In which I call a truce

“Your cooking’s off these days,” my mother says.

“Is it?” I say, rather defensively. “It’s him, isn’t it?” I mean my father; he has not touched my food in days, preferring the morcon from Hobie’s instead. It’s good, the morcon, but I hate to think about all the Magic Sarap/Ginisa Mix that had made it so.

Besides, I like to think it’s not my cooking per se, but the familiarity. I have been experimenting, see — or maybe I should say that I have been cooking outside my family’s comfort zone. Yesterday, in an attempt to spice up our usual shrimp soup, I ended up with something akin to tom yum.

“Too sour,” he said.

“Too spicy,” she said.

Now that was unfair. I could understand Pa — he’s sensitive to acidity. But spicy? It was no more so than the one we had at Krua Thai weeks back, and I made a point of reminding Ma how much she had liked it then.

“Well, he doesn’t.”

Of course. In our household it is always about what Pa likes. That is not a complaint, just a statement of fact. We defer to his palate, hence just a bit more salt in everything. And recently, a lot less chili. Not that he was ever into chili, but since Singapore, I had been putting more heat into dishes, at times overdoing it. I try to be flippant. “It’s an antioxidant! It’ll do wonders for digestion!” And Ma’s, like, “Digestion, your eye. What’s to digest when you can’t eat it?”

So for now it’s back to comfort food. It does not take much to appease my folks. I hit the ground running with young jackfruit done ceviche-style with coconut cream. If you have only tried kinilaw nangka with plain old vinegar, adding an equal amount of pure tunô/gata makes it so much better (aside from creamier). Also, if you have ginamós (fermented anchovies), stir in a teaspoonful or two of the unâ or brining liquid for flavor.

“Ooooh,” Ma goes.

“Needs more salt,” Pa deadpans.

Then there’s pancit Canton, stir-fried egg noodles with various meat and vegetables, which might be more familiar to you as chow mein or lo mein. As is often the case, it was made with whatever odds and ends were in the refrigerator that day: anchovy fritters, half a Mandarin chorizo, and crab stock (because crab shell and guts contain an incredible amount of flavor, and crab oil was out of the question). No complaints here.

And with the pièce de résistance, deep-fried pork belly, or what we call lechon kawali. I don’t make this often enough, which is a shame since it is easy to do and can be prepared in advance (it also reheats well). Have the meat sliced at least half an inch thick, then boil in seasoned water (I use 1½ tablespoons of salt for every kilo, plus crushed garlic, dried bay leaves, and black peppercorns in just enough water to cover meat), 40-45 minutes, or until meat is just about fork tender. Drain well, rub all over with fish sauce, and let sit in the refrigerator until dry. To fry, heat up a good amount of oil to 325°C, then cook in batches until golden brown. Set aside. For crunch, heat oil to 350°F and fry meat in batches again, this time sprinkling a bit of water into the oil (have a cover ready to avoid the inevitable spatter). After the crackling and popping noises die down, remove meat from oil, dry and let cool on paper towels, then chop into bite-size pieces. Serve with spiced vinegar and soy sauce dip.

For once, my father bypasses the morcon. Yes, I served some, just in case. Frankly, these days the mere sight of it makes me sick.