Portent of things that came about

Starbucks Dark Mocha Frappucino and Auntie Anne's Almond Pretzel

TO GET to Town on Friday nights, I cross Commerce Avenue from the Petron gas station where Spider-man always drops me off.  From the very moment my right foot hits the concrete shielding tons of dark hydrocarbon-charged fuel, I feel fullness in my belly as I most likely have snacked in the webbed one’s car while our conversations filled the air.  Last Friday’s was some sort of puto (Filipino rice flour cake) and a strawberry-grape smoothie for each of us.

After raiding the magazine wall of Powerbooks – and actually making a huge purchase – I went to the cinema to catch anything that was on celluloid.  I didn’t particularly like any of the two local films running.  So I settled for the one whose poster caught my fancy – Horsemen starring Dennis Quaid and Ziyi Zhang.  Notice how her name is now Westernized in the sense that her first name comes ahead of her last.

I texted Superman, Spider-man, Friendship, and Batman that I was only one of seven people seeing the movie.  Seven – three couples and myself.  I later figured that unlike the others, I didn’t need somebody close to clutch and hold whenever the gory scenes came up.  A lot of CSI, NCIS, Bones and Criminal Minds had prepared me for it.

But one thing I did find about the movie was that it was disturbing.  To think that the censors must’ve already significantly cut portions as the splices were so pronounced.  The audio faded in and out imperfectly.

What?! I paid 150 freakin' pesos for that movie?! Hehehe... At least the comfy seat was worth it.

Horsemen was so bad that I took consolation on what I was muching on – Auntie Anne’s Almond Pretzel (dipped – no! soooaked multiple times in their melted butter!) and Starbucks Dark Mocha Frappucino with Raspberry Syrup.

The pretzel and the coffee were so good that I kept on muching in spite of the first gruesome moment that made me nauseous.

I went out of the theatre wondering what a bad movie with reference to the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse could mean.

Then Ondoy came pummeling down the next day.

A superhero warned me about the rains...

Snapshots from the Land of the Morning Calm

 

HARRY STAMPER has been putting in really long hours at the office lately.  His current project’s approaching deadline is impetus enough to clock in twelve–, probably even sixteen–hour days.

A salad at a restaurant in Korea. Photo by Harry Stamper.

I told him to take it easy.  A breather is needed every now and then.  And probably, something new or different to do.  I learned that from my company’s CEO – do something that you like, do something that is new and exciting, and do something that is important to your boss (which means important to the company – a little law of transitivity there.)

And that’s when he let me in on one of his facets that I haven’t seen before.  He dabbles in photography!  I look up to people who can make magic with capturing moments in still, freezing memories to last in the continuum of space and time.

With his permission, I’m posting here a couple of his shots.  These were taken during a past Korean Thanksgiving.  Harry happens to be in Korea – or in an oil rig somewhere in the vast seas.

And besides his photography, have I mentioned the poetry?  Though I’m not going there for now.  Hahaha!

Quite a full spread. The food is not Korean... but the restaurant is in Korea. Hehehe.

Food is the kindness from friends

Holding Mabelle's Banana Choco Muffin in my hand. I loved this!

THERE’S NO shaking off the cataclysmic devastation the ferocious storm brought since the last weekend.  After the unprecedented precipitation and the floodwaters that rose in minutes, the city was reduced to a modern-day Atlantis, threatened to be obliterated from the face of this earth.

In the face of helplessness splashed all over the papers and in the evening news, it seems hard to pull one’s self from out of this emotional and psychological rut.  And I wasn’t even one of those who waded through murky water clinging for dear life.

But just when we least expect it – notwithstanding surrendering to the gloom – we find ourselves in the receiving end of other people’s kindness.  I was reminded of this today when one of my close friends at work, Mabelle, handed me yet another one of her yummy confections – the Banana Choco Muffin.  In past days, she had shared with me generous portions of her pasta creations – Spaghetti Aglio-Oglio and Fetuccini with Tuna and Mushroom.  Her generosity never fails to make me feel good.  It all started last year with her Chocolate Chip Oatmeal Cookies I went nuts for.

For some reason, doing something good for others always bring to my mind the 1929 Lloyd C. Douglas novel, “Magnificent Obssession.”

Thanks, Mabelle.  Happy birthday too!

Mabelle makes really good pasta too. This is her Fetuccini with Tuna and Mushroom

Hit very close to home

Just one photo that captures the devastation brought by Ondoy. Photo courtesy of my friend Ryan Arboleda, as posted on his facebook account.

LIKE CLOCKWORK I was back at the office this morning.  I had my Monday morning priorities straight.  It was as business as usual as it has always been.  It was as if a ferocious storm didn’t come lashing the past couple of days.  (I originally wrote down torrential rains.  But “torrential” seems an understatement right now.)

I didn’t know if it was proper to even smile whenever people asked me if we were affected by the flashflood (because fortunately we were spared).  It had become so much more uneasy when I got to see all the footages of actual rescue efforts and actual despair and helplessness.

But what I thought was proper was to speak to God and thank Him, and trust Him in His infinite wisdom.

I don’t know anybody whose life hasn’t been shaken or touched by what just happened.  With just the people I care about, I didn’t stop until I had heard back from each of them.  The last one finally got to send me a reassuring note just this morning.  Again, I’m so thankful.

But as we all know, not too many people’s lives will ever be the same again after this.  So let’s please do whatever we can to help one another out.  It may not even have to be with cash.  Personally, I’m going to start with the shirts neatly folded in my closet.

We can be one another’s hero.  What one of my favorite American essayists Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote actually comes to mind: “…to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived, this is to have succeeded.”

Facebook, Twitter, and media websites have details how we can help.

Deluge of apocalyptic proportions

AT 2:44 A.M. this morning, I realized that I hadn’t moved past page 51 of this latest novel I’m reading.  It was not because it was such a snoozefest.  It was because I still couldn’t come to terms with the typhoon that had devastated most of Metro Manila and Luzon.  I realized that a novel wasn’t enough to take my mind off what had just happened – which, in most other places… was still happening at that time.  A couple of hours ago, the movie The Sum of All Fears was on free TV.  I just let it play on and from time to time I’d glance at the title.  It had taken tangible form to me.

All the news said was signal number one.  But when I saw all the heartbreaking images on TV, all I could think of was that it was too much rain for a signal number one.  It flooded where it had never had before.  A month’s worth of precipitation all in six hours.  Gosh.

My family and I were spared from the wrath of the storm.  But I couldn’t rejoice knowing how so many others had to – literally – weather, face and stand with courage the onslaught of heavy rains, the rising floodwater, the threat of electrocution, the thoughts of going hungry for hours or even days.  Yes, recue efforts were being undertaken.  But when one rescue leader choked up and broke down on a live interview, a lump formed in my throat thinking just how much devastation they had to see and bear.

In the comforts of my little bedroom I felt so thankful both my cellphone providers didn’t die on me in such state of chaos and calamity.  I texted and called up every single person I care about.  The least I could do for my family and friends was to check on them.  It broke my heart to know that one of them had to leave his car behind and wade through neck-deep water just to make it home where ironically, there wasn’t flooding on their street passed the village gate.  I wanted to somehow chide him for leaving home that morning, but this was not the time for any of that.

I got hold of everybody, except for one.  And up until this very moment, I’m waiting to hear back from him.  I’m asking God to please watch over him and his family.  And over all the others who had suffered.

And anybody who helped somebody else in need is a superhero in my book.

 

 

 

 

 

EDIT:  Finally heard back from my friend at 08:54:29 A.M. today, 28 September 2009.  Thank you, God!

An unlikely pairing that worked

My favorite tomato-wansuy (fresh coriander) salad.

THIS HAS no reference whatsoever to any of the complicated – and may I borrow that actress-turned-singer’s word-turned-album title, unexpected – pairings being thrust upon our befuddled consciousness be it on the boob tube or the big screen.  Think lovers in the City of Lights or in the Big Apple.

This is all about the dinner I put together for myself last Tuesday night.  It all started with an all “lomo” (porkloin) adobo.  It has always been good on its own – adobo at our house – except that using porkloin only this time seriously cut down the level of fat and grease that has given adobo its stick-to-your-ribs goodness.  Less fat appeals to that voice inside me that fights for fitness and health.  While I do expect some people – those partial to pork belly – to see this as sacrilege.

This almost fat-free adobo was surprisingly robust, exploding with the goodness of the soy sauce that makes the meat dark, and the vinegar that gives it that required sour zing.  Adobo, after all is a Filipino stew of meat in soy sauce and vinegar, simmered until the meat becomes really tender and the acidity of the vinegar mostly cooked off to give way to a reduced, well-blended savory sauce.

For some reason, I thought about making a quick salad to pair up with it.  I surveyed the contents of the refrigerator and after zooming into the pile of plump, red tomatoes, I recognized piled behind it stacks of Dizon Farms’s wansuy (fresh coriander).  “Ah, my tomato-wansuy salad!”

I loaded one arm with the bowl of tomatoes, the stacks of wansuy, a tub of large calamansi (Philippine lemon or calamondin), and blades of chives.  I pulled one of the heavier chopping boards and my favorite knife.  And before long, I was chopping away the tomatoes and chives, tossing them in a huge white bowl.  To this I squeezed a lot of calamansi.  I then removed the really pungent wansuy roots, washed the stalks and leaves well – making sure all the grit got washed away – and tore it all over the bowl.  I seasoned the mix with one considerable pinch of salt and a very little splashing of white vinegar.  And oh, I threw the excess salt over my other shoulder for goodluck!

Here are some photos of a serving each of the adobo and salad that I devoured.  I actually had so…  much…  more.  I made several trips back to the rice cooker and easily breezed through half of it.

I decided against posting the photos with the rice.  It was an obscene amount and I don’t want to earn your scorn.

My all porkloin adobo. This was the serving I started with. Hehehe.

 

Notice how one side of the porkloin appears to have been seared before the whole thing got sliced across the grain.

 

That lone wedge of tomato sits prettily on top of a luscious bed of greens. Nice!

200 a.k.a. Making Harry Stamper proud

THIS POST is definitely not about summoning two-thirds of Gerard Butler’s army of CGI-enhanced abs of steel.

It’s not even the starting number of a countdown before I hurl wristwatches or fine bone china at a wall just so I could deal with all the stupidity around me.  I’d rather that either a fine Swiss timepiece or an exquisite piece of porcelain sustain shattering force upon impact.  It’s a choice between that and my arteries bursting.

Unknowingly, Harry Stamper set a goal for me before the year ends. And I've now moved past it! Yehey!

This post is about making one of my good friends proud of me somehow.  With “Wearing my heart around my wrist,” I mark my 200^th post on this blog. Way before December.  Way before the year ends.

Without me noticing until now.

If I were getting thousands of hits a day, I would deem a “200^th post” promo apropos.  But I’m so far far away from that.  So far that it’s not even a ribbon in the sky.  So far that it’s more like a minute dot in the vast tapestry of a starlit sky.

To all of you who read this – eNTeNG  c”,)™©’s  MunchTime™© – thank you.  (My 100^th post was three months, three weeks ago.)

200 posts!

Wearing my heart around my wrist

The blue is for Mar. The yellow is for Noynoy.

I’M SO done with wearing my heart on my sleeve – I’ve actually never ceased doing that.  I’ve decided to wear it around my wrist this time for a change.

The yellow is for Noynoy.  And the blue is for Mar.  I can’t wait for the 2010 elections!

eNTeNG making list

CHRISTMAS IS undeniably around the corner when newscasts end with their these-many-days-to-go-before-Christmas countdown.  And for me this year, I actually am holding a couple of countdowns – the other one is at “36 days to go” as I write.  (I spoke too soon.  There’s a third one at “62 days to go.”)

I also know that the season is upon us when I myself begin seeing stuff in the malls that I would want to surprise someone with.  And given that the recession is still hovering above us like an overcast sky, I’m thinking about window-shopping this early as a good enough preparation to shove my “it’s the thought that counts” belief upon just about everybody.

Of course I’m just kidding.

Last Friday, I took down on my Starbucks® date planner and journal my very first note about a Christmas 2009 gift idea for someone.  I was seated comfortably at my favorite spot at Powerbooks in Town and as I excitedly turned a page of Ina Garten’s Barefoot Contessa at Home – I couldn’t wait to check her version of marinated raw tomato sauce! – my sight hit the display diagonally across the other side of the piazza.

Taken down at the exact moment of epiphany – seeing the very first item on my gift list this year.

The handwritten note I took reads: “18^th September 2009, 07:43 P.M., Lacoste dark brown with multi-colored stripes polo shirt…  town…”

I’ll be saving up for this one.  I know exactly who to give this to.

When it comes to Lacoste shirts, I'm partial to the ITALIAN FIT. By the way, these aren't the ones I saw on display at Town last Friday (I said what I saw was brown!). These are from about a year ago. But they look kinda similar anyways.

 

I think it would be nice for anyone to receive this box and paper bag bearing gifts!

Food for thought and tummy

BLAME IT on Batman’s recommendation Outliers: The Story of Success by Malcolm Gladwell.  The reading bug has bit me again.  And real hard this time.

Batman’s got another recommendation for me.  This one’s called Deluxe: How Luxury Lost Its Luster by Dana Thomas.  We didn’t see a copy though when we checked out Powerbooks Shangri-La Plaza Mall the last time.

I take down notes on my journal to put a plan in place. This time, read these books!

Friendship is another friend who just made a pitch for one book that has taken her fancy.  I suspect it to run along the same lines as Batman’s based solely on the title – Bringing Home The Birkin by Michael Tonello.

I took them down on my journal.  I’m sure to hunt for them the next time I’m in thebookstore.  While I don’t have them yet, I’m raiding my years-long stock.  For tonight, I pulled out a decades-old novel, John Grisham’s The Street Lawyer.

Before I hit the sack, I raided the refrigerator for some munchies.  That’s when I remembered that my brother brought home for me a large serving of deep-fried jumbo shrimp and french fries from Burgoo.  I don’t know exactly how the dish is called – Surf ‘n Fries?  But I do expect to be overwhelmed by oleaginous seafood as the shrimps were obviously dipped in batter before being deep-fried.

Burgoo Jumbo Shrimp & Fries

The coating is very light and airy even after being nuked in the microwave for about eight seconds.  It’s the first thing I’m nibbling on and I’m getting a slathering of grease on my lips.  But it’s not overwhelmingly oily.  Just a tad.  For take-out, the jumbo shrimps have surprisinly remained tender.  I half-expected to end up fighting with really rubbery seafood.  It’s good to be proven wrong sometimes.  The french fries of course are as french fries could get.

More of the fries this time.

I’m licking my fingers free of the intoxicating oil as I use my other hand to flip open John Grisham.

Jumbo shrimps all in a row!