Gutsy

When talk turns to penny pinchers, my mother is quick to offer her own as an example. “But at least we ate well,” she would just as quickly point out. “Tia Angeling, on the other hand, may she rest in peace…”

Make that double

Don’t be fooled: the duplication of the basic adjective halang (Bisaya for spicy) in chicken halang-halang means that the dish is a little/somewhat peppery, instead of being very much so. Same goes with parát (salty), tam-is (sweet), aslum (sour), or paít (bitter): repetition (parát-parat, paít-pait, etc.) points to that particular taste being just a tad more pronounced than the usual. As for what’s “usual,” well…

Available water

A light, steady rain began to fall early the other night. Inday-inday, we call such precipitation: a lazy rain, “girlish,” taking its merry time about its business. Soon, Jenny texted that she was stranded at the gym (she had brought her bike to badminton practice). “Looks like we’ll just have to hit the grocery tomorrow.”

Better with time

The best meat sauce comes to those who wait. However good your ragù is, it will not be as good as when you let it sit for a few days, even weeks (in the freezer, of course, reheating every now and then). Just give it time and it will come into its own, like fine wine, cheese, or the boil on your buttocks (sorry; Coco Martin in Serbis suddenly sprang to mind).

You call that what?!?

As with tinowa, the only thing I do not eat in inún-unán is the fish. Good, fresh fish is central to both dishes, that’s for sure, but as long as I have enough of the vegetables and soup (to the extent that inún-unán is soupy or vegetable-y), I’m a happy camper.

All about tuna

One does not argue with Nature. Nature cares not for what you feel or think. The best you can do is try to understand it, maybe even learn from it, like scientists have been doing for centuries. The alternative is frustration.

Again with the mask

I discovered pork face and hoisin sauce together, in a stir-fry that Ma served all but once back in the day when she still cooked. I did not grow up on maskara, or any condiment fancier than soy sauce and vinegar — the world was a much simpler place then — so the dish was a real eye-opener.

My bad

It was fortunate Noreen was too busy to take my call to invite her to lunch. “Oh, you didn’t miss anything,” I said when she texted later with an apology. “The dish was a dud.”

The cure

I told my friend Balot we already had enough pork jerky to last us the rest of the year, but she brought some anyway. I would later learn she had purchased, like, a hundred kilos in extra baggage allowance. “In that case,” I said, “I wouldn’t have minded if you’d brought more.” It was good jerky, see (a Taiwanese brand via Hong Kong), light on sugar and generous with black pepper, just the inspiration I needed for my attempt at tocino.

There will be blood

The Hundred Secret Senses is one of my favorite books by Amy Tan. I admit I remember nothing about the plot, but one scene sticks in my mind. It describes the preparation of free-range chicken and cooking it into soup, blood included.

A family affair

My family loves labong/ubod sa kawayan (bamboo shoot), but no one was impressed with the kind I bought at Rustan’s a while back. The parents complained it did not taste right. The help observed it may have come from a particularly bitter cultivar. More’s the pity since it was the most pristine specimen I had ever laid eyes on, Close-Up-white and julienned to uniform perfection.

Beefing up bihon

It just occurred to me that when mention is made of instant pancit, people automatically think Canton (egg noodles). Having spent most of my life in retail, I can tell you that instant pancit bihon (rice noodles) is a slow mover, a drag in the inventory.