Lobster

Lobster.
Cooked in salted water.
Matched with beer.
On a feast day.

Breakfast Sans Bacon and Egg

 This used to be OUR breakfast at the old blue table. OUR breakfast when we were bachelors. Way too healthy- all fresh, nothing fried. 

Now bachelor days are over and I have to pay attention to the breakfast of two other people in my life: my daughter and my husband. He wants eggs, sausages, pancit canton (forever), and the little one contents herself with pandesal and a little sliver of cheese. At this point, no matter how healthy the bachelor breakfast may seem (think: rabbit food for breakfast- and I swear, my waist line during those days was 27 inches and I was 127 pounds), the determination to have the same food served on breakfast table seems so far, far away. 

Besides, don't moms and wives finish the leftovers of their husbands and kids? Ugh.  

And I am beginning to think that the combination of cucumber, lettuce and tomato and coffee is pure poison- and...ah, not so comforting. 

Cats In The Afternoon

The Tao of Le Chat.

Mise en Place

 Mise en Place: (Fr) To put in place. Everything in place. Say, before a cook starts cooking, all ingredients must be put in place, properly prepared.

Steve Jobs

"Stay hungry. Stay foolish."
Steve Jobs. 1955- 2011

Womanity

My weekend was spent reading a book by Anais Nin. I am convinced that above all, graphic porn cannot and will not replace real art, whether literary or visual.

We don't see things as they are, we see them as we are. 
Anais Nin 


And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom. 
Anais Nin 

There is not one big cosmic meaning for all, there is only the meaning we each give to our life, an individual meaning, an individual plot, like an individual novel, a book for each person. 
Anais Nin 

Shooting Nostalgia

Writing this post, I am listening to Duran Duran's "Ordinary World". If I don't allow myself a kind of centeredness, I am certain that there's a part of me that is about to collapse. I hate to think of my life in Manila again. The typhoons that ravaged recently, nonchalant people, the wetness in the streets. I am counting the days when I can come home again to the province, take Julienne with me and enough with this five-stair-flights climbing and descending everyday- now that my daughter is getting heavier and bigger. There is a kind of ennui building up, a kind of boredom... that too many events no longer seem interesting, but another circumstance where I need to dress up and show up. Am I getting older? Or am I in that stage where I had to be like a clay and mold up to the demands of life? I guess, if  I were single, Manila is fine. But I am getting older and I wanna lay back and breathe some fresh air.

Or shoot cows, like I did last summer.

Or shoot flowers on the road side. Like I did last summer.

Magnolia blooms hiding in the foliage.

Cockscomb, hiding little black seeds inside.

When will life become poetry again?

Ensalada: Classic Filipino Side Dish

 There are many interesting things about the Philippine cuisine. Various cultural influences are stewed in the food- Spanish, Chinese, America, Mexican, Southeast-Asian. Much to say.

 Like toyo, patis, and calamansi, which are typical accompaniments to almost every meal, ensaladas are refreshing accompaniments to many main dishes as well. Ensaladas (similar term for Spanish and Mexican cuisine for salad) are usually composed of fruit, vegetable, seaweed, and an acidulant like vinegar or calamansi.  They match fried and grilled foods perfectly, contrasting the savory and sometimes fatty textures of meat.

Among my favorites are grilled eggplant, mango, tomato for main ingredients, with chopped onions and chilies on the side. Just plain good.

Back to the Kitchen

After almost two years of being away from the kitchen (since 2009 when I resigned from my last post as EC), it seems that I am thrilled to be back again. I withdrew from the kitchen temporarily, trying to see if it would elude me, but then some passions just don't die. It was fun to go back and start all over again. 

I just signed contract with the culinary school again where they gave me more advanced subjects to teach. Pretty challenging, specially if I had been used to doing all the easier ones.

Hand-rolled pasta. In beef and tomato sauce.

Refuge of the Complex

 Lately I couldn't stop the many chatters inside my head. I had been very busy moving around too much, turning like a hurricane, always trying to outrun something. What was it that I was running after? And when tired, all I wanted to do was lean back and see things in a different way. 

I am moved deeply by individuals who take some pleasure in being simple. In being humble in their ways and unmoved by whatever happens in the world. Though I do not consider that trait at all as being passive, there is  a screaming wisdom in just being calm and at peace with the world. With nothing to anxious about. With being satisfied. With seeing big things in what is little. 

Despite the distance of my house from grandma's, I made a point to visit my daughter who is on vacation there. In Julienne's company, all big dreams in the world seem to fall away, and all that matters is the little world that exists in those little hoop of her arms. There's a whole world around young children. They see the smallest piece of cookie crumb on the bed and try to pick it up with their small fingers. They see the small, the simple.

Now I am trying to appreciate the lace-like patterns on the wings of a dragonfly.

Getting a Grip

It seems, these days, I have been a hurricane going about in different directions. Too many hats to wear, too many tasks at a time. But isn't this what I've always wanted? Drink it up!

Book Cover for 2nd Edition

Here's the cover of my book for second edition. Release is not yet final.

Searching the Soul

 It must be because I am getting older that there are already many chatters inside my head. The more one knows, the more one asks, and the more questions unfold. It must be because, too, that I spend so much time alone, with books and writings at home, that there is just too much space for so many musings. I almost have this desire always to go some place, a church perhaps, some temple.

I was raised a Catholic. There were just too many trips to church with my grandma and my family to the church, and too many sermons heard.

 But I remember, I was fascinated most about the details of the church's insides, like statues of angels and stained glass windows, and church songs. Hardly an irreplaceable experience.

Oh, God, I am growing older.

Thinking

I've been thinking quite too much these days. I guess it happens even after things turn out to be just too happy and glorious. The weekend has been very happy, I almost didn't want it to end. I was with my little family. Now things are about to change late this year. I'm thinking of leaving Manila and go back to my hometown. I guess perspectives change when you already have a child- you wake up one day and realize that you're not just living for yourself but for someone else.

Snapshots

At the port. I love the pink bicycle.

Time for Myself

Julienne Roux is on vacation with grandma until the weekend, my husband is up in the mountain resort, cooking. I have the house all to myself. Much of the house work is finished, the books are out in the shelves, the fridge is full, I am on a lazy diet. This morning I just dropped by my shoemaker and asked for a quotation for the new suede shoes that I plan to have made in August. Tomorrow I'll be on my way to the National Library, and afterwards do a little shopping, then have coffee in the afternoon.

I miss that little bit of myself amid all this adjustments in the family and married life. It's the little madnesses of life that spur my creativity to write another book. Quite a lot of chatters in my head, I need a little music like this one.

Rainy Afternoons

Manila is very rainy these past days. Five days a week, I cuddle with my daughter at our fifth-floor flat and just do things indoors. Julienne plays with her wooden toys. I draft my second book, send messages to friends that my book is available on the shelves of "My Breathing Space" Novelty Store in Cubao Expo- so please hurry and grab a copy. And, yes- I cook, we eat together, roll around in bed, while the rain raged on.  And I would fly downstairs and pick a twig or two from the pocket gardens so she'll have some real leaves drenched in rain. She likes them!

I miss the summer blooms, though. In summer, there are just these light drizzles that quench the flowers, making them even more colorful. Not heavy, gray, rains.

Next door where my brother lives, rainy days are a different thing. He used to sing this song: "Rain, rain go away... goddemit!"

Museum Clues

I've been visiting more museums these times than the past years of my life. I am amused that just when I started becoming a full-time mommy, I had more time and opportunities doing the things I've only dreamed of when I was single and had all the time and liberty to do things myself. Ah- the paradox of doing nothing!

Among those "things" is visiting museums, have coffee conversations with interesting people, shopping for my leisure, keeping house, writing, painting. And I do these things I have Julienne strapped to me on a carrier. I have company! Only that she just coos and stares at people and luckily, doesn't cry in public.

At the museum last April- I- we came across this glass table with a lady's paraphernalia back in the days. Fans, combs, bonnets, fountain pens, a child's shoes. Exactly my fancied things.

 Who owned them many years ago? Was she a beautiful, long-haired woman, probably a landlord's wife? What about the pens- did she love to write? And they had a child who got baptized on an Easter Sunday and that same day the landlord was shot by an unknown gunman.... and the gun man happened to be his wife's former lover?

 Stop me before I incubate a whole new fiction.

Location: Sorsogon Museum and Heritage Center, Sorsogon City, Philippines

 

     

World- Stopper

There are certain circumstances that stop us for a moment. The turning of the world just stops. You drop everything.

I was happy because my books sold out at a certain culture-related symposium days ago. But I can't dwell too much on top of the wave because of a call from home. My daughter is sick. My daughter, to whom I wrote the book, is sick. No time to waste. I went home in the middle of a Thai dinner.

So there I was. For two nights, I stayed awake monitoring the progress of my daughter's health. I've never prayed so much in my life than when it comes to the welfare of my little family. Three cups of coffee. Signing more books, sticking "autographed by the author" stickers while my daughter slept. Good thing, her fever broke in less than 24 hours. She's fine now. Whew. 

Busy Selling! And A Few Details About The Characters

Been busy these days getting my book to move. The first consignment account I tied with is the Sorsogon Museum and Heritage Center. The Chairman was simply enticed by the fact that the imaginary place that was featured in the book was inspired by the scenic province of Sorsogon.  Thank you, Mr. Chairman. The museum gets 25% share of the sales.

Meanwhile, as I was doing a few friendly interviews from buyers, some people ask me if I got acquainted, in real life, with some Frenchman. It's about a character in the book. I said, I don't. Because while the book's birth was gaining momentum, I looked over the table across me at the woman reading a newspaper. And the front page was mostly about the IMF executive Frenchman Dominique Strauss-Kahn and the creepy scandals attached to his name. Suddenly, the hairs at the back of my nape stood on their ends. For some reasons. Don't get alone at a hotel room with a Frenchman. The chambermaid was lucky to get out sane and alive. Eeeww. Scary.

Book- Hot Off The Press!

 This is the book that I have been talking about on my previous posts.

"A BANQUET FOR UNCLE JACQUES" is a 300-page culinary fiction in full English.

It is the story of a young chef named Dominique and her desires to follow a lover to New York. To go to the Big City, Dominique's passport is the promise of her wealthy uncle, who told her that if she gives a great feast on his wedding day, Uncle Jacques will grant her a plane ticket, accommodations, plus a huge sum of money to any city in the world (though particularly, Paris or New York).

Many challenges surface along the way. First, Uncle Jacques's wedding will be held in a very remote province in the Philippines, in a big house owned by a former ship captain. In the middle of all that nowhere, Dominique must find the right resources for the feast for globetrotters and Parisian socialites. Second, Uncle Jacques is an eccentric, perfectionist man who outwardly rejects Dominique's many menu proposals and imposes his own rules in menu making. Third, as the banquet nears and Dominique's New York Dream begins to materialize, she discovers some truth about her lover and ultimately, who her true love really is.

If you like (or seem to like) the plot, send a message to: enrisamarie8@gmail.com or call 0906 467 4424.
P199.00 selling price in the Philippines.
USD $20.00 selling price overseas. (Yes, I ship overseas.)
314 pages 4.5" X 6"

Busy Week for Baby No. 2

The press  called yesterday night. My book just got finished printing. Whew! What a very uneasy birth. So much delay. Lots of running to do these coming weeks.

Crushing Gardenias

There are gardenia bushes just outside our street in the village. They had been there for a very long time. And when I was talking about my wedding two years ago, I said that I wanted gardenias for my wedding bouquet. Unfortunately the flower makers didn't have gardenias, instead they used white roses and put in some purple grapes. Yes, I had grapes on my bridal bouquet.

While shooting gardenias after the rain a week ago, I was not only intoxicated by their scent but was so captured by their beauty that some poignant thoughts crossed my head. The flowers were just too sweet-smelling I recalled that saying about forgiveness: that Forgiveness is the sweet scent the flower gives us when we step on them.

I have always believed that. I guess that is just a simplification of many philosophies of non-retaliation, of Christ, of Gandhi, of many other revolutionaries and peacemakers who opened the doors of enlightenment from the world's ignorance.

 

I know that human conflicts are inevitable. I am this old not to have experienced frictions with other people. There were the people who told you lies, who made promises and broke them, who borrowed money and you never heard from again (quite a lot), who raided your fridge (quite a lot too), people who pushed you and pulled you, sent hate letters, and so many other forms of human discord. Time passed and you eventually parted ways. It has been my own principle not to sow grudges so I will not reap them. So I go on and live my life, forgiving those who might have done me wrong. Then comes a time when you meet again. Sometimes they'd tell you that they heard about you, and that they're glad and proud of you. Sometimes they'd write a mail telling you "that you do cross my mind every so often." Sometimes they'd tell you that they watched  TV and the news reminded them of you. In your case, you've forgotten who these people are. You've forgotten how in the first place you were ever entangled with their existence.  And little by little, they begin to confess about their lives. You don't judge. You just listen. And just by listening, you can only feel the agony of what they've been through.

The mystery is this, the fragrance of a flower haunts you. And the more you crush the flower, the stronger the scent becomes.

May Songs

Some songs are playing in my head right now because it's May. On May 8th, we will be celebrating our first year wedding anniversary. My husband called this afternoon - those "nothing-in-particular" calls, just to say "I love you." Wow. I don't even have the courage to say those things to someone if I couldn't stand by my words. I can't believe that there are people who risk their hearts to say how much they love you. I am lucky to have been married off to the right person. I could say, there is really no special recipe for a marriage to work. One year has been a great ride. There had been adjustments along the way. But in the end, as the two of you grow more mature, it is easy to cultivate more love and respect for each other. My married life tamed me in many ways. We're still good friends, just how we started. We could still enjoy that tub of ice cream at Dairy Queen just how we started. There are still many things to talk about, just how we started.

I realized that if, the dreams that you dreamed for yourself didn't come true, it is because God's dreams for you are more rewarding. The plans are perfect, there are no mistakes.

I can live with this life for a very long time.

So here are the songs. From our wedding day.

"Fields Of Gold"

You'll remember me when the west wind moves
Upon the fields of barley
You'll forget the sun in his jealous sky
As we walk in the fields of gold

So she took her love
For to gaze awhile
Upon the fields of barley
In his arms she fell as her hair came down
Among the fields of gold

Will you stay with me, will you be my love
Among the fields of barley
We'll forget the sun in his jealous sky
As we lie in the fields of gold

See the west wind move like a lover so
Upon the fields of barley
Feel her body rise when you kiss her mouth
Among the fields of gold
I never made promises lightly
And there have been some that I've broken
But I swear in the days still left
We'll walk in the fields of gold
We'll walk in the fields of gold

Many years have passed since those summer days
Among the fields of barley
See the children run as the sun goes down
Among the fields of gold
You'll remember me when the west wind moves
Upon the fields of barley
You can tell the sun in his jealous sky
When we walked in the fields of gold
When we walked in the fields of gold
When we walked in the fields of gold

"Heaven is a Place On Earth"

When the night falls down
I wait for you
And you come around
And the world's alive
With the sound of kids
On the street outside

When you walk into the room
You pull me close and we start to move
And we're spinning with the stars above
And you lift me up in a wave of love...

Ooh, baby, do you know what that's worth ?
Ooh heaven is a place on earth
They say in heaven love comes first
We'll make heaven a place on earth
Ooh heaven is a place on earth

When I feel alone
I reach for you
And you bring me home
When I'm lost at sea
I hear your voice
And it carries me

In this world we're just beginning
To understand the miracle of living
Baby I was afraid before
But I'm not afraid anymore

Ooh, baby, do you know what that's worth ?
Ooh heaven is a place on earth
They say in heaven love comes first
We'll make heaven a place on earth
Ooh heaven is a place on earth

"What a Wonderful World"

I see trees of green, red roses too
I see them bloom for me and you
And I think to myself, what a wonderful world

I see skies of blue and clouds of white
The bright blessed day, the dark sacred night
And I think to myself, what a wonderful world

The colours of the rainbow, so pretty in the sky
Are also on the faces of people going by
I see friends shakin' hands, sayin' "How do you do?"
They're really saying "I love you"

I hear babies cryin', I watch them grow
They'll learn much more than I'll ever know
And I think to myself, what a wonderful world
Yes, I think to myself, what a wonderful world

On Assignment

 Deadlines, deadlines yet again. Tomorrow I have to submit some very important files for my other job, but... hmm... what the heck - it doesn't hurt to stray awhile and update your blog for a few minutes, does it? I surely miss blogging. At least, if I get too busy and forget my pledged 500 words a day  for my new book, then tinkering a while on my blog is writing- just the same!

I just learned that the romance novelist Barbara Cartland used to read at least 30 books while she worked on a new novel. Her books are quite simple paperbacks, but honestly, they fed my romantic fantasy dreams when I was in high school. I've read just too many Barbara Cartland novels that's why, I guess, I resemble an oozing caramel with my love affairs. Whatever that means.

 My book assignment is too little compared to Barbara Cartland's. Just a small stack. These books above are the books that I have to read for my other work. A combination of the arts, living in a big house, the incessant longing of some lovers like Heathcliff and Catherine Earnshaw. Lovers... lovers. Again, the caramel thing.

Also in the pile are old catalogs of painting auctions from Sothesby's or Christies. I've just finished the first coating of the canvass at home as I intend to paint (seriously...yay!) this month. Again, related with my new book.

But what worries me is that Julienne is already crawling on fours. If , I shower with the door open to see her crawl under the table and mess with the wires of our computer, then I have to think again (read: think hard) how to deal with her with all that paint in the house.

Roadside Blooms 1

For some time now I live believing that there is something so beautiful about flowers on the roadside. They are not the flowers that are groomed for complex decorations. They wither easily. Sometimes they live, unnoticed. And sometimes they die, just like how they first existed, unnoticed. Why they chose to live on the roadside, where oftentimes the conditions are unfriendly, I have no idea. 

But these blooms seem to me the happiest of all. They are unpretentious. They are simple. And they are the types that are hardly imitated by flower manufacturers, and therefore their beauty is unexploited. They do not expect anything. They only exist in their real state- the natural, living state.

You have to stop on your tracks to really see them.

I often have a hard time distinguishing a fake flower from a real one. And distinguishing real people from phony ones.