I always look forward to long weekends. Besides the extra hours intended for sleep, times like this give leeway to bonding sessions with the entire household in the kitchen. My cousins are born with a pot and ladle, while I'm a skilled diner (at least at home). Although I'd love to spend quality time in the kitchen, it seems like it's not a mutual thing with the latter. The closer I inch my way to the stove, I somehow have this funny feeling that the stove is all set to burn the better of me.
If my memory serves me right, my mother never encouraged me to try a hand in cooking (sorry, Ma, I have to confess this). At home during my childhood and adolescent years, she would designate a myriad of chores to me and my sister, in and around the house, except there at that untouchable department called the kitchen. My father owns it. My mom probably thought it best to save her children from her husband's harsh food criticisms. And so, the closest activity we've ever had with the stove was bending over it with a scouring pad and cleanser gripped firmly by our hands. We were only our dad's clean-up girls.
This personal küche history explains why I'm braving cook-offs only past my quarter life. My five cents take is that I'm already earning a living and can at least afford a gallon of spilt milk, so it's okay to experiment a bit. My years of educational harnessing didn't come even this close to 1/4 my pinky finger to match anyone of those unschooled but brilliant cooking masters (at their own right). My cousin once bantered, "Ano'ng top ka na nga ulit sa board exam?!" (and again you took what place in the board exam?!) after she effortlessly twist-opened a jar of bagoong (shrimp paste) for me, as she noticed I was struggling on my wits' end with it and was about to thrust it off the window. But still, I refuse to reconcile with the idea that I'm a walking kitchen disaster. No way, I'll never be! It's not yet the end for me.
I began subscribing to online mailing lists of recipes. Until I got tired of archiving these onto my kitchenomics folder and then eventually stopped the weekly subscription, I think I've only tried and tested two recipes. And of these two (the other one I can't remember anymore), only one dish I was proud of perfecting: sweet-chili chicken wings. So what if it's just fried chicken wings smothered with sweet-chili catsup (you can grab from the supermarket) in low fire that even a 10-year old schoolgirl can make? At least I followed the cooking directions and got all ingredients (1kg chicken wings, 1 bottle of sweet-chili catsup and cooking oil) right. It's not big but it was a good start.
Last week, I had another 3-day weekend, thus, my 3-day lunch affairs with our kitchen.
For day one, I just scavenged some left-overs in the fridge (I woke up late and didn't have time to go marketing) and transformed them into a no-sweat brunch. I made garlic fried rice (lotsa lotsa garlic!), re-heated the fish and asked for my cousin's canned corned beef (sauteed in garlic and onions - I'm a sucker for these). My sister prepared mango-orange juice to go along with the dish. It was a satisfying treat! After brushing my teeth, I went back to bed. A full stomach would drag you to sleep in an instant.
This personal küche history explains why I'm braving cook-offs only past my quarter life. My five cents take is that I'm already earning a living and can at least afford a gallon of spilt milk, so it's okay to experiment a bit. My years of educational harnessing didn't come even this close to 1/4 my pinky finger to match anyone of those unschooled but brilliant cooking masters (at their own right). My cousin once bantered, "Ano'ng top ka na nga ulit sa board exam?!" (and again you took what place in the board exam?!) after she effortlessly twist-opened a jar of bagoong (shrimp paste) for me, as she noticed I was struggling on my wits' end with it and was about to thrust it off the window. But still, I refuse to reconcile with the idea that I'm a walking kitchen disaster. No way, I'll never be! It's not yet the end for me.
I began subscribing to online mailing lists of recipes. Until I got tired of archiving these onto my kitchenomics folder and then eventually stopped the weekly subscription, I think I've only tried and tested two recipes. And of these two (the other one I can't remember anymore), only one dish I was proud of perfecting: sweet-chili chicken wings. So what if it's just fried chicken wings smothered with sweet-chili catsup (you can grab from the supermarket) in low fire that even a 10-year old schoolgirl can make? At least I followed the cooking directions and got all ingredients (1kg chicken wings, 1 bottle of sweet-chili catsup and cooking oil) right. It's not big but it was a good start.
Last week, I had another 3-day weekend, thus, my 3-day lunch affairs with our kitchen.
For day one, I just scavenged some left-overs in the fridge (I woke up late and didn't have time to go marketing) and transformed them into a no-sweat brunch. I made garlic fried rice (lotsa lotsa garlic!), re-heated the fish and asked for my cousin's canned corned beef (sauteed in garlic and onions - I'm a sucker for these). My sister prepared mango-orange juice to go along with the dish. It was a satisfying treat! After brushing my teeth, I went back to bed. A full stomach would drag you to sleep in an instant.
On day two, I suggested that we cook pancit canton (egg noodles topped/mixed with sauteed veggies) and onion rings as side dish for lunch. I wasn't that confident making them all by myself, and so my cousin volunteered to coach me. While she busied herself with the onions, I stir-fried the veggies and when it's done, I boiled the noodles in with broth cubes. She was nearly impressed with my handiwork when I guiltily remarked, "'Di naman siguro tayo mamamatay kung naisama 'ko 'yung papel sa noodles, ano? Kasi naisama 'ko e (nang 'di sinasadya)." (We're not going to die if I mistakenly threw in the package-label with the noodles, right? Because I accidentally included it in there) She gave me her ever-famous blank stare and after a while, perfomed her damage control tricks. Thanks to her, we still had pancit for lunch that day.
Day three witnessed the "return of the comeback", a.k.a. recycling dishes. This time, I was looking forward more on merienda (afternoon snacks) than lunch. I've been craving for champorado (chocolate pudding) like it's been eons since I last had a bowl or two (it felt like it). More on this later.
But for lunch, I again made garlic fried rice plus minced onion rings of the previous day (we had a lot of those left-over). My other cousin cooked ground pork with carrots, potatoes and peas the night before, so that too made its reprise on the table. In addition to all "comebacks", I deep-fried (I don't exactly look like a frying pan, do I?) sliced eggplants coated with egg and bread crumbs; a viand I learned from the Abrigo home. Then again I heard yet another mockery, "Mmmm! Smells good! It's a good thing we're all single here and we don't have kids, or else they'd complain and say, 'mommy, we're hungry, it's been an hour...are you done yet?!'" I was so tempted to hoard all food and watch them suffer from starvation.
Merienda came and it was champorado time! My sister cooked cheese sticks to counter my pudding's sweetness, so it was perfect. Once more with the help of my cooking cousin, I was able to stir up that champorado with the right consistency. Although I followed every step correctly, the malagkit (I've no clue what's it in English) ruined my masterpiece! Anyhow, it's still put to good use because we didn't just have the pudding days later. We also had hot choco for breakfast.
Now for the subject line, of course I still had coffee twice a day.
But for lunch, I again made garlic fried rice plus minced onion rings of the previous day (we had a lot of those left-over). My other cousin cooked ground pork with carrots, potatoes and peas the night before, so that too made its reprise on the table. In addition to all "comebacks", I deep-fried (I don't exactly look like a frying pan, do I?) sliced eggplants coated with egg and bread crumbs; a viand I learned from the Abrigo home. Then again I heard yet another mockery, "Mmmm! Smells good! It's a good thing we're all single here and we don't have kids, or else they'd complain and say, 'mommy, we're hungry, it's been an hour...are you done yet?!'" I was so tempted to hoard all food and watch them suffer from starvation.
Merienda came and it was champorado time! My sister cooked cheese sticks to counter my pudding's sweetness, so it was perfect. Once more with the help of my cooking cousin, I was able to stir up that champorado with the right consistency. Although I followed every step correctly, the malagkit (I've no clue what's it in English) ruined my masterpiece! Anyhow, it's still put to good use because we didn't just have the pudding days later. We also had hot choco for breakfast.
Now for the subject line, of course I still had coffee twice a day.
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