Food Critic… (Wanna-Be)

If I am not in my line of work right now, I’d be a food critic.  At least, that is one of my delusions of grandeur.  Not that I am very good at identifying herbs and spices.  I just know enough when the food is making me feel happy and when it’s making me feel a little short of being content.

greenbelt area is a place where life and good food meet with a curiosity of people.  everyday, at lunch time, people from all walks of life and nationality go there for business, socializing, and good and bad company.

in my case, i go there almost everyday not for the food.  most days, i just take a walk with friends from the office to work off the less than palatable food from the canteen which our budgets can manage.  still, because of the company we keep, it is most often a happy lunch hour.

some days, i would meet up with jenny gump to discuss about the birds, the bees, the flowers, the trees and how getting engaged and getting married - one of the supposedly happiest moments of our lives as independent women who are on the brink of losing that very independence to some guy we barely know - is not at all that crapped up to be.  some days, i sit there with another set of friends from the office just plainly trying to take a breather from our everyday toiling and grinding.

today is almost one of those occasions.  my old gang of hotseat sitters went to greenbelt for a dash of something different.  it’s been quite a while since we last did, what with the kulokoy pipol going off to nepal for some project while pretty bannana battled between correcting systems and procedures in the office.  as for me, well, there are enough battles i have been trying to run away from.  i just wanted to be a food critic, after all.

myron’s place was bannana’s choice.  not so much people go there for lunch.  and i know why.  the location is quite hidden from the usual crowded places.  from the glassed walls, bannana could see the happy interior.  orange, light grays and dashes of cream.  i took a cursory glance around the people dining.  they look expensive enough.

dee walked along with kulokoy and me as bannana chose the middle booth.  i had to pee and went to the toilet immediately.  and my, oh my, when i got inside.  i wanted to sleep there instantly.  i smelled the gentleness of talc.  i sat on the toilet seat.  beside me stood a tissue holder unlike any i have ever seen.  not sure i even saw something like that in europe.  i pulled out papers gently rolling out.  i washed my hands.  oh.  i didn’t know how the faucet worked.  it had to take a moment for me to figure it out.  i looked around the dainty wallpapers and the beautiful vase of flowers.  lunch is waiting.  i couldn’t stay inside those walls forever, even if they do remind me of my mom.

i sat beside kulokoy and pored over the menu.  i couldn’t decide what to take.  pasta for P360 to P450.  i can cook that myself.  i went over the appetizers and the main entrees.  i coulnd’t pronounce many of them.  i can’t afford a lot of them.  ahahahah!

i settled for seafood marinara finally.  kulokoy settled for a sandwich.  dee settled for mini burgers and bannana settled for a meat dish.  as we waited, some restaurant crew started to prepare the steak.  and what a big chunk of meat it was.  from where we sat, our mouths began to water.  the meat looked perfectly cooked and succulent.  i tried not to look.  i haven’t had meat since saturday.

our orders arrived.  my pasta did not taste anything at all at first.  bannana’s mashed potatoes looked so good.  my senses told me without even tasting it that it will be good.  and i don’t even like mashed potatoes.  i asked for bannana’s permission to get a small scoop.  when she said yes, i found myself in ecstasy over the way it melted in my mouth.  it had just the right amount of butter and salt and a little bit of almost-not-there cream to make it so all fluffy and melty.  bannana offered me a piece of the meat dish.  i declined with an ache in my heart.  i knew that it would taste so good.  the meat just looked so perfectly done.

dee’s order of mini burgers was the surprise.  they came in different presentations.  and the sunny-side up egg on top of one of the burgers was a novelty - it is as small as the burger itself.  like bannana’s meat, i declined dee’s offer.  i opted for an onion ring from her plate.  they are just large enough and crispy enough.  there is no strong aftertaste of the onion.  and there’s not too much of the breading to spoil it.  and honey, the ketchup that went with the rings.  forget about mcdonald’s or wendy’s ketchup please.  just the perfect blend.

i didn’t attempt to eat anything from kulokoy’s plate.  i offered him some of my seafood pasta though.  it was at first, unremarkable.  as i dug deeper, however, my senses began to tell me something very interesting was happening inside my mouth.  the secret was in the way the large pieces of garlic were cooked.  it was left for so long in very light olive oil and parmesan cheese until they all blended in.  then the garlic was sauteed just perfectly until it caramelized into an explosion of parmesan enhancing the many different tastes of shrimps, bits of squids and some mussels.

cooking seafood pasta is not an easy job.  the seafood itself, when not handled properly, tend to give off a lot of strong tastes that before you are even halfway to your dish, your senses have been overwhelmed already and you’re ready to give up your plate and say, “check please.”

in myron’s place, i would have complimented the chef if i had the nerve to.  the pasta grew on me and it made the experience of eating it seemed like i had a sudden inspirational bout of writing.

it should have ended at that.  but bannana and dee ordered for dessert early on.  one look at it and i knew i was looking at a different version of a leche-flan cake.  i missed out the name of the dessert.  on top of the cake stood a proud scoop of ice-cream and a small glass of caramel with rhum.

kulukoy asked me to play french and pour the caramel-rhum over the cake.  i obliged him as dee and bannana laughed.  i did the honor of handing out small slices to everyone.

a small bite.  i never tasted anything so divine.  a second bite and i was “mmm-hmmm.”  kulukoy gave a gentle laugh.  “among us here, you are the most expressive.”

i agreed.  “mmm-hmmm.”  third slice and i am ready for my last.  never have i said “mmm-hmmm” in all the desserts i’ve tasted in all my life.  it’s as if i have finally found the deepest form of my expression without having to say so much.

in life, a person we meet briefly, a place we are not able to go back to, an experience we simply have to write about becomes worthy of a page in a blog or in our diaries.

i don’t think i’d be able to afford going back to myron’s place.  it is as cosy and as warm as it should be.  its dish as delicate as their silvers and cutleries.  its enveloping warmth were as warm as the company i had today.

and the food… “mmm-hmmm”.  it’s not so bad for a novice food critic.

Add comment August 12, 2009

A Windy Friday

It’s just one of those days when I am reminded of The Hague.

It’s windy and my umbrella was fighting on for dear life against the wind.  It stood majestic but defenseless against the onslaught of the wind.  And yet, for some reason, just when I thought it was about to crack, the wind stopped and my umbrella stood as still under a perfect weather.

The Hague is a constant reminder of how happy I can be capable of.  Or how sick I can be, depending on my mood.

Maybe, in our own sick ways, Irish, Rommel and I love to reminisce about it because we want to delude ourselves that we can come back after all.  And who knows?  Maybe, indeed, we can.

I check out Facebook and I see Rommel has put up pictures from our Class trip to Geneve.  I see myself talking in nostalgia with Nancy as Sahar and Gong takes a walk along the pier.  I see our smiling faces posing for the camera along Lake Geneve.  And there was, all of a sudden, Seinpost and the Beach of Schev.

I promised myself I will stop from reminiscing.  At least, if I can help it.

There are decisions to be made here, in Manila.  Lives to live.  And lives to care for.  If only I can make up my mind what I really want to do with my life after all.

I was never good at procrastination.  But when you have been practicing it for the past 4 years, you tend to gain mastery over it.

Ah, life.  My cousin-in-law tells me everything will be okay.  My brother tells me, it’s a decision I never should have made, ten years ago.

A wind catches my sigh…

I need to clear a space in the corner of my mind.

Add comment August 7, 2009