EGG: A Tribute

It’s been a year—give or take a few days—since I decided to start this blog and inflict any remotely food-related thoughts I had on the 5 people who frequent it. That would be my 2 sisters, my friend, Aly… let me revise… the three people who frequent this blog.

I just realized that I haven’t written anything about my most favorite food in the world, Egg. I have been remiss. This mistake must be corrected. Tribute must be paid, and so it shall.

I love eggs. I love eggs by themselves or with other ingredients in a main dish. I love them fried sunny side up, or scrambled, or as omelet. I love them hard-boiled with a pinch of salt. I used to love them soft-boiled, almost raw and mixed in with rice, or completely raw stirred in with Sarsi or Mirinda True Orange. I love century eggs. Red (duck) eggs, quail eggs. I would love to try ostrich eggs someday.

If health weren’t an issue, I’d eat at least one egg, or one dish made with eggs, everyday for the rest of my life. But since I can’t do that—I want to live longer than 35 years old—I’ll just have to settle for making a happy list of EGGy foods I love. Making a list makes me happy. Eggs make me happy. Making a list about eggs just about gives me a happy:

1. Sausage Scramble at Heaven N’ Eggs. Heaven N’ Eggs is a place everyone should go to get an egg fix. My favorite is the Sausage Scramble, which is actually an omelet (because, as we know, when Filipinos say “scrambled egg,” we mean “omelet” and when we say “omelet,” we actually mean ground pork patties. It’s a crazy country we live in.) filled with chorizo, longganisa bits, and green and red bell peppers. My second favorite is the Macarena Scramble, an omelet filled with ground beef, chorizo bits, corn, and peppers. Both omelets come with a choice of rice or pancakes and fries or hash browns. The last time I ate at HnE, though, I was massively disappointed. They pretty much changed their menu, and not in a good way. Names have been changed because, basically, they cut some necessary ingredients from their main dishes. So the sausage scramble is just longganisa now. And I think the Macarena is gone. And the portions are smaller! Que barbaridad! Needless to say, I have not been back since early this year, I think. I hope HnE has shaped back up since then. I hate restaurants that make their serving sizes smaller. I’d rather pay more for the same amount of food than pay the same price for significantly less. Bad restaurant, bad.

2. Scrambled egg, with sardines, tomatoes, and onions. In Bicol, early this year, during counseling mission. Partnered with amazingly good and greasy Argentina corned beef. People in Bicol know how to cook. My mom also used to cook sardine scramble eggs when I was a kid. But, honestly, the cooking woman in Bicol did it better.

3. Egg Salad Sandwich. Hot pan de sal or crunchy baguette.

4. Century Egg. I had my first taste of what is basically rotten egg in high school. Had a great meal at a Chinese resto with my high school best pal and her family. I never thought something as gross looking could be as delicious.

5. Crab Foo Yong. (Tama ba spelling?)

6. Sunny Side Up, with longganisa, tocino, corned beef, or all 3, on the side.

7. Scrambled, with tinapang fish, or 555 Hot and Spicy Fried Sardines, or Spanish Sardines, or Spanish Style Bangus on the side.

8. Quail Eggs. Hard-boiled, with salt, sold along any street in packs of 5.

9. Hard-boiled chicken egg, with salt.

10. Red egg, with sliced tomatoes. Perfect with pork barbecue at the Beach House in UP. Or with adobo flakes. (This second one is a favorite of Ate My. She orders this at Chocolate Kiss. She cooked this one time at home too. It worked out well for my tongue).

11. Quiche.

12. Kwek-kwek! Hard-boiled quail eggs, dipped in orange batter, and deep-fried. With a sweet-sour-spicy sauce and/or garlic, onion, and chili-infused vinegar. Sold along any street corner.

13. Nido or Bird’s Nest Soup, with Quail Eggs. At any Chinese resto. Or instant, courtesy of Knorr.

14. Instant chicken or beef noodles with egg. Great for when you’re sick or… when you’re not.

15. Egg pie!

16. Egg pie!!

17. Egg pie!!!

18. Sausage McMuffin with Egg. At McDonald’s.

19. Omelet, with diced potatoes and onions. Homemade by my mom.

20. Omelet, with hotdog bits and grated cheese. My own invention. Quick and easy.

Ingredients:
3 eggs
2-3 hotdogs, cut into bite-sized pieces
1 cup grated cheese
salt, pepper, garlic powder, herbs to taste
oil for frying

Procedure:
1. Beat eggs. Season with salt and pepper.
2. Fry hotdogs. Set aside.
3. Pour beaten eggs. Season with garlic powder.
4. When eggs are almost cooked, add hotdogs then cheese.
5. Fold omelet if you can. If it breaks, no worries. It’s all good.
6. Sprinkle herbs like basil, rosemary, thyme, marjoram, or chives on top.
7. Serve and enjoy.

21. Liver Spread and Scrambled Egg Pan De Sal. Again, my baby.

Ingredients:
4 large pan de sal, sliced to form buns (or 8 pcs sandwich bread)
2 eggs, scrambled
1 small can liver spread (Reno)

Procedure:
1. Optional: Toast pan de sal.
2. Smear a good amount of liver spread on each pan de sal face.
3. Divide scrambled eggs into 4 pieces. Sandwich one between each pan de sal bun.
4. Serve with hot coffee or hot chocolate or Milo.

2 Pastas and A Pizza Pan De Sal

Spicy Sardine Vegeroni

Praise the Lord, Hallelujah, for 555! I recently discovered 555’s Hot and Spicy Fried Sardines. It’s like Spanish style sardines but with tomato sauce in it. Because it’s fried, there’s none of the tinny aftertaste that you usually get with regular sardines in tomato sauce. Plus, good heavens, it’s profanely cheap (only 14 pesos for a small can)! So, because I like putting different things in my pasta (especially if they cost me virtually nil), I had to try this with my San Remo vegeroni. The result won’t win any gourmet awards, but it’s tasty enough for everyday meals.

Ingredients:
1 small can 555 Hot and Spicy Fried Sardines (or any brand of fried sardines in oil)
3 medium tomatoes, 1 green, 2 ripe, diced
2 tbsp garlic, minced
1 shallot, minced
1 pat of butter
Salt, pepper, basil to taste
200 grams pasta (I use San Remo vegeroni spirals)

Procedure:
1. Cook pasta according to instructions.
2. Melt butter in pan. Sautee garlic, onion, and tomatoes. Add a bit of oil from sardines. Season with salt, pepper, and basil.
3. Add the sardines. Simmer for a few minutes.
4. Place pasta in bowl. Add sardines. Toss.
5. Sprinkle with parmesan or Italian blend cheese.
6. Enjoy.


Tuna Longganisa Macaroni

I cooked this pasta dish a couple of years ago when all I had in my freezer was some Monterey Lucban Longganisa and in my cupboard, a tin of Century Hot and Spicy Tuna and about 300 grams of macaroni. Vigan longganisa works just as great as both sausages are garlicky and spicy. I’ve also tried using sweet sausages but I prefer spicy, local longganisa in my pasta. Italian sausage can also be an awesome substitute, but it’s rather pricey.

Ingredients:
4 pieces spicy longganisa (Lucban or Vigan)
1 small can Hot and Spicy Tuna
2 tbsp garlic, minced
1 shallot, minced
1 pat of butter
Salt, pepper to taste
Basil, rosemary, thyme, marjoram, optional
300 grams macaroni

Procedure:
1. Cook pasta according to instructions.
2. Remove sausages from casing. Break up the meat as it fries in the pan.
3. Remove meat from pan. Add butter to the lard left in pan. Sautee garlic and onion.
4. Return sausage. Add tuna. Season with salt, pepper, and favorite herbs.
5. Place pasta in a bowl. Add sausage and tuna mixture. Toss.
6. No need for cheese. Just enjoy. But, of course, if you still want to put cheese on it, be my guest. I’m an easy person to convince. Most times.


Tuna Pizza Pan De Sal

I created this from a can of Del Monte Spaghetti Meat Sauce and a can of Century Hot and Spicy Tuna (can you tell I love the stuff?).

Ingredients:
1 small can hot and spicy tuna
1 small can (250 g) spaghetti meat sauce (Italian Style spaghetti sauce is a good substitute)
salt, pepper, garlic powder, basil, and other herbs, to taste
quickmelt or cheddar cheese
pan de sal

Procedure:
1. Combine tuna, spaghetti sauce, and spices.
2. Spread mixture onto pan de sal halves. Top with grated cheese.
3. Toast for 4-5 mins, or until cheese has melted.
4. Serve and enjoy.

Coffee, Tea, and Me

I’m making my morning cup of coffee—it goes well with my peanut butter and guava jelly pan de sal (Filipino bread)—when it occurs to me that I’ve drank more caffeine this year than I ever have in my life. I’ve never been a coffee or tea person. My taste in breakfast beverages has always leaned towards the “she’s a growing girl” kind of drink, that is to say, milk, Milo (a local, less expensive, chocolate malt drink), and “imported”, pricier Swiss Miss for special occasions like… Wednesdays. Because weekdays are special occasions too. (That is a great slogan. Or a one-liner in a greeting card. Attention: Hallmark.).

I pause in stirring and feel a vague sense of apprehension, the kind that signals that I am on the verge of a realization, the significance of which may be far-reaching but, heretofore, unknown.

Yes, I think. I am, indeed, having a sort of epiphany as I have, quite clearly, turned temporarily British. Forgive me.

I begin to wonder when it was that I started ingesting unusually large amounts of caffeine on a regular basis. The tea drinking, I’m certain, started last year, around the time my liver went to war with my well-being. (In brief: I had been hospitalized and prescribed antibiotics that set off an allergic reaction in the form of gas. The gas in my stomach kept recurring for months until, 2 gastroenterologists and an ultra sound later, we discovered the culprit: I had a fatty liver).

To detonate the hot air bombs inside me, I had taken to drinking my mom’s Chinese medicinal tea—bitter, potent stuff that helped me feel and look less like a Buddha inviting everyone to rub her tummy for good luck.

And while I’ve occasionally enjoyed a cup of coffee, I’ve never done so on an almost daily basis. Until I discovered a simple formula for making chocolate taste even more like chocolate and that is to mix a bit of coffee in it. So, I’ve taken to drinking Swiss Miss and coffee, even writing a haiku or two about it.

It has reached the point where any given day would find me having a coffee (with or without chocolate) in the morning and tea at night, both in the service of my sensitive stomach and my profligate tongue.

This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, I think. It may not even be, shall we say, a big deal. Except… it kind of is, for me. And I wonder again as I resume stirring.

I’m pretty sure what irks me about the incessant caffeine ingestion is the glowing sign on the marquee announcing the fact of my adulthood and grown-up-ness.

I suppose, at almost 29, I should have at least been ready for it. But I think I’ve always been a bit of a Peter Pan, wanting to remain forever young, wanting an excuse to keep throwing tantrums, talking in a ridiculously high-pitched voice, laughing at the most inane things, and avoiding terrible grown-up things to do like earn a regular salary, get out of school, pay taxes, and the like.

It pains me somewhat that I’m not a growing girl anymore. I am, in truth and fact, a grown woman, though you wouldn’t know it by looking at me. Or, at least, I hope you wouldn’t. I’m vain enough to hope that you think I can’t be more than 23, 25, tops.

People often watch out for signs of aging in their faces. Are my eyelids starting to droop? Am I forming crow’s feet? Are the laugh lines getting deeper? Is my skin turning splotchy?

I find the signs of my personal march towards death in the changes in my drinking habits. I’ve always associated, albeit unknowingly, coffee and tea with old folks. The image in my mind is of an old man, his back stooped so low he is half the height he once was, slouching at a table, cataract eyes staring uselessly, a cup of dark coffee in hand. He takes a drink, his grip shaky and firm, as if the coffee burning his tongue and the cup around which gnarled fingers are wrapped are the only things keeping his body somewhat erect, somewhat animate, barely alive, As if the minute he lets go of the coffee, his body would then slump to the ground in a way only the dead can do.

The image itself is not particularly terrifying to me. I’ve always been able to imagine being dead. What I can’t imagine is the middle, the vast grey unknown between the end and its beginning.

When I was a kid, a literal kid and not the over-grown one I sometimes am these days, I used to suffer from a great sense of deprivation because I was never allowed to drink as much Sustagen (a powdered energy drink for kids that comes in 2 variants: vanilla and chocolate) as I wanted. My parents were far from selfish. But Sustagen was a bit pricey and we didn’t have much when we were growing up. That meant that chocolate-flavored health drinks were reserved for my thin, ostensibly undernourished eldest sister. Since I was bigger, my parents concluded (probably rightly) that I did not really need help in the nutrition department.

So the stuff my sister didn’t relish taking, I wanted to guzzle. I envied her not only the Sustagen but also the Cetrin, a sweet, orange-flavored syrup, and the Scott’s Emulsion, a white, viscous fluid. God forgive me, I think I may even have resented her taking cod liver oil.

My perspective on such things has changed a lot. I don’t feel deprived anymore, mainly because I’ve lost the taste for awful-flavored vitamins (although, I must admit to maintaining a fondness for Sustagen). It also helps that I can now afford to buy my own chocolate-flavored drinks, although I still pilfer from my dad’s stash of Swiss Miss.

I take a sip of my coffee. It is now cold. I hate the taste of cold coffee, but I don’t heat it up. I drink it, thinking, wanting to believe, that I don’t need it to enervate me just yet.

I make a note to self: buy Swiss Miss. I realize the check from my last job isn’t ready. I amend note to self: buy Milo.

(Also published in IndieBloggers)

Playing Favorites

I like lists, like most people… with issues. I make To Do lists even when I have nothing in particular to do. I like to list books I want to read, restaurants I want to dine in, movies I want to watch. I list the things I am thankful for as well as areas that I need to make improvements in. In 2003, I made an Areas for Improvement list and one item in that list read: Be more assertive. Not assertive enough.

Four years after I wrote it, I’m still laughing my substantial behind off thinking about it. Anyone who knows me knows I couldn’t possibly be more assertive. That item should have read: Be less assertive. Not everyone’s out to get you. Most people don’t give a rodent’s derriere about the horrible things you’re going through. Get over yourself, schmuckette.

I still don’t know why I ever thought I needed to assert myself more. I couldn’t be less api than if I donned greasy, cut-up rags, smeared dirt on my face, and pretended to be a vagrant at the overpass in Philcoa. (A stout vagrant? Have you ever seen such a sight, Nigel? No, can’t say that I have, Miss.). But I digress. Like I always do. I like tangents. I especially like going off them. If there’s a tangent to go off on, I’m there.

The point, however, is lists, i.e. that I like to make them. One kind of list I like to make is a favorites list. It’s a heady feeling wracking your brain for—to paraphrase that early 90s rap/dance group, C&C Music Factory—things that make you go, “Uh-uhmm!” It gives me great joy and I’d rather do this than… work. Frankly.

So, without further ado, these are a few of my favorite things…


My Favorite BREAKFAST ITEMS:

1) longganisa (especially Vigan, Lukban, and hamonado)
2) tocino (the pinker, the better!)
3) hotdogs
4) corned beef
5) French toast
6) Pancakes
7) Pan de sal with palaman, either chiz whiz pimiento or nutella or Reno
8) Fried eggs
9) Omelets
10) Garlic fried rice
11) Post raisin and nut bran flakes
12) Swiss Miss (great with a bit of coffee. I wrote a haiku about this. It goes:

Tamis at pait
Masarap pagsamahin—
Swiss Miss and coffee.)

13) Milo (as in #12, great with coffee)
14) Danggit
15) Tinapang Salinas
16) Spanish sardines
17) VMC Spanish style bangus
18) Champorado with tuyo or bulad
19) Hash browns
20) Chocolate-e
21) Fresh orange juice (straight from the bottle. Beri, Beri Good!)
22) Peanut butter and jelly sandwich
23) Reno liver spread (kailangan ulitin. It cannot be emphasized more.)
24) Day-old pizza
25) Leftovers from last night’s dinner


My Favorite MEATS:

1) cold cuts (pepperoni, lyoners, etc.)
2) Italian sausage
3) Hungarian sausage
4) Vigan and Lukban longganisa
5) Tocino
6) Hotdogs
7) Spam / maling
8) Ham
9) Bacon
10) Chorizo de bilbao
11) Corned beef
12) Chicken longganisa
13) Chicken hotdogs
14) Beef franks
15) KFC original recipe chicken
16) Max’s fried chicken
17) Balat ng lechon
18) Lechon kawali
19) Liempo sa Andok’s
20) Chicken nuggets
21) Vienna sausage
22) Meat loaf / beef loaf
23) Hamburger patties
24) Pork chops (lalo na breaded)
25) Siomai at dumplings
26) Meatballs


My Favorite DESSERTS:

1) Dayap Chiffon Cake (at Chocolate Kiss)
2) Bread Pudding (at Circles Resto buffet and EDSA Shangri-La’s breakfast buffet)
3) Leche flan (anytime, anywhere. Kahit butas-butas yan, papatusin ko.)
4) Halo-halo in Razon’s
5) Halo-halo ingredients, like: sweet beans, nata de coco, and kaong
6) Brazo de Mercedes and the Yang to its Yin, Canonigo
7) Sapin-sapin, specifically the white biko-like layer
8) Birthday cake. The ones with marshmallow icing, sweet and sticky.
9) Green Tea and Sesame Seed ice cream (at Teriyaki Boy)
10) Macapuno
11) Inipit

(Note: Actually, I’m not really a dessert person. Hence, the brevity of this list.).

EQUAL OPPORTUNITY EATS

This is my earliest memory of a perfect meal: I was five years old, maybe six. Doesn’t matter, I was young. I was home while my older sisters were in school. It was lunchtime and my mother, for one reason or another, didn’t cook lunch like she usually did. Instead, she gave me five pesos and a Tupperware bowl, with instructions to go outside, walk to the nearest eskinita, and buy myself five pesos’ worth of fish balls. Fish balls. That was to be my lunch. Not my mom’s yummy adobo with the sauce thick and slightly sweet and the pork fat soft and almost melting, just the way I liked it. Not her hotdog omelet fried to oily perfection. Not her specialty macaroni sopas, with chicken and hotdog bits drowning in milky, margarine-yellowed soup.

Lunch was fish balls. I couldn’t have been more ecstatic.

At that time, fish balls cost only ten centavos apiece so the five pesos my mom gave me bought 50 pieces. 50 fish balls, drowning in a sweet-hot-sour sauce made of parts ketchup and soy sauce, sugar and sili. All of it mine. I remember doing a happy dance as I walked home carrying my Tupperware of fish balls. I remember my mom’s indulgent smile as she watched me wolf down fish balls and rice.

This was only my first perfect meal. I have enjoyed the gastronomic pleasure of more than one perfect meal in my life. Granted, from the aforementioned example, it does not seem too difficult to please my taste buds. In fact, one may say—quite rightly—that I am ridiculously easy to please. One may say that I’ll eat anything. And one would be right—crass and rude, but right.

I am not a gourmet. When it comes to food, I believe in equal opportunity for all food groups to be consumed, nay, devoured by moi. Well, maybe fruits and veggies are at a slight disadvantage… And although I can be finicky about my pizza and pasta, foods I love so much I consider them to be a separate food group, on the whole, I eat indiscriminately.

So when it comes to the perfect meal, or in my case, perfect meals, it isn’t so much a matter of taste or how good the food is as it is a matter of passion, of the emotions food evokes. The perfect meal is also about memory, and discovery. Take, for instance, another perfect meal I had when I was an easily pleased child: pan de sal (Filipino bread) with ketchup as palaman (filling).

The scene unfolded thus: I was looking inside the refrigerator, pan de sal in one hand, searching for palaman. A glance at the condiment section revealed no mayonnaise, no chiz whiz, no peanut butter, no coco jam. In other words, no palaman. Since, to me, pan de sal without palaman is like kanin (rice) without ulam (viand), I had to look for something to spread onto my pan. As if fated, my young, easily pleased eyes fell on a bottle of Papa banana ketchup. An image came to mind, of an older cousin sticking his index finger in a pan de sal, pretending it was a hotdog sandwich. New knowledge settled in my ken like a Catholic-style epiphany… Ah, anything can be palaman, if one wishes it. Mayo, chiz whiz, peanut butter, coco jam. Yes, even index finger. And if index finger, why not ketchup? Why not, indeed. Faultless logic and almost mystical intuition, the same stuff scientific discoveries are made of.

I remember the glee with which I poured a huge dollop of Papa onto my pan de sal, the joy I felt as I bit into my ketchup sandwich, the giggle that escaped my lips even as ketchup dribbled onto my chin. It was the perfect meal, messy and joyous and full of discovery.

I don’t eat ketchup sandwiches anymore. (These days I prefer Mang Tomas Lechon Sauce). And I have had near-perfect meals that involved relatively more sophisticated foods. But I find that, invariably, the best meals I’ve had, I was eating cheap, simple, hearty foods that filled my stomach—without wiping out my pocket—and made my heart glad, whether it’s create-your-own pizza and oily carbonara at Napoli’s or sweet-spicy pork barbecue and salted egg at Beach House in UP.

So much has been said about emotional eating. Mainly, it has been blamed for the increasingly high incidence of weight problems. Diet experts say that the only goal of eating is, or at least should be, nutrition and nothing else. Eat to live, as the old folks liked to say. Therefore, eat routinely and without emotion because emotions invest food with a purpose higher than mere sustenance and staving off of physical hunger.

Many people are embarrassed to admit that they, like every other human being on the planet, do eat emotionally and for reasons that have nothing to do with nutrition. Eating, much like other biological imperatives like sleep and sex, is motivated by things that go beyond the physical. When we eat emotionally, therefore, we assert our ability to push the limits of our biology, even to transcend it. This is admittedly a roundabout way of saying… I am not embarrassed. I admit it. I do eat emotionally. And I never quite understood why I should eat only to live. I eat with joy, with glee, with passion, with love. I eat as I live. There’s nothing embarrassing about that.

bochog