If you want to be lucky, happy, healthy and wealthy—then making sure that you comply with the New Year Readiness Program as briefly outlined below.
• Are your containers for rice, sugar and salt filled to the brim? And while you’re at it, why not include the fridge, the pantry and the car’s gas tank.
• There much be 12 assorted (or is it 13?) fruits that are round on your dining table. This is definitely a challenge if we strictly follow the “round” rule.
• Don’t forget to have lots of coins to toss in the air. An assortment of international coins would definitely put you on a higher level.
• Make ready that polka-dotted outfit. The bigger, the bolder, the better.
• Be sure to turn on all the house lights as well as open all doors and windows of your house at midnight. Luck will be on your side as you breath in all that foul air from the firecrackers.
• The house must be squeaky clean and put in order. Scrubbed, waxed and buffed to a shine.
Over the years, I have done most if not all of the above. Best of all, I always made it a point to wear a polka dotted duster (house dress) while sipping some wine in my brightly lit home by 12 midnight. I figured that doing so would mean I would be comfortably, intoxicatingly wealthy.
Can you guess the results? Hint: Two out of three’s not bad at all.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
I sat yoga-style on my terrace floor after spending the whole morning weeding and pruning in a effort to put order to my tiny garden before the end of the year. With my hands on my knees, I closed my eyes and did some slow breathing. Random thoughts of the year that pass went through my mind— the mom moments, the travels, the detours, the laughter and the tears, the scare, the hugs, the mistakes, the faces of friends and family. Then a strong breeze came through my garden. And as I continued to close my eyes, it’s as if all that happened this year were swiftly blown away. All gone and taken away by the wind.
I open my eyes and everything seemed so bright.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Looking back at the past week, I have to confess that I used the Christmas season as an excuse to over-indulge. Rich, gooey, and finger-lickingly food. Salty and sweet and everything else in between.
But that's in the past now and I sure am ready for some healthier eating habits. And if you are in the same mode I am in right now, you will like the following dishes I recently prepared.
Herb Infused Sweet Potato Greens (a tralala name for talbos ng camote ensalada)
A whole bowl of freshly picked camote tops
Chopped onions, tomatoes—about ½ cup each
Thumb-size ginger, peeled and minced
Some basil & tarragon leaves
Salad dressing:
Juice from 6 calamansi—about 3 tablespoons
3 Tablespoons water
3 tablespoons brown sugar (I like it sweet—as in very sweet) maybe substituted with honey
Olive oil
Salt & Pepper
Blanched the camote tops in hot water. Remove just short of their becoming very wilted.
Add the chopped veggies
and toss with the salad dressing. Who needs ice berg lettuce when you can have this!?!
Baked Tomato-Onion Stuffed Milkfish ( fancy Inihaw na Bangus)
1 whole boneless bangus
Juice from two calamansi
1 med-size tomato, chopped
1 small onion, chopped
Olive Oil
Salt & Pepper
Pat your fish dry with a paper towel. Squeeze the calamansi over the fish. Add the tomatoes and onions in the stomach area. Season the whole fish with salt and pepper.
Drizzle with olive oil. Fold to close up the fish.
Wrap in tin foil. Put it in a pan and bake or set on your griller for about 20 minutes.
Serve with lots of steaming, white rice.
Hmmmmm.... New Year's eve is just around the corner. Some beef mechado would go just as well with steamed rice : )
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
Gone with the Wind
Labels:
bangus,
camote tops salad,
inihaw na bangus,
talbos ng camote
Sunday, December 25, 2011
Good and Ready
As I sadly look on at the coffin of my friend’s husband, I wonder how one so young should die so soon.
I am certain that he still had so many things left undone; so many words left unsaid; so many of life’s experience yet to go through. But yet, he is gone. Leaving my friend to take care of their children. Leaving family and friends behind with hardly a warning or a last good-bye.
Why?
For those of us who believe in life after death, I would like to imagine that each one of us was born with a set of spiritual targets that have to be achieved before we are “released” from all earthly anxieties. I would like to think that my friend’s husband had completed the spiritual tasks assigned to him. And only God would know what these tasks were…
There are no words right now that can comfort my friend and her children. But in time, I would like to believe that their sadness will be replaced with the joy of knowing that her husband, and their father, has been released from all worldly concerns-- so very insignificant in the whole scheme of things. He now has a bigger task of watching over them— more closely from a better vintage point.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Here’s my take, in song form, on what could be a possible basic spiritual target.
Did I fill the World with Love?
In the morning of my life I shall look to the sunrise.
At a moment in my life when the world is new.
And the blessing I shall ask is that God will grant me,
To be brave and strong and true,
And to fill the world with love my whole life through.
(Chorus)
And to fill the world with love
And to fill the world with love
And to fill the world with love my whole life through
In the noontime of my life I shall look to the sunshine,
At a moment in my life when the sky is blue.
And the blessing I shall ask shall remain unchanging.
To be brave and strong and true,
And to fill the world with love my whole life through
(Chorus)
In the evening of my life I shall look to the sunset,
At a moment in my life when the night is due.
And the question I shall ask only I can answer.
Was I brave and strong and true?
Did I fill the world with love my whole life through?
(Chorus)
I am certain that he still had so many things left undone; so many words left unsaid; so many of life’s experience yet to go through. But yet, he is gone. Leaving my friend to take care of their children. Leaving family and friends behind with hardly a warning or a last good-bye.
Why?
For those of us who believe in life after death, I would like to imagine that each one of us was born with a set of spiritual targets that have to be achieved before we are “released” from all earthly anxieties. I would like to think that my friend’s husband had completed the spiritual tasks assigned to him. And only God would know what these tasks were…
There are no words right now that can comfort my friend and her children. But in time, I would like to believe that their sadness will be replaced with the joy of knowing that her husband, and their father, has been released from all worldly concerns-- so very insignificant in the whole scheme of things. He now has a bigger task of watching over them— more closely from a better vintage point.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Here’s my take, in song form, on what could be a possible basic spiritual target.
Did I fill the World with Love?
In the morning of my life I shall look to the sunrise.
At a moment in my life when the world is new.
And the blessing I shall ask is that God will grant me,
To be brave and strong and true,
And to fill the world with love my whole life through.
(Chorus)
And to fill the world with love
And to fill the world with love
And to fill the world with love my whole life through
In the noontime of my life I shall look to the sunshine,
At a moment in my life when the sky is blue.
And the blessing I shall ask shall remain unchanging.
To be brave and strong and true,
And to fill the world with love my whole life through
(Chorus)
In the evening of my life I shall look to the sunset,
At a moment in my life when the night is due.
And the question I shall ask only I can answer.
Was I brave and strong and true?
Did I fill the world with love my whole life through?
(Chorus)
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Life's a Party
I love parties--- big and elaborate or small and intimate. To tell you truth, I love the preparation part more than the actual party itself. As a host, attending to the tiniest details gets my blood pumping. As an invited guest, prepping for that right look – I specially love,love, love themed parties—- makes me giddy with excitement.
Growing up, I remember so many parties—of the dress-up type-- thrown by my grandmother. The women in beaded dresses
and the men in coat and tie—must have been so hot! I remember the cocktail and dinner parties hosted by my parents at home. The kitchen was like a battle ground and my mother the general. My father made sure that his bar was well stocked with very strong spirits taken straight or on the rocks (ala Mad Men) —so unlike the chi-chi drinks offered today.
How could I forget the high school dance parties with creative invitations—in the shape of voluptuous lips or a invite with burnt edges done expertly with the use of “katol” or cigarette. There were also parties that later graduated to ones involving a lot of beer & barbeque and being cool.
Married life brought in the children’s parties complete with clowns and magicians and the parties with guests happily discussing current events and the latest rumor over many glasses of wine and good food. Let me not forget the themed imposed parties at the office. I look back with fond memories of the masks, leis, hats, dramatic make-up and dancing shoes I’ve worn.
I like to think that life’s a big party. In order to enjoy every minute of it, one must pour all his/her energy into making each moment a celebration.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Quite recently, my daughter requested my help in preparing a dinner party she was throwing for two former high school friends. Naturally, inspite of the short notice, I immediately agreed and got busy. While she worked at the office, I was pulling out plates and wine glasses; cutting up bits of ham and sausages for appetizers; and setting up the dinner table at the terrace. To add some pizzazz, I placed tea candles on the dining table and in strategic nooks around the garden. I had some sparkling wine chilled and prepared a very simple pasta dish—recipe follows below. At 9PM, three very happy ladies were ready to get their party started.
Spaghetti with Tomato, Cream and Pesto
400 grams of spaghetti
¾ - 1 cup tomato sauce (depending on how sour you want your pasta to taste)
½ cup store bought pesto
½- ¾ cup cream (depending on how creamy you want your pasta to be)
Grated parmesan cheese
Mix together in a bowl the pesto, cream and tomato sauce. Season with salt and pepper. Taste and adjust seasoning. Set aside.
Prepare the spaghetti (boil al dente with some salt and oil in the water). Drain but save some of the boiled water (pasta water).
Add the sauce to the still hot pasta and fold making sure that all the noodles are coated with the sauce. You might want to add some “pasta water” to make it easy to toss the pasta. Adjust seasoning. Transfer to a serving dish and garnish with grated parmesan cheese and basil leaves.
Serve hot immediately with some garlic toast.
Ps: You know you’ve got a successful party when happy guests stay on late into the night.
Growing up, I remember so many parties—of the dress-up type-- thrown by my grandmother. The women in beaded dresses
and the men in coat and tie—must have been so hot! I remember the cocktail and dinner parties hosted by my parents at home. The kitchen was like a battle ground and my mother the general. My father made sure that his bar was well stocked with very strong spirits taken straight or on the rocks (ala Mad Men) —so unlike the chi-chi drinks offered today.
How could I forget the high school dance parties with creative invitations—in the shape of voluptuous lips or a invite with burnt edges done expertly with the use of “katol” or cigarette. There were also parties that later graduated to ones involving a lot of beer & barbeque and being cool.
Married life brought in the children’s parties complete with clowns and magicians and the parties with guests happily discussing current events and the latest rumor over many glasses of wine and good food. Let me not forget the themed imposed parties at the office. I look back with fond memories of the masks, leis, hats, dramatic make-up and dancing shoes I’ve worn.
I like to think that life’s a big party. In order to enjoy every minute of it, one must pour all his/her energy into making each moment a celebration.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Quite recently, my daughter requested my help in preparing a dinner party she was throwing for two former high school friends. Naturally, inspite of the short notice, I immediately agreed and got busy. While she worked at the office, I was pulling out plates and wine glasses; cutting up bits of ham and sausages for appetizers; and setting up the dinner table at the terrace. To add some pizzazz, I placed tea candles on the dining table and in strategic nooks around the garden. I had some sparkling wine chilled and prepared a very simple pasta dish—recipe follows below. At 9PM, three very happy ladies were ready to get their party started.
Spaghetti with Tomato, Cream and Pesto
400 grams of spaghetti
¾ - 1 cup tomato sauce (depending on how sour you want your pasta to taste)
½ cup store bought pesto
½- ¾ cup cream (depending on how creamy you want your pasta to be)
Grated parmesan cheese
Mix together in a bowl the pesto, cream and tomato sauce. Season with salt and pepper. Taste and adjust seasoning. Set aside.
Prepare the spaghetti (boil al dente with some salt and oil in the water). Drain but save some of the boiled water (pasta water).
Add the sauce to the still hot pasta and fold making sure that all the noodles are coated with the sauce. You might want to add some “pasta water” to make it easy to toss the pasta. Adjust seasoning. Transfer to a serving dish and garnish with grated parmesan cheese and basil leaves.
Serve hot immediately with some garlic toast.
Ps: You know you’ve got a successful party when happy guests stay on late into the night.
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Sublime Madness
“Retire?”
“But why? You’re still young.”
This is the reaction I receive to my response to the initial inquiry into my present occupation.
You might say that I am thankful for these remarks. They serve as a reminder and a validation to the reasons behind my action-- one friend recently tagged as “sublime madness”.
These reactions bring to mind, as well, some questions I regularly ask myself. The answers of which are still forming in my head.
Where does the road less travel lead to?
What skill can I still learn or improve on?
Can there ever be too much time spent just sitting, chatting and being with family, friends or just with myself?
What is my spiritual identity?
But one thing I know is that I cannot be grateful enough for the opportunity to immerse myself in this madness while I still have the energy— while I am still “young”.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Excepts from a Barbra Streisand song: “Everything”
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3MvrY2bn1Jo&feature=related
I want to learn what life is for
I don’t want much, I just want more
Ask what I want and I will sing
I want everything (everything)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Recently, I attended a bible study that tackled the topic on payer. This was most helpful as it gave me the opportunity to examine the what, how and why I pray and more importantly, gave me time to reflect on the God I pray to.
And although I look forward to the serious discussions that ensue, I also enjoy very much the lighthearted exchanges that take place over pot-luck dishes brought in for the meal that follows afterward.
Below is the recipe for the tuna sandwich I brought. You’ll surely go mad over the delicious take on an old-time favorite.
Classic Tuna Salad
(adapted from Cook’s Illustrated May & June 2001)
Say good-bye to second rate, mushy, watery and bland tuna sandwiches of the past.
2 cans of solid tuna in water
2 T juice from 1 lemon (or calamansi)
½ t salt
¼ t pepper
1 small rib celery, minced (about ¼ c)
2 T minced onion
2 T minced dill or sweet pickles
½ small garlic clove, minced (about 1/8 t)
2 T minced fresh parsley leaves (optional)
½ c mayonnaise
¼ t Dijon mustard
Drain tuna in colander and shred with fingers until no clumps remain and texture is fine and even. Transfer tuna to a medium bowl and mix in the lemon juice, salt, pepper, celery, onion, pickles, garlic and parley until blended.
Fold in mayonnaise and mustard until tuna is evenly moistened.
Can be covered and refrigerated up to 3 days)
Makes about 2 cups, enough for 10 no-frills sandwiches or 4 dressed-up and hearty sandwiches.
Note:
For a more luxurious and dressed-up sandwich, I like serving the spread on slightly toasted walnut wheat bread. If not available, you can toss some chopped walnuts into the tuna salad.
I first butter two pieces of sliced bread. Then I place a nice piece of lettuce leaf on one slice of bread before topping with a scoop of the tuna salad.
For the grand finale, I like to add thinly sliced apples before topping with the other piece of bread.
“But why? You’re still young.”
This is the reaction I receive to my response to the initial inquiry into my present occupation.
You might say that I am thankful for these remarks. They serve as a reminder and a validation to the reasons behind my action-- one friend recently tagged as “sublime madness”.
These reactions bring to mind, as well, some questions I regularly ask myself. The answers of which are still forming in my head.
Where does the road less travel lead to?
What skill can I still learn or improve on?
Can there ever be too much time spent just sitting, chatting and being with family, friends or just with myself?
What is my spiritual identity?
But one thing I know is that I cannot be grateful enough for the opportunity to immerse myself in this madness while I still have the energy— while I am still “young”.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Excepts from a Barbra Streisand song: “Everything”
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3MvrY2bn1Jo&feature=related
I want to learn what life is for
I don’t want much, I just want more
Ask what I want and I will sing
I want everything (everything)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Recently, I attended a bible study that tackled the topic on payer. This was most helpful as it gave me the opportunity to examine the what, how and why I pray and more importantly, gave me time to reflect on the God I pray to.
And although I look forward to the serious discussions that ensue, I also enjoy very much the lighthearted exchanges that take place over pot-luck dishes brought in for the meal that follows afterward.
Below is the recipe for the tuna sandwich I brought. You’ll surely go mad over the delicious take on an old-time favorite.
Classic Tuna Salad
(adapted from Cook’s Illustrated May & June 2001)
Say good-bye to second rate, mushy, watery and bland tuna sandwiches of the past.
2 cans of solid tuna in water
2 T juice from 1 lemon (or calamansi)
½ t salt
¼ t pepper
1 small rib celery, minced (about ¼ c)
2 T minced onion
2 T minced dill or sweet pickles
½ small garlic clove, minced (about 1/8 t)
2 T minced fresh parsley leaves (optional)
½ c mayonnaise
¼ t Dijon mustard
Drain tuna in colander and shred with fingers until no clumps remain and texture is fine and even. Transfer tuna to a medium bowl and mix in the lemon juice, salt, pepper, celery, onion, pickles, garlic and parley until blended.
Fold in mayonnaise and mustard until tuna is evenly moistened.
Can be covered and refrigerated up to 3 days)
Makes about 2 cups, enough for 10 no-frills sandwiches or 4 dressed-up and hearty sandwiches.
Note:
For a more luxurious and dressed-up sandwich, I like serving the spread on slightly toasted walnut wheat bread. If not available, you can toss some chopped walnuts into the tuna salad.
I first butter two pieces of sliced bread. Then I place a nice piece of lettuce leaf on one slice of bread before topping with a scoop of the tuna salad.
For the grand finale, I like to add thinly sliced apples before topping with the other piece of bread.
Labels:
faith,
reflection,
retirement,
tuna salad,
tuna sandwich
Monday, December 12, 2011
The Renaissance Man
"A very dear friend of mine will be coming over,” V said to me as I partook of the breakfast she had prepared for me.
“He will be dropping by anytime now and I am sure you will find him quite interesting,” V continued, “I like to think of him as a renaissance man. He has a vast knowledge on a variety of topics.”
And on cue, there is a knock on the door and MR T, a stately man with a cane, carrying a small plastic bag walks in.
Introductions are made and we all sit at the dining table. V adds that Mr T is a writer with a keen interest on local architecture, furniture and our cultural past. He makes himself at home and asked for something to drink.
“Look what I brought you V,” Mr T announces as he proceeds to pull out a small container from the pastic bag.
“Pickled quails’ eggs,” Mr T exclaimed, “made from an old family recipe.”
The mention of family recipe made me sit up. Teaspoons and saucers were produced and he promptly placed a tiny pearl onion paired with a quail’s egg on a teaspoon and gave it to me.
I initially dropped the onion back to the saucer but I got a quick admonishment from Mr T.
“You have to eat it together or you lose out on the experience,” was his stern instructions.
So into my mouth went the egg and the onion. And yes, he was right on insisting on the match. There was an explosion of flavours in my mouth. Firm egg meets sweet-sour slightly crunchy onion with a hint of cinnamon. Delicious!
“I made it from a secret family recipe,” Mr T proudly reminded me again.
“Would you share that recipe?” I cheekily asked.
“Of course not,” Mr. T retorted back with a raise of an eyebrow but with a small smile lurking on the side of his lips.
What should have been a short visit turned out to be an extraordinary morning filled with stories of a bygone era of gracious living.
It was almost lunchtime when I reluctantly said good-bye. There were promises to meet again and continue more of the insights into history, the arts and family secrets.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Mr T did share what went into the preparation of the pickled eggs but not the exact recipe. He added cardamom seeds, cloves, cinnamon sticks, bay leaves, honey, and peppercorn to some vinegar (he insist on del Monte brand). He brought this to a boil and once cooled down, poured the mixture into a container of boiled and peeled quails’ egg and baby onions.
Not having the recipe of Mr T to guide me, I give my mother a call. Growing up, I recalled how my mother would prepare pickled eggs for my father. It was a perfect match for his before-supper cocktail. She would choose the smallest eggs that she picked from a small poultry house we had at the back of our house.
Unfortunately, my mother could not give me the exact recipe being that she had long ago stopped making them. She did share that she remembers boiling vinegar, some salt and peppercorn before pouring the mixture into a bottle of hard boiled eggs and leeks.
With these information, I decided to come up with my simplified version of pickled eggs. And unlike the secretive Mr T and my forgetful mother, I am sharing the recipe. Feel free to try this out and serve in your next gathering. Your guests will surely be taken for a delicious experience.
My Pickled Eggs
You will need:
1 dozen small eggs or 24 quails eggs
½ c Del Monte vinegar
½ c sugar (skip or lessen amount of sugar if you like your pickles tart)
10 whole pepper corn
2 cloves garlic, sliced
½ Tablespoon salt
20 pearl onions
1 large jar or a plastic container
Procedure for boiling the eggs:
Mr T did divulge a helpful hint when cooking the perfect hard boiled egg—all marvelously yellow and without the grayish tint on the yolk.
1. Fresh eggs are difficult to peel once boiled. So use eggs that have been in your fridge for at least 5days.
2. Carefully place your eggs into a pot.
3. Add water to cover the eggs by over an inch.
4. Place pot on your stove and turn up the heat.
5. Once the water starts to boil, start to time for 2 minutes.
6. Turn off the heat and set aside for 12-15 minutes.
7. Take one egg and peel to check that egg is thoroughly cooked with a firm yolk.
8. If alright, place the eggs into cool water to stop the eggs from cooking further.
9. Peel all the eggs.
In a glass pot, boil the vinegar together with the rest of the seasoning and spices. Turn off heat once it comes to a boil. Drop the onions into the vinegar mixture and set aside to cool.
Meanwhile, prepare your glass container. If you are recycling a jar, make sure that it is sterilized by placing it in some water and bring to a boil—something you do for baby bottles. Drain and cool it down.
Now that you have everything ready, it’s time to bottle the eggs. In the bottle, add the eggs and spoon out the onions and the pepper corn. Once all the eggs and onions are in the bottle/s, pour the vinegar mixture over them. Make sure that the eggs are completely submerged.
I like to cover the mouth of the bottle with clear plastic before adding the lid. (It’s just what I like to do. Also, if the lid is metal, the plastic helps prevent corrosion.)
Age the pickled eggs in the deepest part of your fridge for at least a week. The longer it remains in the vinegar solution, the more time the eggs have a chance to soak up the flavors.
Share the delicious experience with friends over conversations on life.
“He will be dropping by anytime now and I am sure you will find him quite interesting,” V continued, “I like to think of him as a renaissance man. He has a vast knowledge on a variety of topics.”
And on cue, there is a knock on the door and MR T, a stately man with a cane, carrying a small plastic bag walks in.
Introductions are made and we all sit at the dining table. V adds that Mr T is a writer with a keen interest on local architecture, furniture and our cultural past. He makes himself at home and asked for something to drink.
“Look what I brought you V,” Mr T announces as he proceeds to pull out a small container from the pastic bag.
“Pickled quails’ eggs,” Mr T exclaimed, “made from an old family recipe.”
The mention of family recipe made me sit up. Teaspoons and saucers were produced and he promptly placed a tiny pearl onion paired with a quail’s egg on a teaspoon and gave it to me.
I initially dropped the onion back to the saucer but I got a quick admonishment from Mr T.
“You have to eat it together or you lose out on the experience,” was his stern instructions.
So into my mouth went the egg and the onion. And yes, he was right on insisting on the match. There was an explosion of flavours in my mouth. Firm egg meets sweet-sour slightly crunchy onion with a hint of cinnamon. Delicious!
“I made it from a secret family recipe,” Mr T proudly reminded me again.
“Would you share that recipe?” I cheekily asked.
“Of course not,” Mr. T retorted back with a raise of an eyebrow but with a small smile lurking on the side of his lips.
What should have been a short visit turned out to be an extraordinary morning filled with stories of a bygone era of gracious living.
It was almost lunchtime when I reluctantly said good-bye. There were promises to meet again and continue more of the insights into history, the arts and family secrets.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Mr T did share what went into the preparation of the pickled eggs but not the exact recipe. He added cardamom seeds, cloves, cinnamon sticks, bay leaves, honey, and peppercorn to some vinegar (he insist on del Monte brand). He brought this to a boil and once cooled down, poured the mixture into a container of boiled and peeled quails’ egg and baby onions.
Not having the recipe of Mr T to guide me, I give my mother a call. Growing up, I recalled how my mother would prepare pickled eggs for my father. It was a perfect match for his before-supper cocktail. She would choose the smallest eggs that she picked from a small poultry house we had at the back of our house.
Unfortunately, my mother could not give me the exact recipe being that she had long ago stopped making them. She did share that she remembers boiling vinegar, some salt and peppercorn before pouring the mixture into a bottle of hard boiled eggs and leeks.
With these information, I decided to come up with my simplified version of pickled eggs. And unlike the secretive Mr T and my forgetful mother, I am sharing the recipe. Feel free to try this out and serve in your next gathering. Your guests will surely be taken for a delicious experience.
My Pickled Eggs
You will need:
1 dozen small eggs or 24 quails eggs
½ c Del Monte vinegar
½ c sugar (skip or lessen amount of sugar if you like your pickles tart)
10 whole pepper corn
2 cloves garlic, sliced
½ Tablespoon salt
20 pearl onions
1 large jar or a plastic container
Procedure for boiling the eggs:
Mr T did divulge a helpful hint when cooking the perfect hard boiled egg—all marvelously yellow and without the grayish tint on the yolk.
1. Fresh eggs are difficult to peel once boiled. So use eggs that have been in your fridge for at least 5days.
2. Carefully place your eggs into a pot.
3. Add water to cover the eggs by over an inch.
4. Place pot on your stove and turn up the heat.
5. Once the water starts to boil, start to time for 2 minutes.
6. Turn off the heat and set aside for 12-15 minutes.
7. Take one egg and peel to check that egg is thoroughly cooked with a firm yolk.
8. If alright, place the eggs into cool water to stop the eggs from cooking further.
9. Peel all the eggs.
In a glass pot, boil the vinegar together with the rest of the seasoning and spices. Turn off heat once it comes to a boil. Drop the onions into the vinegar mixture and set aside to cool.
Meanwhile, prepare your glass container. If you are recycling a jar, make sure that it is sterilized by placing it in some water and bring to a boil—something you do for baby bottles. Drain and cool it down.
Now that you have everything ready, it’s time to bottle the eggs. In the bottle, add the eggs and spoon out the onions and the pepper corn. Once all the eggs and onions are in the bottle/s, pour the vinegar mixture over them. Make sure that the eggs are completely submerged.
I like to cover the mouth of the bottle with clear plastic before adding the lid. (It’s just what I like to do. Also, if the lid is metal, the plastic helps prevent corrosion.)
Age the pickled eggs in the deepest part of your fridge for at least a week. The longer it remains in the vinegar solution, the more time the eggs have a chance to soak up the flavors.
Share the delicious experience with friends over conversations on life.
Labels:
hard boiled eggs,
pickled eggs,
quail's egg
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
The December Brothers
December is for my brothers—D & D. Who were born one year apart and on the same month. Who are so much younger than me that I used to rock them to sleep as babies. Who apprenticed as cowboys on an uncle’s ranch during summer breaks. Who came up with all sorts of contraptions in our backyard as young boys to entertain themselves. Who left for America in their teens. Who soon after enlisted in the military. Who would write me letters from far off places.
They may share the same birth months but not everything about them are the same. One is fair and the other dark. One makes beautiful things out of wood. The other one would rather woo beautiful women. One can cook and the other can stir up things. One loves to take risk and the other loves order.
Although they are so many miles away from each other, they nurture a strong bond. Behind the teasing and the jokes and the friendly insults, are silent messages of love and affection.
---------------------------------------------------
We are not openly affectionate as siblings. Growing up, I don’t remember saying the L word to any of them. I do remember the fights, the pranks, the chase, the hair pulling. But when times were difficult, I remember how we pulled together. We continue to do so.
Let’s not go further down the path of mushiness. Instead, let me share with you my mother’s dish that both brothers would devour with gusto. You will surely be at a lost for words once you try this.
Pata Asado (Braised Pork Hocks)
“Braising- The meat is browned slowly and thoroughly on all sides, then a small amount of liquid is added to the pan, the pan is covered, and the meat is simmered over very low heat until very tender.”
1.5 Kilo pata, whole
Marinade:
½ head garlic, pounded
10 peppercorn, whole
1-3 laurel leaves
3 Tbs vinegar
1/3 c soy sauce
1 T Salt
1/2 t Pepper
½ c Tbs cooking oil
2 cups chicken or pork stock or 1 cube buillion dissolved in 2 cups water
1 large onion, sliced
3 potatoes, peeled and quartered
1. Marinate your pata and place this in your refrigerator overnight.
2. The next morning, remove and drain the pata. Set the marinade aside.
3. In a large pot or pressure cooker, heat up some cooking oil.
4. Fry your pata until nice and brown.
5. Set the pata to one side of the pot.
6. Saute one sliced onion until translucent.
7. Pour in the chicken stock. Add about half of the marinade into the pot and pressure cook for about 30 minutes.
8. When done, cool and carefully open lid. Taste to check that the liquid is to your liking—not bland but not too sour. If needed, add more marinade.
9. Add the quartered potatoes and pressure cook for another 10 minutes.
10. When done, cool and carefully open lid.
11. If sauce is not thick enough continue to simmer. Or add a teaspoon or two of corn starch mixed in a tablespoon of water. Simmer until sauce is just the right consistency that you want.
12. Carefully transfer to a deep dish and garnish with chopped parsley or green onions.
12. Serve with lots of steamed rice.
Note: You can do this with an ordinary pot. Just add more stock.
You can do the same for a whole chicken as well.
They may share the same birth months but not everything about them are the same. One is fair and the other dark. One makes beautiful things out of wood. The other one would rather woo beautiful women. One can cook and the other can stir up things. One loves to take risk and the other loves order.
Although they are so many miles away from each other, they nurture a strong bond. Behind the teasing and the jokes and the friendly insults, are silent messages of love and affection.
---------------------------------------------------
We are not openly affectionate as siblings. Growing up, I don’t remember saying the L word to any of them. I do remember the fights, the pranks, the chase, the hair pulling. But when times were difficult, I remember how we pulled together. We continue to do so.
Let’s not go further down the path of mushiness. Instead, let me share with you my mother’s dish that both brothers would devour with gusto. You will surely be at a lost for words once you try this.
Pata Asado (Braised Pork Hocks)
“Braising- The meat is browned slowly and thoroughly on all sides, then a small amount of liquid is added to the pan, the pan is covered, and the meat is simmered over very low heat until very tender.”
1.5 Kilo pata, whole
Marinade:
½ head garlic, pounded
10 peppercorn, whole
1-3 laurel leaves
3 Tbs vinegar
1/3 c soy sauce
1 T Salt
1/2 t Pepper
½ c Tbs cooking oil
2 cups chicken or pork stock or 1 cube buillion dissolved in 2 cups water
1 large onion, sliced
3 potatoes, peeled and quartered
1. Marinate your pata and place this in your refrigerator overnight.
2. The next morning, remove and drain the pata. Set the marinade aside.
3. In a large pot or pressure cooker, heat up some cooking oil.
4. Fry your pata until nice and brown.
5. Set the pata to one side of the pot.
6. Saute one sliced onion until translucent.
7. Pour in the chicken stock. Add about half of the marinade into the pot and pressure cook for about 30 minutes.
8. When done, cool and carefully open lid. Taste to check that the liquid is to your liking—not bland but not too sour. If needed, add more marinade.
9. Add the quartered potatoes and pressure cook for another 10 minutes.
10. When done, cool and carefully open lid.
11. If sauce is not thick enough continue to simmer. Or add a teaspoon or two of corn starch mixed in a tablespoon of water. Simmer until sauce is just the right consistency that you want.
12. Carefully transfer to a deep dish and garnish with chopped parsley or green onions.
12. Serve with lots of steamed rice.
Note: You can do this with an ordinary pot. Just add more stock.
You can do the same for a whole chicken as well.
Labels:
braised pork knuckles,
braising,
brothers,
december,
family,
pata,
pata asado
Monday, December 5, 2011
The Tree
Rumor has it that the first Christmas tree was a sapling growing outside the stable in Jerusalem where Jesus was born. Angels came to tie their gifts on the tender branches of the young tree. Years passed. The tree grew tall and strong. Then one day, 33 years since that fateful night, the tree came crushing down. The tree was trimmed of its many branches and cut into specific portions. The tree parts were hauled all the way to a courtyard. A carpenter was called to prepare it. Two days after, the tree, now a cross, was placed on Jesus’ shoulder.
My first memory of a Christmas tree was not a tree. It was a bougainvillea in a pot that my mother hauled to the middle of our sala. I remember decorating it with clumps of cotton “snow”. As I grew up, so did our lone pine tree. By Christmas, it would annually “gave” of its thicker branch and my mother would fit it into a large can filled with rocks. As the family’s financial circumstances improved, colorful glass balls and some gold tinsel were added to the clumps of cotton “snow”. I still can remember how the pine scent filled our sala. It was during my college years that the plastic Christmas tree made its appearance at our house. My mother got it on sale and for the next couple of years, this 8-foot giant graced our home. My mother had commissioned an electrician to come up with special colored lights. The light bulbs were huge as compared to the present tiny lcd Christmas lights flooding department stores.
When my husband and I moved into our first apartment, money was tight. Remembering my first Christmas tree, I brought in a potted plant. Together with my 5-year old son, we decorated our tree with cut-out characters from magazines. The “tree” was our only Christmas décor. Actually the only décor we had in our apartment. When we finally moved into our house, my mother-in-law gave us her plastic Christmas tree. She was replacing it with a taller tree. And as the tree was of good quality, this plastic Christmas tree has been a part of my family’s Christmas tradition for over 20 years now.
Over the years, I have accumulated a considerable collection of Christmas décor. A particular motif would be considered: Angels or Santa or Ponsettia,
Red or Gold, Red and Gold, and when the mood hits, we pile the tree with everything we’ve got.
My son and daughter were on hand to help decorate the tree. To help set the mood, I would play Christmas carols.
My ceramic Belen (Nativity Set), a constant fixture during Christmas, was handed down to me by a sister. She had replaced this with one that she painstakingly brought in from abroad. My kids enjoyed arranging the assortment of animals. Sometimes, if I was not attentive enough, a dinosaur would make an appearance.
In recent years, I find I am left alone to put up the Christmas tree. My son has his own place and my daughter, if she is home, would pop out of her room to give her comments on my finished handiwork. My hubby, on the other hand, considers anything decorative a woman’s territory.
Two days ago, I woke up from a long afternoon nap. As I made my way down the stairs, I noticed my two young house helps busy decorating the Christmas tree.
“What’s this year’s motif?”, I asked.
“Red”, was H’s response.
I go back up to my room to get my camera.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
What is Christmas without delicious dishes coming out of the kitchen and calorie overload? And taking a cue from an over-decked Christmas tree, no festive table would be complete without a whole lechon.
But a whole lechon could be a bit too much-- on the heart as well as on the pocket. But no worries when you try my "healthy" lechon kawali.
Turbo Cooker Lechon Kawali
2 kilos of pork liempo (belly)
10 whole pepper corn
1 laurel leaf
1/2 to 1 head of garlic (depending on size), pounded
1 tablespoon of salt
Submerge your pork belly in a pot of water and add the rest of the ingredients. After bringing to a boil, lower heat to a simmer. Cook pork until meat is fork-tender (fork easily pricks the skin with no resistance).
Remove the belly from the liquid and cool down on a rack.
Once cool to the touch, prick the skin thoroughly with a fork. Now massage about a teaspoon of rock salt into the skin.
You may want to wrap the sides of the belly with tin foil to prevent the lechon from drying out. When ready, place belly inside a turbo cooker.
Set on highest temperature and cook until skin is nice and crackly-- about 30-45 minutes. From time to time, sprinkle water on the skin. This causes blisters on the skin and aids in coming up with a crispy skin.
Once done, let the lechon rest for 10 minutes before cutting it up into serving pieces.
You may serve this with bottled lechon sauce or your favorite dipping sauces.
My first memory of a Christmas tree was not a tree. It was a bougainvillea in a pot that my mother hauled to the middle of our sala. I remember decorating it with clumps of cotton “snow”. As I grew up, so did our lone pine tree. By Christmas, it would annually “gave” of its thicker branch and my mother would fit it into a large can filled with rocks. As the family’s financial circumstances improved, colorful glass balls and some gold tinsel were added to the clumps of cotton “snow”. I still can remember how the pine scent filled our sala. It was during my college years that the plastic Christmas tree made its appearance at our house. My mother got it on sale and for the next couple of years, this 8-foot giant graced our home. My mother had commissioned an electrician to come up with special colored lights. The light bulbs were huge as compared to the present tiny lcd Christmas lights flooding department stores.
When my husband and I moved into our first apartment, money was tight. Remembering my first Christmas tree, I brought in a potted plant. Together with my 5-year old son, we decorated our tree with cut-out characters from magazines. The “tree” was our only Christmas décor. Actually the only décor we had in our apartment. When we finally moved into our house, my mother-in-law gave us her plastic Christmas tree. She was replacing it with a taller tree. And as the tree was of good quality, this plastic Christmas tree has been a part of my family’s Christmas tradition for over 20 years now.
Over the years, I have accumulated a considerable collection of Christmas décor. A particular motif would be considered: Angels or Santa or Ponsettia,
Red or Gold, Red and Gold, and when the mood hits, we pile the tree with everything we’ve got.
My son and daughter were on hand to help decorate the tree. To help set the mood, I would play Christmas carols.
My ceramic Belen (Nativity Set), a constant fixture during Christmas, was handed down to me by a sister. She had replaced this with one that she painstakingly brought in from abroad. My kids enjoyed arranging the assortment of animals. Sometimes, if I was not attentive enough, a dinosaur would make an appearance.
In recent years, I find I am left alone to put up the Christmas tree. My son has his own place and my daughter, if she is home, would pop out of her room to give her comments on my finished handiwork. My hubby, on the other hand, considers anything decorative a woman’s territory.
Two days ago, I woke up from a long afternoon nap. As I made my way down the stairs, I noticed my two young house helps busy decorating the Christmas tree.
“What’s this year’s motif?”, I asked.
“Red”, was H’s response.
I go back up to my room to get my camera.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
What is Christmas without delicious dishes coming out of the kitchen and calorie overload? And taking a cue from an over-decked Christmas tree, no festive table would be complete without a whole lechon.
But a whole lechon could be a bit too much-- on the heart as well as on the pocket. But no worries when you try my "healthy" lechon kawali.
Turbo Cooker Lechon Kawali
2 kilos of pork liempo (belly)
10 whole pepper corn
1 laurel leaf
1/2 to 1 head of garlic (depending on size), pounded
1 tablespoon of salt
Submerge your pork belly in a pot of water and add the rest of the ingredients. After bringing to a boil, lower heat to a simmer. Cook pork until meat is fork-tender (fork easily pricks the skin with no resistance).
Remove the belly from the liquid and cool down on a rack.
Once cool to the touch, prick the skin thoroughly with a fork. Now massage about a teaspoon of rock salt into the skin.
You may want to wrap the sides of the belly with tin foil to prevent the lechon from drying out. When ready, place belly inside a turbo cooker.
Set on highest temperature and cook until skin is nice and crackly-- about 30-45 minutes. From time to time, sprinkle water on the skin. This causes blisters on the skin and aids in coming up with a crispy skin.
Once done, let the lechon rest for 10 minutes before cutting it up into serving pieces.
You may serve this with bottled lechon sauce or your favorite dipping sauces.
Labels:
childhood memories,
christmas,
christmas tree,
lechon kawali
Sunday, December 4, 2011
Good Intentions
It all started as a tiny seed of an idea. Why not give 72 young scholars from the poor sector of my parish a Christmas party. At first, concerns were raised: this action would set a precedent that the volunteer mentors may not be able to sustain; this action could be expensive; and, because of the busy season, many of the volunteers would not be available to help out on the date set for the event.
But each opposition seemed too flimsy when held up against the good effect the action would generate. And so, the seed took root. Garage sales were conducted to generate funds to add to the limited budget allocated by the parish; kind parishioners and supportive friends, upon hearing about the event came forward with the exact items needed. There was even a donation of lechon to add to the pack lunch to be distributed. Things were turning up roses.
And as fate would have it, the date of the event was changed. This proved to be significant as all the mentors found themselves available to help out.
While pondering how to come up with funds to buy drinks, a text message is soon received about a donation of 8o packs of juice; and, while another mentor, on her morning walk, mull over how to come up with a simple breakfast snack, her attention was called by a vendor selling P1 pandesal. If each scholar got 2 pieces, the cost would be under P200. What a deal!
Then there was the challenge to come up with gift bags that the mentors could distribute to the scholars. The budget set was P30 per bag. Plus the bag should be environmentally acceptable—no plastics. The mentor assigned this task soon found out that it was close to impossible to come up with something worthwhile at P30. The bag alone cost more than the budget! As a last resort, this mentor decided to check out whether her favorite seamstress could help. Lo and behold, after some talk, the seamstress goes to her stockroom and comes out with a huge bag containing cloth bags at exactly the shape and size needed.
These bags were ordered last year but the client never came back to get them. With some bargaining, a sale was made with the seamstress agreeing to donate part of the cost. How cool is that?
Through solicitations, the much needed contents to fill up the gift bags poured in.
So much so that the bags were close to overflowing with goodies: chips, nuts, crayons, an orange, candies, hankie and even a tiny bar of soap!
Yesterday, everything finally came together. With the further blessing of a sunny weather, the party was underway. Not even the initial problem with the sound system could dampen the mood of the children. The nativity scene was recreated complete with angels and a stuffed lamb donated as a garage sale item. The scholars offered their Advent intentions all rolled up and secured with a pretty red ribbon.
Games were played and some scholars showcased their talents. Everything went like clockwork and in an orderly manner, each scholar got their lunch pack and gift bag.
The last words that stuck to my mind as I and the mentors packed up and headed for home were the words uttered in unison by the children, “We love you mentors.”
How good is that?
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Nothing stands in the way of good intentions. And that’s exactly what happened yesterday. A tiny seed of an idea, helped along the way with good intentions, grew into a beautiful tree.
And so it is with the following recipe. Just a tiny bit of yeast when added to flour can be the start of a delicious treat.
Cinnamon Rolls
(adaptation from “The Bread Machine Cookbook” by Donna Rathmell German)
Bread:
1 cup milk
2 Tbs butter
1 egg
2 Tbs Sugar
½ tsp Salt
3 – 3 ½ cups flour
1 ½ tsp yeast
Filling:
¼ cup brown sugar
1 ½ tsp cinnamon powder
½ cup raisins
½ cup chopped walnuts
For brushing:
2 Tbs melted butter
Glaze:
½ c powdered sugar
2 Tbs milk
Add all the bread ingredients into the bread machine. Set the machine on the “dough cycle setting”. Once completed, remove the dough from the machine.
Roll dough into a rectangle,
brush with melted butter
and spread the cinnamon mixture over butter. Roll dough as a jelly roll
and cut into slices of about 1 ½ inches wide. Place each slice in a muffin cup, cover and let rise for 35 to 40 minutes.
Brush tops lightly with melted butter if desired.
Bake in preheated 400 degree oven for 20 to 25 minutes.
When bread has somewhat cooled down, drizzle each roll with the powdered sugar-milk mixture.
But each opposition seemed too flimsy when held up against the good effect the action would generate. And so, the seed took root. Garage sales were conducted to generate funds to add to the limited budget allocated by the parish; kind parishioners and supportive friends, upon hearing about the event came forward with the exact items needed. There was even a donation of lechon to add to the pack lunch to be distributed. Things were turning up roses.
And as fate would have it, the date of the event was changed. This proved to be significant as all the mentors found themselves available to help out.
While pondering how to come up with funds to buy drinks, a text message is soon received about a donation of 8o packs of juice; and, while another mentor, on her morning walk, mull over how to come up with a simple breakfast snack, her attention was called by a vendor selling P1 pandesal. If each scholar got 2 pieces, the cost would be under P200. What a deal!
Then there was the challenge to come up with gift bags that the mentors could distribute to the scholars. The budget set was P30 per bag. Plus the bag should be environmentally acceptable—no plastics. The mentor assigned this task soon found out that it was close to impossible to come up with something worthwhile at P30. The bag alone cost more than the budget! As a last resort, this mentor decided to check out whether her favorite seamstress could help. Lo and behold, after some talk, the seamstress goes to her stockroom and comes out with a huge bag containing cloth bags at exactly the shape and size needed.
These bags were ordered last year but the client never came back to get them. With some bargaining, a sale was made with the seamstress agreeing to donate part of the cost. How cool is that?
Through solicitations, the much needed contents to fill up the gift bags poured in.
So much so that the bags were close to overflowing with goodies: chips, nuts, crayons, an orange, candies, hankie and even a tiny bar of soap!
Yesterday, everything finally came together. With the further blessing of a sunny weather, the party was underway. Not even the initial problem with the sound system could dampen the mood of the children. The nativity scene was recreated complete with angels and a stuffed lamb donated as a garage sale item. The scholars offered their Advent intentions all rolled up and secured with a pretty red ribbon.
Games were played and some scholars showcased their talents. Everything went like clockwork and in an orderly manner, each scholar got their lunch pack and gift bag.
The last words that stuck to my mind as I and the mentors packed up and headed for home were the words uttered in unison by the children, “We love you mentors.”
How good is that?
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Nothing stands in the way of good intentions. And that’s exactly what happened yesterday. A tiny seed of an idea, helped along the way with good intentions, grew into a beautiful tree.
And so it is with the following recipe. Just a tiny bit of yeast when added to flour can be the start of a delicious treat.
Cinnamon Rolls
(adaptation from “The Bread Machine Cookbook” by Donna Rathmell German)
Bread:
1 cup milk
2 Tbs butter
1 egg
2 Tbs Sugar
½ tsp Salt
3 – 3 ½ cups flour
1 ½ tsp yeast
Filling:
¼ cup brown sugar
1 ½ tsp cinnamon powder
½ cup raisins
½ cup chopped walnuts
For brushing:
2 Tbs melted butter
Glaze:
½ c powdered sugar
2 Tbs milk
Add all the bread ingredients into the bread machine. Set the machine on the “dough cycle setting”. Once completed, remove the dough from the machine.
Roll dough into a rectangle,
brush with melted butter
and spread the cinnamon mixture over butter. Roll dough as a jelly roll
and cut into slices of about 1 ½ inches wide. Place each slice in a muffin cup, cover and let rise for 35 to 40 minutes.
Brush tops lightly with melted butter if desired.
Bake in preheated 400 degree oven for 20 to 25 minutes.
When bread has somewhat cooled down, drizzle each roll with the powdered sugar-milk mixture.
Labels:
bread machine,
cinnamon roll,
mentoring
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