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.”
“Hah!” she replied. “As if I can tell the difference.”
She can, actually — it’s just that we are far more interested in each other’s company. Food, however good, does not make lousy company better. Even so, our taste is what we like to describe as wa’y kutí (not fussy), which was why I had resisted the suggestion of another friend — not mutual — to try rellenong nukos (meat-stuffed squid).
”Too much work,” I said.
“Who says you’re cooking?” he said.
“Now you’re talking.”
I prepared the squid while he saw to the filling: pork, ground with some carrot and jicama, sautéed with minced garlic and onion, and flavored with soy sauce, hoisin sauce, a dash of sugar, and lots of ground Sichuan pepper, then finished with sesame oil and chili oil. It could have been a standalone dish, that filling, but in the meantime he packed it into the squid cavity, put the head back on, seasoned the outside with salt and pepper, and wrapped the whole thing in foil.
Does that dish look like a dud to you? We have already established that the filling was good, so there’s no prize for guessing the squid was overcooked. And it was solely my fault. It had looked too pale coming out of the foil, but what was I expecting? I “suggested” that we grill it “naked” to give it some nice blisters. And you can see it damned well has. But first someone had to ask: “Are you sure?”
Was I? Of course! Thus was the relleno doomed. The head was spared, but only because it was farthest from the heat.
“You should’ve said something.”
“Didn’t I? You don’t always listen.”
“Sometimes I forget you cook for a living.”
“It’s your kitchen.”
“Damn right; next time you show up, I’m staying out.”
“Awww. Are you sure?”
“No.” The thing is, I don’t want to miss a thing.
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