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.
Language fascinates me. Even among Bisaya speakers, a word comes up every now and then that someone does not recognize. This time it was “huwaw.”
Having gauged the heat level of the sambal powder from Anthony the Spice Maker (see here), I set out to use some of the lot left over, this time with prawns and an extra helping of fresh red finger chilies.
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.
From a distance, I could feel the tension in the air. It radiated from my suki’s face. The man talking to her had his back to me, but his hand motions — outward, heavy, abrupt — said it all. Like any good usisero, I elbowed my way through the growing crowd for a ringside view.
Our last meal in Singapore was the most expensive of the whole trip — and the least satisfying. This was at Makansutra Gluttons Bay, across the river from Marina Bay Sands. It had not been on our itinerary; that would be the Supertrees at the Gardens by the Bay, but a sudden downpour had us confined to our hotel room for the rest of the afternoon.
The Philippines has the world’s oldest Chinatown district, which I have yet to set foot in. “Funny, lah?” our cabbie had said. “Now heah in Sing’pore you wan’ see Chan’town!” He himself was from Thailand and had admitted to the same quirk.
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.
I spent the entire flight to Singapore with a bad case of gas. Luckily the plane was not full; I had the last row to myself, the better to make frequent trips to the lavatory. It did not ease my traveler’s constipation, but at least I spared the cabin from suffocating on my noxious farts.
How will you know unless you try? Well, I will not be trying this again. Libo-o, I mean. The meat from this particular mud clam (Codakia, I believe) I found surprisingly tender. Mucilaginous, in fact, my least favored texture.
“Kiosko at 5. See you then.”
That’s barely an hour away and I have yet to prepare for dinner. Or make myself presentable. “Dammit,” I text back, “why can’t we eat at 7 or 8 like normal people?”
People see my spice rack and exclaim, “No wonder the food’s good!” If they only knew. There are just three items in there that I use regularly: bay leaf, black pepper, and granulated garlic (powdered if I’m out of that).
Somehow we always have more bread than we need. This was never a problem when our beloved black Labrador was still alive — Scooby ate any proffered thing, including those from my more unfortunate forays into baking. These days I like to think I have a better grasp of breadmaking, yet it seems I’m throwing away more.
I am not really sure when the turbo broiler was invented, or by whom (here my Google chops fail me). We got ours in the late 1970s and we have always had one since then, the current being our third or maybe fourth. Is it that essential? If you ask me, no; no more than the microwave oven and crock pot are. It sees action every now and then, mostly with chicken and eggplant.
Ice cream bread — did I read that link right? I did. Hmmm… Now why would anyone bother? Isn’t ice cream good enough in its original form and temperature? Unless you somehow find yourself with melted ice cream (it does not re-freeze to its former goodness), why can’t some folks leave well enough alone?
Revisiting Roger Ebert’s “How to Read a Movie,” I was struck by this line: “One of the reasons I started teaching was to teach myself.” Well, that was exactly why I started this blog! The more I write about food, the more I realize how much there is to learn.
