Five summers ago I dried my own chilies, it was that hot out. This year, the season’s just warming up, says PAGASA, maybe reach record-breaking levels in the coming months. I pray that the weather bureau’s wrong, but as long as I’m staying in, I figured I might as well make beef kosahos (better known as tapa) the traditional way. Rather them in the sun than me.
I’m starting to regret having found dried plum/kiamoy powder (Fat & Thin brand) at Metro Ayala in Cebu. I had only meant for it to add an interesting twist to my usual kalamansi juice, as with the drink served at Chong Qing Grilled Fish that I had liked so much. But now I dip fruits in it as well (that’s how the stuff is marketed, actually — as a dip). Even apple, which I do not fancy, has become eminently palatable.
We should have taken a cue from the price. Starting at $32, the house specialty at Chong Qing Grilled Fish was rather expensive, but we had put that down to the restaurant’s more upscale location (Liang Seah, across Bugis Junction). With additional enoki mushrooms and fried tofu skin, our order came to around $40.
For a while there I thought summer had made a comeback — this past week was that hot and humid. The low, dark clouds refused to make good on their promise of rain, the heavy air as still as it was stale, and everyone a little testy. Then someone said I should bake bread again, and I was, like, “Have you lost your mind?”
Cakes and pastries (and coffee) not being my thing, I tried to decline Noreen’s invitation to Giuseppe Café, the patisserie wing of my old alma mater’s training restaurant. But she insisted as only a lifelong friend could, i.e., she nagged Jenny and me into going. “Show some support, why don’t you,” she said. “And don’t be too hard on the food.”
When buying watermelon, I always choose yellow over red, and I have yet to be disappointed. I could be biased, but I think yellow is juicier and sweeter. It’s definitely pricier — you want quality, you pay.
My Lola Nena passed away when I was 16. She was survived by 11 of 12 children, only one of whom had stayed behind at the ancestral home — the Big House, it was called, and one of the oldest in town — although Lola had never lacked for company while alive, especially at the mahjongg table. It sat near the wide capiz window overlooking the front terrace and was the most heavily used non-essential furniture in the house, if the only one that we kids were not allowed near to when a quorum was in session. Come to think of it, I don’t know of any cousin who plays mahjongg.
I’m perfectly aware that ice cream contains up to 50% air, but biting into a stick of Selecta’s Mango Graham Cake, the overwhelming sensation was of eating cornstarch (or so I imagined). It cost a mere ₱15, so I knew better than to expect anything special. Just not something on that scale of awful. Awful, I’m telling you.
Despite what it says on the sidebar, I did not have adventure in mind when I started this blog. I was simply looking to store my notes (albeit in a more formal fashion) in a place I could access from the Web. Along the way the iPad/iPhone had rendered that moot, but not before I discovered that I rather enjoyed these little literary exercises.
There seems to be some confusion among Tagalogs as to what makopa is. These here are makopa, also known as Malay rose apple. They’re not to be confused with tambis or water apple, which are smaller, rounder (not ovate), paler (as in pinkish), and crunchier. The two are closely related, but makopa is makopa and tambis is tambis. Are we clear on that?
