the only one! I soften tough meats in a charcoal burner- long hours.

(giggles)

Board Room People #1: Hey, what's this?

FH: (glancing) Pea sprouts.

Kaizer: I'm not a mandoline person either...

FH: God, I got a finger caught in a mandoline once...

Kaizer: Just one? You know, one of my friends got all three fingertips slit by a mandoline.

FH: (Cringes) Oh, s---t.

Board Room People #2: Can we pre- make this mashed potato and microwave it afterwards?

Kaizer: (Looking) No sir, I won't advise that. It's really very easy to make that mashed po...

- more.

Angelic Dreams, Happy Days

2009-05-26T20:49:00.000-07:00

I've been having dreams of angels recently - similar images of that Blake drawing on the left. Can't help but write it down. I was flying with them on the rooftops and saw the Chrysler Building's shadow in the sunrise.

Then I was picking fruits. Lots of them. Then I was baking baguettes. Lots of them too. Weird.

Yesterday, I got some great news. Something is coming true very soon...

Love- and How to Brew the Perfect Tea

2009-05-25T02:46:00.000-07:00

Strings of kimono untied, a glass of tea, some flaky wafers... and a letter from a Zen monastery. The love of my blog life Mr. Hun wrote the other day.

First, you brew the tea.

You'll need:
A kettle for boiling water
Teapot
2 cups

200 ml hot water for warming the teapot and cups
6 grams Earl Grey Tea Leaves
360 ml boiling water
Sugar or honey- optional

1. Pour water into the teapot and cups and swirl them around to warm all over. Throw the warming water away.
2. Spoon the tea leaves into the warmed teapot.
3. Gradually pour the kettleful of boiling water into the tea leaves, then while pouring, lift the kettle high up in the air up to two feet. This will enable the tea leaves to “jump” and incorporate enough air necessary for the tea leaves to bloom and release flavor.
4. Steep for five minutes.
5. Pour into the warmed tea cups, pressing the leaves to get those "golden drops"- the tartest part of the tea.
Can be served with or without sugar or honey.

Note: Iced Tea and Tea Au Lait have different proportions altogether.

***************************

Next, read a love letter.

My dearest Foodhuntress,

First, thank you for all your kind words. You are so nice to me. Words can't describe what I feel for you. You caught my attention with that book about the Zen monastery. I will look for it. Sounds like my kind of reading so thank you. I have so much admiration/love/passion for you, you have no idea. You can trigger that 'whole range of emotions' within me with just a few words. That's how special you are to me. What would have been the odds of meeting you? 1 out of 6 billions. But yet again, nothing happens by chance alone. All forces participate at everything on our favor indeed. I feel like we are growing together. :-)

I am glad to be in touch with you again. Even at the age of internet, I could still feel that my world is built in the 16th century. Everyday I wake up at 4 am to do some meditation, and believe me, our diet here of pickled radish and tea has made me lose weight I think I could levitate everytime. How's your blog going now? How are the kitchens? I miss you.

There's something that got me thinking these past weeks. There's something about intimate relationships that is deeply flawed and ultimately dysfunctional. Falling in 'love' on the physical plane can be deeply satisfying at first. You feel intensely alive. Your existence has suddenly become meaningful because someone needs you and makes you feel special and you do the same for him or her. It can get so intense that the world that surrounds the lovers fades away. The downpart to this is the neediness and the clinging to that intensity. You become addicted to the other person like to a drug. You are on a high when the drug is available but the thought of 'losing' that person can lead to jealousy, possessiveness etc... Where is the love now? Was it true love in the first place or just an addiction?

On the other hand, true love has no opposite because it arises from behind the mind. I agree with you when you said human relationships should be rooted from the inside and love will manifest in different forms. You are becoming a radiant being yourself, I can feel it. I'm so proud of you. Now i know the distance between us is in fact a blessing my love, we speak to each other from the heart, we don't need to pretend or play a role. What we experience for each other is true love. I am certain. I love you and I'm sincerely thankful to have known you too. :-)

In essence, we must be like an empty cup- never too full of ourselves.

I'm not saying you should avoid relationships altogether. Closing the door is not the answer. Sometimes the pain of a failed relationship will force you into awakening, there's always something to learn in any situation, good or bad. Go out there and live your life my darling. Seize the day. I will still love you no matter what, I promise. You've got my word for it. :-)

Happiness and unhappiness are the two sides of the same coin, like day and night. In the cycle of life, happiness will always be followed by unhappiness because they are both created by the mind, the ego. Happiness is like the surface of the ocean. It can go from calm to fury (unhappiness) very quickly. Only the deep waters remain unchanged no matter what happens on the surface. Beyond happiness and unhappiness there is a deep inner peace. I think that's what the Buddha meant by 'happiness is the source of all suffering." But what do I know?

When we bring intense presence into our lives and we stop worrying about the future and complaint about the past we start moving beyond duality, and beyond good and bad lies the bliss you often hear about in Buddhism. On the physical plane we will never be complete, you are either a man or a woman and the only tiny glimpse at wholeness we get is during a loving sexual intercourse. The act in itself is quite symbolic, isn't it? On the spiritual plane, that One-ness is within each one of us all the time. Waiting to be discovered. It's within reach. Realizing it is Nirvana but I like to think of it as a big spiritual orgasm instead. Haha. I'm baaad, but you know that already! I love you, I really do. How did I get from this spiritual talk to wanting to take off your clothes so badly? You are too intense for me, I can't take it. Hahaha. Sorry.

Good luck with your job my darling. There are hard times, I know how sometimes you break in tears but all of that will go away one day. I'm sorry I can't be there for you. Sometimes the arrangement of the planets can really be so tricky we have to deal with it. Don't worry too much. You can always look back at your life and connect the dots, and you'll see that pattern what had made you who you are right now. I don't know how much waiting this would take us – how far, or what lies beyond. But let's not think of these things right now and live everyday to the fullest. Think of me less everyday. Have fun, enjoy a date- follow your heart.

I love you.

Mr. Hun

P.S. Have I told you I've shaved my head? :)

:::::::::::::::::::::

The Spicy Fried Chicken and a Simple Answer

2009-05-21T19:12:00.000-07:00

Don't you hate it when people at the board room make so much fuss (read: blow out of proportion) about a small complaint and miss out on the bigger ones- just because they (board room people) hate you?

Unnecessary wastage of energy, if you'd ask me. Minor adjustments in the kitchen... come on.

The other day I read the complaint log book of our new restaurant and there had been minor feedbacks on food. Unfortunately many customers got angry- not because of the food- but on the mechanics of the promo. And the board room people didn't focus on what is supposed to be the solution to that promo mess, instead on that spicy fried chicken that was a little too salty. Oh well.

Now they are asking you for the solution to the Salty Fried Chicken.

"Chef, what happened to the Fried Chicken?!"

"It drowned." -Vladimir Putin

Give me a break....

For Pork's Sake

2009-05-20T21:27:00.000-07:00

We are offering Braised Ginger Pork in our other menu, and I am still in that process of experimenting on a good recipe. This is the fun part of the kitchen art- you do a lot of experiments because although you have extablished standard measures, one cooking may not be the same as the next. I like doing kitchen homeworks.

It has been a long time since I've had pork in my grocery basket, and this fatty belly is something that my sister panicked at , i.e., "My god, look at all that fat!" (I shrug passively).

I was just glad to know about this Japanese way of cooking pork. They simmer the pork in sake first to remove the porky smell and some unwanted coating of fat that adhere to the surface of the meat. When the pork is cooked a little half- through, the water is thrown away. Then the pork can now be cooked with other ingredients.

I decided to make a revision of the all-time favorite adobo since my cupboard now is full of wasabi, green tea (here, the other night I was making green tea panna cotta and I scooped wasabi powder accidentally into the vanilla-cream infusion, mistaking it for green tea. I was 11:30 in the evening and I've never felt so stupid in the kitchen), black sesame seeds, etc. Here's an untitled recipe using the "adobo" triumvirate of the Japanese kitchen.

(Untitled Recipe)
200 g pork belly, sliced
1 1/2 C water + 1/4 C sake

1/4 C mirin
1/4 C sake
1/2 tsp grated ginger
1 tsp sugar
1/8 C shoyu
salt and pepper to taste

1. Slice the pork into bite size pieces and throw into the water with sake.
2. Simmer until the pork turns a little opaque but not fully cooked through.
3. Drain away the sake water.
4. On the same pan, pour into the meat the mirin, sake and grated ginger. Bring to a boil.
5. Add sugar and shoyu, stir, until the mixture caramelizes.
6. Reduce heat and season with salt and pepper.
7. For contrast, I topped it off with slivers of fresh crisp green bell pepper. Can also be served with other pickled vegetables, and rice.

Flores de Mayo

2009-05-19T00:05:00.000-07:00

I've blogged a little about the May month last year and it seems that more than any other time of the year, I've developed a penchant for the month of flowers. Everything about here is lovely.

Way back in the days, young girls were on the lookout for flowers in May. Then they'd pick these flowers, put them in baskets and shower them to the Virgin after the Rosario and the cancion. They do this for the whole month, meaning 31 days, picking flowers and going to church everyday. Just another tradition left by the Spaniards, if you'd ask me.

More than the flowers, the Flores de Mayo is about prayers. The elders say that praying everyday is the way to great luck. They did not specify what kind of religion this pertains to (though I was raised Catholic), but we were just ordered to recite some prayers everyday. As a child I have honestly been a little too impatient for such. Imagine, kneeling down and saying the same things over and over again for fifteen minutes. In my grandparents' house, the seriousness of the prayer sessions have given my younger brothers a great opportunity to make funny faces, (the elders, deep in concentration, pray with their eyes closed, so they couldn't really see what's going on) and giggling during the prayer process means a good whacking on your backside afterwards. I almost always seemed to have a painful backside.

Another good thing about Flores de Mayo is that there's food after the flores. There used to be sponsors- mostly the moneyed people in the community - who'd send all sorts of biskwit, candies, sometimes pansit, and on the last day, the "richest" sponsor gave the grandest "suhol".

I see Flores de Mayo as a dying tradition now in my hometown. Not sure what happens in the other Philippine provinces, but in our place, it is no longer a grand as it used to be. There was no one to teach the Spanish songs anymore, for those old ladies who did, already passed away a long time ago. I think where ever ther are, they are still singing-

La Virgen de amores

Venid a cantar

Pungamos las flores

Al pie de su altar...

... O clemente, o pia

O dulce, o dulce

Siempre Virgen Maria!

What the Fu...

2009-05-15T21:51:00.000-07:00

I have been very sick recently. Caused by a scene at the board room where the Foodhuntress heart has been chopped and minced and turned into a delicious pink pate. I wonder why I am still alive...

When you're sick and plastered in bed the whole day, drink lots of water, eat fresh fruits - and allow some bear fu to comfort you.

Tofu and fu- what's the difference?

Tofu is coagulated soybean, while fu is a sponge cake made of gluten that comes in different sizes, colors and shapes. A good accompaniment to clear soups, it is said to have originated in China but highly popular as well in Japan.

I love fu.

Lessons From the Sugar God

2009-05-13T04:59:00.000-07:00

This is a letter/ essay- whatever you call it- written by a Sugar God from way back in 2005. The Sugar God- as I would call him- is a good friend and has contributed so much change in my life. He in some ways influenced me (in between many fierce arguments) to see life in a different perspective and to live from various directions .Now only after four years I realize how right his views were.

“There is nothing I want for you to become, “ he had said, “than to surpass everything I have achieved. Go out there- the world is rolling itself at your feet.”

The pictures of Sidney illustrate the the Sugar God's story. For all that we see on the so-called “slavery” and “landlords” in sugarcane plantations, some individuals- who are actually there more than us mere spectators- see things in a somewhat different angle.

This piece has been circulated in argument against somebody(a blogger I think) who discriminated the masses and the elite. I think the Sugar God intends to cement two conflicting points of view.

Now you'd know that there's just so much "unsweet- ness" behind those sugar crystals we put in our food. And we wonder why we never get to taste them at all.

********************************

I come from a “ Just-above-average, income family ” My father was into planting sugar. He inherited some land from his father. My mother’s family on the other hand, was into banking.

During the first half of my existence, I lived a sheltered life. Yes, I can say that I lived a relatively comfortable life while growing up. I never had to worry whether our house was strong enough every time a storm was due to blow by, I never worried about basic necessities, nor was I made to worry about doing basic chores such as cleaning my room or washing my clothes. Only upon reaching college here in Manila, did I learn how to ride our public transportation, did I learn what a Registrar is, and what registering for a school term is all about. Before then, everything was pretty much done for us.

Don’t get me wrong. I was not entirely oblivious to the hardships around me. I spent a significant amount of time-albeit playing, nevertheless, time with the children of our farm workers. This meant going to their houses, some of which you won’t even classify as one, and listen to the fights of the parents, the gripes, and generally witness their day to day business of surviving. I also did some work in the farm (Post college) for about 2 years under the employ of my parents.

Sometime in my later years, things abruptly changed. The sugar industry because of years of corruption and poor financial practices on the part of most planters began experiencing major problems. Lady luck frowned at the same time on our family. Our house in Bacolod burned down where in we lost every thing. Then, several business ventures my family was involved in, collapsed. At the same time, three of us siblings were abroad and were in part, (Since we could not work legally) still dependent on the subsistence sent from back home. Our financial exposures were such that soon we were literally on survival mode. We had literally lost everything in a span of several years.

I came back from the United States 1997 after 9 years. I will be the first to admit that I accomplished little if nothing at all. Though, I was employed on my 2^nd year till I came back. Having to experience life there though, changed me a little bit. I cannot point out exactly what this change was. Maybe how individuals were respected in a certain way? Whatever it was, this change brought me in a collision course with my parents. Looking back, I too, failed to recognize the tremendous financial pressures bearing down on them at that time.

One day, things went out of control. We went way past our boiling points and we escalated to world war 3. A lot of things were said and done, and that very day, I moved out of the house. To some, I was kicked out (Depending on whose version) and was promptly declared “Persona non grata” with a promise to campaign and warn all - relatives and non-relatives against helping me…This promise was carried out quite efficiently, since I broke culture and spoke exactly what was on my mind. Not a single relative thought I had any right.

I was forced to become a nomad for some time, transferring from one place to another. I lived in the slum areas, in farms, asking for help (Begging was more like it) whenever and wherever I could. I worked odd jobs here and there until finally, several relatives felt they had to intervene and they did. I went home after 3 years. We kissed and made up and we all became friends again and the rest is history.

I had to give you a little background of myself to show you where I was coming from. There were things you said, where I strongly feel, I should argue against. Anyway, let me give it a shot.

First, let us talk about the “Masa” of whom you “seem” to defend with a passion. My first question is: When will we ever stop blaming the “Spaniards”, and for once, take responsibility for our shortcomings? We seem to have this habit of blaming just about every thing and everybody, every time something goes wrong. We blame the Americans, the Spaniards, the corrupt system, democracy etc., etc. We never stop and just look at ourselves.

I have heard this rhetoric about our “colonial masters” since time in memorial. It is true, that people like the Spaniards left us with a lot of “bad” habits and practices, and we have suffered because we carried these bad traits through the generations but when will we just STOP, ASSESS, ADAPT and OVERCOME??? How many generations more did you plan to keep blaming Spain? 2? 5? 10 generations more before we say enough is enough?

I take offense when you imply that our people are destined to be “stupid” and “lazy” because they were made to be just that….

Reading Jawbreakers frustration that there are so many able-bodied Filipinos lazing around instead of working, and thus in a small way, be able to contribute to society, makes me want to go out and convey that very message and challenge these very people to do just that because they are certainly capable of much, much more.

On the other hand, reading your response offends me deeply, you are in effect writing off the common tao as “No good”, incapable of improving, branding them as hopeless, and worse, insult them by asking people to pity them? Because of certain factors like the Spaniards… etc! Where is the self-respect we are trying to teach here?

You were just short of predicting that their children’s children are already bound to be poor and thus incapable of anything else because of excuse number 1, 2, 3, 4…. Man, certainly, this is not the message I’d want to convey. You have just given them a blanket excuse not to do well. Is it just my misunderstanding of your message? Or you really intend it to be this way?

Elite – I can feel your contempt and disgust when you address this group. I also felt this contempt spill over to what we would understand today as the “Middle class”. In a sense you were kind of mocking Jawbreaker’s notion of him being in this group, since he now capable of paying taxes. To sum this part up, you even posed this question: “Trabaho ka ng Trabaho – yumaman ka na ba?” Excuse me for asking, but isn’t Jawbreaker’s position of having a steady job, a million times better than doing nothing at all? What are you trying to teach? If you won’t get filthy rich might as well sit and scratch your stomach? In essence, you ridicule the efforts of the likes of Jawbreaker and his taxpaying abilities and would rather condone the act of doing nothing because to you, the massa is destined to be unproductive? –

Again, what kind of values do you want our brothers and sisters to learn?

Hey, while I’m at it, forgive me for mentioning this… Please don’t look with contempt at people who dress-up better than some. It may be a form of expression or pride. It is in no way elitist. It may encourage people to strive for more… If you will in some stroke of luck – be in power in the near future…just promise me, you won’t make everybody wear gray-like-pajamas as some sort of national outfit just so there won’t be any class distinction. I still have to see a socialist or a communist society that has no elites.

Before I continue, (Has no bearing) let me ask you one thing. I am just curious. Is it wrong for people to accumulate wealth thru hard work? If not, let us say you were an exceptional businessman and you made it rich? What will be your immediate goal? Is it to pass on to your children the fruits of what you have labored so hard for? If again true, should your children’s generation despise your children for inheriting such wealth? - Unless, of course you believe that whatever you accumulate during your lifetime should be returned to the state upon your death…

I agree with you that education is our biggest hope, if not our only way of advancing ourselves. I don’t agree though that government made it hard for our people to get educated as you said. I also don’t agree that the reason why there are a lot of illiterates is because of economic reasons. It is just not so… I have lived inside shanty communities (squatters) and money does circulate.

In every society, there are the extreme rich and the extreme poor. Of course, I know what you are talking about when you say the kind of poor who are spread-out on our 7100 islands. C’mon, before, we think about them, let us first, get those that can go to school – into school! If we keep dwelling about our poorest –we will never move forward. The use of being poor is such an over used excuse already.

If you want proof to what I am saying, - easy! just ask your friendly taxi-driver, basurero, your house hold help, your taho guy, your fisherman, whoever. Just pose this question: “kahirapan ba ang dahilan kung bakit ang daming bata hindi nag-a-aral?” *Is poverty the reason why many children do not go to school? – I assure you, you will get a quick response to the contrary. They will even laugh at the notion that people are still using poverty as a reason for not sending their child to school. Now, I am not denying the fact that there are really people who are the poorest of the poor. Every country has these and this has to be addressed as a separate issue and be treated in a special manner.

Taxes - I am sure deep inside you, you know that this should be our stately obligation to our country. We should pay our taxes and thus demand better governance. Let us not discuss where our taxes go for the moment. I agree with you that we should hunt down those corrupt officials who pocket the money. Anyway, I also think that it is both your obligation and mine to teach the value of paying taxes to all our brothers and sisters. To do the opposite is irresponsible and should be considered an act of treason. We should instill to the people that paying taxes is a good thing. You don’t need to give to charities or what not, unless, it is really needed (extra action) Just paying the right taxes, you would have done your share as a Filipino. It is something to be proud of.

I understand your distress when Jawbreaker seemed to vent his ire and target those non-tax payers, and those able-bodied, non-productive persons. You even try to re-direct these frustrations at those corrupt officials and what have you… Have we not been doing this for the longest time?

Is it not time that we start the change within ourselves and the rest will follow.

We just need to raise our social consciousness to levels we have never been to before and that can only come from within us. It is really irritating to see these non-productive persons be the first to demand this and that but they have no concept of what contribution is all about.

Yes, you talked about the farmers…I guess, I know about them too. Of course, they contribute a lot. To be commended are some of them that have placed value on getting their children to school. They understand that farming will get them only so far. Now, these children are successful and are bringing out their families from poverty.

There are those that ascribe to your thinking. All they want to do is to dwell on what should have been instead of just buckling down and planning wisely their efforts. They become poorer and poorer because they are made to believe that they are capable of nothing more. In the end they are made to believe that the gun is the only way…. old story. Old trick – I should say….

By the way, there is a saying out in the countryside that nobody dies of hunger. You just need to plant and reap the benefits. Taking hunger out of the equation, they just need to ensure that their children go to school.

It is really hard work; we are lucky that my grandfather thought of putting up a school when he was alive.

I think a lot about the children who come from other farms to go to school in our place. Imagine, what they have to go through. They have to pass several farms before they could reach ours. The temptation of being side tracked with play is big. Then I see a few of these parents, day-in, day-out bringing their children to school and picking them up. They ensure that their children go in and study. Now, I hear these very children I have observed before are now successful with stable jobs here in Manila and a few outside of the country. Tell me if these were the very people you have written off as “No-chance” because of being “Poor”.

Ideology – No problem, I respect whatever ideology you adhere to. In the countryside the usual rhetoric’s being peddled is this: Said in a sympathetic coupled with deep empathy – As if they are defending the oppressed – but the end result is that you ask the people to fight for you.

“To all the people, do not blame yourself if you are poor because the landlords made you so. All this land is actually yours. (To cut it short) – Therefore you should fight (Kill) for it.”

No difference with what you are trying to say: “You people (massa) will always amount to nothing because of reasons no.1, 2, 3, 4, - don’t forget the “Spaniards”. It is not your fault that you are stupid and lazy. Here, you are only good to hold a gun. Let’s do a revolution…”

What is sad here is – you actually, are willing to spill blood from the Filipino people just to advance your ideology? – What is the matter with you???

I cannot believe. I know you are such a learned man with the way you wrote your reaction but then, is “Revolution” the only answer you can come up with because other solutions seemed so much work? Shortcut?

You are of the intellect group. Who do you think will be the “Elite” if let us say your goals of a revolution are achieved? And who will still be the “Massa”?

True stories from the countryside:

- What is poor? To me, poor was when we were so hungry without any money and it was late at night. We got some stones from the clean portion of the sea wall. We then placed them in a can and boiled water over it. This was enough to calm our stomachs for a couple of hours. The reason for the stones was for our soup to have a taste of the sea.

- 10 people were given land as a trial run for land reform. Just after 8 mos. There were only 2 big owners left standing. The rest just sub-leased their share for easy money and soon enough were back into complaining about how life was hard.

- Parents of farmers encourage their children to work in the fields for low pay because the money was paid weekly sometimes daily. (Quick return)

- Parents of farmers expect their children to work for them. Treating their children as their retirement package. That is why the more children the merrier.

- Parents more often than not are the first to claim the wages of the children. Often times wasting this away by drinking at night. (Both male and female)

- Etc. etc. more if you want to hear more.

The Sugar God

The Making of Iron Chefs Starts with.... Fun!

2009-05-06T19:38:00.001-07:00

I have every reason to love my job. Recently I have been invited to "judge" a fun- filled activity by Congo Grille Bar and Resturant in Alabang. I couldn't say no, specially since everybody in this establishment is extremely nice to me.

Congo Grille is one of the restaurants in Manila that offers exceptional Filipino fare. I swear, you couldn't find anywhere anything comparable. At random visits I have never been disappointed.

Now this amazing restaurant held its "Jr. Chef Cooking Activity". Kids were invited to that opportunity to create their own pizza and barbecue.

Beat that. These youngsters, all toqued-up, are having the time of their lives.

First, you put the sauce on to the crust...

Next, you place the toppings of your choice...

Standing tall. She must be thinking, "One day I'll make it to the Kitchen Stadium..." :) But for now, my coach is a... a clown-slash-magician.

Ready to bake!

Hands up when you're done!

Me and the junior chefs. I think they look better with the toque than me :)

- pizza!

Barbecuing 101. Mark won in the barbecue category. This kid knows color, proportion, flavor, juicy-ness. Among the others, he stood out- his barbecue looked like it was done by a pro.

You are under the tutelage of the exec...

Barbecue galore.

Class photo.

With a wonderful brood of four. I like these kids.

Hmmm.... FIN?

Good afternoon!

How Lechon Kawali Knocked Out Meat Pies

2009-05-04T18:29:00.000-07:00

Yes, this post is in some way related to the Pacquiao- Hatton match which stopped the world for a moment recently. I am not a boxing nor a Pacquiao fan in general but I got a little curious about this fight because Hatton really has a huge ego, i.e., "I will finish off Pacquiao"...then I think Hatton's party labels Roach- Pacquiao as being amateur. Well, Roach-Pacman are low- key people who know their game, and I think the lesson here is that your punch should be stronger than all your BS put together.
To make lechon kawali is as easy as finishing off a fight in two rounds. I was somehow expecting that Hatton would go up to 6 rounds or more, but, damn! Two rounds? Are you kidding?

Lechon Kawali of Congo Grille - the best in Manila.

Find out how to make lechon kawali. I have a post here about Mrs. Lovett's meatpies from way back and I got nasty comments. Just like Roach- Pacquaio, no need to argue with large egos.

But the difference between lechon kawali and meat pies is- you can cook the former fast. Just like the Pacman- Hitman match.

By the way, lechon kawali goes best with of course Lechon sauce, then hot steamed rice and ice cold San Miguel Beer. Ayus!

Pacquaio photo by Ethan Miller/Getty Images.

Lechon Kawali courtesy of Carla of http://www.congogrille.com

Kitchen Construction Galore

2009-05-01T19:37:00.000-07:00

Have been very busy this past week. Yup, if you're an executed, err, executive chef, you will have to get your hands dirty- such as the construction of a new restaurant. It eez no joke, mind you. I'm not sure if it's true only to me because I'm very hands-on, but who has ever said that kitchen job is all that glamorous?

Not only my new restaurant by the way, but simultaneously, I was having my condo kitchen "carpentered" as well. It will take a few days more before Foodhuntress rolls up the sleeves and cook.

And although the smell of fresh paint and sawdust precede the scent of coffee and vanilla...you still have to- Love your work!

More Tribute to Philippine Chefs

2009-04-28T19:06:00.000-07:00

If I have another fascination for writing about other people (besides myself :P), I do like to write about Filipino chefs everywhere- even if this time it means pirating snapshots from another blogger. Thank you Mam.

I decided to post about this now-popular ice cream line because it seems to follow me everywhere- the supermarkets, blogs- and the Ortigas flyover.

Must-buys:

Chocolate Truffles by Chef Rolando Laudico of Bistro Filipino.

Hazelnut Brownie by Chef Sau del Rosario of Chelsea Market

And Berry Strawberry by Chef J Gamboa of El Cirkulo.

Besides going out and buying the ice cream, also go out and visit the chefs' restaurants.

An American Afternoon

2009-04-27T05:41:00.000-07:00

First of all, there was Flygirl. Before there was me, Flygirl was a successful blogger until for some top secret espionage reasons, she had to stop. You can still visit her website though. Flygirl is an air force pilot and she is my sister.

This is what has become of her:

Thought this only happens in Stallone/Schwarzenegger movies?

She still mans the cockpit and flies....

And, together with American soldiers, she is a bearer of hope to the desolate.

And then....

and then there was Viki and me...

***************

There is always a big advantage if you belong to a family of many disciplines. You enjoy many perks and many privileges that you wouldn't have thought you'd ever experience in your lifetime.

My sister took us to the hangar of the US military planes somewhere up north. She told us to behave- like really behave because that place was forbidden- and only a few media men were allowed to enter. It is highly off limits to civilians.

But "I eat death threats for breakfast" (- Philippine Senator Miriam Santiago)

Really, have you touched anything so nuclear somewhere in your life?

We behave well around uniformed men. (Yeah right!)

Hurry up, Rambo!

******************

Oh, food.

Hmmm... the long menu. We had Chinese lunch after.

****************
Hanging out with the kids.

This is Flygirl with some Aeta children. See how behaved they are around her? (And how honorable Flygirl really is :)

And then....

And then there's me- goofing around with a kid in McDonald's backyard.

Love ko 'to!

Good afternoon :)

********************

Going home....

Wait a minute, this is an American day- what's a truffles cookbook doing on our dashboard?

Musings of a Chef : Food, Childhood and Happiness from a Rural Past

2009-04-24T03:53:00.000-07:00

One of my top favorite blogs of all time is the page of Sidney. Mr. Snoeck is an expatriate photographing the Philippines, and as a Firipin-jin myself, I could say that he truly has captured the very 'soul' of my country, catching with his lens those that I even missed with the naked eye. Mr. Snoeck is some kind of visionary. He shows the world not the post-card perfect photos that the department of tourism offers, but the back streets, little people, and the true lives.

Mr. Snoeck gave me a permission to feature his entry “ Rural Life: A First Glimpse”. Among his photos, this one is something that holds a very poignant message to me. Before the age of laptops and condo living, yours truly has lived that very same life. Thank you Mr. Snoeck, sir. Maraming salamat po.

Growing up in the Philippines- depends on the family you had – is a colorful tapestry akin to an Isabel Allende novel. My family tree shows a lineage of farmers, artists, craftsmen, military people, academicians, and, there's only one cook there- a distant grandfather, who, when I was eleven, I started following around. My father, a Melquiades with large doses of artistic geniality for some biblical reasons settled to become a carpenter. The wood cuts from his work shops, the smell of shaved wood, are now distant reminiscence every time I shave dark chocolates or make sasagakis.

I grew up in a small compound with a lot of people- mostly grandparents who decided to live with my mother. Los abuelos y abuelas. Aside from them, also living with us were many house helps- those young people whom my parents were sending to school in exchange for working in the house or in my father's shop.

Although we were scrubbed clean, it seemed that my grandparents wanted us to live their lifestyle during the tiempo Japon- if only to teach us the many hidden blessings of human survival in adversity. I saw them and yayas (nannies)- chop wood for fuel; and us young children were tasked to gather food from vines crawling on the roof; and when typhoons ravaged our province, we made use of the fruits from fallen trees. We went to the swamp to gather water spinach. In the backyard, we were taught to raise chickens, and I think we raised too many that sometimes neighbors were just taking chance to steal one or two from us. That was when I learned to dress live chicken, a big advantage on my part when I observe how culinary schools limit such experience to students.

As the norm in the province, fisher folks peddled their wares by walking from one town to another. Sometimes fish were all wiggly in the net; way too fresh and alive. Indeed, fresh fish from the sea has a somewhat sweet after taste, you could imagine it breathing. Now it makes me realize why Filipinos are very down to the basic of cooking: in one way or another, we prefer our fish to be as close to its original form; a little salt, a little fire- and solved. That simple.

Even at such excruciating situations of sleeping under a mosquito net (sometimes when it rained, we got drenched as well because of some holes in the grass roof) with geckos burping at some distant trees, no ice cream, no TV, no computer games, a few clothes- I was too young to think of poverty. Such term didn't have a place in my psyche. When there was no electricity, we'd play games in the moonlight; the elders made me recite “All Things Bright and Beautiful”, or we simply watched fireflies.

Getting what I wanted was easy. When I wanted something, say a hula hoop, had my 'yaya' make me one. We had a very artistic real playhouse that my father patterned after American architecture. When I wanted many clothes, my cousins and I made paper dolls from old school notebooks and, with scissors and some crayons, voila!- the wardrobe of Marie Antoinette. We also toyed around with the left over fabric that my grandmother discarded from her sewing machine.

It also seemed that we had traded toys for books, for while I haven't held a Barbie doll until I was eleven years old, I was glad enough have a glimpse of the lives of Madame de Pompadour, Elizabeth Seton, the Andalusian flamenco dancers with voluminous skirts... - all of them leaped to life while we leafed through the world encyclopedias and The Books for Asia - in search for gowns to make my dolls. Such also was my first discovery of the Charlotte russe. And that because I could only look at the photos of food but never really ate them, I became better at illustrating food – which got me my first ever award: poster making contest during the nutrition month in grade one.

Because of that grandfather who taught me to cook, I made my first crème caramel at eleven, only later as a teenager, got laughed at for making pearl shakes, kebabs and bruschetta (since it was very rural, the only orientation of young people to food are the usual fares,i.e. Barbecue is the same ol' pork; sandwich is same ol' chicken sandwich). If you're an aspiring cook, you'd risk a few dosage of embarrassment by being explorative of what you see in cook books. People are skeptical of the new, the strange, and the foreign.

After many years however, despite the more refined nature of buttered fish, braised meats and flaky butter pastries, I haven't outgrown the taste of the humble vegetables in coconut milk, the fish paksiw, the hot steaming rice. Each mouthful of such dishes are highly reminiscent of those smoky kitchens, making you remember how the smoke stung your eyes as you tried to fan it away.

Quite unthinkable to imagine sometimes, culinary arts is one of the most expensive elitist disciplines in the modern education, and truly it takes some luck- coupled with a fierce imagination and daydreaming- to rise from the fish- grilling, swamp- wading, environment to the highly demanding kitchens. But if we are to look at it closely, everything from the smallest moments to the grandest victories, everything works to our favor.

Times spent in my grandparents' farms helped me now as a cook determine the seasonality of the produce, tell what a good corn from a bad one, when passion fruits are at the peak of their fruiting....And except that I no longer knew how to climb coconut (I swear, I used to climb coconuts up to ten feet high) I could make a great coco milk – a skill learned from the many summers cooking guinataan and pinangat. I had my first bulgur cereal from the rations of Americans; and later as a student of cookery in college, all my other classmates who grew up in the cities didn't know what it was.

Growing up in a third world country amidst all these media exposures from the first worlds presents a lot of longings for people my age to 'get there'. To get where? Sometimes it pays that you don't watch too much TV and absorb too many information about recession; that you are a little blind and a little deaf – the voice inside your head speaks louder when other's opinions don't bother you. Your imagination runs wilder- overcoming limits and borders; there's just so much freedom. You get everything you want- even more than you want. Life is easy. There is no place for envy. The path to happiness isn't all that hard nor moments of bliss that limited. Good is rewarded, bad is punished to teach a lesson or two. Unfortunately some young people of our times may be a little too ashamed to reveal what their past was (true to me when I was a little younger) but as Steve Jobs had put it, “Don't waste your time living someone else's life.”

There's also so much that the little details of our lives could teach us about food and cooking, and specially about human satisfaction. Sometimes in the middle of a heated meeting, my chefs would whine about how competitors had more than we, i.e., better benefits, equipment, etc., but while all of that are opinions I respect- and had to act on -, having had a rural childhood taught me a lot about satisfaction of the here and now. Keep your eyes off your neighbor's pan and focus on your own- you'll make better sauce.

When you become better the following day than you were yesterday, poverty and wanting for more dissolves like sugar in hot water- until you could no longer see it. From the rural past, you embark on new journeys. You change. You take risks. These musings are necessary, I tell my men, for most of all, being a chef is not just all about cooking. It is also about leadership: being the first- that if we want our customers become satisfied with what we create, we must first become satisfied- and make the most- of what we have.

My grandparents taught me well.

Circa 2009: That big house over there fronting my mother's lawn is a residence of US retirees – before the rice field became a subdivision, that used to be my grandfather's corn farm; and that lawn used to be all swampy with lots of water cabbage and escargots. I took this photo from the veranda of our attic's library – where world encyclopedias of childhood are still housed to this day.

Food Photography by Enrique

2009-04-21T22:38:00.000-07:00

Maria Victoria and Enrique at a hotdog stand during one of the family's trips. Inseparable.

There are two people at home who bring home brown-bagged food for dinner: the chef and the artist- the graphic artist.

My brother Enrique, though learned fine arts and photography from a prison house (metaphorically), closes many business deals. Sometimes I flip through commercial magazines and come across his work, which get me asking, did you really do this? Now, he just came back from hiatus at the big house in the province working on a coffee table book for a New York-based business mogul. Enrique though is very nonchalant about everything- he can earn bigger commissions than I do or sleep with his camera on a faraway island, or converse with the town mayor or drive half- asleep... he is just himself.

To tell a little about Enrique, he is the brother next to me. At thirteen, he went to the seminary. As the tradition of that seminary, there was always a talent show. Enrique had been bugging me – then a clumsy, chubby fifteen year old- to teach him how to play the piano. Ok, I had said, I’d teach you this easy piece called “Long, Long Ago”, an Irish folk song. Never having formal piano lessons, Enrique tried for days; like really tried to perfect the piece. Came the talent show and he was upstage seated at the Clavinova.

The lights at the audience dimmed.

The spotlight was on him.
Suspense.

Enrique concentrated on the keys.

Then –

“Twaaaaang….twaaaaang…”.

No Irish music. All fingers on the keys, Enrique had a total black out – but played anyway. I swear, my mother could have spanked me mad for leading my brother into such mess. Why, I should have said NO! - and save everybody from embarassment.

So much for the pianist dreams for both Foodhuntress and her brother Enrique.

I don’t know if our irony today was in any way related to that piano incident a long time ago. What is ironic is that Enrique had been shooting for other restaurants and not mine. Then he brings home the food after the shoot.

Like Ray and Pete’s Texas Smoke ‘Em at Greenbelt. Here are some of his un- Photoshopped pictures.

Enrique's favorite. Stew in a skillet served with dinner rolls. After you finish the stew, he says, you wipe clean the skillet with the last of the rolls. Orgasmic.

Or some Italian restaurant somewhere…

The message is, if Enrique can shoot – or do big projects- so can you.

Strawberry Fields Forever

2009-04-19T21:21:00.000-07:00

I have a...a...crush on...that guy with the goblet. He created the ice cream I am having for my birthday.

Watch the video from this amazing site. I love Chuva... :)

Back to the EC, Breezy, Charmed Cooking Life

2009-04-15T21:40:00.000-07:00

The long Holy Week was finally over and I am back to the kitchens. Like a child in school, I rummaged through my bag to reorganize stuff and in so doing, stumbled upon my chef's essentials - those things that make my existence luckier and better by the moment. A calculator, tasting spoons from my travels abroad, Post-its, rosary beads, clip, thermometer, that fragrant oil for those bouts of dizziness, and a picchu jade from China.

Of course executive chefs from all over the world have different job descriptions. Except for a few emotional moments in my career, I see it now as a fairly breezy job. I don't stay in one restaurant (which I wish I do) but travel north to south and east and west to oversee ten outlets - and we are opening three plus more this year. Yesterday I had a meeting with my chefs, and I just realized that this EC life is not all about cooking but Food Cost! Inventory! Product Turnover! Customer Feedback! - but ended up nevertheless in steak cookery which I love.

The only ironic thing is, although I have a lot to cook and blog about- the fish and meats and other goods in my walk in fridges are always calling me in unison "Cook me!" "Cook me!" ; and although condiments suppliers are waiting are my feet to have their products approved (why, I build the commissions of these salesmen! ha!), the ironic thing is, I don't have much time. Sigh.

And hey, another great thing to be grateful about is that someone gave me a laptop. Now who would give you a laptop this height of world- wrecking financial crisis? And I got it- for nothing! Not a single penny, not under a loan, and I didn't take my clothes off :) Someone just got fascinated with you and give you gifts. That simple.

I received the new laptop with a deep bow, tearful eyes and an enormous heart. Thank you. Now it pays to keep some rosary beads, gold teaspoons and lucky charms inside your bag :) Thank you again.

More Than Eggs and Baby Wabbits

2009-04-12T07:33:00.000-07:00

Cute, cute, little wabbits!

Easter Sunday Resolutions

10. Get more organized.

9. Do reports at least 48 hours before deadline.

8. Drive to work more often (I have to overcome my self- imagined fears of ten- wheeler trucks about to gobble me up).

7. Clean my mailbox of old mails. (Done)

6. Set up a bigger kitchen in my unit next door. Or, rather, convert it into a kitchen. (After I drive the renters away. Nevermind the passive income, I have to prepare for the... the... Kitchen Stadium. Yay! Am I about to take my craft more seriously after soul- searching in the wilderness? Hmmm... Maybe it's time to breathe poetry out of food? The seer's advise: "You have what it takes to achieve the impossible.")

5. Don't think too much of life on the other side.

4. Overhaul the wardrobe. (Working on it already :)

3. Talk to Boss less than necessary. (I just work here.)

2. Work like a monk. (Not 'the sound of one hand clapping', but that of ora et labora kind of inspiration.)

1. Embrace change and learn to dance.

Happy Easter!

Beyond Fishing

2009-04-07T21:06:00.000-07:00

The Lenten season leads us back to St. Peter and his band of fishermen many, many years ago. Next time you eat that swordfish on your plate, think of the old man and the sea. Next time you bite into that salmon crostini, wonder why the fish swims upstream. Or better yet, thank St. Peter. The fish by some mysterious ways has something to do with human nature: they in fact have a lot to teach the world.

Much to teach the world indeed, such that spending a few minutes with the fishermen led me to this wonderful essay written by a Jesuit priest – and the photos, by my brother.

What does fishing really teach us?

**********

THE SACRAMENT OF WAITING

by Fr. James Donelan, SJ

The English poet John Milton wrote that they also serve who only stand and wait.

I think I would go further and say that those who wait render the highest form of service.

Waiting requires more discipline, more self-control and emotional maturity, more unshakable faith in our cause,

- more unwavering hope in the future, more sustaining love in our hearts

that all the greatest deeds of deering-do go by the name of action.

Waiting is a mystery - a natural sacrament of life. There is a meaning hidden in all the times we have to wait. It must be an important mystery because there is so much waiting in our lives.

Everyday is filled with those little moments of waiting (testing our patience and our nerves, schooling us in self-control.)

We wait for meals to be served, for a letter to arrive, for a friend to call or show up for a date.

We wait in line at cinemas and theaters, concerts and circuses. Our airline terminals, railway stations and bus depots are great temples of waiting filled with men and women who wait in joy for the arrival of a loved one

- or wait in sadness to say goodbye and give the last wave of hand.

We wait for springs to come - or autumn - for the rains to begin and stop.

And we wait for ourselves to grow from childhood to maturity.

We wait for those inner voices that tell us when we are ready for the next stop.We wait for graduation, for our first job, our first promotion.

We wait for success and recognition. We wait to grow up - to reach the stage where we make our own decisions.

We cannot remove this waiting from our lives. It is a part of the tapestry of living - the fabric in which the threads are woven to tell the story of our lives.

Yet current philosophies would have us forget the need to wait "Grab all the gusto you can get." So reads one of America's greatest beer ads - get it now!

Instant pleasure, instant transcendence. Do not wait for anything. Life is short - eat, drink and be merry because tomorrow you will die.

And so they rationalize us into accepting unlicensed and irresponsible freedom- pre-marital sex and extra marital affairs

- they warn against attachments and commitments;

- against expecting anything of anybody, or allowing them to expect anything of us

- against dropping any anchors in the currents of our life that will cause us to hold and wait.This may be the correct prescription for pleasure - but even that is fleeting and doubtful

What was it Shakespeare said about the mad pursuit of pleasure - "Past reason hunted, and once had, past reason hated."

Not if we wish to be real human beings, spirit as well as flesh, soul as well as heart, we have to learn to wait.

For if we never learn to wait, we will never learn to love someone other than ourselves.

For most of all waiting means waiting for someone else.

Anyone who has loved knows how much waiting goes into it - how much waiting is important for love to grow, to flourish through a lifetime.

Why is this? Why can we not have it right now what we so desperately want and need?

Why must we wait - two years, three years - and seemingly waste so much time?

You might as well ask why a tree should take so long to bear fruit -

- the seed to flower ; carbon to change to diamond.

There is no simple answer - no more than there is to life's other demands ;

-having to say goodbye to someone you love because either you or they have made other commitments;

or because they have to grow and find the meaning of their own lives - having yourself to leave home and loved ones to find your own path.

Good-byes, like waiting, are also sacraments of our lives.

All we know is that growth - the budding, the flowering of love needs patient waiting. We have to give each other a time to grow.

There is no way we can make someone else truly love us or we them, except through time.
So we give each other that mysterious gift of waiting - of being present without asking demands and rewards.

There is nothing harder to do than this.

It truly tests the depth and sincerity of our love. But there is life in the gift we give.

So lovers wait for each other - until they can see things the same way - or let each other freely see things in quite different ways.

There are times when lovers hurt each other

- and cannot regain the balance of intimacy of the way they were.

They have to wait - in silence - but still present to each other

- until the pain subsides to an ache and then only a memory and the threads of the tapestry can be woven together again in a single love story.

What do we lose when we refuse to wait; when we try to find shortcuts through life - then we try to incubate love and rush blindly and foolishly into a commitment we are neither mature nor responsible enough to assume?

We lose the hope of truly loving or of being loved.

Think of all the great love stories of history and literature - isn't it of their very essence that they are filled with this strange but common mystery

- that waiting is part of the substance - the basic fabric against which the story of that true love is written.

How can we ever find either life or true love if we are too impatient to wait for it?Waiting is a good thing only if something is worth waiting for.

How will you know if it's worth it? Gut feel.

What if you don't trust your gut? Pray. You will be enlightened. Trust me.

Is it wrong to expect while waiting? It's not wrong, but it will increase your chances of heartbreak and disappointment if things don't work out in the end.Is it good to expect while waiting?

It is better to HOPE.

What's the difference between hoping and expecting?

HOPING means you're open to either side of the coin landing though you're more inclined to believe that things will turn out well.

EXPECTING means you're thinking single-track...which won't do you much good at all.What's the difference between waiting and expecting?

EXPECTING is waiting for something TO DEFINITELY HAPPEN.

WAITING is staying where you are, but not necessarily expecting something to happen definitely.

Do you need assurance from someone you're waiting for while you're waiting? Ideally, yes. But realistically, do you really want assurance from this person?

It's so easy to just point at something and make that the reason why you're waiting ("Because she said..." "Because he told me that...").

With WAITING, all you really can rely on are 3 things: your gut feel, your heart and mind.

Just YOURSELF, not anyone else.

So should you wait?

What does your gut say?

How does your heart feel?

What does your mind think?

If they're saying different things, keep asking yourself these 3 questions (and pray!) until you get a solid answer.

THEN you'll know if he or she is worth waiting for.

Oh Speak, Your Servant is Listening...

2009-04-05T21:21:00.000-07:00

(Sshhh... wish me luck. One, two, three...breathe!)

A LIGHT IN THE WILDERNESS

Speech given by Foodhuntress to the Graduating Class of 2009 at her Alma Mater surrounding the theme, "My education, My contribution to the future".

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Distinguished guests, the Honorable Superintendent, Dr……., the District Supervisor……, our beloved Principal….., teachers, parents, my dear graduates….good afternoon.

From the bottom of my heart I appreciate this wonderful opportunity to be here with you today. Thank you. I celebrate with you as well what little accomplishments I have had in my life… seventeen years ago in 1992, I was just once like you- I wouldn’t have dreamed of this.
I would like to begin my message with a little flashback...

(Vernacular) Kaidtong batit pa ako, batit pa man an lugar na ini. Wara pa sadtoTV, internet, playstation o Friendster. Pagkatapos mag iskwela, kami san mga tugang ko na gabos man nag iskwela sa Pilot, nagbabaraklay kami pauli. Tapos nagbabarasa kami libro. An paborito ko sadto basahon, an mga istorya san Knights of the Round Table- idto na mga suldados san hadi kaidtong panahon. Insusugo sinda san hadi para sa iba ibang misyon. Sa mga battle formation, an pinakagusto ko na knight idto na may hawak na torch- sulo. Paborito ko sya kasi nasa iya an liwanag na nag iilaw san dalan.

Fast forward.

Times change.

From the storybooks I now realize that the world itself is a wilderness- our lives today is no different from the lives of the Knights many years ago.

My dear graduates, our world today – this future I see right now when I was your age- presents to me a wonderful world, at the same time, a very challenging one. It is an age of too much information, where knowledge is easily replaced by new discoveries.

So now, we are asking, what else can we contribute?

The moment we step out of this room after this graduation ceremony, everything will come to pass… what we read in books we will probably forget…but somehow there will be lessons in life that will stay with us.

Science may be replaced by advanced science, but how we were awakened to the beauty of things living or non- living, enable us to respect one another and the environment we live in.

Math may be replaced by advanced math, but how we were taught to be honest with our studies is far better than what we get in numbers.

History may be replaced as history is made every day, but how we were taught to be true to our roots – and everything else that makes us worthy citizens of our nation – these are the things that make us unique to the bigger world out there.

Elementary English may be replaced by advanced English but how our teachers took pain to teach us our first alphabet so we could read and write, we owe them all these abilities.

When you go out there, when you go to high school, you will meet more people who would expect more from you….You will no longer be students of this school…When you go to college, you will no longer be all from this town...specially when you go to Manila, you will be in a bigger environment. When you apply your first job, it is the same.

In my work as a chef, it is a tough competition likened to the wild outdoors. People tend to steal one idea from one another, it is a battle of who cooks better or who does better. I decide to respect the brainwork of my competitors, for as I remember in my Math class this valuable lesson: do not cheat in your exams and you will never cheat in real life business.

Whatever comes our way, whatever challenge we face, our true education shows not on what we know, but in everything we have become- an individual with a peaceful mind, a loving heart, a grateful attitude, a natural trust to the goodness of God.. With all these in your heart, you can do more others can do, endure more pain more than anyone can do… and in the end feel truly glorious more than anyone could ever feel.

Remember what I will say to you, in four simple sentences the heart of my message so that you- and myself counted too- can contribute better to our future-

4. Be a good son/ daughter. Be obedient to your parents and teachers, for obedience to what is good is the first step to a successful journey.

3. Study hard, give your best.

2. Dream big. Albert Einstein said that imagination is better than knowledge. To dream big means seeing in your heart, imagining and believing that all things will be possible, that you will become the person you want to be someday - and you will be.

But then with big dreams should come bigger courage and the faith that God knows what is best for you more than what you can dream for yourself. So,

1. Do not be afraid. Decide to be courageous, and alongside such decision, always pray to God for guidance.

- these all, you could give back to the society and improve your generation.

In the knight story, knights were trained since the beginning to prepare them for the future. Anyone can undergo such training, but what makes knights different from any warrior is the essence of their heart. Sir Gawain was young and naive, but he was made a knight because of the pureness of his intent.

In the same way that anyone can go to school but not everyone can be truly educated; or, according to that popular movie, anyone can cook, but not just anyone can truly be an artist who creates - for creation is made possible by an inspired spirit.

In this sense, my dear graduates, we have to accept that there will be people who have more knowledge than us, who have more possessions than us, but you will become knights of the real world because you are educated – and educated by this institution.

And so to the teachers who gave us such precious education, I have a message which will be summed in three –

I was once very ignorant but now I can read and write. It is because of you. How many graduates have come back to say thank you. So with the graduating class, I have come back to say, “Thank you Mam.” This is my education.

As your students, we may not have made you happy all the time. I might have failed you in some ways. So now we are asking too, your forgiveness. This is our education.

This is going to be another long journey, for me and the graduates, and we will never forget to pray for you. This is our education.

I am declaring here my true education- and it is to remember what you have made out of me.

My dear graduates, your Alma Mater is sending you off to create a world that is full of hope. Let your education guide your way, so that in time, each and every one of you becomes the knight that carries the burning torch: a light that shines in the darkness of the world.

No matter how small, one single spark that burns bravely in the darkest wilderness, is the rarest and most precious of all.

Congratulations.
***************

Foodhuntress, Guest Speaker

2009-03-31T20:42:00.000-07:00

In less than 48 hours I will be back to our good old province to speak before over a thousand people on a graduation ceremony rites from my old elementary school. Oh boy. For the past days, former teachers have been asking me of my whereabouts. I said, gosh, I wasn't even the class valedictorian nor salutatorian nor model student. To be an inspirational speaker is a privilege reserved for highly accomplished people like mayors and prime ministers. Me? I am just a small potato. I was almost about to say that they better trace the real honor students via Facebook.

True, I had been elected class president for a number of years (because of my dictator tendencies), then later was tagged "Extortionist of the Year" because I used to pass around a hat to solicit funds for Christmas Party, but I swear I didn't graduate with honors. Yup, I had almost flunked Math with a 75% pathetic grade on both elementary and high school so I wonder how I could make it to the honors. Another trick of the gods, eh?

Anyway, to prepare, I had been to a spa/ sauna/ jacuzzi last night and got a massage (these are the real treats of life), and today I am composing my speech while looking at these trees bursting with flowers. I look at the sunlight streaming through the branches and realize how beautiful they really are. I will write my speech revolving around all these - rays of sunshine in the wilderness.

All modesty aside, these days when those people ask me what made me successful (ok, if they see it that way then I won't argue), I blush brightly first then blurt out, "Relax and let go." (At the back of my mind I was thinking, "...and don't be afraid to make a fool out of yourself.")

Fun Run- and the Discovery of a New Cusine

2009-03-30T02:54:00.000-07:00

Went ot this Fun Run for Children last Saturday. This is for the benefit of a foundation established by a French Jesuit for children supporting better education and a chance to a better life. The good cause aside, I like events like this for the energy, the enthusiasm, the happiness- and most of all for the food - all packed together to become a great celebration.

Run for a child!

So a good reason to be there was the food. I have been going around town lately, exploring cuisines, and it was a nice experience bumping into innovative establishments.

But in this Fun Run, among the participating restaurants, CONGO GRILLE seems to be the winner big time. I have been acquainted to some staff of Congo Grille for some time now. I have even done a lot of silly things to Carla, the Marketing Manager (who reads my blog :) Hi Carla!) so I said it is about time that I feature her restaurant in my blog. More writings about this fantastic resto some other posts. Besides, the owners of the restaurant have been very kind to me. Thank you, thank you. :) If I don't get paid writing for them then at least I could enjoy many privileges :)

Filipino breakfast treats.

Look at that. These 'pulis' men (policemen) couldn't get enough of CONGO.

It shows.

Feast your eyes-

This Poquito Mas Restaurant also got my curiosity. It serves SPLATINO cuisine- something that is honestly new to me.

What is SPLATINO? This is the spawn of Spanish + Latino + Filipino cuisines. If one would look closely at Philippine cuisine, it has a lot of influence from Spain (having been colonized for 300 years), a hint of Mexican, and Philippine's Asian- ness. Now this calls to mind something that circulated once in the internet- that the Philippines is not "too Asian". The religion is Catholic, the last names are Spanish, the main foreign language is English- what else? Well that makes Philippines, Philippines.

And I love snapshots of children too.

Oh, The Mermaid That Wanted To Be...

2009-03-26T00:41:00.000-07:00

Life is getting prettier by the moment, isn’t it? This is a perfect day to give my kitchen clogs a shower because I am going out for a swim myself. Gosh, isn’t it hot in the city!

If the blogsphere censors women in bikini (or does it?), not quite true with our community swimming pool. I think you can even dip naked if you want to.

But as you can see, I am swimming with a bunch of boys on the onset of puberty - raging hormones and all- so I honestly have to think twice about revealing too much flesh. In a country where girls swim in drenched t- shirts, wearing a bikini bra concealed by a lacy tank top paired with board shorts already gets you the stares.

To be very honest, I haven’t worn two- piece bikini before in public, and what’s worse….I…. tantanaannn… I don’t know how to swim either. During our swimming lessons when I was eleven, I was more into the fantasy and dreaminess of mermaid romances than paying attention to our instructor. No wonder, I had almost always drowned all the time – about five times, five different summers, and some men had to drag me out from the waters. In kindergarten though, when a friend asked me what I wanted to be when I grown up, I said, I wanted to be a mermaid.

Will these hams turn into fish tail? I wonder.

Ergo it’s literally just dipping into the pool, airing my lungs, celebrating a lazy afternoon on my rest day, and burning a few calories. Am I falling in love with the water?

This is my favorite part. The clouds start to gather up in the sky and it starts to rain. Rain on the pool - the boys were shouting with joy.

I had to run back upstairs to our pad, dump my wet clothes into my sister’s washing machine (this is the day she bought her new toy- so while I was out for a swim, the beautiful air force captain is washing our clothes. Who says life is so hard? C' mon, recession is a state of mind!)

*****************
I was already combing my hair when the rain poured harder. This is one of my hands- down favorite moods. No worries, rainy afternoon, your muscles are a little achy, and you feel drowsy- that very same feeling when you sipped too much Cabernet. What would you do?

A. Read a book
B. Write a blog
C. Roll under the sheets with a lover
D. Watch a movie

The most delicious answer is the choice highlighted in red. Admit it, denying physical pleasures is hypocritical and un- human, but since that lover is yet on the way, I went for letter E.

Ok,

E. Create summer coolers

Black Sesame and Tomorokoshi Cream Cooler .

I’ll proceed next time – too tired right now. Goodnight.

The Chief's Message to Foodhuntress

2009-03-22T19:57:00.000-07:00

Last week, I had my performance evaluation. Everything was summed up in this letter.

Foodhuntress,

You must know that what you have gone through were the so- called "birth pains"- imminent in any process of creation or in our case, big projects. I saw that you have been through a lot of headaches and heartaches, but somehow you managed to pull it through. You must understand that what I do to you is likened to finding a jewel or sculpting a marble. First you have to take out a whole slab from the mine, bring it down, until you are at last doing the polishing and the finish. Sometimes that jewel comes into humans in the form of talents or potentials.

I have to tell you that young as you are, you have much to learn. The other chefs cook faster and can stand the heat better than you, but what sets you apart is the unmatched passion in your heart. That I have no doubt.

I am impressed by how you compose yourself in the toughest of situations; gracefully, with both your feet on the ground, and you can carry through. Pay attention to the smallest details, be organized, focused, and in time you will become a great chef.

There is nothing to be alarmed about.

Sincerely,

The Tribe Chief

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Photo credit: http://buyingdiamonds.org.

Of Geishas and Parfaits

2009-03-18T16:59:00.001-07:00

Two weeks ago, the head panelist of the food tasting board asked me as she flipped through the nine- page menu, "Madam Chef, did you create all of these?"

- What should I say?

A. No, and tell a lie
B. Yes, and - sound too cocky

I smiled and bowed. No words.

For me, all acts of creation start somewhere. Whatever that somewhere is, there is always a source for inspiration- whether you pulled it out of your jeans pocket or an intimidating cookbook, the point is, it stemmed from somewhere.

Most of the time I don't copy from cookbooks. Of course I make them as reference for techniques, proportions, but first in my mind is to respect the mental genius of who created that dish. Credit goes to him/ her. Don't expect me either to copy the menu of my competitors.

When I was called to create a Japanese parfait dessert for example, what I had in mind was the ease of putting the dessert altogether- put this and that, and voila, a belle melange of everything! But...but...weirder as my mind goes, I was thinking of something else.

I was thinking of a geisha. If I had another lifetime to live, I would choose to be born in Osaka nd dream of becoming a geisha. With a geisha, other worlds of beauty are created. Not much that I know, but I could imagine that if you were a big time no- nonesense mogul, I think it makes better sense once in a while to join the companion of a living artwork than manipulate the realities of paying bills, dirty laundry, and parking spaces. Geishas don't sell their flesh, but their talents. With a geisha, you don't talk about divorce but poetry. After that, you get a better grab with life.

I am inspired by geishas myself. That picture above is my desktop wall paper downloaded from the National Geographic Archives. I took it as the inspiration for making Azuki Parfait.

The layers of azuki beans bring to mind that azuki, as main ingredient is a Japanese staple bean. While you can use canned azuki, it is still very challenging to bloom the beans yourself and make your own sweetened azuki. The geisha's kimono is red, so reminiscent of the red beans.

The kanten jelly, soft and versatile, discloses the a lot about the nature of a woman. You can use kanten jelly for savory and sweet foods alike, in the same way that a woman is resilient and in every way beautiful in all the courses of life.

Scoops of vanilla ice cream, classic and indespendable in the desserts of the world. Sweetness, gentleness, and everything that brings to mind unflawed beauty.

Cereal flakes and irigoma add texture and contrast;

Whipped cream, ah...whipped cream.

Then at last, I had to translate into the dish the 'umbrella' of the beautiful geisha: the pocky sticks. This is a popular Japanese chocolate- coated biscuit sticks, a personal favorite too, and I can't miss this out in the dessert.

Down the rain she walks

A geisha graces the road

To the coffee shop.

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To Really Rule The World....

2009-03-16T21:20:00.000-07:00

Recently I have been conducting interviews for applicants for chefs de cuisine. Our restaurant chain is expanding, thank you,thank you. We're opening a string of branches more this year. Yes- it will mean more work on my part...ergo, I was advised by the seer to have lesser resistance. Soon, these men will be reporting to me and although the Emperor's expectations are up my neck...gosh...I decide to just let go.

Anyway, among the men I had down the line have very impressive resumes and their skill levels are truly way, way up my own. Placed alongside these men, this is my answer: I know nothing.

But what would you feel when, when you walk inside a room, your subordinates would bow at you and some of them would start kissing your hand? Who the bleep do you think you are- Queen Elizabeth?

I have said some time before that the gods do have a fine sense of humor. Sometimes I imagine them sipping nectar at Mount Olympus and way up from above they'd see you- a mere mortal- and appoint you to lead these knifed men. Well, I don't care anymore. Let the deities do what they will and just obey.

I have a very simple regimen to go through this. I wake up way before the sun is up. That way, you have that feeling of 'being the first', and that the world is all yours for the taking.

The parking spaces are quiet, and your neighbors are still snoring in their bed...

You jog down that bamboo- lined lane behind your building...

No one else there except you, and you half imagine yourself in a takenoko farm in Kyoto :)

The grass is damp, the evening lights are lit.

The world is sleeping, and yes, you're awake.

Even the children's playground is empty...

No, this is not your TV screen...

This is that open sky; that void wherein you reach out and declare in its infinity all your gratitude and all your trust.

- for what is it that we truly know?

Just give thanks that you are given numerous chances to grow in the wilderness...

Red Potato Men- tori

2009-03-14T21:16:00.000-07:00

Forget for now the pancake breakfast. When you constantly have to run against the clock, sometimes you can't help but cook while taking a shower.

There were red jagaimos in my rootcrop basket. I'm afraid they'd grow roots and crawl all over my place so I had to cook them immediately. And quick!

Red Potato Men- tori with Vanilla and Raw Wild Honey

300 grams red potatoes
1 pc vanilla bean (you can re- use those you formerly scraped and ravaged)
1/2 C raw wild honey
1 T butter

1. Wash, dry, then slice the potatoes wan-giri (round slices).
2. Smoothen the sharp edges of the potato slices by peeling it off with the knife. This method is called men- tori, commonly used for decorating vegetables. I was fascinated with this on the red potatoes because of the color contrast.
3. In a pan, place the potatoes then pour water about 1 cup or until the potatoes are partially covered. Plunge the vanilla bean. Cook over medium flame.

You can take a shower, while the potatoes are cooking. By the time you step out, about 15 minutes later, the potatoes are tender.

4. Remove the vanilla bean, transfer the potatoes on a bowl and pour some raw wild honey , then top off with a slice of butter.

What In the World Does She Eat?

2009-03-12T03:40:00.000-07:00

Tell me what you eat, and I will tell you what you are. - Brillat- Savarin

Maybe it comes with age (God, I’m turning thirty this year), but these days I wake up earlier way before the sun is up, jog around the community, then drive with my sister to work. She drops me off near the train station while she reports at the air base.

Last night when I hauled all 8 kilos of clean laundry upstairs my sister did recognize that I have lost some weight. Wow. I love my life. I share a pad with my sister who lives next door to my own unit, because we had decided to have my room rented out. Talk about passive income! But I am a little worried when my brother-in- law, her husband, comes and stays with us for a few days some time soon. I might go back temporarily to our old apartment.

Ok, comes change in my waking time and my diet. No, I am not shedding off pounds for the summer but I just woke up to the realization that my usual food – the big breakfast of fried rice and eggs, and three giant meals a day make me feel drowsy and… huge. Suddenly I am no longer craving for crispy pata nor kare- kare, and if at times I had to eat them, I just take a small bite and that’s it. We’re no longer lovers now. I am neither following a weight loss/ diet program nor going vegetarian. Let’s say I just want simple things. The simpler, the better!

I go to work way before the official hours, so I stop by some café for breakfast. Within the vicinity there’s Café Adriatico which specializes in Filipino/ Spanish cuisine, and Krispy Kreme. I LOVE Krispy Kreme. Back in the old apartment we had boxes of them in the fridge. Ah, the ecstasy of Krispy and black coffee. But that morning I went for Café Adriatico. Doesn’t matter if my co- diners there were old men reading newspapers and Krispy Kreme’s were the chatty ladies with shriek- y voices. Is that the effect of too much sugar so early in the morning?
Café Adriatico’s hot chocolate is super. The authentic tsokolate, thick and natural.. I have a confession to make. Why I don’t want to drink on paper cups because I realize that… that since I was young, I had this habit of licking the rim of my mug/ cup with the tip of my tongue while I sip the beverage. That intimate part of the cup where you sip. The smooth, slippery porcelain surface all warm against your flesh. Oh sh-t. No one else has the right to use my coffee mug at home.

Breakfast. Hot chocolate, pan de sal, kesong puti (reminiscent of feta cheese). Again, please, no donuts before seven in the morning. Speaking of donuts, that same breakfast I was thinking what if someday I have my own children and they ask for donuts.

Oh, yeah, donuts, sure. Once as year. I might be a terrible mom. Poor children would be rolling on the floor asking for donuts while I look at them passively in my frilly skirt and stilletos. If they want ice cream, then we’ll churn our own ice cream. If they want a cookie, then we’ll bake cookies sans crystallized sugar. If they want chicken…go ask Solraya for those free- range birds. I will impose the laws: No sweets until you’re ten years old! No TV until you’re twelve years old!

Over the hot chocolate I was imagining, giggling over such silly things. Well, my ‘children’ will have an entirely different diet altogether. My husband, whoever the hell he will be, might as well get used to the art of pacifying little brats who are always denied with the tempting pleasures of the world.

These are breakfast musings.

Lunch. In the office I look around at what I could work on at the walk- in chillers and freezers. Arrived at this simple shrimp salad for lunch. For dessert, Choco crumble pastry – found inside my bag- two days old already :) Bought it from a convenience store at a gasoline station.

Afternoon snack. A piece of star apple.

Dinner. Dinners swing between simple pastas, brown rice or sandwiches. On most days of the week my sister and I meet some place somewhere and drive home together after work. Monday night we had easy spaghetti tossed with grilled asparagus, tomato and mushroom and drizzled with a little olive oil, topped off with cheese and some sprinkles of sea salt, garlic and assortment of herbs. My sister went crazy over this she said she’d make one for her husband. Some nights ago she made a great a dish from left over brown rice, tossed them in the pan with olive oil, mirepoix, and herbed egg omelet. Last night, (yeah, too lazy to cook), we had whole- wheat sandwich with lots of rabbit (romaine) greens , tomato, and the tuna salad that my wonderful sister made. Dessert is strawberry yoghurt.

And oh, special mention, we have dinners on this table all covered with my brother’s painting. Acrylic on canvass.

Japanese Knife Drills 101

2009-03-09T00:01:00.000-07:00

I am undergoing the tutelage of Madam Sadako on further Japanese cooking in addition to the training I had in Japan two months ago. Although two lessons are similar in heart, they are still different in many ways. I start my lessons after work, that around 8:30 in the evening, instead of hot- oiling my hair, I am still chopping daikon. Sadako- san is a highly private woman who entertains like a geisha but cooks like a samurai. Having cooked for many, many years, she had lived in New York and has always been attached to Japanese cooking it already has become her second nature. I adore her. Imagine the Memoirs of a Geisha where the apprentice was being taught, but this time, it is not dancing but cooking.

Doing knife activities has a charm of its own, I don’t know, but I guess this knife lesson with Sadako-san distract me to all other things like… the valuable lessons of a knife and how a woman must love. Over the chopping board, I was told that no matter how your heart is knifed, just take it gracefully, and though tears cling at your eyelashes, just smile and bow. That makes a woman beautiful. A woman should be like a sword sheathed in a beautiful silk- where beauty is woven on the outside, a steel- like character must be kept inside. Sadako- san had said that love is not a feeling, but a will. One day, a dashing samurai on a horseback will come galloping over the hills and I will serve him with matcha. Well at least now I know how to serve and prepare authentic matcha.

So much about chopping board conversations. What can you expect, older woman who had seen life and asks about your love affairs, and a younger one who had just metamorphosed.

-alright, now where are we?

Knife drills.

Koguchi- giri. To cut into slices, a technique commonly used for long and narrow vegetables. To tell you the truth, barbaric as it may sound, but when the asparagus spears are way too narrow and tender, I just wash them thoroughly with baking soda and water but I… I don’t peel them anymore. Unlike carrots and radish, they don’t grow under the ground. When I tried to peel little spears years ago, I ruined the thing.

Ran- giri. To cut in rolling cubes. Also used for long and narrow vegetables.

Hangetsu- giri (to cut into crescents) and wan- giri to cut into round slice like coins. The thickness can vary though according to the dish. All the same, whether it is .5 or 1 cm, it is still termed as wan- giri, unlike French cuts where the name changes at every millimeter difference. The Japanese have this rule to always “cut against the fiber”.

Sasagaki shavings. It is used for shaving long and narrow vegetables, and such shaved vegetables make attractive garnish. To do sasagaki, make several scores about 5 mm lengthways with the tip of the knife. Then shave- cut while you rotate, like sharpening a pencil. The vegetable will end up like a sharpened pencil.

Shikishi- giri. To shape into square. Can be larger than a matignon (1cm x 1 cm x .5cm). Or can pass as matignon.

Julienne, or sen- giri.

Mijin- giri (to mince). Can be a little larger than brunoise by .5 mm. Brunoise.

Katsura- muki. This is my favorite cut. While Morimoto can already make a curtain out of a single daikon, I still take time and enjoy knifing through the flesh of the vegetable, almost quite certain that their structure is made for this type of cut. Insert the knife parallel to the ingredient. Then rotate the daikon towards the edge of the knife while slowly moving the blade.

When sliced further, becomes this. The katsuramuki however can be used to further cut into diagonal or julienne.

Yes, I enjoy this immensely.

Cafe Liegeois... and Why It is Good Luck to Help A Friend

2009-03-05T01:09:00.000-08:00

Today is a happy day. Yesterday I passed what is supposed to be one of the toughest ordeals in my cooking career. Not to mention here the details but... you know, if you're smiling like a clam, you want to celebrate it over coffee or nice dessert.

This is a version of the cafe liegeois (leej- wah). Ask a French/ Belgian to pronounce it for you and rest assured he'll give you a better "zshwa". Like that. This is Belgian coffee dessert that is as good as it is easy to prepare. Made with coffee syrup (or espresso), mocha ice ice cream and cream Chantilly (sweetened cream flavored with vanilla), I personally prefer biting into the whole coffee beans on top. I luvit. This made my day yesterday.

Another reason to be happy is I got a new watch over coffee today. There's a story behind it though.

Three days ago, I saw this display of watches (Swatch) and I thought one of them was beautiful and I considered getting one. But then, schooling myself in self control against impulsive buying, I said if it's meant to be mine, then it will be. I went ahead with my day.

Then just this morning I met up with a friend over a morning coffee. I have been working with this fellow (for free) for two years now as I help him go through graduate school, i.e., reports, English translations, etc. Let's say, simply because I enjoy reading his books.

Then before the coffee ended from his pocket out came a watch. A Swiss watch. A Swatch. Much better (and costlier) than the one I would have wanted for myself. And I reckon it could stand the kitchen heat.

If you agree with me that there's such thing as magic, the Force, or whatever you call it, or that you just choose to be lucky... raise your hand and for sure that watch you are wearing also has a story of its own.

And hey, enjoy the coffee!

Happiness is...

2009-03-03T06:49:00.000-08:00

Loving, and never wanting to stop.

... in evening dew
strings of flowers were untied
in this way
thus by chance our destinies
have a reason to exist

- Murasaki Shikibu

A Canadian Dinner - and Onwards

2009-02-27T19:49:00.000-08:00

One day one of my staff told me that I had a call from the Canadian Embassy. I said, Wait, what has Canadian Embassy got to do with me? I picked up the phone. It’s true. They confirmed if I received the fax invitation. Again, another fabulous invitation. Honestly, these things aren’t common to me… so, when I read the invitation, I was blushing and happy.

Why, it is requesting the pleasure of the company of … yours truly. RSVP. The menu convinced me not to say no- even at the back of my mind, I didn’t know who to drag and what exactly to do there. Smoked salmon crostini...Pacific King Crab... Angus Porterhouse Steak... indeed, how can you say no!

I went anyway. It was held at the El Circulo Restaurant in Makati, one of the restaurants I admire around the city. What I was thinking? Forget the worries and just enjoy the evening!

At the registration, I saw a familiar name. I said, good, someone’s in here, at least.

Over the cocktails, it turned out that it was Chef Ziggy Segunial who got me to this dinner in the first place. Chef Ziggy was my predecessor, the ex- Executive Chef of our company way before my boss hired me. I only heard about Chef Ziggy from my co- workers, saw his name in the files, read about him in food magazines but I have never met him in person until that evening. Just the same, he only heard about me but we’ve never really met. The chef is a bubbly individual five years my senior who could pass as Morimoto’s son. I swear, the resemblance was so close! Thank you chef!

It was a most fascinating evening. Issues on food product safety were discussed with such depth by the guest speakers, and how Canada contributes to the demand for quality food. With the alarming situation that the country is facing about livestock problems such as disease in swine, and, in my experience, shortage of certain ingredients like scallops, the Canadian government presents great options for food professionals to safeguard the consumer and to continue to turn the wheel of the food industry.

While we were listening, getting passed around were smoked salmon crostini, rounds of wine, Canadian oysters with pancetta- all shipped in from Canada. Chef Ziggy was gasping “F***!” after each bite of the smoked salmon, confessed that he has never tasted anything like it. I thought, a few servings more and this man will levitate.

Anyway, a few shots of dinner-

Spinach salad with House- smoked Scallops in Sherry Vinaigrette. Awesome.

Digging the haricot verts. Succulent, sweet, tastes like a spring morning.

Juicy steak with thyme salt.

Caramelized brioche with maple syrup, ice cream and pecans and blueberries. I can't get over this.

I love dinners like these: where everybody's having a great time.

Then, a showcase of true Canadian products.

Marinades, vinaigrettes...

Authentic maple syrup...

Pacific King Crab, which a while ago, some part went into Chef J's Paella Marinara

Oysters and scallops as large as your fist.

A most generous slab...

Maple- glazed pork and apple toast which was ravaged at the cocktails.

I recognized some respectable food professionals in that event, some writers for food magazines, celebrity chefs, Canadian Embassy Officers, the presidential chefs (the Chefs of the Philippine President) but it was a great pleasure to meet the very gracious Malu Gamboa who has such infectious great energy and the very handsome Chef J who gets the credit for the wonderful dinner. I think we were among the youngest chefs there - I was with the Personal Chefs Manila almost the whole evening and enjoyed immensely the company of Chefs Ziggy, Jonas, Harret, Jean, and the very beautiful Hannah. Food was the muse of the conversation, the penchant for chicharon, eating brown rice with sinigang, baklava with phyllo dough and Chef Ziggy's chocolate dreams. It was a great evening, way beyond words.

*******************************

After dinner, this is my favorite part.

You went back safely to your pad, removed your coat, kicked off those high heels, unbound your hair, and, your head still reeling and on a high and too excited from drinking too much Cabernet and eating oysters , still in your dinner dress …with such passionate intensity by the lamplight , you… you…

- You see what’s inside the package that the host had for you: A cookbook, a directory of local product distributors and, a baby bear with a maple butt! It’s past midnight and you are still poring over your newfound fascination: Canada and its cuisine.

Good evening!

Bakery Fair 2009

2009-02-25T17:26:00.000-08:00

This is one of the things I love most in life: getting fabulous invitations when you least expect them. Gosh, how lucky can I get.

Here's an official invitation to the Bakery Fair, a yearly event organized by the biggest bakery association in the country. Held at the World Trade Center, it is participated by entrepreneurs local and abroad.

Giant donut billboards by Kerry. There was a demo there conducted by these marvelous chefs. They were making macarons and cakes and ice cream. The ice cream machine of Electrolux was 'like a chef itself', according to the chef doing the demo, "It does its own thing, has its own brain..." Imagine that.

The booth of Puratos was the 'most-flanked' booth. They had such fancy pastries and cool pastry cooks.

Breads, breads, breads everywhere.

Clockwise: Pastry chefs of Puratos; take a bite, it's alright :) , the cakes of Kerry.

A tree of macarons. Shmancy- fancy pastries.

Belgian chocolates.

Vegetable noodles made by Taiwanese merchants.

And, hopia!

Gggrrrecipes by the Numbers...

2009-02-21T20:08:00.000-08:00

When you are developing a new restaurant menu and in charge of hundreds plus dishes more at the current one, much is indeed expected of you. Unfortunately, I think my brain capacity is only 1 MB, and therefore I have to cram in a lot of shortcuts.

I am no food genius. I think the accomplishment I can truly be proud of is when, eight years ago, me and a friend played this game at an arcade and the topic was food. Twenty- two years old and just got my first kiss, I didn’t know how I got a 345 points out of a perfect 350. Questions like, a drink that is garnished with an orchid, that dish from a fattened goose… pretty easy, isn’t it?

Just as there are many recipes in the world as in the blog sphere, I am one of these few bloggers who can’t contribute anything more to the civilization of cooking. But here is what I strongly believe in: that cooks must have that innate attentiveness because there’s a lot of hidden maths in the kitchen. For example, when you’re at the REM of sleep, you must still know the conversion formula of Fahrenheit to Celcius and vice versa, and all the other conversions must already be second nature to you. And when your hands are damp in the kitchen and you cant flip through your notes, god, you have to move fast. Your brain too, move it, dammit! This is already an old trick, but it is still very useful to me: Doing the numbers.

The White Sauce Recipe= 2: 2: 2

Any cook would probably guess what each number stands for: 2 T Butter: 2 T Flour: 2 C milk

Bouquet Garni: 4: 3: 6 Name the herbs tied in here and you will know it.

Japanese Rice: 5: 6: 30

French onion soup: 1: ¼ : 1 : 35 – This one includes the cooking time.... and still a number more of other ingredients lined up

California Maki: ½: 100: 1: 1

Curry Sauce: 1: 300

For the Recipe of the Day:

All that my cooks need to do is write the code down on the back of their toques, or, simply pay attention to the numbers:

Bacon and Edamame Pasta In White Sauce

10: 200: 150: 60: 50: 1: 1

I have been making a Recipe Manual these past weeks of over a gazillion entrees and numbers… so, you guessed it, I am too saturated to blog about recipes.

The Theory of Flight...and a Bratwurst Afternoon (2 of 2)

2009-02-20T19:54:00.000-08:00

Lunch at the fete was a strip tent of many cuisines…

Hamburgers...

Grilled seafood...

But this one really got me:

Hmmm... are we at the Oktoberfest?

Grilling the bratwurst was some sadomasochist hot chick… See…

Oooopss...! Wrong guess!

How cool can you get, monsieur?! Hahaha!

A bottle of that beer, please.

My lunch :)

Laze away on a French afternoon. The table next to us was occupied by some French nationals. I was catching a few conversations… the s’il vous plaits… de quelle…mon dieu!... maman! zhszhshzhzzzz…. well, I understood- only the laughter.

Time to have fun now. And float away like a butterfly...