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.

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.

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.

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!

It's a full moon tonight. There is something about nights like this. It drives the minds and souls of men apart. The moon affects the mind so that nothing makes sense. The moon affects the heart so that emotions are much deeper. Emotions bleed truer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Normal cholesterol; Low HDL; High LDL; High Triglycerides. Seeing the numbers on the piece of paper forced me to reality. I have known about the possibility of cardiovascular disease in myself. After all, with the diet of adobo, kare-kare, rice and bagoong, the Philippine diet is a prescription for heart disease and diabetes.

But, those dishes are some of the defining moments of being Pinoy. Dinuguan with putong puti is a staple for the Easter weekend. There is a prize for the quiet and the solitude of Good Friday. It is all the food that you will have when Christ is resurrected. Just as He is reborn, so shall all the delightful food be reborn with Him.

As the Holy Week approaches, I lament at the lack of tradition for Filipinos in the US. I suppose that I speak of the middle-age group. I know for a fact that somewhere in Oakland, CA there are PABASAS wherein the life of Christ is recounted in a traditional songfest. As I remember, they start from Thursday and can go on till Easter. The sections of the Bible are sung in verse. The melody is made up as you go along and depends on the participants. I hopefully will have an opportunity to witness a pabasa this Good Friday. Maybe, I will have an opportunity to interview some of the old timers about traditions.

~~~~~~

Knives are the heart of the kitchen. Very early on, I decided that I needed to replace my trusty knife that was bought at Thrifty. That particular knife had been so used that the wood surrounding the tang of the knife had started to rot. I decided that I really should buy a knife that will last me a long time. So off I went to Ohrbach's in Oakland where the Sears store currently resides.

I was wide-eyed at the assortment of knives available. It seemed that each type of cutting required a different sort of knife. There's a bread knife; a chef's knife; a boning knife; even a knife for paring fruits. I was in knife heaven. But which brand to buy? I could go American of course. That is the usual standby. But in this instant, I decided that I wanted the German knife. Henckel's! I was impressed by the handle of the knife. Now, this was before Henckel's began producing knives for the mass market. There was only the professional series being sold. I ended up with a 12" chef's knife, a boning knife, a paring knife, and the sharpener.

The interesting thing was that I always thought that knives were always sharpened. In the Philippines, the knife sharpener rode his bicycle around with a contraption that allowed him to sharpen knives. He would take the bicycle chain and place it on the contraption so that the contraption's wheel would begin rotating as he pedaled. Then, he would place the knife against the wheel and sparks would fly like firecrackers in the sky.

In the advertisement for the Henckel's knife, they explained that their knife never needs to be sharpened by the wheel. The knife edge is really composed of a series of teeth. When the knife is sharp, the teeth are aligned straight. When the knife starts getting dull, the teeth have been bent out of shape. I tested this claim and must admit that after running the paring knife across the circular sharpener, the paring knife cuts as good as new. This works with the chef's knife too.

This past weekend, a friend's mother gave a set of the miracle blades which one sees on the telivision late-night advertisements. These knives purport to never need sharpening. If one were to examine the edges of the knives, they are really knife teeth with an exaggerated size. I suppose that is one reason why they never need sharpening. The teeth are so hugh that they will never misalign.

I had gone to a knife store during the Christmas holiday to buy a knife as a present. I was looking at the stock and was hoping that they would have Henckel's. When I asked, the seller made a face and said that Henckel's was not very good. I knew immediately that I would never buy a knife from that store for my personal use. I mean, I understand that you are trying to sell, but come on. To lie about it!

I am deciding whether someday, I will have a knife solely dedicated to slicing a turkey. The romantic part of me is infatuated with the idea of giving that knife to my kid. The idea of a family heirloom. But the problem with that is that if you have more than one child, who gets the knife? It's not fair for the others. Furthermore, it would only promote the need for material gains. I'm all for being rich, but not for gaining more and more material crap.

Sige, Ingat kayo.

The freedom to speak. What a great gift it is to be able to say what you think wherever you are. Sometimes, I don't understand Americans. They say that they fight for the freedom of speech, but then again, they muzzle other people.

The baseball hall of fame has cancelled a showing of the movie "Bull Durham" because they were afraid that Susan Sarandon and her husband Tim Robbins would make a political statement. What is so bad about that? They actually use their brains and express intelligent opinion. In a world where everyone just believes what the media says, it is a pleasure to actually hear opinions. That's actually one sign that you live in a democracy. You can speak your mind and you don't have to get worried about being shot or disappearing.

I saw Michael Moore when he spoke after winning his Oscar. He criticized the war in Iraq. He got booed by the audience. I suppose people equate criticism of the war in Iraq with not supporting the troops. I suppose that stems from Vietnam. But to get back to the point, this is the stuff that democracy is supposed to do. You can speak your own mind. But hey, in return, if people don't like what you say, they can boo you off the stage.

I just go back to the first time I saw blacks demonstrating against segregation in the South. If you look at the old tapes, you will see them march and get beaten. Blacks would march in Freedom busses and get off the bus stations and they would be greeted by a mass of whites with hate-filled faces. The blacks would demonstrate and march in the middle of the road and the police would use fire hoses to stop them from demonstrating. Not only water was used, but German sheperds were also used to attack and intimidate the demonstrators. Oh, and of course, the usual array of batons and sticks were also used to beat people into submission.

Pretty much, anything was doable to the people demonstrating against segregation. The techniques of intimidation and force are much subtler nowadays. But the idea behind it is still the same. Ignorance.

April 8, 2003
Today, the US begins control of Baghdad. No sign of Saddam anywhere. I found it disturbing that Americans were destroying Saddam?s pictures/monuments. I was hoping that we could leave those things to the Iraqis themselves. There?s nothing like blowing up a symbol of dominance. It releases the soul.

Iraqis were gathering around a big statue. Maybe they will destroy it with their hands. More likely, they will ask a tank to pull it down. An American tank. What type of symbolism does that send? That we will help all that are oppressed by dictators? Or does it have to be a dictator that has mass weapons of destruction. I am still confused by our American policy on foreign affairs.

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