The Fear Factor

5:15AM. I wake up to throbbing pain on my lower back. I get up gingerly to go to the bathroom to relieve myself. Slowly I make my way back to the son’s room—long vacant since he moved out two years ago. It is a room where I sleep at night to escape the deafening snores of my hubby. As I try to go back to sleep, the pain on my back continued to bother me to the point that it’s excruciating to turn over. Fearing that it would get worse, I decided to go to my hubby. But it had become too painful to get out of bed. I managed to get on the floor and wiggled like a worm to the door. With great effort, I turned the door’s knob and opened the door. With so much energy used up from the exertion, I just laid on my back and let the cool morning air fan over my drenched body.

I had now reached the Panic point with all sorts of frightening thoughts going through my head. I remembered the morning I found my son on the same floor more than 10 years ago. He had suffered a slipped disc. I remembered all the information on slipped disc that I had read up at that time. Would I need surgery, would I be incapacitated the rest of my life, would I ever….

I could hear my hubby snoring thunderously away in our room.

“J, J”, I called out to my daughter in the next room. “Help me.”

“What’s wrong?”, were her first words as she hurriedly opened her bedroom door. She immediately went to me and holding my hand, asked, “What’s wrong mommy?”

“I can’t get up,” I smiled weakly, trying to disguise my fear.

By then there was some stirring in the kitchen below and I knew that the helpers were up.

“Please call H & M to help me get up”, I instructed sensing that she was not strong enough to lift me.

She leaves me and calls out to them, “H, M. Come up and help mommy.” And in a blink of an eye, her legs buckle in front of her and she falls slowly to the floor. J had just fainted and I could not do anything but call out to her.

“J, J! Are you okay?”, was my terrified call to her.

By then the helpers were up and I could imagine the thoughts that were going on in their bewildered minds as they saw my daughter and I sprawled on the floor.



But just as quickly as J had fainted, she regained consciousness and slowly got up. It turned out that the sudden rush to get up made her light-headed. Getting a hold of her senses, she immediately called out instructions to the help on how to lift me off the floor and deposit me back into bed.



My daughter then gently eased my fears away and though the pain did not go away, I was no longer as frightened and had a better disposition . Fear turned out to be the worse enemy. For the rest of the morning, she ministered to my needs: hot water bag for my back, preparing my oatmeal and making me comfortable for the long rest up ahead. When it became evident that I would be alright, we started to laugh about the whole experience—specially her fainting spell. It was good to laugh again—even if it hurt like murder.

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Suffering from lower back pain is inherent in my family. Uncles, aunts, sisters, brothers and even my son could not escape from it. I have had several bouts of lower back pains since I was a teenager. Some mild enough to ignore and some needing doctor’s attention and long spells of bed rest. I know the general drill: heat to be applied to affected area; lots of rest on a firm mattress; no strenuous activities and some pain killers.

This latest experience thought me once again how precious health is and how fortunate that I have people around me that care.

I don’t know how long my recuperation will be this time but I resolve to give thanks for each day I wake up to feel the pain dissipate. I also pray that should it occur again, I will have more sense not to panic and be less dramatic.

Last Words

"In some hearts some rain must fall."

This is what is written on the tombstone of my father. When he suddenly died 29 years ago, not only did it "rain"; his death flooded our hearts with sorrow.



The family was hurting and when asked what we would like to put on his tombstone, we immediately agreed to use his favorite quotation. The quote somehow captured how my father felt about death-- as natural as the rain, a part of life.



We felt that engraving these words would immortalize him. And so it has in our hearts.

Before my father passed away, a visit to the cemetery was not a once-a-year event in our family. My father would pile us (that's 7 kids) in whatever vehicle we had at the time and take us on a spin to the cemetery on many late Saturday afternoons. We would visit the family plot (on my father’s side) and pay our respects to my grandparents and an assortment of uncles and aunts. Candles would be lit and flowers from our garden would be arranged. While my father sat with his thoughts and my mother continued to busy herself with the flowers, us kids would be given permission to roam the cemetery grounds. As children, we had this natural curiosity about the cemetery's residents. As a group or sometimes breaking up into two's or three's, we would peek inside the Chinese mausoleums lined up on the outer edges of the cemetery. Here we would catch a glimpse of the deceased whose serious faces were forever captured in yellowing laminated photographs. I personally liked the family plots that were more like open gardens than the usual marble-litic tombs encased in more cold marble. There were also out-of-this-world designs-- I guess befitting the state of the occupant. If there were a endless variety of "designs" for the final resting place; there was a lack of creativity when it came to tombstones. My siblings and I would call out to each other if we spotted anything that deviated from the usual name, date of birth, and date of death. It was like hunting for treasure. But our calls to each other were few and far in between. As dusk softly fell around us, my mother would call us back and once more we piled into the car and bid everyone good-bye.

Now this got me to thinking: If I were to come up with inscription for my tombstone, what would I say that would succinctly convey to anyone bending over my grave the kind of person I was?

Thinking about this has made me realize that I aught to be the kind of person NOW that I would like to have been after it’s all over.


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So while I ponder on how best to live my life and thus be true to the epithet on my tombstone, I share with you a deliciously deadly cookie recipe. This recipe was part of an ad for baking chocolate which I had clipped out from old magazine.


Baker's One Bowl Death by Chocolate Cookies



2 packages (16 squares) Baker's Semi-Sweet
Baking Chocolate, divided
3/4 cup firmly packed brown sugar
1/4 cup butter or margarine
2 eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1/4 teaspoon Calumet Baking Powder
2 cups chopped nuts (optional)

Heat oven to 350 degrees F. Coarsely chop 8 squares (1 package) of the chocolate; set aside.

Microwave remaining 8 squares chocolate in large microwaveable bowl on HIGH for 1 to 2 minutes. Stir until chocolate is melted and smooth. Stir in sugar, butter, eggs and vanilla extract. Stir in flour and baking powder. Stir in reserved chopped chocolate and nuts. Drop by 1/4 cup full onto ungreased cookie sheet. Bake for 12 to 13 minutes or until cookies are puffed and feel set to the touch. Cool on cookie sheet for 1 minute. Transfer to wire rack to cool completely.

Makes about 1 1/2 dozen cookies.

Notes:
You may cut the amount of nuts used. I only added ½ cup to my batch of cookies.
Do what I did. Instead of using semi-sweet baking chocolate squares, I used 8 regular baking chocolate squares and just increased the sugar to 1 cup. And chopped up 8 oz or 225 grams of regular milk chocolate bars— more or less.

Come Saturday

Come Saturday morning
I'm goin' away with my friend
We'll Saturday-spend till the end of the day-ay
Just I and my friend
We'll travel for miles in our Saturday smiles
And then we'll move on
But we will remember long after Saturday's gone

Come Saturday morning
I'm goin' away with my friend
We'll Saturday-laugh more than half of the day
Just I and my friend
Dressed up in our rings and our Saturday things
And then we'll move on
But we will remember long after Saturday's gone
The Sandpipers
Words by Dory Previn and Music by Fred Carlin


30 years. And I continue to look forward to all the Saturdays with my husband, my friend.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

At least one Saturday in a month, I make sure to have the following recipe in my menu. It’s my husband’s favorite—specially when paired with Ginataang Mongo with Dried Fish. This is a dish I learned from my mother-in-law and you’ll surely be taken away on a Saturday smile after you tried this out.

Adobong Uga (dry adobo)

1 kilo pork belly, cut up to about 1 ½ cubes
1 kilo chicken (preferably wings, drumsticks, thighs)
Or you can have 2 kilos of pork or 2 kilos of chicken.

Marinade:
1/4 c Native vinegar
1/3 c Soy Sauce
1 ½ head of garlic, crushed
3 bay leaves
10 whole pepper corn
2 tablespoon salt
Dash of pepper
Oil for frying

Marinate the meat overnight in the fridge or at least 4 hours. The next day, place the meat and marinade in a pot. After bringing to a quick boil, reduce the heat to maintain a gentle simmer. Cook until meat becomes tender. As chicken becomes tender faster than pork, remove the chicken when you note that it’s tender already. Drain meat of liquid by placing in a colander. Separate the chicken from the pork

Heat up a 2nd pot with cooking oil—about 1/3 of the pot. Be sure that the pot has a good fitting cover to protect you from the resulting splatter. Once oil is hot, drop about half of the pork. Cover the pot quickly to avoid getting splattered by hot oil. About 5 minutes, turn off the heat and wait a short while before lifting the cover. Stir the pork slices around. Cover and turn on the heat once more. Cook for another 5 minutes. Turn off the heat and wait for a short while again before lifting the cover. By the 2nd time, the pork should have a nice toasty brown color. Strain pork out of the oil and into a serving dish.

Do the same procedure with the chicken. The resulting meat will shrink from the frying. But a little of this goes a long way with lots of rice.



The frying procedure is not for the faint-hearted. As hot oil will surely splatter, be prepared by wearing long oven mitts and no peeking while the heat is on.

If one is not ready, preparing this dish, could be painful. And if done right, this dish, like love could stay on your menu for a long, long time.

Getting to Know you-- Again

“Uy! Manang! Long time no see,” I gleefully exclaimed.

Manang M used to do our laundry when I was in between stay-in helpers. It had been sometime since I last saw her. Although she had her idiosyncrasies—some funny and some not so funny, I put up with them then because she readily came when I called for her help.

She had just come from doing laundry work at one of the neighbor’s and was looking for work to fill up her time.

And as luck would have it, I told her to see a neighbor who had just returned from a long absence from the subdivision. This neighbor was in need of help with putting her house in order.

With a happy wave of the hand, she bid me good-bye as she proceeded on her way to a possible job.

People come and go. Some more memorable than others. Some better forgotten. Some you happily welcome back.

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So it is with the next two appliances I recently took out of their hiding places. These are definitely worth using again and again.

Bread Machine
I got my first bread machine maybe ten years ago during a visit to the States.



For awhile there was the sweet smell of baking bread in my house. But with my kids not at home anymore, it was easier to buy a small loaf than to put out the machine.
A craving for walnut bread got the better of me and out came my bread machine. Unfortunately, such an appliance is not available locally so if there was one thing you could bring back from your trip from the States—make it a bread machine.

What follows is a recipe for Honey Walnut Oatmeal Bread. I am sure you can make this by the old fashion way of kneading and proofing. You will be able to work out your stresses from all that kneading but you’ll have to contend with sticky hands and the clean-up of your work surface.



Honey Walnut Oatmeal Bread
(By Donna Rathmell German)
Place in the order indicated, the following ingredients into the bread pan to make a 1 ½ pound bread. When done, insert the pan into the machine and push the necessary button settings and that’s that.

Water - 1 cup
Vegetable oil - 2 tablespoons
Honey - 2 tablespoons
Salt - 1 teaspoon
Oats - 1 cup
Flour - 2 cups
Yeast - 1 ½ teaspoon

At the beep, add ½ c chopped walnuts.



Slow Cooker
My mother introduced me to the marvels of a slow cooker.



It comes in handy when you don’t have time to stand over a hot stove to come up with a delicious and tender meat stew. Like the bread machine, you just put everything in the pot and let it do the work.
This appliance is a boon for home makers like me who need to watch the budget. Cheap meat cuts come out splendidly flavorful and at a savings on energy—gas or electric.

Below is my mother’s recipe for Pepper Steak. I am sure you can do this the traditional way, but you will have to watch your pot to make sure it does not go dry on you. Or put out the old reliable pressure cooker to soften the meat up in no time but I can’t guarantee that the meat will be as flavorful.

Pepper Steak
(best seller-- learned by my mom while working as a cook in a Care Facility for old folks)
2 kilos beef (Kalitiran, Chuck, Neck, ) cut into 1 1/2 inch cubes
Marinate overnight with:
1/4 c lemon juice (1 lemon)
pepper
powdered garlic



Next day, fry in olive oil after drenching pieces in flour. Place beef inside a crock pot.


Other Ingredients:



Meanwhile, sauté:
1 big chopped onion, 2 to 3 stakes of chopped celery (less if you do not care for celery), 1 big chopped bell pepper.

Pour into the veggies:
- a can of Cambell Cream of Mushroom soup;
-1 beef bouillion cube to 1 cup of water;
- a tablespoon of Perrins.



Stir well and pour contents over the beef inside the slow cooker.



Set on High for 1 hour and Low until tender (about 5-6 hours). Walk away and come back to a delicious meal. Have some potato salad on the side for contrast.



To make the dish more visually appealing, you could stir into the finished dish some sauted sliced onions, mushrooms and bell pepper.

Mission Possible

“As the Father has sent Me, so I send You.”


Why is it that Catholics generally keep their faith to themselves? Unlike the Protestants or Born Again, Catholics are rather timid when it comes to the subject of Jesus. Most Catholics would rather delegate such a task to the priests and the nuns. For isn’t it their jobs to do just that?

Ask a Catholic, on a Monday morning, what was Sunday’s gospel reading and he would most certainly not remember. Would a Catholic know where to find Leviticus in the Bible? How can one tell if a Bible is one used by Catholics? Shamefully, I admit to such behavior and ignorance in the past.

But I am slowly changing this. Ever so gently, I am taking the time to understand my faith. I have taken to daily reading the Bible using mass readings as a guide. I must admit that I don’t get the message of some readings. Gratefully, there have been avenues where I could seek help. Catholic internet sites is one. And another would be Bible Studies (or School of the Word as we like to call it) held at friends’ homes.

It is at these discussions that I have gained knowledge and a better appreciation of what it means to be a Catholic. With better understanding, I am no longer as timid as before. I feel elated to speak about the joy that is my faith to my family, my friends and even to strangers.

Still, there is much to be learned, much to be shared--- my “schooling” continues.

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It’s a potluck affair at School of the Word sessions. No one knows exactly what would be served until the discussion is over-- at times it’s noodles galore or many ways with chicken. But having a meal together after an enriching talk makes such gatherings a joy to attend.

What follows is a chicken dish I brought to such a recent gathering. It brings me so much joy to share this flavorful recipe with you.

Cream Cheese and Pesto Stuffed Chicken Breast
(Adaptation of Rachel Ray’s Pesto-Presto Italian Flag Chicken)

4 boneless, skinless chicken breasts
½ cup softened cream cheese (4 tablespoon)
2 tablespoons of bottled pesto (store bought)
Salt & Pepper
Olive Oil
4 tomatoes, thinly sliced
Grated parmigiano cheese

1. Divide the chicken breasts so that you get 8 portions. Gently flatten them out by pounding with a meat mallet or skillet. Season on both sides with salt and pepper. Set aside.



2. In a bowl mix together the cream cheese and the store-bought pesto.



3. Divide the cream-pesto mixture between the 8 portions, placing a scoop on one half of each portion. Fold the flap of chicken over to enclose the cheese mixture.



4. Transfer the chicken pockets to a baking dish and lay slices of tomatoes over each breast, overlapping them like shingles.

5. Season with some salt and pepper, drizzle with olive oil and sprinkle with grated parmigiano cheese.



6. Bake the chicken pockets in a 450F oven until cooked through and lightly golden brown, 25-30 minutes.



7. Serve piping hot with some garlic flavored pasta (Aglio et olio)

Service with a Smile

“Can I have some more juice,” a guest asked.
“Why, sure,” I answered.

Taking the pitcher of juice from the drinks station, I went to the guest to pour out the drink.

“Can I have some ice,” the guest asked with her glass extended mid-air as I place down the pitcher at the drink station about five feet away.
“Certainly,” I responded.

But I did not act immediately to bring the guest the ice. Was it the guest’s tone of voice? Was it the fact that the ice station was so close that she could have stood up to get the ice herself? Was it the fact that she did not bother to thank me when I refilled her glass? Keeping my pride in check, I brought the guest some ice. I knew that waiting on guests would be part of the work when I volunteered to help friends at their beach resort.



And so it went the whole day of showing guests the restrooms, of kitchen duty, of rushing food to the impatient guests (ala “Hell’s Kitchen”), and generally making the guests feel pampered.

The experience brought back memories of corporate events I used to manage. Then, I had a lot of staff who, at my command, took care of the menial tasks. This time, I was just one of the staff of a lean team.

Indeed, it was a humbling experience at my friend’s resort. My appreciation for people who work to serve was brought several notches higher. The chamber maids, the waiters, the dish washers, and the maintenance crew are just a few.

I made a mental note to be generous with my tips and show of gratitude the next time I am served.

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It was not all work at the resort. My friends and I arrived a day prior to the event. We had fun shopping for provisions at provincial markets along the way.



Arriving at the resort, we took time to cool off in the pool



and marveled at the beautiful sunset.



On the day itself, there were many happy instances like joking and occasionally bursting into song with the kitchen staff as meals were being prepared. And after the guests have been served and had moved on to their karaoke session, the staff took a breather to lunch on the same delicious meal served to the guests.

I readily said yes when asked if I would come back to help out in future events at the resort. This on the condition that the same sumptuous breakfast spread be served: garlic rice, scrambled eggs, fried dried danggit and bistek tagalog.

Serve bistek tagalog to your family as well and you’ll get a huge tip in the form of their satisfied smiles.



Bistek Tagalog

Ingredients:
1 lb beef sirloin, thinly sliced (if meat happens to be tough, pound on it with the back of your knife to tenderize it)
1/4 cup soy sauce
Juice from 3-4 pieces calamansi or 1 lemon
A dash or two of ground black pepper
1 large onion, sliced into rings
4-5 tbsp cooking oil
salt to taste

1. Marinade beef in soy sauce, calamansi or lemon juice, and ground black pepper and place in the fridge overnight.
2. In the morning, heat the cooking oil in a pan then stir fry the onion rings until they become soft and translucent. Set aside.
3. In the same pan where the onions were fried, fry the marinated beef. Add oil as needed. Remove from pan when done and set aside.
5. Pour the marinade into the pan. Bring to a quick boil then lower heat.
6. Put in the fried beef and simmer for a few minutes or until meat is tender.
7. Season with salt.
8. Transfer the beef to a platter, pour the resulting sauce over the beef and top with the fried onion rings.
9. Serve hot with lots of rice.

One Mystery at a Time

Praying the rosary is part and parcel of being Catholic— more so in the Philippines. As a young girl, I remember the wooden rosary beads that moved through my mother’s hands.



I remember also how the Franciscan sisters in my school would make a big event of praying the rosary during the month of October. A giant “living rosary” with selected students representing the beads would be the highlight of the celebration.

Alas, the rosary took a backseat when I went to college. There was too much fun to do besides spending time praying the rosary. Praying the rosary continued to be relegated to the bottom of my priorities even as I joined the workforce. There was a job to be done and relationships to be formed.

It was when I got married that praying the rosary re-entered my life. But I did not pray regularly. I sought the comfort in the repetitiveness of the prayers only when I was anxious.



When my husband did not come home early, I prayed. When I had problems with my first pregnancy, I prayed. When the children got sick, I prayed.

Fifteen years ago, praying the rosary on a daily basis became a strong habit.



I found that praying the rosary at the start of each day gave me the fortitude to face the challenges waiting for me at the office.

Now three years into retirement and I still pray the rosary every day. Not so much as to shake off anxieties but so as to deepen the meditative experience. I have more time for contemplating each mystery. And if properly done, I hope to find serenity.



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Last Sunday, I decided to attend mass at Sto Domingo where the feast of Our Lady of the Rosary known as Nuestra Señora de la Naval was being celebrated. While waiting for the mass to start, I prayed the rosary and at the end, added a little request for a massage from Mama Mary. I tried to quiet my mind but instead a multitude of concerns came flooding through. My reverie was interrupted when a lady seated at the other side of the church bench handed me an envelope. She said that a lady requested her to pass it on to me. The envelope had a picture of Mama Mary holding baby Jesus while looking on at a rosary in their hands.

I had goose bumps as I opened the envelope to find a simple brown rosary and two cards containing excerpts of messages given by Mama Mary at Fatima and Sr. Lucia. Tears ran down my checks as I read in particular these two lines:

“I am the Lady of the Rosary. Continue to pray the Rosary everyday.”

“There is no problem so great that it cannot be solved by the Rosary.”

I would understand if skepticism cloud your opinion of my story. It could have been coincidental. I may have been one of the many inside the church that day who got the same envelope being passed along by some well meaning stranger.

Nonetheless, you could not remove the joy I felt as I sang with great vigor the entrance hymn to signal the start of the mass and my undying gratitude.



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A bevy of vendors crowd the entrance of the church. Religious items, fancy jewelries, flowers and native kakanins vie for the attention of the exiting masses. Among the conchintas, the putos, and turons were bundles of different kinds of suman or bud-bud. The making of which is too tedious to do at home. Also calling for attention were slices of sapin-sapin, bibingka and maja blanca.

If like me you love the creaminess of coconut milk, you will certainly enjoy trying out my recipe for maja blanca. Deliciously simple to make that you would want to make this on a regular basis.

Maja Blanca

1 cup coconut cream (the first squeeze) or you can use canned coconut milk
1 cup water
Mix together and set aside: ½ cup corn starch + ½ cup sugar + ½ cup water
½ cup canned whole corn kernels, drained
Latik (optional)

Bring to a quick boil then simmer the coconut cream and the 1 cup of water. Stir constantly. Add the sugar-cornstarch mixture and continue to stir to prevent lumps from forming. Then add the drained corn kernel and stir. Cook for about 3-5 minutes or until mixture is thick enough to coat a spoon. Grease a container with a little coconut oil or veggie oil. Spoon the maja into the container; allow to cool and set. Slice, arrange in a platter and serve topped with latik.



How to make latik:
Boil thick coconut cream until oil comes out and there is the formation of brown flakes or latik. Strain the latik from the oil and reserve as topping.

Extra coconut oil can be used for hair treatment. Not only will your hair smell delicious but it will be luxuriously shiny.

Lifeline

Now that I am back home, I have started to settle down to my normal routine. My interment presence due to several long trips have earned me the moniker “stewardess” from my church group. I must admit that I enjoyed the chance to get away— from the routine, the responsibilities, the sameness. I only pray that I don’t develop anything from all that exposure to airport security x-rays.

And in the time since I returned, I have attended a series of get-togethers with different sets of female friends. And in those gatherings, there were a lot of catching up from where we left off. There was joyful exuberant at the chance to let our hair down and be ourselves. The laughter went from giggles to knee-slapping boisterous glee. We marveled at how fast time flew— kids growing up, age creeping in and how there seems so much to be done with out lives. There were some poignant moments of stories of heartaches and pain too. But humor always seemed not far away to shake off any melancholy mood. And so much quotable quotes that would make any movie script writer proud.

“Remember, you chose me and not the other way around.”
“You can always say enough.”
“Is that intuition or sixth sense?”
“I read, I watch teevee, I do whatever I want to do.”
“They gave me everything except for that one thing that mattered to me.”
“Don’t hesitate. We should be the first ones you should call for help.”
“He's leaving everything behind to be with me.”

In my opinion, it would be possible for a woman to go through life without a man. But life would be impossible without the love and support of women friends.

“><” “><” “><” “><” “><” “><” “><” “><” “><”

No talk-fest is complete without food. And food there was a-plenty in all the bonding sessions I attended. Coincidentally, it was Korean cuisine for two of the gatherings. An assortment of appetizers, chap chae (glass noodles), grilled beef and pork wrapped in pechay leaves, bulgogi (beef bbq), fried tofu and kimchi kept the conversations going. Opening up to friends is easy. The hardest part is saying good-bye.

What follows is a recipe for Korean spareribs shared by a couple who have been my friends for ages now. This dish will have you welcoming it to your table like a new found friend.

C&J’s Korean Braised Spareribs (Yukkae Jang Kuk)

Ingredients
2 kg. Beef spareribs
¼ cup cooking oil
6 cups water
¾ cup soy sauce
6 pcs. Spring onions, sliced
1 tbsp. Ginger chopped
3 tbsp. Sugar
1 tsp. Black pepper, ground
7 cloves garlic, peeled and chop
¼ cup sweet or Chinese rice wine
2 pcs. Chopped spring onions for garnish
1 tbsp. Sesame oil
½ tbsp. chili oil (optional)
2 pcs. carrots, cut into bite-size pieces

6 pcs. dried mushroom
(wash, then rinse with hot water. Soak until soft, reserve liquid then cut into halves)

2 tbsp. Prepared sesame seeds
(Brown one cup of sesame seeds over low fire, stirring constantly. Save about 1/8 cup toasted seeds for garnishment, then mix the rest with 1 tsp. salt and pulverize in a mortar with pestle.)

Procedure:
1. Wash spareribs, separate with a sharp cleaver, then chop into 3-inch pieces. (or have your butcher chop the ribs for you)
2. In a frying pan, heat cooking oil over high heat and brown spareribs a few pieces at a time. Drain off oil and set aside.
3. In a big wok, sauté the garlic, ginger and spring onions until fragrant and garlic starts to brown. Add in the sweet wine, sugar, ground pepper, prepared sesame seeds, soy sauce and 4 cups water. Stir blend.
4. Let the mixture boil first, then drop the spareribs one at time, basting each piece with the soy sauce mixture. Allow to boil once more, then lower heat, cover pan and simmer for 30 minutes.
5. Turn the spareribs once over and add 1 cup of water and simmer for another 30 minutes.
6. Add sesame oil, mushroom, reserved mushroom liquid, another cup of water and season to taste. Cook for 30 minutes more, remove cover and continue simmering until meat is tender.
7. Add carrots and chili oil, if desired, until tender. Sprinkle with toasted sesame seeds and garnish with spring onions. Serves 6 to 8.

Not only is the dish delicious but the resulting mix of colors—orange accents, specks of green & dots of ivory on a dark brown canvas-- says it all.

Unfortunately, I do not have a picture to go with this dish. I hope to edit this post with some pictures as soon as I cook the same dish again.

The story of N

Early Childhood memories:
N remembers happy times with her mother, father and two younger brothers in a small town in Northern Luzon.

At 13:
N was 13 years old when her father left her mother and three other siblings. Her father could not take the string of bad luck— no work, no money, no food. Her mother had just given birth to a baby sister. With another mouth to feed, N’s father just threw in the towel and headed back to his wife—his 1st wife.

Yes—his wife! He had left his 1st wife 13 years ago to take up with N’s mother.

At 14:
Things did not get any better for N after her father left them. N’s mother, barely recovered from childbirth, immediately went to work accepting laundry work in the neighborhood. Sometimes, when there was no laundry to be washed, N’s mother would go to the public market and offer to do massages or hilot for anyone willing to shell out whatever they could give. Soon after, because of poor nutrition and inadequate rest, N’s mother started to waste away. In a few months, her mother took to her bed beside N’s new born sister. It was up to N to care for her mother, her baby sister and two younger brothers. Occasionally, neighbors and a few relatives would send over some food. N recounted that there were many times when she did not know what to do; who to attend to first—her mother, who had thrown up; or, her baby sister, who had soiled her diaper.

It was not long before N’s mother was rushed to the hospital by concerned neighbors. Everything happened so fast. One minute N is walking back to the hospital with a change of clothes for her mother and the next, she is met with the news that her mother had passed away while she was gone.

Everything after became a blur for N. Somehow news reached her father about the death of N’s mother. After two years of absence, N's father came back to take N and her siblings to Manila. They were to live with him and his 1st wife.

At 15:
N is brought over to my house by her step-mother. In the course of the interview, I was told that N was 16 and soon to turn 17 years old. N was bright-eyed and had an air of innocence about her. N was not exactly what I was looking for in a helper. But, I was taken in by her story and felt I had to help somehow.

At 16:
Inspite of her young age, N proved to be responsible and diligent in her duties assigned to her in my household. Because she also proved to be a quick learner, I decided to train her to cook our meals. She was also a generous daughter. Giving much of her salary to support her unemployed father and 3 siblings. She was excited when I brought up her the possibilities of her going back to school. Everything was coming up roses.

At 17:
Shortly after the Christmas holidays, N tearfully told me that she was pregnant. A floodgate opened and so much information came rushing towards me. Inspite of the stern lecture I gave her regarding relationships with men, she was pregnant. Shortly after I employed her, she was sweet talked to by a man who was 10 years older than her. She also revealed to me that she was just turning 17. She added that she tried to abort the baby but failed due to her ignorance on how to go about it. Her boyfriend had promised to take care of her. She stayed in my household until her 7th month of pregnancy.

At 18:
I received a text greeting from N. She had given birth to a healthy baby boy and was grateful for the assistance we gave her. She texted that her boyfriend was taking good care of them. He will marry her soon.

At 19:
I received a text message from N. Her boyfriend had left her and her son in the care of his parents in Bohol. He was back in Manila. If given the chance and the needed boat fare, she would want to work for me again.

N is still not married. Her son is another number to add to the ever growing population.

< o > < o > < o > < o > < o > < o > < o > < o > < o > < o > < o > < o >

N’s situation is not unique. Many young girls continue to get pregnant. But still, I ask myself: Should I have been more vigilant? How else could I have been able to mentor N?

She now has one child. What is to prevent her from having another one? The RH bill? The Catholic Church?

I wish I knew for sure.