Oh, and if you have comments, you can e-mail me at retong@yahoo.com. Just remember though that you have to add 999 after the retong in order for it to be my real address.
If you found me through a search of the old soc.culture.filipino, welcome to my world. It's been a while since I've been in soc.culture.filipino. Have fun!!!
REtongBumubulong
Thursday, May 15, 2003
I have been accepted to Rice Bowl Journals. Go there to see some pretty good journals. You have to be choosy in some respects because some just care about layout.
REtong
REtong
Vino,vino,vino
With a prospect of a night of not having dinner in a restaurant, the delightful one decided that it was time to shop last night. Andronico's is a local chain restaurant with expensive selections of food. However, with the expense comes quality. If you don't mind paying for it, the supermarket is fantastique! I spent some time looking for a nice bottle of wine that would not bust the wallet. I checked out the chardonnays, but decided that the menu will feature longanisa with spaghetti and Ragu meat sauce. So, with the menu settled, off to the red wines we went. Besides, red wine is supposed to be excellent for you if you imbibe only one glass a day. I suppose you could say that red wine is like an apple.
Merlot, zinfandels, cabernets, tons of wineries that I have never heard of were laid out like a virgin in front of a sacrificial altar. Where to begin? Where to drink? I absolutely had to pass on the boxed wines, although the SF Chronicle had an article in its wine section about how there are now high class wines in boxes. Apparently, the collapsing plastic bladder which contains the wine allows for the preservation of the vino. Oxygen does not enter the container and does not oxidize the little organics.
I figured though that I really had to have a bottle that was good. Well, off to the higher end of the aisle did the little hummingbird fly. Now, 1999 was supposed to be an excellent year for wine in the Napa Valley. The question is why it was so. My guess is that it was the El Nino year. The dry year essentially caused the grapes to be smaller which produces a more concentrated taste. If anyone out there knows why this is so, please, enlighten the glowing one.
At any rate, the one with an upturned face noticed that by golly, those bottles were outrageously priced, the 99 ones. So off to the side did the one with a mole go to. Searching...searching... searching for a bottle is like searching for a woman. It takes you a while before you find one worthy of pouring oneself. Finally, one settled for a nice cabernet from Five Rivers. The idea of a pentagram on a glass of wine settled on one's mind.
The wine was very nice indeed. Beauty found it necessary to obtain a fine glass with which to drink the wine because simply put, a mug does not do justice to sucking a wine. The mug is too thick and interrupts the beauteous one from sucking in air with which to mix the nectar.
Sucking air.... or sucking the air out of something. Lately, there has been trouble in the golfing world over the idea of Anika Sorenstram playing in the Colonial golf tournament. Apparently, Anika was given a freebe to enter the tournament. The tournament is for male golfers. As the date comes closer and closer, people keep getting into a snit over the whole thing.
What is wrong with her entering? I don't see any. I see many pluses. First, she will definitely improve the beauty of the event. Let's face it, some of those players are pretty ugly. Except for Tiger and some others, many of them are not an example of beauty. Second, we can really see how women directly compete with men in sports. It is known that men are stronger than us, but how far have we come? As an example of the fairer sex, I would certainly love to know. Third, it's about time that we beat the living crap out of some male chauvinistic players. Really, Bobby Riggins got his ass whooped by Billy Jean. Let's have another whooping. I'll bring snacks and the wine.
The spaghetti last night was pretty good. Of course, how can you go wrong when you have longanisa as a side dish supporting the pasta? Ragu makes a pretty tasty dish of a sauce. You would not know it, but the meat was pretty good. The sauce/tomato was quite tasty. I could not pick out the garlic and the onions, but I'm quite sure they were there. Hmm, maybe it's time for me to cook some spaghetti and bring that sucker into the potluck tomorrow.
redux redo
The whole event last night was topped off with some bread and cheese. Tonight, I trek into the underbelly of San Francisco. I must return some rental tapes so I'll have to go traipsing through the Mission and the Japantown areas. It would not be so bad, if the weather would only cooperate. Right now it is sunny on this side of the bridge. Watch out though because it can just just like that. I wonder if I will meet a prancing Romeo in the underbelly of San Francisco. Hmm, maybe I can go for some pancakes in the Denny's. You know, I have never gone to that Denny's because of the way it looks. Could this princess be bothered with going to a store that looks like it has not been cleaned in a while? Most likely not. How to find interesting vcds in japantown is going to be a hoot.
Wednesday, May 14, 2003
As I was reviewing my report, I noticed that one particular line was disturbing. It was about the teen-agers who did not belong in the Berkeley campus and it was obvious because they did not have backpacks and they travelled in packs of five or six. Well, to be blunt, the kids/teen-agers were obvious because they travelled in small groups, they were young, they were loud, and they were black. In Berkeley of the 1990's, I did not see that many African-Americans in campus. And when I saw them, they would be in Sproul Hall along with everyone else trying to chill out or recruit for the campus organization.
Thus, to see young black teen-agers walking and being loud piqued my interest. Since I grew up in Los Angeles around the East Los Angeles neighborhood, I can see the swagger, the arrogance and the testosterone of youth. I knew immediately that there was going to be a riot. Hell, I made sure I left lab at 4 in the afternoon to make sure that I was gone. As I walked down the streets of Berkeley, you could sense the frustration, the agony and the pain of the Rodney King verdict. But you could also feel the greed and the testosterone of all those kids waiting to loot and steal and plunder.
I examined the lines I wrote because I was being careful so that I would not be charged of being a racist. Funny how my own perceptions control my actions. But then again, people have suggested that in life, you must learn how to be tactful. Let's just say that I am in the middle of my journeys to Tactville. But sometimes, it is good to reflect on why you wrote what you wrote. If HermitQueen has winepoetics, then I would have to say that I have journaletics -- an examination of the process of creating a journal.
Thus, to see young black teen-agers walking and being loud piqued my interest. Since I grew up in Los Angeles around the East Los Angeles neighborhood, I can see the swagger, the arrogance and the testosterone of youth. I knew immediately that there was going to be a riot. Hell, I made sure I left lab at 4 in the afternoon to make sure that I was gone. As I walked down the streets of Berkeley, you could sense the frustration, the agony and the pain of the Rodney King verdict. But you could also feel the greed and the testosterone of all those kids waiting to loot and steal and plunder.
I examined the lines I wrote because I was being careful so that I would not be charged of being a racist. Funny how my own perceptions control my actions. But then again, people have suggested that in life, you must learn how to be tactful. Let's just say that I am in the middle of my journeys to Tactville. But sometimes, it is good to reflect on why you wrote what you wrote. If HermitQueen has winepoetics, then I would have to say that I have journaletics -- an examination of the process of creating a journal.
Bonsai Wrap-Up.
But listen to the raven-haired beauty talk! We are here for dining tips, darn it. Well, I ordered the 3rd level sashimi which is composed of tuna, salmon, octopus, mackerel, yellowtail and roe. I also ordered two each of the unagi, and the yellowtail sushi and the crab roll. Bonsai is a great restaurant because they give you good slices of fish for a cheap price. The sashimi was fresh and excellent. In the beginning of eating sushi, I could not taste the delicateness of the fish. Blame that on the coke that I was drinking. But now, I can differentiate between the taste of yellowtail and the fatty salmon.
The tuna had a beautiful redness to the meat. It was firm and not too stringy. Excellent taste with the soy sauce and the wasabi. The salmon was fatty and delicious. The color was a vibrant orange with stripes of white (probably fat). The octopus was probably already cooked because it was tender and white. It was probably the worst of the bunch because of its thicknes in cut and its texture. But one can get used to it quickly. The roe was an extra that usually does not come with the order. The mackerel with lemon was exquisite. I ate the lemon slice with the mackerel cut and the concatenation of the food in my mouth was an experience. It was a mixing of lemon with mackerel. It's like cooking something in your mouth. Yeah, that's it! I was wokking in my mouth.
The unage came and it was still quite warm. There is a beauty to popping the sushi in your mouth and having the heat permeate your tongue, your cheeks and your face. Then as you bite into the sushi, the explosion of taste. Ahhh, what kind of wine goes with this? Probably you need sake, eh? The spider roll was a crunchy bite and a great contrast to the softness of the sashimi and sushi.
All in all, I recommend Bonsai in the city of Oakland. Excellent food with excellent service. 4 out of 5 oxtails.
But listen to the raven-haired beauty talk! We are here for dining tips, darn it. Well, I ordered the 3rd level sashimi which is composed of tuna, salmon, octopus, mackerel, yellowtail and roe. I also ordered two each of the unagi, and the yellowtail sushi and the crab roll. Bonsai is a great restaurant because they give you good slices of fish for a cheap price. The sashimi was fresh and excellent. In the beginning of eating sushi, I could not taste the delicateness of the fish. Blame that on the coke that I was drinking. But now, I can differentiate between the taste of yellowtail and the fatty salmon.
The tuna had a beautiful redness to the meat. It was firm and not too stringy. Excellent taste with the soy sauce and the wasabi. The salmon was fatty and delicious. The color was a vibrant orange with stripes of white (probably fat). The octopus was probably already cooked because it was tender and white. It was probably the worst of the bunch because of its thicknes in cut and its texture. But one can get used to it quickly. The roe was an extra that usually does not come with the order. The mackerel with lemon was exquisite. I ate the lemon slice with the mackerel cut and the concatenation of the food in my mouth was an experience. It was a mixing of lemon with mackerel. It's like cooking something in your mouth. Yeah, that's it! I was wokking in my mouth.
The unage came and it was still quite warm. There is a beauty to popping the sushi in your mouth and having the heat permeate your tongue, your cheeks and your face. Then as you bite into the sushi, the explosion of taste. Ahhh, what kind of wine goes with this? Probably you need sake, eh? The spider roll was a crunchy bite and a great contrast to the softness of the sashimi and sushi.
All in all, I recommend Bonsai in the city of Oakland. Excellent food with excellent service. 4 out of 5 oxtails.
Believe it or not, this is still the continuation of Bonsai.
The beauty and irony of OJ Simpson is that for the first time, the European-Americans or Caucasians of America found for the first time what it feels like when the system is manipulated. There is something to the raw emotions and contrast of having 12 white men decide the fate of a minority or a black man in the segregated South of the 18th, 19th and 20th century in contrast to having African-Americans decide the fate of a glamorous, famous retired athlete. White America was aghast with the Simpson verdict. Black America rejoiced in jubilation. I remember that I stayed home just to see that verdict. It made it worthwhile that on that day, I was reprimanded for being too lose on my hours in lab. I thought at the time that the reprimand was nothing because I got to see the verdict.
Why would you not be aghast. The prosecution had mountains of evidence. Although, the prosecution did SUCK in the largest and biggest of terms. Good Lord, if they were the best, then the city of Los Angeles was in prime trouble real estate. How can you screw up a high profile case like that? I don't know. But incompetence had something to do with it. If you saw them question the people, you would have something to say about it. If you saw their opening and closing statements, you would have something to say about incompetence. In contrast, the spiffy and shiny Johnny Cochran ran things like there was no tomorrow. Jesus, the guy gives off schmooze and lubricant when he speaks and smiles. Who can forget..."If the glove does not fit, you must acquit!"? Ah yes, the blunders, the fubs, the screwups of the OJ trial. Somewhere out there, someone who cares wrote a book about it.
The beauty and irony of OJ Simpson is that for the first time, the European-Americans or Caucasians of America found for the first time what it feels like when the system is manipulated. There is something to the raw emotions and contrast of having 12 white men decide the fate of a minority or a black man in the segregated South of the 18th, 19th and 20th century in contrast to having African-Americans decide the fate of a glamorous, famous retired athlete. White America was aghast with the Simpson verdict. Black America rejoiced in jubilation. I remember that I stayed home just to see that verdict. It made it worthwhile that on that day, I was reprimanded for being too lose on my hours in lab. I thought at the time that the reprimand was nothing because I got to see the verdict.
Why would you not be aghast. The prosecution had mountains of evidence. Although, the prosecution did SUCK in the largest and biggest of terms. Good Lord, if they were the best, then the city of Los Angeles was in prime trouble real estate. How can you screw up a high profile case like that? I don't know. But incompetence had something to do with it. If you saw them question the people, you would have something to say about it. If you saw their opening and closing statements, you would have something to say about incompetence. In contrast, the spiffy and shiny Johnny Cochran ran things like there was no tomorrow. Jesus, the guy gives off schmooze and lubricant when he speaks and smiles. Who can forget..."If the glove does not fit, you must acquit!"? Ah yes, the blunders, the fubs, the screwups of the OJ trial. Somewhere out there, someone who cares wrote a book about it.
Continuation of Bonsai.
On the same day, I was walking the campus of Berkeley and felt that the mood of the place was different. I noticed that there were too many high school students in the area. They traveled in groups of five or six. They were obviously out of place because they did not have backpacks. They were on their way to Telegraph Avenue. When I noticed things it was in the afternoon. By the time I went home, I was just in time to see the riots on television. I would not know that by 6 o'clock, there would be a riot down Telegraph Ave which was about five blocks from me.
The manipulation of the system is one of the "freedoms" brought to you by America. If one has a large enough bundle of cash and hires a smart lawyer, one can neutralize the law. I almost have to laugh and snicker when the cops in the King trial had their trial moved on over to Simi Valley. Apparently, Simi Valley is known for being conservative land in the Southern California area. It's probably a suburb where the "white flight" ended up roosting. I certainly would have loved it if in the next trial of a minority that the trial was moved to the Watts district. Oh wait, that already happened with OJ Simpson.
Ah yes, OJ...Orenthal James... one of the greatest running backs from USC... one fo the greatest runners in the NFL.... also one of the most tragic and dumb figures of recent history... an educator with respect to injustice. OJ is the prime example of the "Money can buy you anything" protocol. Everyone says he is guilty. Most people would have to agree on that. But in the criminal phase of the trial, he was pronounced not guilty. So, as a stickler to how America metes out its justice, I always state that OJ was not guilty, but he was financially liable since in the civil court proceedings, he was found guilty.
On the same day, I was walking the campus of Berkeley and felt that the mood of the place was different. I noticed that there were too many high school students in the area. They traveled in groups of five or six. They were obviously out of place because they did not have backpacks. They were on their way to Telegraph Avenue. When I noticed things it was in the afternoon. By the time I went home, I was just in time to see the riots on television. I would not know that by 6 o'clock, there would be a riot down Telegraph Ave which was about five blocks from me.
The manipulation of the system is one of the "freedoms" brought to you by America. If one has a large enough bundle of cash and hires a smart lawyer, one can neutralize the law. I almost have to laugh and snicker when the cops in the King trial had their trial moved on over to Simi Valley. Apparently, Simi Valley is known for being conservative land in the Southern California area. It's probably a suburb where the "white flight" ended up roosting. I certainly would have loved it if in the next trial of a minority that the trial was moved to the Watts district. Oh wait, that already happened with OJ Simpson.
Ah yes, OJ...Orenthal James... one of the greatest running backs from USC... one fo the greatest runners in the NFL.... also one of the most tragic and dumb figures of recent history... an educator with respect to injustice. OJ is the prime example of the "Money can buy you anything" protocol. Everyone says he is guilty. Most people would have to agree on that. But in the criminal phase of the trial, he was pronounced not guilty. So, as a stickler to how America metes out its justice, I always state that OJ was not guilty, but he was financially liable since in the civil court proceedings, he was found guilty.
We ended up going to dinner last night. As we were a little early, we had Bonsai all to ourself. Bonsai is a restaurant located in the outskirts of Oakland near the Koreatown/Temescal district. The street intersection reminds me of the Koreatown intersections in Los Angeles. The mall and the stores have been bought by Asians, but the majority of the people living around the neighborhood are the working class citizens of the world.
Now that I think of it, it reminds me that during the announcement of the Rodney King trial where the cops were pronounced not guilty, a great riot ensued in the city of angels. The riot began in the southern portion of LA, but eventually went into the Wilshire district through Vermont Avenue. There was something particularly odd about watching the neighborhood of one's childhood being ransacked and gutted. And let us be frank about it. The riot might have started with a protest about race and injustice, but it only served to show the darkness and the greed of man.
In the television, I saw the Koreans who owned businesses were afraid for their lifeblood. They went upstairs into the roof of their businesses and held guns because the city of anglels did not have enough guns to protect and serve. It was like watching some sort of third world apocalypse. Private citizens with guns to prevent looting. I felt sorry for the people of Los Angeles.
Now that I think of it, it reminds me that during the announcement of the Rodney King trial where the cops were pronounced not guilty, a great riot ensued in the city of angels. The riot began in the southern portion of LA, but eventually went into the Wilshire district through Vermont Avenue. There was something particularly odd about watching the neighborhood of one's childhood being ransacked and gutted. And let us be frank about it. The riot might have started with a protest about race and injustice, but it only served to show the darkness and the greed of man.
In the television, I saw the Koreans who owned businesses were afraid for their lifeblood. They went upstairs into the roof of their businesses and held guns because the city of anglels did not have enough guns to protect and serve. It was like watching some sort of third world apocalypse. Private citizens with guns to prevent looting. I felt sorry for the people of Los Angeles.
Tuesday, May 13, 2003
My brother is visiting the great and wonderful Bay Area estates. Dinner last night was at King Wah in Downtown Oakland. The appetizer was wonton soup. Unlike most fast-food Chinese restaurant, King Wah offers traditional meals with substance. The location is rather dirty and dingy, but what do you expect from downtown Oakland? The inside of the restaurant is average with dark wood paneling and lots of tables and seats for everyone. You don't go there to soak in the ambience. You go to King Wah to eat.
The service is excellent for a Chinese restaurant. They even ask you if you can use chopsticks which is a plus! And, if you go there long enough, apparently, you can bring in some food to be cooked. I think that was what this guy brought last night. I believe he brought fish and asked them to cook it. But beware, before bringing your daily stream catch, make sure you are on a first name basis with the cook or owner. I have only begun to go there and am rather sporadic in my visits. So I don't think I'll be bringing in tri-tip steak and asking them to cook it.
The wonton soup actually had ground beef inside which made it a meal in itself. No other spice was necessary to complete the served soup. The presence of BBQ pork was an extra bonus which served to complete the meal in itself idea. The portions were huge for two people. I had to stop eating after three bowls so that I can retain my girlish figure and finish the other parts of the meal.
The main meal consisted of shrimp fried rice, claypot oyster and lechon pork, beef with oyster sauce. The shrimp with fried rice was a tad too salty for me. Remember though that with my age, you have to watch salt intake so I have cut salt tremendously. As a result, I can taste the most minute amount of salt and my palette is like velvet. Pour some spice and the tastebuds register as makahiya being brushed by chiffon. PErhaps the reason for the salt is the extreme brown color which is registering from the soy sauce ebulliently thrown into the mixture during the wok frying.
The claypot dish was exceptional as it married in fine fashion oyster and lechon pork (pork that has crispy skin). The concoction had mushrooms which I did not really care for. However, the sauce did not make you wonder what pork is doing with oyster. If you ate the pork separately from the oyster, it was utterly delightful. And the quality of the oyster was superb. Somewhere out there, a little Asian boy or girl is chucking oysters to be served in my dinner plate. You gotta love capitalism. The lechon pork was cooked excellently. The skin was crunchy even though it had been soaked in the sauce. This suggests that the pork was added just a few minutes before it was served. This also can explain why the sauce did not penetrate the pork as much as I would have expected if the pork was simmering in the claypot for a while. Someday, some beautiful temptress with long dark tresses will explain to my beauty and sexiness how claypots work.
And last but not the least was beef with oyster sauce. Very nice indeed with a soft tender exposition of beef and crunchy onions and pepper. THe onions must have been the yellow kind because the delicate taste had been eliminated by the wok. The crunchiness of the peppers was a delightful counter to the soft juiciness of the beef. Somewhere out there, a cow is delighted at my happiness in having partaken of its carcass. It is very difficult to cook pepper and have it retain its crunchiness.
And to top everything off, we of course had diet coke. Once more, gotta watch that girlish figure.
REtong
The service is excellent for a Chinese restaurant. They even ask you if you can use chopsticks which is a plus! And, if you go there long enough, apparently, you can bring in some food to be cooked. I think that was what this guy brought last night. I believe he brought fish and asked them to cook it. But beware, before bringing your daily stream catch, make sure you are on a first name basis with the cook or owner. I have only begun to go there and am rather sporadic in my visits. So I don't think I'll be bringing in tri-tip steak and asking them to cook it.
The wonton soup actually had ground beef inside which made it a meal in itself. No other spice was necessary to complete the served soup. The presence of BBQ pork was an extra bonus which served to complete the meal in itself idea. The portions were huge for two people. I had to stop eating after three bowls so that I can retain my girlish figure and finish the other parts of the meal.
The main meal consisted of shrimp fried rice, claypot oyster and lechon pork, beef with oyster sauce. The shrimp with fried rice was a tad too salty for me. Remember though that with my age, you have to watch salt intake so I have cut salt tremendously. As a result, I can taste the most minute amount of salt and my palette is like velvet. Pour some spice and the tastebuds register as makahiya being brushed by chiffon. PErhaps the reason for the salt is the extreme brown color which is registering from the soy sauce ebulliently thrown into the mixture during the wok frying.
The claypot dish was exceptional as it married in fine fashion oyster and lechon pork (pork that has crispy skin). The concoction had mushrooms which I did not really care for. However, the sauce did not make you wonder what pork is doing with oyster. If you ate the pork separately from the oyster, it was utterly delightful. And the quality of the oyster was superb. Somewhere out there, a little Asian boy or girl is chucking oysters to be served in my dinner plate. You gotta love capitalism. The lechon pork was cooked excellently. The skin was crunchy even though it had been soaked in the sauce. This suggests that the pork was added just a few minutes before it was served. This also can explain why the sauce did not penetrate the pork as much as I would have expected if the pork was simmering in the claypot for a while. Someday, some beautiful temptress with long dark tresses will explain to my beauty and sexiness how claypots work.
And last but not the least was beef with oyster sauce. Very nice indeed with a soft tender exposition of beef and crunchy onions and pepper. THe onions must have been the yellow kind because the delicate taste had been eliminated by the wok. The crunchiness of the peppers was a delightful counter to the soft juiciness of the beef. Somewhere out there, a cow is delighted at my happiness in having partaken of its carcass. It is very difficult to cook pepper and have it retain its crunchiness.
And to top everything off, we of course had diet coke. Once more, gotta watch that girlish figure.
REtong
Monday, May 12, 2003
Now, one of the sites in RBJ is from a female law student age 21. In it, she laments about how she desires for this one guy. He flirts with her while he is dancing with two other women. Supposedly, his eyes say "You could be dancing with me in place of these women."
What possesses my female sisters to go insane over men who play the field, I don't know. Why for heaven's sake would you want to go and screw a guy who has just mounted woman after woman like a stallion in a breeding farm? Is the sex that good? Really, after two hours, your joints are hurting like hell. After three hours (with bayagra), it becomes monotonous. If they were able to do some stripping, then it would be fine. But, who wants to see oily, muscle-bound bodies? Not me! I prefer luxurious and delicate femininity. And heaven forbid that they have to do anyting with their tongue. Oh, you can measure how fast their cars go from zero to sixty if you ever bring that up.
So yes, sister sapphos, let the liberation live. Long live silicone based projectiles. Long live water-based lubricants. Long live electrically driven motors that resonate!!!
SapphicREtong
What possesses my female sisters to go insane over men who play the field, I don't know. Why for heaven's sake would you want to go and screw a guy who has just mounted woman after woman like a stallion in a breeding farm? Is the sex that good? Really, after two hours, your joints are hurting like hell. After three hours (with bayagra), it becomes monotonous. If they were able to do some stripping, then it would be fine. But, who wants to see oily, muscle-bound bodies? Not me! I prefer luxurious and delicate femininity. And heaven forbid that they have to do anyting with their tongue. Oh, you can measure how fast their cars go from zero to sixty if you ever bring that up.
So yes, sister sapphos, let the liberation live. Long live silicone based projectiles. Long live water-based lubricants. Long live electrically driven motors that resonate!!!
SapphicREtong
So I have been accepted to the RiceBowlJournals. It is an excellent place to swim and surf the internet. Of course, I noticed that the top 20 are sites from cute women like me. I need to get that sexy pose of me in the see-through bathing suit so that I can break the top 20. Oh, and I suppose that I'll have to post those nude photos. I figure I should fight fire with fire. Those ricebowl women are posting carnally exciting and personally revelaing photos that allow men to peek into their souls. Well, I'll just show a little shoulder, show a little waist, maybe a little knee. And voila! A little peak of the elbow. That should drive the men wild.
I have been searching that site for signs of intelligent Pin@ys and cute women. What can I say? I prefer the ladies over the men. If i were a man, I'm sure I would prefer women over men too. Do I have agreement on this? Watch out for some links that I'll place soon enough. Or worse comes to worse, we'll just gossip and you'll have to figure out which person I'm speaking about on the internet.
I have been searching that site for signs of intelligent Pin@ys and cute women. What can I say? I prefer the ladies over the men. If i were a man, I'm sure I would prefer women over men too. Do I have agreement on this? Watch out for some links that I'll place soon enough. Or worse comes to worse, we'll just gossip and you'll have to figure out which person I'm speaking about on the internet.
Parking enforcement in San Francisco is about to raise additional revenue by increasing the number of parking tickets issued. Of course, the citizens of SF are going nuts about this $30 added cost when they conveniently forget that they only have 1 hour in parking time. What is the big deal? Use your brain and check your watches or your cell phones. Time is not that hard to check. You should have heard the conversation in the radio today.
Well, it was unfair of them to give me a ticket. I was only fifteen minutes late.
I just went in to have dinner and parked the car for an hour or so. I spent two hours in the restaurant.
This is what soldiers in Iraq are fighting for? The freedom for citizens to complain about having to pay for parking. What a rip-off.
REtong
Well, it was unfair of them to give me a ticket. I was only fifteen minutes late.
I just went in to have dinner and parked the car for an hour or so. I spent two hours in the restaurant.
This is what soldiers in Iraq are fighting for? The freedom for citizens to complain about having to pay for parking. What a rip-off.
REtong
Sunday, May 11, 2003
11 May 2003
Lunch was pho from Pho-Hoa Noodle Soup. I think it's a chain restaurant originating from Southern California. The #17 pho was excellent. Good beef broth. The noodles and soup were piping hot. It had the right mix of spices/salt. The exciting part was the tripe that was thinkly sliced to form a netlike structure. The cartilage was nice and tender but had texture. You can feel your teeth sink into the cartilage but you did not have to fight the cartilage so that pieces of it went between your teeth.
A bonus side was the blended avocado with tapioca pearls. The pearls are soft and very pliable in texture. Not like the Filipino sago which is firm and hard like a nut. The other way in which tapioca pearls are served is by adding the pearls in a milk base with some powder to taste. Thus, you can have almond tapioca pearls, strawberry, etc, etc.
I just bought a book by Eileen Tabios. By the way, I don't think I ever mentioned who the HermitQueen is. That's Eileen. And King Porcupine is her husband Tom. The porcupine refers to the porcupine perched on the top of the front doors of Galatea estate.
I always found HermitQueen's poems a little bit inaccessible. Reproductions of the Empty Flagpole is the first book of poetry I read from HQ and it is not the best one to start with if you are a rank amateur like me. I believe that it's been two years since I first saw HQ's poetry and it is only in the last six months that I have attempted once more to examine the content.
A great help however was the book Ecstatic Mutations. Specifically, the introduction by Leny Strobel was excellent in helping address the question of "How does a Filipino find a connection with a Filipina-American writing non-narrative poetry, and non-Filipino subjects?" This is the kernel that I have been wrestling with the last two months. After all, HermitQueen is the quintessential role model for Pin@ys. Yet, her work remains like smoke. You know it is present, but you can not grasp it.
Since our dear reader will most likely go to a bookstore and buy Eileen's book, I will not belabor the point. Suffice it to say that Lenny has thrown me a salbadida so that I can now seek and search for my connection with HermitQueen's poetry.
Lunch was pho from Pho-Hoa Noodle Soup. I think it's a chain restaurant originating from Southern California. The #17 pho was excellent. Good beef broth. The noodles and soup were piping hot. It had the right mix of spices/salt. The exciting part was the tripe that was thinkly sliced to form a netlike structure. The cartilage was nice and tender but had texture. You can feel your teeth sink into the cartilage but you did not have to fight the cartilage so that pieces of it went between your teeth.
A bonus side was the blended avocado with tapioca pearls. The pearls are soft and very pliable in texture. Not like the Filipino sago which is firm and hard like a nut. The other way in which tapioca pearls are served is by adding the pearls in a milk base with some powder to taste. Thus, you can have almond tapioca pearls, strawberry, etc, etc.
I just bought a book by Eileen Tabios. By the way, I don't think I ever mentioned who the HermitQueen is. That's Eileen. And King Porcupine is her husband Tom. The porcupine refers to the porcupine perched on the top of the front doors of Galatea estate.
I always found HermitQueen's poems a little bit inaccessible. Reproductions of the Empty Flagpole is the first book of poetry I read from HQ and it is not the best one to start with if you are a rank amateur like me. I believe that it's been two years since I first saw HQ's poetry and it is only in the last six months that I have attempted once more to examine the content.
A great help however was the book Ecstatic Mutations. Specifically, the introduction by Leny Strobel was excellent in helping address the question of "How does a Filipino find a connection with a Filipina-American writing non-narrative poetry, and non-Filipino subjects?" This is the kernel that I have been wrestling with the last two months. After all, HermitQueen is the quintessential role model for Pin@ys. Yet, her work remains like smoke. You know it is present, but you can not grasp it.
Since our dear reader will most likely go to a bookstore and buy Eileen's book, I will not belabor the point. Suffice it to say that Lenny has thrown me a salbadida so that I can now seek and search for my connection with HermitQueen's poetry.
Sometimes I have to shake my head at how Americans do not understand the concept of free speech. My parents gave up their dream because they wanted their children to realize theirs. I read about freedom and how we defend freedom. Yet, I don't see the majority of Americans practice freedom. It is as if they see a tree but not a jungle. I suppose, you have to experience the loss of freedom in order for you to give it to someone else.
And for clarification, I am Reagan Republican. What I mean by that is that I prefer strong leadership rather than bullshit. I also happen to be a Clinton Democrat. That means, "It's the economy, Stupid!" I swing both ways. Hell, I spin around.
Tim Robbins and Susan Sarandon were supposed to speak at the Baseball Hall of Fame for the anniversary of Bull Durham. The president of the hall of fame cancelled the event because he did not want the two making anti-war protests. And I thought we were fighting for freedom in Iraq. Heck, if you paid attention, we all know that when America fights abroad, it does not necessarily want its citizens to exercise freedom.
Tim Robbins' speech is worth reading.
Sige, isa pa ulit para sa Mayo2003.
I just tried to pan fry salmon in the style of Taylor's Refresher. I grabbed my trusty timer and cooked it 3 minutes on each side. I'm hoping the inside does not come out dry. I did notice that the color changed as cooking proceeded. The ahi tuna was not as cooked. How the heck am I supposed to make a wasabi sauce and coleslaw for this dish?
Ahh, several hours after eating the salmon, I can conclude that one should never overcook fish. The overcooked fish will be dry and nasty. I finally managed to overcome the fear of eating something raw. Hell, I eat sushi. What is the difference. The salmon tastes so much more when the inside is raw. I wonder what kind of Filipino field is in my home such that I refuse to cook things without drying it to bits and pieces.
I just tried to pan fry salmon in the style of Taylor's Refresher. I grabbed my trusty timer and cooked it 3 minutes on each side. I'm hoping the inside does not come out dry. I did notice that the color changed as cooking proceeded. The ahi tuna was not as cooked. How the heck am I supposed to make a wasabi sauce and coleslaw for this dish?
Ahh, several hours after eating the salmon, I can conclude that one should never overcook fish. The overcooked fish will be dry and nasty. I finally managed to overcome the fear of eating something raw. Hell, I eat sushi. What is the difference. The salmon tastes so much more when the inside is raw. I wonder what kind of Filipino field is in my home such that I refuse to cook things without drying it to bits and pieces.
Saturday, May 10, 2003
Ahh, how many times have you wanted to taste the tropical paradise the Philippines? Well, you can now do so courtesy of Suntropics Premium. Alas, there is no website. The products I am referring to are Mango Nectar not from concentrate. The juice is distributed by JFC International. Since I came to America, I have been searching for the taste of the Philippines. Finally some entrepreneurial spirit decided that Filipinos have suffered enough from orange juice, apple juice and prune juice! If you desire the taste of your childhood, go imbibe the magical taste of Guava nectar.
But where do you buy it? Well, good of you to ask. Island Pacific stores is the current favorite supermarket of yours truly. Not that I can traipse over there at any time. The two locations are in Union City and in Vallejo. Now this is another venture by Pin@ys that I have been waiting for since forever. I would like to buy tuyo without having to describe the process of catching the fish, drying it, and salting it. Sometimes that champurado just necessitates that dash of the salt only tuyo can provide. You can use patis but only in an emergency! You might as well try sardines first before trying the patis. SHIVERS
The symbolic meaning of Island Pacific makes me giggle with glee. Finally, some Filipino entrepreneur can compete in an open market system for profits. Finally, Pin@ys can buy their childhood memories and dreams in America. It speaks of economic power which in America is probably the most important type of power. If you can affect someone's bottom line profits, they will pay attention to you. The civil rights movement was propelled by the boycott in Alabama of bus service and businesses. No amount of coercion and intimidation could stop the boycott. And so now, we have a Filipino market that caters to the wants and needs of Pin@ys. Hopefully, the venture will be able to compete against Ranch 99, which is another wonderful Asian store that originated in Southern California.
The Ranch 99 store in Richmond is a wonderful place to shop. There is room to roam; the smell of decaying sewage does not assault one's senses; and paper towels are provided so that you can wipe off that fish juice dripping from your fingers. The bottles of patis and bagoong are nicely arranged in rows. The noodles are al bunched together in one aisle. The meats are well refrigerated to inhibit the growth of odoriferous bacteria. Another great plus is that you can buy fish and ask them to fry it. Now, if only they can only learn how to season the fish, we would have ourselves a banquet right in the store.
Granted, some people do like the idea of an adventure in shopping. And yes, when I am nostalgic for some ethnic location, I hop onto Bart and go into the Chinatown in Oakland and San Francisco. The sidewalk market is a virtual panoply of fruits and vegetables from the East. There are countless older women walking, pressing fruits, sniffing meat, and throwing vegetables around. However, you must admit that with that atmosphere comes the price of seeing urban decay.
While at Island Pacific, I was heartened to see mangoes! Unfortunately, upon closer examination, the mangoes proved to be bruised, scratched, and bored into by some unknown object. It was only after walking a few steps that I realized that the mangoes originally came in boxes that had randomly received mangoes. What happened was that the Pin@ys had brought over that Filipino tradition of picking the best fruits from the box. So, the average fruits were discarded, thrown and stepped on while the very best fruits were selected. Boy, talk about bringing into the US a dastardly tradition. This is one that we can definitely do without. I saw the owner of Island Pacific going over the mangoes. I suggested to him that perhaps they needed to place those large clear tapes to close out the boxes.
And faced with this difficult choice of selected leftover boxes of mangoes, what did you think I did to collect as a present to the QueenHermit? Well, realizing that most Pin@ys would be too lazy to lift boxes, I went for the box that was at the very bottom. Thankfully enough, there was at least several boxes that were just delectable and untarnished by the hands of the choosers or nanglalamang.
The mangoes were offered to the HermitQueen and she was pleasant enough to share with everyone. Note: In case you ever have the opportunity to visit the HermitQueen in the Palace in the Sky, you must bring the Goldilock's brioche. This should gain you entry into the Queen's palace. But obviously, you better know how to cook in order for you to make the proper offerings.
What pleasure it was to dive into the mangoes! I prefer to eat dinner with either mangoes or bananas. I guess I prefer the contrast in taste between salt and sweet. Since I was a kid, I've been doing that. During the dinner, I scooped the mango with a spoon. Firm but soft, golden and luscious. Those mangoes were childhood memory mangoes. I spoon mangoes because I don't want to make a mess. I have on occasion dived into a mango by unwrapping the skin. That is one blessed event that must be done in silence and in isolation because of the holy nature of the experience and the mess you create. Another way to devour a mango is by cutting the mango with a knife and then pushing the flesh outward. This creates that mango petal effect that entertained the QueenHermit so much. And still does as you will see in her blog.
It has been years, however, since I have consumed green mangoes with bagoong. Now, that is cuisine at its best. drool?..drool?. ahhhh, mangooooeeesssss In the heat of the Philippine day, I hid in the kitchen with a promise of the delectable green mangoes and the salty pungent bagoong. The salty taste brings the sourness of the mango to delight somewhere in the middle of the tongue. It's probably over stimulating the sweet tastebuds.
But where do you buy it? Well, good of you to ask. Island Pacific stores is the current favorite supermarket of yours truly. Not that I can traipse over there at any time. The two locations are in Union City and in Vallejo. Now this is another venture by Pin@ys that I have been waiting for since forever. I would like to buy tuyo without having to describe the process of catching the fish, drying it, and salting it. Sometimes that champurado just necessitates that dash of the salt only tuyo can provide. You can use patis but only in an emergency! You might as well try sardines first before trying the patis. SHIVERS
The symbolic meaning of Island Pacific makes me giggle with glee. Finally, some Filipino entrepreneur can compete in an open market system for profits. Finally, Pin@ys can buy their childhood memories and dreams in America. It speaks of economic power which in America is probably the most important type of power. If you can affect someone's bottom line profits, they will pay attention to you. The civil rights movement was propelled by the boycott in Alabama of bus service and businesses. No amount of coercion and intimidation could stop the boycott. And so now, we have a Filipino market that caters to the wants and needs of Pin@ys. Hopefully, the venture will be able to compete against Ranch 99, which is another wonderful Asian store that originated in Southern California.
The Ranch 99 store in Richmond is a wonderful place to shop. There is room to roam; the smell of decaying sewage does not assault one's senses; and paper towels are provided so that you can wipe off that fish juice dripping from your fingers. The bottles of patis and bagoong are nicely arranged in rows. The noodles are al bunched together in one aisle. The meats are well refrigerated to inhibit the growth of odoriferous bacteria. Another great plus is that you can buy fish and ask them to fry it. Now, if only they can only learn how to season the fish, we would have ourselves a banquet right in the store.
Granted, some people do like the idea of an adventure in shopping. And yes, when I am nostalgic for some ethnic location, I hop onto Bart and go into the Chinatown in Oakland and San Francisco. The sidewalk market is a virtual panoply of fruits and vegetables from the East. There are countless older women walking, pressing fruits, sniffing meat, and throwing vegetables around. However, you must admit that with that atmosphere comes the price of seeing urban decay.
While at Island Pacific, I was heartened to see mangoes! Unfortunately, upon closer examination, the mangoes proved to be bruised, scratched, and bored into by some unknown object. It was only after walking a few steps that I realized that the mangoes originally came in boxes that had randomly received mangoes. What happened was that the Pin@ys had brought over that Filipino tradition of picking the best fruits from the box. So, the average fruits were discarded, thrown and stepped on while the very best fruits were selected. Boy, talk about bringing into the US a dastardly tradition. This is one that we can definitely do without. I saw the owner of Island Pacific going over the mangoes. I suggested to him that perhaps they needed to place those large clear tapes to close out the boxes.
And faced with this difficult choice of selected leftover boxes of mangoes, what did you think I did to collect as a present to the QueenHermit? Well, realizing that most Pin@ys would be too lazy to lift boxes, I went for the box that was at the very bottom. Thankfully enough, there was at least several boxes that were just delectable and untarnished by the hands of the choosers or nanglalamang.
The mangoes were offered to the HermitQueen and she was pleasant enough to share with everyone. Note: In case you ever have the opportunity to visit the HermitQueen in the Palace in the Sky, you must bring the Goldilock's brioche. This should gain you entry into the Queen's palace. But obviously, you better know how to cook in order for you to make the proper offerings.
What pleasure it was to dive into the mangoes! I prefer to eat dinner with either mangoes or bananas. I guess I prefer the contrast in taste between salt and sweet. Since I was a kid, I've been doing that. During the dinner, I scooped the mango with a spoon. Firm but soft, golden and luscious. Those mangoes were childhood memory mangoes. I spoon mangoes because I don't want to make a mess. I have on occasion dived into a mango by unwrapping the skin. That is one blessed event that must be done in silence and in isolation because of the holy nature of the experience and the mess you create. Another way to devour a mango is by cutting the mango with a knife and then pushing the flesh outward. This creates that mango petal effect that entertained the QueenHermit so much. And still does as you will see in her blog.
It has been years, however, since I have consumed green mangoes with bagoong. Now, that is cuisine at its best. drool?..drool?. ahhhh, mangooooeeesssss In the heat of the Philippine day, I hid in the kitchen with a promise of the delectable green mangoes and the salty pungent bagoong. The salty taste brings the sourness of the mango to delight somewhere in the middle of the tongue. It's probably over stimulating the sweet tastebuds.
Filipinos have an unabashed desire for anything American. However, because we are speaking of Filipinos, they inevitably begin to subvert and make those totally American things into Filipino traditions. From the depths of my childhood of corrupted / improved themes is hamburgers. This thought of corruption / improvement is a constant theme in my life. Pronounciations, cooking, baking, cars are constantly changed, appended or edited to suit the Pin@y palate. Hamburgers. What a nightmare from my childhood.
Let me explain something about physiology. By the way, this is my attempt at real life explanation for a phenomenon I have observed. At the tender ages (4-21 years old), in general, an individual has very specific and very sensitive taste buds. If one has not participated in activities that destroy taste buds such as smoking, one retains said taste buds. Thus, we find that kids love sweets at the young ages, because the taste buds for sweets are right smack in the middle of the tongue. Ohh, gustatory stimulation at its best.
So when onions or tomatoes are added to eggs, the child runs away screaming in pain not only from the burning sensation of the onions, but also from the nasty smell emanating from the kitchen. But I can almost hear the lamentations of the millions and millions of you out there who swear life is derived from onions, garlic and tomatoes. Please remember that we are taking this from a child's point of view. To them, onions make one's eye water from a distance of ten feet. The idea of eating garlic is insane. And tomatoes have such a strong taste that it does not belong in an omelette. Omelettes are supposed to be eaten in its purity without any adornment.
But back to the nightmares of childhood. Wouldn't you know it? My family, which also consists of my yaya, make hamburgers by adding onions and carrots. I can only imagine that they also probably added some other spice to make sure that it tasted right.
To a child with a full blown case of unadulterated taste buds, this is hell. What is that flavor right there? Yuck, onions. Oh, maybe if I bite over here. Yuck, tomatoes.
Can you make me hamburgers without onions?
"But that would just be meat. Why would you want a burger with just meat?"
So that is not so spicy.
It's a good thing that I am the product of millions of years of evolution and natural selection. With my wit and guile, I managed to eat some other adulterated product that did not have spices. Come to think of it, my memories of what I ate seem to be blocked. Oh, yeah... I ate a lot of mayonaisse when I was a kid. I guess that is why I am so tall. All that fat and oil congealed into a mass that added height.
But back to reality. Where was I going with this?
Taylor's Referesher in St. Helena. QueenHermit and KingPorcupine have given this restaurant the blessing of the order of Chateau Galatea. Supposedly, when chefs around the Napa area are in need of sustenance in the form of ground meat grilled to perfection, they come to Taylor's.
Now, the first time I went to Taylor's, I was probably not very impressed. After all, with the history of TommyBurgers on Rampart Ave in the bullet-ridden town of Los Angeles, and the history of countless McDonalds during a strenuous week at work, and the history of my own grilling experience with steaks, and a history or Hegenburger from the wild streets of Oakland, I was pretty much invincible from the perspective of being impressed. Sure the burgers tasted like burgers. The meat was soft and juicy and properly balanced in taste. The hamburger patty melted into the meat as one concoction of balanced meaty taste.
However, this past weekend, I happened to order their Ahi Burger served rare with ginger wasabi mayo and Asian slaw ($9.99). Damn! That is one expensive burger. But it is delightful. The subtle taste of fish is delicate. But, it is so good that it tasted like meat to this unabashed carnivore on a diet. No wonder it costs $10. But if you have to splurge, forget those Liberty restaurants! Go instead to Taylor's Refresher. Sure it is open-air dining. Sure the seats are just benches. There tons of benches. Sure the flies want your food. But the key here is that it is great food.
So go to Taylor's Refresher
I have to give it a recommendation of Order of the Carnivore. Guaranteed to satisfy the Pin@y palate. You've tasted goat, mayas, tutubis and others. This restaurant is just as good as your yaya's cooking.
Friday, May 09, 2003
The HermitQueen demanded a traditional Filipino dinner? Hmm, I wondered whether or not the Queen knew how many ungulates had to be sacrificed in order for the cuisine to come true. Ah, never mind... one only lives once... if traditional means oxtail, goat, bagoong, and tripe, so be it. The HermitQueen will not be disappointed.
Shopping was performed in Ranch 99. Truly, an Asian supermarket is a blessing. I prefer to do my shopping in clean and sanitized surroundings. Yes, I know that this part was ripped from an animal just a few days ago. Yes, the way cattle is butchered is disturbing if you imagine yourself being pummeled with a steel rod. Yes, the amount of energy necessary to feed a young cow to maturity is a tremendous waste. But hey! I'm a Filipino. I am genetically predisposed to yearn for chicken, pork or beef. Heck, I yearn for anything that moves with fins, hoofs, legs, slime, or wings! From a whale to a tiny insect, I eat it! Yeah, you heard me right. I eat things that are usually pets or subjects of pest eradicators. After all, most things are carbohydrates and proteins at the molecular level. And hey, if it is not, then it is a delicacy from some other world!
Kalderetang Kambing. I ended up cooking this one because of some leftover ingredients from Easter. It actually turned out quite well. I had to skip the liver spread/pate because the it was served to the cat. But I placed an extra dollop of cheese and it more than made up for the liver spread.
I just realized that I never discussed Easter Kambing. Well let me get the recipe out of the way. Life has just been snapping on by that I keep forgetting.
Kalderetang Kambing
1.2 k goat meat, cut into large cubes
1 can Sprite
1/2 c soy sauce
100 g carrots, quartered, fried
100 g potato, quartered, fried
50 g red and green bell pepper
85 g liver spread
50 g green olives
50 g black olives
100 g cheddar cheese
50 ml olive oil
100 g Spanish sausage
15 g garlic
100 g onion
3 pc bay leaf
.5 g siling labuyo
75 ml vinegar
200 ml fresh tomatoes, peeled and crushed
salt and pepper
optional: coconut milk to add thickness
Thoroughly wash goat meat in running water.
Drain and place in an open pan to let it dry.
In a saucepan, boil meat with soy sauce, Sprite, vinegar and bay leaf for two hours or until meat is soft and tender. Strain meat from the soy sauce mixture. Set aside meat, as well as the soy sauce mixture for later use.
In a separate pan, saute olive oil, garlic and onion, add black and green olives then mix in the liver spread.
Add freshly crushed tomatoes.
Add cheddar cheese; stir well.
Add sausage.
Add bell pepper.
Add the soy sauce mixture.
Add the goat meat; bring to a boil.
Then add potatoes and carrots in the pan and cook for a few minutes more. (Note: Add more chilies if prefer super hot.)
The first time this recipe was tried in my presence, it took two cooks to bring the recipe into self-actualization. It takes two hours for the goat to cook and be tender. The heat and the vinegar and the sprite react by breaking down the collagens and the proteins. The two hours is necessary if you want the recipe to be successful. Another option of couse is to use a pressure cooker.
Do you know why it is important to cook the goat for two hours? Well, because I scientifically tried to make adobo out of the goat and only cooked it for one hour. Guess what. That goat was so tough that I had to use a knife to cut it up. Perhaps the adobong kambing would have passed if I were still in grad school, but now? Forget about it. The more tender it is, the better off you are.
So what do we do for two hours? Well, if you were spending Easter cooking, you will watch Moulin Rouge. I believe that Nicole Kidman won her oscar this year for her performance in moulin rouge. She sang!!! I was about ready to buy the DVD for the movie, but it turns out thatt I don't have enough attention span. At any rate, I would begin cutting up the red and green peppers for the kaldereta. Cut the tomatoes. The first time, it was actually chopped using a food processor. Since I am lazy with respect to cleaning electrical appliances, I just cut up the tomatoes like I cut onions. Really small. Pretty much, one can cut up almost all the ingredients so that when cooking, you actually do it like the chefs on tv and just add stuff. Of course, this takes the element of surprise in cooking. Like, SURPRISE where is the garlic. I need it now.
While the kaldereta was being cooked, I was cooking grilled leg of lamb. Note to self: Lamb can be greasy. In the future, need to be aware of this or the BBQ grill will be a mess. I once grilled lamb on the Webber grill. It wa a work of art because I managed to insert garlic into the lamb. However, the grill was a mess because of all the fat. This time around, I apparently marinated the lamb too much because the tasters complained that it was a bit salty. From my perspective, I believe I left the lamb too long. I really should just have cooked it 1.5 hours. or maybe even 1 hour. But, you know, when you are tentative and don't want your guests to develop food poisoning, you figure to be conservative when it comes to grilling/baking/basting food.
However, what happens too often is that the overcooked food is too tough. I guess I overcook because most filipinos don't eat things that have that rare bloody look. Filipinos are indoctrinated with the motto "If there is blood/juice, send it for ten more minutes until there is a black crust around it." What? It's tender and juicy? That can't be right. Cook the moisture out of it. Crush the water untill it's a rock. Only then will it pass through these lips.
Ah, the prejudices and preconceptions and misconceptions that I have learned and inherited are numerous and mind boggling. I still can not open an umbrella inside the house. I do a double-take when cutting my nails at night. Heck, I try not to walk under a ladder. Too many fears that have to be left on the sidewalk or flushed down the toilet. I hope I have enough years to do it.
Speaking of which, there used to be a great Filipino restaurant in San Francisco in the Mint Mall in the Mission. It's right next to the parking in Mission and 7th, 8th and 10th streets. I believe the name was New Filipinas restaurant. The food was absolute karinderia level. Everything was great. I mean, adobo was awesome. The dinuguan was superb. The lechon kawali was to die for. But, profitability took away that greatness. For some reason, the cooks and managers were changed and next thing you know, the food was worse than crap. Where the heck did you see/feel adobo that was so hard that your molars gave up on them? Only in the Philippines! Everything took a nosedive with respect to quality. The taste was cheap. The quality of the meats that were being used was questionable. Heck, the place is a stay away from this place. I will probably try to visit to see if it has improved. Chances are though that the health department is needed to check up on them.
Ingat.
Shopping was performed in Ranch 99. Truly, an Asian supermarket is a blessing. I prefer to do my shopping in clean and sanitized surroundings. Yes, I know that this part was ripped from an animal just a few days ago. Yes, the way cattle is butchered is disturbing if you imagine yourself being pummeled with a steel rod. Yes, the amount of energy necessary to feed a young cow to maturity is a tremendous waste. But hey! I'm a Filipino. I am genetically predisposed to yearn for chicken, pork or beef. Heck, I yearn for anything that moves with fins, hoofs, legs, slime, or wings! From a whale to a tiny insect, I eat it! Yeah, you heard me right. I eat things that are usually pets or subjects of pest eradicators. After all, most things are carbohydrates and proteins at the molecular level. And hey, if it is not, then it is a delicacy from some other world!
Kalderetang Kambing. I ended up cooking this one because of some leftover ingredients from Easter. It actually turned out quite well. I had to skip the liver spread/pate because the it was served to the cat. But I placed an extra dollop of cheese and it more than made up for the liver spread.
I just realized that I never discussed Easter Kambing. Well let me get the recipe out of the way. Life has just been snapping on by that I keep forgetting.
Kalderetang Kambing
1.2 k goat meat, cut into large cubes
1 can Sprite
1/2 c soy sauce
100 g carrots, quartered, fried
100 g potato, quartered, fried
50 g red and green bell pepper
85 g liver spread
50 g green olives
50 g black olives
100 g cheddar cheese
50 ml olive oil
100 g Spanish sausage
15 g garlic
100 g onion
3 pc bay leaf
.5 g siling labuyo
75 ml vinegar
200 ml fresh tomatoes, peeled and crushed
salt and pepper
optional: coconut milk to add thickness
Thoroughly wash goat meat in running water.
Drain and place in an open pan to let it dry.
In a saucepan, boil meat with soy sauce, Sprite, vinegar and bay leaf for two hours or until meat is soft and tender. Strain meat from the soy sauce mixture. Set aside meat, as well as the soy sauce mixture for later use.
In a separate pan, saute olive oil, garlic and onion, add black and green olives then mix in the liver spread.
Add freshly crushed tomatoes.
Add cheddar cheese; stir well.
Add sausage.
Add bell pepper.
Add the soy sauce mixture.
Add the goat meat; bring to a boil.
Then add potatoes and carrots in the pan and cook for a few minutes more. (Note: Add more chilies if prefer super hot.)
The first time this recipe was tried in my presence, it took two cooks to bring the recipe into self-actualization. It takes two hours for the goat to cook and be tender. The heat and the vinegar and the sprite react by breaking down the collagens and the proteins. The two hours is necessary if you want the recipe to be successful. Another option of couse is to use a pressure cooker.
Do you know why it is important to cook the goat for two hours? Well, because I scientifically tried to make adobo out of the goat and only cooked it for one hour. Guess what. That goat was so tough that I had to use a knife to cut it up. Perhaps the adobong kambing would have passed if I were still in grad school, but now? Forget about it. The more tender it is, the better off you are.
So what do we do for two hours? Well, if you were spending Easter cooking, you will watch Moulin Rouge. I believe that Nicole Kidman won her oscar this year for her performance in moulin rouge. She sang!!! I was about ready to buy the DVD for the movie, but it turns out thatt I don't have enough attention span. At any rate, I would begin cutting up the red and green peppers for the kaldereta. Cut the tomatoes. The first time, it was actually chopped using a food processor. Since I am lazy with respect to cleaning electrical appliances, I just cut up the tomatoes like I cut onions. Really small. Pretty much, one can cut up almost all the ingredients so that when cooking, you actually do it like the chefs on tv and just add stuff. Of course, this takes the element of surprise in cooking. Like, SURPRISE where is the garlic. I need it now.
While the kaldereta was being cooked, I was cooking grilled leg of lamb. Note to self: Lamb can be greasy. In the future, need to be aware of this or the BBQ grill will be a mess. I once grilled lamb on the Webber grill. It wa a work of art because I managed to insert garlic into the lamb. However, the grill was a mess because of all the fat. This time around, I apparently marinated the lamb too much because the tasters complained that it was a bit salty. From my perspective, I believe I left the lamb too long. I really should just have cooked it 1.5 hours. or maybe even 1 hour. But, you know, when you are tentative and don't want your guests to develop food poisoning, you figure to be conservative when it comes to grilling/baking/basting food.
However, what happens too often is that the overcooked food is too tough. I guess I overcook because most filipinos don't eat things that have that rare bloody look. Filipinos are indoctrinated with the motto "If there is blood/juice, send it for ten more minutes until there is a black crust around it." What? It's tender and juicy? That can't be right. Cook the moisture out of it. Crush the water untill it's a rock. Only then will it pass through these lips.
Ah, the prejudices and preconceptions and misconceptions that I have learned and inherited are numerous and mind boggling. I still can not open an umbrella inside the house. I do a double-take when cutting my nails at night. Heck, I try not to walk under a ladder. Too many fears that have to be left on the sidewalk or flushed down the toilet. I hope I have enough years to do it.
Speaking of which, there used to be a great Filipino restaurant in San Francisco in the Mint Mall in the Mission. It's right next to the parking in Mission and 7th, 8th and 10th streets. I believe the name was New Filipinas restaurant. The food was absolute karinderia level. Everything was great. I mean, adobo was awesome. The dinuguan was superb. The lechon kawali was to die for. But, profitability took away that greatness. For some reason, the cooks and managers were changed and next thing you know, the food was worse than crap. Where the heck did you see/feel adobo that was so hard that your molars gave up on them? Only in the Philippines! Everything took a nosedive with respect to quality. The taste was cheap. The quality of the meats that were being used was questionable. Heck, the place is a stay away from this place. I will probably try to visit to see if it has improved. Chances are though that the health department is needed to check up on them.
Ingat.
Last weekend was full of decadence. From the traditional kare-kare to the wine-tasting in Napa, it was a weekend that demanded a whole week for recovery of the mind and body. Let's hit some of the highlights shall we?
First on the list has got to be the wine-tasting. There was a time in my life in which I wondered why people loved wine. Sadly, through the influence of the hermit on the hill, I have become a wine snob. Or, as other wine snobs would put it, I'm a connoisseur. From now on, I will judge the people I associate with by what kind of wine I will serve them. Some comedian wine snob said that.
The first stop was Flora's Spring. I was most fascinated by the 1999 Wild Boar Cabernet Sauvignon. The story about this is that the winery once had a plot of land that was inhabited by boars. Well, said boars had the taste for every other grape vine except for the Cabs. So, only the Cabs grew in that particular plot.
Fast-forward to the present. Looking down upon the bar like a majestic king is the head of a boar. Most likely one of said boars who did not develop a taste for cabernets. The wild boar cabernet had a very strong flavor. It's like a rake being scraped upon my tongue. Unlike other snobs, I have not fully developed my sense of taste for wine. Another way to say it is that my tastebuds are intrigued by strong flavors. My tongue favors sharp intakes of flavor like a slap from the palm of a woman.
The second stop was Dutch Henry which is named after a pet dog. The winery had their open house and so had appetizers. It was fantastic because of brie. Brie was introduced to me while I was a graduate student. Knowing brie is probably one of my greater achievements in graduate school. Who could have ever thought that there were other cheeses besides Velveeta? Velveeta is the height of human ingenuity. You store it in shelves! It can last through twenty years of storage. It already looked radioactive so if there was a nuclear war, you were already prepared. Slap velveeta orange on duct tape and microwave it and you have yourself a pizza dinner.
However, as in life, my viewpoint was changed by brie. I was intrigued by cheese after tasting brie. Brie was creamy yet tasty. A complex taste full of cow dreams and promises of steak. When eating velveeta, you can feel your arteries hardening. When eating brie, the hardening is much subtler, more refined. You will die from eating brie, but oh, what death!!!
The Chardonnays from Dutch Henry was very pleasing. Soft, crisp and clear. Fruity to the palate with a slight acidity. Mmmmmmm. I must be channeling a long dead wine sommelier. Soft? Crisp? Fruity with acidity? How does this all relate to diet coke or lemon coke or vanilla coke? What is all this plum, cranberry and oak doing in my head? I have succumbed to the forces of hedonism and snobbery! I am lost! Lost I say!
After buying some bottles of wine, we staggered back to the chateau. The chateau is a different story. Suffice it to say that it is a palace in the sky. A gift from one heart to another. A dream become reality unto earth. A vision within the confines of physics. A miracle from hard work, poverty and perseverance. A death trap to moths. A playground to a hermit-writer. A veritable kitchen-paradise for artists who can cook. A showcase of a hundred Picassos toiling away in the midst of paradise. A mosaic of grandiosity. A river flowing from the mountain. The past of a glorious winery. The present of an artist colony.
First on the list has got to be the wine-tasting. There was a time in my life in which I wondered why people loved wine. Sadly, through the influence of the hermit on the hill, I have become a wine snob. Or, as other wine snobs would put it, I'm a connoisseur. From now on, I will judge the people I associate with by what kind of wine I will serve them. Some comedian wine snob said that.
The first stop was Flora's Spring. I was most fascinated by the 1999 Wild Boar Cabernet Sauvignon. The story about this is that the winery once had a plot of land that was inhabited by boars. Well, said boars had the taste for every other grape vine except for the Cabs. So, only the Cabs grew in that particular plot.
Fast-forward to the present. Looking down upon the bar like a majestic king is the head of a boar. Most likely one of said boars who did not develop a taste for cabernets. The wild boar cabernet had a very strong flavor. It's like a rake being scraped upon my tongue. Unlike other snobs, I have not fully developed my sense of taste for wine. Another way to say it is that my tastebuds are intrigued by strong flavors. My tongue favors sharp intakes of flavor like a slap from the palm of a woman.
The second stop was Dutch Henry which is named after a pet dog. The winery had their open house and so had appetizers. It was fantastic because of brie. Brie was introduced to me while I was a graduate student. Knowing brie is probably one of my greater achievements in graduate school. Who could have ever thought that there were other cheeses besides Velveeta? Velveeta is the height of human ingenuity. You store it in shelves! It can last through twenty years of storage. It already looked radioactive so if there was a nuclear war, you were already prepared. Slap velveeta orange on duct tape and microwave it and you have yourself a pizza dinner.
However, as in life, my viewpoint was changed by brie. I was intrigued by cheese after tasting brie. Brie was creamy yet tasty. A complex taste full of cow dreams and promises of steak. When eating velveeta, you can feel your arteries hardening. When eating brie, the hardening is much subtler, more refined. You will die from eating brie, but oh, what death!!!
The Chardonnays from Dutch Henry was very pleasing. Soft, crisp and clear. Fruity to the palate with a slight acidity. Mmmmmmm. I must be channeling a long dead wine sommelier. Soft? Crisp? Fruity with acidity? How does this all relate to diet coke or lemon coke or vanilla coke? What is all this plum, cranberry and oak doing in my head? I have succumbed to the forces of hedonism and snobbery! I am lost! Lost I say!
After buying some bottles of wine, we staggered back to the chateau. The chateau is a different story. Suffice it to say that it is a palace in the sky. A gift from one heart to another. A dream become reality unto earth. A vision within the confines of physics. A miracle from hard work, poverty and perseverance. A death trap to moths. A playground to a hermit-writer. A veritable kitchen-paradise for artists who can cook. A showcase of a hundred Picassos toiling away in the midst of paradise. A mosaic of grandiosity. A river flowing from the mountain. The past of a glorious winery. The present of an artist colony.
Tuesday, April 22, 2003
The 18th of April was Good Friday. In the Phillipines of my youth, you had to be very quiet and very sombre during Good Friday. It was a day of penance, a day to remember the sacrifice of Christ for humanity.
For a child, it was day of mystery. I went to church and saw these old women praying at stations, kneeling for the whole day at the church without a sound. All I can see were their lips moving, mumbling. The women always covered their hair with a "belo". I am currently in search for the belo in order to create images from my childhood of religion. If you have any belo from your grandmama, contact me!!!
The images of Christ were huge to a child. Invariably, they were always European in image -- aquiline nose, fair skin, and long brown hair. If God really made man in his image, then Europe really did a number on the image of Christ.
There was something grotesque about praying to a statue. I kept wondering about who changes Christ's clothes during the different parts of the year. Whoever did it saw God naked. How embarassing for God. He must be saying, "Damn, it's Easter season again. Yup, sure enough, here's Tatang Barong with his newly washed clothes....Take it easy Tatang, I might be a statue, but I am delicate like a flower....Not bad....Velvet. I dress better than his children."
The other main stay of Good Friday is of course the pabasa. Generally, it is a tradition of reading about the story of Christ's death. I guess it is a Tagalog tradition because I some from Pangasinan have never heard of it. I was lucky enough to attend one this past 18th. It was wonderful!
There is a magic to a pabasa. There is the intonation and melody. There is the singing. There is the give an take between different readers. The leader is followed closely by everyone else. But if someone is unhappy with how things are going, there could be a rebellion in the music or intonation. But even then, the melody is repeated over and over with pasyon! That is the key. Passion. It is the passion of the story of Christ's life. It must be repeated with passion. With feeling. With sentiment. With humor. After all, the pasyon must reflect the Filipino daily life which is full of feeling, passion and humor.
It took me a while to get the rhythm down. But pretty soon, I was singing albeit I was using a very low volume. My friend's father became part of this one group of men who participated in the pasyon while I was looking on. They had the spirit of the pasyon in them. Considering they were all over 60 years old, I was quite surprised by their humor and their singing. In some ways, it is not surprising because they have been doing it for their whole life. But, in another way, their singing spoke of their dedication.
Their singing is like the rapids in a river. Everyone else's singing is like the river merrily coursing on its way to the ocean. But soon enough, here are the rapids. Huge boulders block the water. There is a fall of ten to fifteen feet. The channel narrows into the huge boulders. The water rushes past speeds up to meet and overcome the obstacle. Their voice were lilting, teasing and showing off. "Oh, you can extend your one syllable to two measures? We can extend one syllable into three measures."
But of course, this is a karinderia. So what about the food? Well, there is no meat in the pabasa because you must sacrifice just like Christ sacrificed. But the good thing is that fish is not classified as meat. There was a huge baked salmon in the party. I think it had some parsley and salt and pepper. There was also some fried fish. I did not delve into that one because I did not want to deal with the bones. To compensate for not eating the fried fish, I instead delved into the fried ukoy which is made up of small shrimps and scraped squash which is then deep fried. Umm, YUM. Not good for your triglycerides though.
And can we celebrate rice as a dessert item? Good lord, there was rice dessert everywhere. Kutsinta is the consummate standard. How can you not have kutsinta and still call it a party. It is squishy but imminently biteable. Then we have the palitaw. And the ube covered in coconut shavings. Can you feel your blood sugar reaching 200 or the dreaded 300 level? Well, how about the suman? Surely, you can dip it into some more sugar just to make it taste just right.
I guess I'll start getting notes so that I get to name everything that I try out. Hmm, maybe I will do that.
Sige, sa susunod, we'll discuss Kalderetang Easter.
INGAT!
For a child, it was day of mystery. I went to church and saw these old women praying at stations, kneeling for the whole day at the church without a sound. All I can see were their lips moving, mumbling. The women always covered their hair with a "belo". I am currently in search for the belo in order to create images from my childhood of religion. If you have any belo from your grandmama, contact me!!!
The images of Christ were huge to a child. Invariably, they were always European in image -- aquiline nose, fair skin, and long brown hair. If God really made man in his image, then Europe really did a number on the image of Christ.
There was something grotesque about praying to a statue. I kept wondering about who changes Christ's clothes during the different parts of the year. Whoever did it saw God naked. How embarassing for God. He must be saying, "Damn, it's Easter season again. Yup, sure enough, here's Tatang Barong with his newly washed clothes....Take it easy Tatang, I might be a statue, but I am delicate like a flower....Not bad....Velvet. I dress better than his children."
The other main stay of Good Friday is of course the pabasa. Generally, it is a tradition of reading about the story of Christ's death. I guess it is a Tagalog tradition because I some from Pangasinan have never heard of it. I was lucky enough to attend one this past 18th. It was wonderful!
There is a magic to a pabasa. There is the intonation and melody. There is the singing. There is the give an take between different readers. The leader is followed closely by everyone else. But if someone is unhappy with how things are going, there could be a rebellion in the music or intonation. But even then, the melody is repeated over and over with pasyon! That is the key. Passion. It is the passion of the story of Christ's life. It must be repeated with passion. With feeling. With sentiment. With humor. After all, the pasyon must reflect the Filipino daily life which is full of feeling, passion and humor.
It took me a while to get the rhythm down. But pretty soon, I was singing albeit I was using a very low volume. My friend's father became part of this one group of men who participated in the pasyon while I was looking on. They had the spirit of the pasyon in them. Considering they were all over 60 years old, I was quite surprised by their humor and their singing. In some ways, it is not surprising because they have been doing it for their whole life. But, in another way, their singing spoke of their dedication.
Their singing is like the rapids in a river. Everyone else's singing is like the river merrily coursing on its way to the ocean. But soon enough, here are the rapids. Huge boulders block the water. There is a fall of ten to fifteen feet. The channel narrows into the huge boulders. The water rushes past speeds up to meet and overcome the obstacle. Their voice were lilting, teasing and showing off. "Oh, you can extend your one syllable to two measures? We can extend one syllable into three measures."
But of course, this is a karinderia. So what about the food? Well, there is no meat in the pabasa because you must sacrifice just like Christ sacrificed. But the good thing is that fish is not classified as meat. There was a huge baked salmon in the party. I think it had some parsley and salt and pepper. There was also some fried fish. I did not delve into that one because I did not want to deal with the bones. To compensate for not eating the fried fish, I instead delved into the fried ukoy which is made up of small shrimps and scraped squash which is then deep fried. Umm, YUM. Not good for your triglycerides though.
And can we celebrate rice as a dessert item? Good lord, there was rice dessert everywhere. Kutsinta is the consummate standard. How can you not have kutsinta and still call it a party. It is squishy but imminently biteable. Then we have the palitaw. And the ube covered in coconut shavings. Can you feel your blood sugar reaching 200 or the dreaded 300 level? Well, how about the suman? Surely, you can dip it into some more sugar just to make it taste just right.
I guess I'll start getting notes so that I get to name everything that I try out. Hmm, maybe I will do that.
Sige, sa susunod, we'll discuss Kalderetang Easter.
INGAT!
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