A Note on Gata

Just got back from a counseling mission in Daraga, Albay, where the people--many of them, anyway--remain optimistic and passionate. Albay is a place of myth and its people, firm believers in the power of story. Camalig, the town we were in, lies at the foot of Mayon. It's difficult to describe Mayon without sounding like a press release from the Department of Tourism. The phrase that immediately came to mind when I got my first look at that voluptuous volcano is "magandang mabagsik." Later in the day, I would talk to a woman who had a similar perspective. Mayon, she said, takes her beauty from the lives of the people she kills. Mayon, like Albay, like its people, is both beautiful and fierce. Unrelenting, feral, passionate.

But this isn't a note on Mayon, as gorgeous as that bit of rock and molten lava is. This is a note on the other thing that makes Albay famous: gata. I'm not a big fan of coco milk. It scares me, to be honest. I never know how my stomach will take it. Gata, after all, is not for the faint of heart and queasy of tummy. It's quite like Mayon, I think, in that it caresses your tongue and palate beautifully, sensually, then crash lands into your tummy and explodes out of—ahem, you get the point.

Anyway, when in Bicol, one must have Bicol Express—which, for the ignorami amongst us (or is it ignoramuses? For that matter, is the plural of hippopotamus hippopotami or hippopotamuses? Both, or neither? Questions, questions. Too many questions, never enough answers.), is pork cooked in gata. Not exactly health food heaven but what the hey. So had Bicol Express I did. Partnered it with Laing, in fact. Definition: Laing – gabi leaves in, tadah!, gata.

Will state the obvious now: tummy very happy. Full of air but very happy.

Gata, gata,
Everywhere gata.
In the air,
on my tongue;
in my tummy,
out my bum.
Gata.

I Thank You.

The Devil Is Right, After All

Two guesses who's got a fat liver. Yep, me! Not so whee!, though, because having a fat liver--the technical term being fatty liver, duh--means I really have to lose weight by going low fat (gasp!) and low carb (agh! my heart! oh, my heart!).

In a previous post, I ranted about Doctor Devil in A White Coat telling me to lose weight as if that was the only explanation for my recurring kabag. (Gah! I've said it before, I'll say it again, kabag sucks. It's the biggest bitch ever. It's a monkey on my back, or more appropriately, a gorilla in my tummy.). Well, I went to another doctor who ordered an ultra sound, which I had last Saturday. Thank the Lord, no stones! Everything normal, everything pretty healthy. Except for that "impression" of a "fatty liver," according to the ultrasonologist. So Doc Number 2 said the only treatment for that is to change my diet and lose weight because having a fatty liver makes me more prone to acid reflux and awful gas in my lovely tummy.

Sucks to be me right now. Sucks to be me.

I am hating, loathing, writing it but... those Devils in White Coats are on to something. The kabag takes so much from me and the only way to manage it is to manage my eating habits. I can't believe I'm writing about managing food. Even as I write, my mind screams, food isn't to be managed! It is to be eaten, consumed, nay, devoured! As devils devour the souls of the wicked!

I'm doing well, so far, keeping to a less rice/pasta/pork diet. Taking it a day at a time works well. If you happen upon this blog and this particular post and you have a low carb and/or low fat recipe to share, I'd love to get those. I'm stocking up on spices and tuna (in brine. Sigh.) and brown rice and wheat bread. I've even created a tuna tomato spread that doesn't taste all that healthy... but is, honest!

I must fight that niggling sense of having sold out to the hippie-dippie health buffs. I am still me. I will not be signing up for pilates lessons anytime soon. But I will be having a salad next time I eat out. I suspect I will try to enjoy the salad even as I miss carbonara. And when the missing becomes too great, I probably will have carbonara one of these days (hopefully, just a single serving of it).

I am still me because, low on carbs or high on it, I still like to create issues out of what to other folks is really nothing. A diet isn't just a diet. There's a reason it's spelled D-I-E-t.