In memory of Sir Yeto--he who lived, loved and laughed well. And left us with memories of high school, a dreamy kitchen and growing up in a small town.
Sir Yeto generously shared this in a feature in Food: The Magazine of Good Cooking.
2 kilos stewing beef, cut into pieces
10-12 cups water
1 kilo pork liver
2 cups grated Cheddar cheese
2 cups tomato sauce
1 cup vinegar
1/4 cup brown sugar
salt to taste
2 cups sliced pimientos morones or fresh baguio pepper
2 cups pitted green olives
1/4 cup olive oil
3-4 cloves garlic, crushed
1 cup sliced onion
1 small can or two long pieces chorizo de Bilbao, cut crosswise into 1/2" slices
salt and pepper to taste
Put beef in a large casserole and pour enough water to cover. Cover casserole and bring water to a boil then lower heat immediately to simmer. Let simmer about one hour.
Meanwhile, broil pork liver until medium rare. Grind or chop liver finely.
Combine liver with cheese, tomato sauce, vinegar, sugar, salt, pimientos morones and green olives. Stir until smooth. Set aside.
In a large skillet, heat olive oil and saute garlic, onions and chorizo de Bilbao. Stir in liver mixture and simmer for about 15 minutes, or until mixture turns lighter in color.
Pour liver mixture into the beef in the casserole and simmer for 15 minutes or until mixture thickens and beef is completely tender. Season with salt and pepper to taste.
September 11, 2010
September 5, 2010
Dully Right
Still giddy, perhaps, from the Miss U high, the talent scouts in my neck of the woods are all agog about the "Search for the Little Kasanggayahan Princess." The event is trying to market itself as a beauty-and-brains-and-talent thingy, but I am not keeping my hopes up.
Not after my nowhere near perfect vision zoomed in on the poster, which requires the little misses to "be able to understand, converse and right in English."
And to submit a "dully filled-up application form."
Not after my nowhere near perfect vision zoomed in on the poster, which requires the little misses to "be able to understand, converse and right in English."
And to submit a "dully filled-up application form."
August 24, 2010
Curiosity Overkill
I am naturally curious. Make that naturally Uzi. Just a hint of "breaking news" and my ears stand at attention, my eyes turn semi-bionic and my feet take me close to where the action is.
Make that close, but not quite. As in out of harm's way, and definitely not within sniping distance. And when "the event" occurs in the middle of the night, I snoop with the curtains drawn, the lights turned down
Last night's overkill of a hostage drama put us Uzis in a bad light. I cringed as national TV flashed scenes of civilians caught in the crossfire, of hangers-on actually elbowing out the authorities for a stab of the action. Call it bedlam, or mayhem, but the bloodshed could have been helped.
Maybe, just maybe, there should be a code of conduct for usiseros.
Make that close, but not quite. As in out of harm's way, and definitely not within sniping distance. And when "the event" occurs in the middle of the night, I snoop with the curtains drawn, the lights turned down
Last night's overkill of a hostage drama put us Uzis in a bad light. I cringed as national TV flashed scenes of civilians caught in the crossfire, of hangers-on actually elbowing out the authorities for a stab of the action. Call it bedlam, or mayhem, but the bloodshed could have been helped.
Maybe, just maybe, there should be a code of conduct for usiseros.
July 26, 2010
Plus 1
I turned 43 21 minutes ago.
If I were the me of a thousand denials ago, I would have wanted the sentence to be "I turned 21 43 minutes ago." It doesn't matter now, of course. I am older than my Mom was when I was in high school. Older, in fact, than most of my teachers were back then. And I thought they were ancient!
But I have come to accept the fact that age is nothing but a number. That it is just a string of manageable additions. And 43 is yet another chance to do things--crazy, irreverent, happy things--before the bones start creaking and before botox beckons. :p
If I were the me of a thousand denials ago, I would have wanted the sentence to be "I turned 21 43 minutes ago." It doesn't matter now, of course. I am older than my Mom was when I was in high school. Older, in fact, than most of my teachers were back then. And I thought they were ancient!
But I have come to accept the fact that age is nothing but a number. That it is just a string of manageable additions. And 43 is yet another chance to do things--crazy, irreverent, happy things--before the bones start creaking and before botox beckons. :p
July 2, 2010
Promdi
This week, I came face to face with my inner claustrophobic. En route to my sister's place, with four of us squeezed in the backseat, I felt a shortness of breath followed by something close to panic. It was like being sucked into a black hole, like the time I came this close to drowning. It took me a couple of minutes to get past the panicky stage.
Come to think of it, I am the type who needs to have space--physically and otherwise. I gave up big-city living because I needed breathing space. Because I realized that Sorsogon Street was merely a stand in for the real thing. I wanted to be where there are still big, sheltering trees, where the beach isn't just an ad on a travel magazine but a 15-minute drive.
Four days in Manila is more than I can manage. Time enough, I guess, for a party, or a trip to the bookstore. For gelato and affogato and catching up with the family. Time enough for things urban, including stewing in traffic and not feeling guilty for a cup of coffee that costs more than the average worker's daily wage.
I could have stayed for a few more days, but restlessness was setting in, and I couldn't risk another anxiety attack. The concrete jungle is no match to highways framed by rice fields.
I am officially a probinsyana.
Come to think of it, I am the type who needs to have space--physically and otherwise. I gave up big-city living because I needed breathing space. Because I realized that Sorsogon Street was merely a stand in for the real thing. I wanted to be where there are still big, sheltering trees, where the beach isn't just an ad on a travel magazine but a 15-minute drive.
Four days in Manila is more than I can manage. Time enough, I guess, for a party, or a trip to the bookstore. For gelato and affogato and catching up with the family. Time enough for things urban, including stewing in traffic and not feeling guilty for a cup of coffee that costs more than the average worker's daily wage.
I could have stayed for a few more days, but restlessness was setting in, and I couldn't risk another anxiety attack. The concrete jungle is no match to highways framed by rice fields.
I am officially a probinsyana.
June 23, 2010
Past Midlife
Two months ago we talked about high school the way we were and the way we are. We compared notes about life, about children, and where our separate roads took us. There were about 40 of us then, and we laughed well into the night.
Today, a fourth of that group sat in stony silence as Msgr Pax echoed our collective--if unspoken--goodbyes. We had come to pay our last respects to one of our own, in a reunion that had us weaving past and present and the myopic future.
Reunions--planned or unplanned--have a way of making us stop for a moment, look back and take stock of our lives thus far. If 75 is a lifespan, we are way past midlife. We have in fact the license to take it slow.
And so it is that we have come to this: jumping from weddings to funerals, seeing the wisdom in buying surreal estate, giving up jobs, honoring tradition. We are neither too young--nor too old--for superstition and so we let it be. We go with the flow. We circle and cycle.
And, we make plans to meet again.
Today, a fourth of that group sat in stony silence as Msgr Pax echoed our collective--if unspoken--goodbyes. We had come to pay our last respects to one of our own, in a reunion that had us weaving past and present and the myopic future.
Reunions--planned or unplanned--have a way of making us stop for a moment, look back and take stock of our lives thus far. If 75 is a lifespan, we are way past midlife. We have in fact the license to take it slow.
And so it is that we have come to this: jumping from weddings to funerals, seeing the wisdom in buying surreal estate, giving up jobs, honoring tradition. We are neither too young--nor too old--for superstition and so we let it be. We go with the flow. We circle and cycle.
And, we make plans to meet again.
June 1, 2010
Go Figure!
My head is swimming in figures right now. With budget season almost up, I am literally drowning in forms, payrolls and numbers, numbers and more numbers. To think I barely squeaked past Math 101!
And so pardon me for thinking in numbers. Unless you want to put up with (boring) bureaucratic jargon, I can only think in terms of the tangibles.
My life thus far:
1. As of 4:19 pm, I am 22,557,618 minutes old.
2. 9 is supposed to be my lucky number. But then again it takes six numbers from 1 to 49 (or is it 55 already?) to win the lottery.
3. I am Employee No. 218 in an office with 355 permanent employees.
4. Today, I clocked in at 7:42 a.m., logged out at 12:01, clocked back in at 12:25 and will probably clock out at past 5. But of course the biometric thingamajig doesn't know how to compute beyond the regular 8 hours.
5. My "winning" stats in the 2010 elections: 4 out of 12 in the Senate (and no, they're not Tito Sotto, Jinggoy Estrada, Bong Revilla and Lito Lapid); 1 of 5 in the Provincial Board and 2 of 12 in the City Council.
6. Next week, I'll be "principal sponsor" at a wedding. Yay! Second time, and just as uncomfortable.
7. I love, love, love Pablo Neruda's Twenty Poems of Love and a Song of Despair
8. I've had 14 bosses, lived in five cities and moved house 14 times.
9. At one point, we had 18 dogs. We're now down to 7. And the daughter wants more.
10. As of last count, I have 446,655 XP and 6,417,608 Farmville Coins. Which is the main reason I haven't been blogging as frequently :p
And so pardon me for thinking in numbers. Unless you want to put up with (boring) bureaucratic jargon, I can only think in terms of the tangibles.
My life thus far:
1. As of 4:19 pm, I am 22,557,618 minutes old.
2. 9 is supposed to be my lucky number. But then again it takes six numbers from 1 to 49 (or is it 55 already?) to win the lottery.
3. I am Employee No. 218 in an office with 355 permanent employees.
4. Today, I clocked in at 7:42 a.m., logged out at 12:01, clocked back in at 12:25 and will probably clock out at past 5. But of course the biometric thingamajig doesn't know how to compute beyond the regular 8 hours.
5. My "winning" stats in the 2010 elections: 4 out of 12 in the Senate (and no, they're not Tito Sotto, Jinggoy Estrada, Bong Revilla and Lito Lapid); 1 of 5 in the Provincial Board and 2 of 12 in the City Council.
6. Next week, I'll be "principal sponsor" at a wedding. Yay! Second time, and just as uncomfortable.
7. I love, love, love Pablo Neruda's Twenty Poems of Love and a Song of Despair
8. I've had 14 bosses, lived in five cities and moved house 14 times.
9. At one point, we had 18 dogs. We're now down to 7. And the daughter wants more.
10. As of last count, I have 446,655 XP and 6,417,608 Farmville Coins. Which is the main reason I haven't been blogging as frequently :p
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