The doomsday cook

On the occasion of my 101st blog post, I would like to share something with you. I’ve never said it before, but somehow I feel that this is the right time to tell you that, um… cooking isn’t always fun.

So there. Did that rock your world? I’m not complaining, by the way. It just happens to be true. Sometimes cooking can be a chore, a bore, a pain in the rear. You’ve barely finished prepping one meal and already you’re wondering what to serve for the next. Some days are like that. Others, not so much. C’est la vie.

It could be worse. Much, much worse. For instance, the world could end, like, any day now. If you must know how, I suggest you tune in to National Geographic’s “Doomsday Preppers.” It should be of interest to every home cook. (Just in case you’re wondering, I’m not being paid to plug the show.)

When the shit hits the fan, as doomsayers are so fond of saying, you have to assume that said appliance will not stay powered for much longer — and so too the TV, computer, microwave oven, refrigerator, and pretty much every doodad you’ve ever been conned into buying at True Value, Ace, or from the Home Shopping Network (assuming that they worked in the first place). Unless you’ve found some way to store electricity (nigh unlikely), sooner or later you will be back to rubbing two sticks together to make fire. Or maybe that’s going too far. Who knows? It’s not like we had been through this before. At the very least you will have to stock up on firewood. Remember firewood? It comes from dead trees and helped fuel the Industrial Revolution, as well as the Grand Inquisition before it. Expect a blazing comeback.

You’ll need space, of course; it’s not like you can store those things (plus your actual food supply) in a USB stick. If you don’t have a barn or acreage to spare, you’ll just have to resign yourself to living in a tinderbox. In any case, you did not survive doomsday only to die in a stupid house fire. That would be too embarrassing. If your neighbors are resourceful enough, they will collect your ashes. Points to them. Ash is a good cleaning agent.

I think Filipinos are generally ill-equipped for the coming apocalypse. Most of us live near water, and even those who don’t are only marginally safer, because, like as not, water also comes from above, and these days the mere mention of rain is enough to cause alarm. Otherwise, we are sitting on active volcanoes, seismic faults, and smack in the middle of the typhoon belt. Pinoys really should be a more paranoid people, and yet we’re not. Barring floods, fire, and gale-force winds, I suspect the end of the world will find a lot of us at the Luneta for another prayer rally. Me, I intend to take the advice of Steven Appleby and Art Lester, authors of The Coffee Table Book of Doom (2012): Do barbiturates. Have risky sex. You know, be Anthony Bourdain for a day.

Can you tell I’m not interested in living through doomsday? It sounds like too much work. Kitchen life is taxing enough with refrigeration, the microwave, rice cooker, weekly deliveries from the butcher, and Jollibee around the corner. Besides, how many ways can you prepare corned beef, luncheon meat, and sardines? What would Rachael Ray do? With cable and the Internet down, you’ll be at least spared her incessant chatter. But you’ll miss her, all right; you’ll see. Kris Aquino too. The end of the world will do that to you, which is to say it will be boring. You’re sitting in your underground bunker, amongst the refuse, rats, and cockroaches, and you realize: Hey, I didn’t sign up for this. How in the world did I imagine this would be an adventure? But there you are. Meanwhile, the kids are refusing to eat yet another goddamned bowl of Lucky Me. That can’t be. What child refuses to eat Lucky Me? Thus will civilization be truly said to have come to an end…