Tag Archives: food


…Is my choice of beverage. Green tea to be specific. The real green tea I mean. Not the one in tea bags but those that directly imported from abroad and only available in just a few selected stores. Here where I live, there are just two known places that supply what I preferred. One in the capital and another one near the border to France. There was a time that I will choose screw driver over anything else (except water, water is always good) but that was a long time ago. I still drink an occasional margarita while on vacation but so seldom I am not even qualified as an occasional drinker. Coffee, I take coffee sometimes. Usually in pair with something cold like a sandwich or something sweet to have something warm. In my culture, if it’s not warm it isn’t qualified as a meal. I’ve read somewhere something like this: I shouldn’t think even millionaires could eat anything nicer than new bread and real butter and honey for tea. 

“If you are cold, tea will warm you;
if you are too heated, it will cool you;
If you are depressed, it will cheer you;
If you are excited, it will calm you.” 

The magic of tea.


Neat and Tidy

It’s always nice to see things arranged in a proper order. Easy on the eye. Inviting. Inspiring. Shot worthy. Last Christmas I saw in the Supermarket rows of rows of gift wrapped chocolates. I am not fond of sweets but I can’t help but admire the colourful display. They are so tempting, neatly and appropriately dressed up for the holiday.  





For every each one of us morning feels different. What the heck, you can’t even have the same morning each day. They say that a good start to a day is very important. If you are in a positive frame of mind in the morning than you are very likely to have a productive day. Similarly, if you get upset or are troubled with something in the morning than you are going to have the same negativity throughout the day. Lindsay Lohan once said:

‘Everyone has highs and lows that they have to learn from, but every morning I start off with a good head on my shoulders, saying to myself, ‘It’s going to be a good day!’.

Let’s try and follow her example. Shall we?


Merry Christmas

When I was young, despite of circumstances, I always find Christmas the most exciting time of the year; better than New Year which is always dominated with extreme noises and possible fire works casualties. I remember going from houses to houses all over town wishing the occupants merry Christmas and in return you will get small change or sometimes a meal. A privilege reserved only for children. As an adult, it is seen as morally wrong doing the same thing.

I had a small pink plastic piggy bank for my holiday coins. All the cents I gathered on my tour, I put in there. It helped for the rest of the year when I needed money for school projects or to buy snacks during recess so, I will not feel left out and different from other kids. When my coins were finished, I put white wild flowers in the slot of my piggy bank; it looked good in my play house, just like a flower vase.

But the Christmas I will never forget was when I was a freshman. After 11 years of managing the fishpond, my father found himself in dispute with the owner. Proud as my father was, he rather dragged us down the drain than give into something which was against his principles; we found ourselves homeless overnight.

Out of desperation, lacked of other immediate resources and nowhere else to go, my father built a one room shack just outside the perimeter of the fishpond (how stupid and embarrassing that was, but I believe if he didn’t  think about us, I have a very strong notion that he rather pack his bags and move to another town very far away from our then current location – he done this before – and never come back. But as it were, he swallowed his high pride and settled us in temporarily) you can read the rest of the story in details here.

That particular Christmas eve we locked our door early and tried not to hear the merriment outside, pretending we were asleep; in the dark I can hear my stomach growling, we didn’t eat supper that night but no one complained. We all suffered in silence.

Out of a sudden I heard someone calling my name outside, my father put his finger on his lips and gestured for me not to open the door; I went back to my place.

But the person outside the door kept knocking and calling wishing us the usual holiday greeting and begging me to please open the door.

After a while my father gave in and allowed me to see our visitor.

When I opened the door, I was surprise to see Macedonio; he was one of the seven brothers who just moved to our village couple of years ago.

I remember when we were still living in the fish pond; he initiated an introduction between his brothers, me and my siblings by purposely landing a big kite in the middle of our place, which was separated from the rest of the neighbourhood by an electric fence. He managed to convinced my father to let them in to retrieve their kite, the rest is history.

Macedonio courted me briefly till my father (as always) pointed him to the fact that I was still underage and will not be available for such things until I’m 100 years old or so. He remained a trusted friend of the family as well as his other brothers who for some reasons don’t look like each other. Not a single resemblance. As if they are handpicked from different places and by some chance ended up together as one family. I have never seen more good looking young boys in my time than Macedonio and his siblings.

Where was I? ah, yes opening the door finding him standing there smiling at me. His usual off hand smile that if I was more experienced that time, I will recognize it as designed to melt every girl’s heart.  But I wasn’t. What caught my attention was the enormous plate he was holding full of Christmas delights. There was mountain of pancit, a loaf of bread, suman, kalamay, sinukmani, half of a fried chicken and rice cakes! I looked at him full of disbelief! He smiled,  eyes  twinkling, poked his head inside and when he saw that my father wasn’t looking; he gave me a peck on the cheek and say: “Merry Christmas you gorgeous.” And he disappeared into the night.

He must have been aware of our situation (not much one can hide in small village like ours) and how kindhearted of him to think about us in that time of the year and provide us a holiday meal without hurting the sensitive pride of my father. Bless the people like him. Not only for making our Christmas unforgettable, but restoring my fate in humanity…


Bah, Humbug!

Okay… Christmas is here again and no matter how I try to be a female version of Ebenezer Scrooge minus the greed I cannot escape certain duties during this holiday season. The dilemmas are always the same each year:

What to wear to those parties?

An outfit for family gatherings must be proper and not overly chic; something a critical mother in law would approve, meaning = don’t upstage her at all cost.

Another one for a corporate lounge dinner with people you don’t know at all and have nothing in common but have to chit-chat nicely in case they are your spouse chiefs or subordinates, wives included. The attire must be formal enough to be classy yet not too constricting for after dinner twirling on the floor with just a hint of simple sexiness as not to look slutty.

And not to forget yuletide season night of fun with friends and whoever they decide to bring along. This time, whatever the choice must be warm enough for after dinner strolling around the city hopping from bar to bar sampling their signature drinks or in case the parking is too full you have to leave your car few kilometres where you have to be. But it has to be punchy too with a lot of schwung for flirty yet classy effect appropriate enough for semi formal dinner and to impress your friends and their escorts. (ha ha)

Oh, the colour! I almost forgot the colour. Red is the obvious and safest choice for my southern colouring that’s why I will not wear crimson this year. Black makes me look washed-out, I will disappear in any shade of tan; white is not festive enough and will appear luminous in any muted lighting. Violet- lavender- mauve and purple remind me of funeral homes, that leaves only yellow which is a big no-no in any circumstances; blue and green which are the traditional hues of Christmas itself will never be on my list no matter what. I don’t want to resemble either a holiday tree or the baubles that goes with it. What a freaking dilemma!

What to serve on Christmas dinner?

As to satisfied the fussiest of eaters among your guests but at the same time not spending the whole evening in the kitchen people would wonder where you disappeared maybe gone to some fancy restaurant for last minute order to replace your over-complicated menu that didn’t work because of your shaky nerves (catering costs a lot of money and frankly I cannot name one among my guests –to- be that deserves such ado and effort since I don’t like them at all the feeling is mutual I suspect good thing that I only see them around this time of the year) I have to come up with an original idea that will not cost trouble but will blow their socks off.

Next is: what gifts to buy?

Especially for the ones who are lucky enough to have everything they can think of. I know it’s the thoughts that counts but you and I know better. I witnessed enough family Christmas gifts drama where both parties ceased to talk to one another long after the jolly holiday is over and years beyond that. Believe me, the theory about its- the -thoughts –that- counts- can only stretch so far.

And of course we cannot forget the hubby darling dear and our once in a blue moon special tête-à-tête; it requires proper attire drinks and delectable(s) as well. And if you are like me who only give certain favors and accommodations  during special occasions… then more careful preparation is required, if you know what I mean.

That nicely summarized my festive dilemmas around this time of the year and like Ebenezer Scrooge I would (if I could) say… “Bah, Humbug!”  Because like him; I do not want to socialize because I never experienced steady growth in a strong family unit and all that jazz, or I could lay the blame on my ex who managed to make every Christmas that we’re together (that’s 20 traumatic years) a living hell.  How’s that for an excuse?


Mmmmm… Donuts!

There are some strange things happening to me lately. Perhaps strange for me but normal for others. My seasons are always been in reverse I know but even then…

One of those is craving donuts. Not just donuts because I cannot stand the other varieties. Only plain ones will do with a little sprinkle of sugar on top.  I eat them for breakfast, lunch, dinner and any time in between. Lately, they are the only food I can consume without sending me straight to the loo puking my heart and soul out. I even drive to cinemas, late open fast food chains and night shops at ungodly hours in search of donuts.  I often coupled them with steaming black coffee (real men drink their coffee black) or real green tea. Where I live, finding (plain) donuts is an arduous task. You will have more chance scoring a date on a Saturday night than finding plain donuts.

I don’t have a sweet tooth. I used to hate anything sweet. My stomach (which is a pro when it comes to knowing what it wants and has an amazing capability of puking only things it can’t stand and keep the ones that suit its taste even when I mix my food, deliberately going against doctor advice to separate food groups for better digestion ) has an aversion for processed food especially those that contain sugar, dairy and chocolates. That’s why I find it strange that I’m craving for sugar (in this case donuts) or pizza, which is another strange addiction of mine. I don’t even like pizza, but these days I drive to shopping malls so I can have my favorite variety. No real Italian restaurants for me (like we used to do once in a while on special occasions) for two reasons: I can only eat one slice. More than that and it will be another trip to the loo for me. Second reason is: no restaurants will make the flavor I like, which is called supreme with thin crust. I normally partner it with diet coke. What a fucking cliché.

I’ve read somewhere that problems in brain stem area can affect one’s eating habit.  Maybe that’s why.

I always have temporary addiction before (but not sugar) let it be food, clothes, beverages or places to go and things to do. But they lasted only for a couple of days never to be repeated again. Like the time I was buying shawls, bags, and consuming kilos of artisan hummus and bread and drinking liters of Tao pure infusion drink, that’s nothing but a distant memory now.

Another thing happening to me these days is the fact that I’m not sleeping. Okay, I am insomniac, always been. I am also a night person but at least I was able to sleep in the daytime and on occasions, nighttime; especially when I was travelling. What can someone do on a long non-stop flight but sleep. Besides, airplanes (or any public places like train/bus stations and airports) are excellent substitute for bedrooms. You’re surrounded with people (therefore”safe”) that you have nothing to do with. It’s like hiding in the open. Fantastic! 

But lately, sleeping is becoming a really serious affair. I can’t sleep. Unless of course it’s a drug-induced sleep and even then I can only managed 3- maximum 4 hours before I’m fully awake again. That is on a good day for I have these reverse reaction to tranquilizers; it energized me instead of guiding me to la- la land. And please, don’t let me start with therapy, yoga, herbal teas, physical activities, saunas and massages; they simply don’t work. Not for me.

I just woke up (at 20:00 hours) and wrote this before I forget because aside from the things I’ve mentioned above, I seem to be suffering from apraxia and agnosia I’m terrified it will develop into something worse like ataxia/abulia or allochiria. God, I’m becoming hypochondriac. I better stop right here before I bore you people if I’m not busy doing that already…


Collective Insanity

Today the daily prompt is more challenging than usual. They asked: 

Write a post that includes dialogue between two people — other than you. (For more of a challenge, try three or more people.)

I decided to do it while editing pictures from my recent holiday. So, you know what to expect. Here it is…

“Sometimes I think he’s going to leave me.” I said to none of them in particular. I just thrown in a random thoughts of mine to test the reactions. Granted, perhaps not the most appetizing topic during holiday dinner in a hotel restaurant but I long ceased to care about what they think of me. Not that whatever I do will alter their prejudgment of me. I’m not good enough. There is nothing more to it.

After a while his uncle said: “Don’t be too sure about that. If that’s happen, then we are in trouble. The whole family is in trouble.”

Instead of asking why “they” will be in trouble I said: “Why you think he’s not going to leave me one of these days?”

“Because he fought so hard for you.” It was his mother who answered my question. She’s like that. Loves to interrupt people. Especially her son. He detests it but doesn’t know how to vocalize his thoughts without falling from the pedestal.

“You’re my life Sweetheart. I’ll stay with you forever.” He said reaching for my hand and looking deep into my eyes. I heard grumbled and sharp intake of breath from around the table. I smiled.

After a while, the activity at the table resumed. We eat in awkward silence. Mission accomplished.