The box had my name on it. Problem was, I did not remember ordering anything. “Maybe it’s for someone else with the same name,” offered the delivery guy. “With the same address?” I said. “Unlikely — take it back.” “Are you sure?” “No. Wait.” I dialed my mother.
“It could be a bomb,” she said. “Whatever happens, don’t open that box.”
It had been a while since I watched television. Catching the tail end of yesterday’s early evening news, what got my attention was not Ian King’s coming-out as a transwoman, or the world’s oldest living person possibly a 118-year-old lola from Negros — heck, no, it wasn’t even in the news.
A blue moon is not necessarily (or even actually) blue. You are perhaps more familiar with it as a full moon that occurs in the same month as the previous full moon. So why is tonight’s full moon considered blue when it is neither of the above reasons? Apparently, if there are four full moons in an astronomical season — right now, spring, which this year spans the period from March 20 to June 21 — the third is considered blue* (the last/next full moon of the season will be on June 20).
My friend Armando is given to flights of fancy. “Think about it, Tops,” he would say, for instance. “What if I looked like Piolo?” I don’t bother to, of course, not even for argument’s sake — Piolo Pascual has problems enough just being himself. Besides, Armand’s girlfriend can’t be that lucky, never mind that she’s one of my dearest friends.
Darkness falls too soon these days. It is only 5PM but the fast-fading light tells me it is already time to make dinner. That means I have to hit the market even earlier.
I make no bones about finding Pa’s tastes occasionally weird. How many octogenarians (and by this I mean those healthy in all respects that count) still watch Tom and Jerry, much less the entire Looney Tunes catalogue? Then there are the movies of Aki Kaurismäki, which may defy your idea of what comedy is — he likes those, too. The rest, which I shall unfairly lump together as “that rubbish regurgitated by Cinema One,” is what leaves me scratching my head.
Ina Garten has her party fare down pat. “Make some, assemble some, buy some.” In short, stop trying to do everything yourself. On the other hand, I watch Guy’s Big Bite and find myself out of breath. Is there nothing Chef Fieri can/will not do? As a fellow kitchen worker, I can’t help but admire his energy. Also, I keep thinking about the person who has to wash the pots, pans, and bowls he casually tosses into the sink. Here at home, that person is usually me.
Much as I love scallops, I am allergic to the lone local purveyor. She is pushy and forever scowling (and she cheats with the scale, according to an ex-help). So determined am I not to give her any business that I tell myself her scallops are too damn small. And they are, though if I have to be honest about it, the ones I get at restaurants are no bigger.
Oh my God — I take it back. Remember what I said about the honey-soy chicken being the best I had made with Indonesian sweet soy sauce in it? Well, that was before I tried these chili crabs. I was tuned in to Valentine Warner’s Wild Canada when I heard him mention kecap manis. I looked up (I wasn’t really watching), and sure enough he was pouring that stuff over stir-fried crabs!
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.
