I remember the simple pasta served in a deep white plate at the Cantinetta, an Italian restaurant at Camp John Hay. It is made up of angel’s hair noodles, olive oil, toasted garlic. I don’t recall any other ingredient or dash of color on this very plain dish. In other places, there are usually strips of basil included.
I want to try the Osso Buco, but when my husband notes how much it costs, he raises his eyebrows. The occasion is his 58th birthday, and he earlier tells me and our daughter that we can order anything. He doesn’t forewarn us that there is a price limit.
So I settle for something simple, cheap but utterly satisfying. No other pasta dish that I’ve tasted in Baguio compares to this particular aglio y olio. I use the piece of bread to sop up the last trace of oil.
In our pantry at home, we have a pack of angel’s hair noodles. Hanging over the sink is a long braid of garlic. There is a gallon of extra-virgin olive oil trickles of which I use to fry rice with. What has kept me from replicating the Cantinetta experience? My husband asks the same thing—what’s stopping me? What is stopping me indeed?
I like Cantinetta’s mahogany tables with the grains of wood showing, the view of pine trees from the window, not bearing the heat of the kitchen, not having to wash dirty dishes later. Yes, the whole experience of dining out, being served by an attentive waiter and having someone else take care of the bill—all these add more flavor to aglio y olio.
I want to try the Osso Buco, but when my husband notes how much it costs, he raises his eyebrows. The occasion is his 58th birthday, and he earlier tells me and our daughter that we can order anything. He doesn’t forewarn us that there is a price limit.
So I settle for something simple, cheap but utterly satisfying. No other pasta dish that I’ve tasted in Baguio compares to this particular aglio y olio. I use the piece of bread to sop up the last trace of oil.
In our pantry at home, we have a pack of angel’s hair noodles. Hanging over the sink is a long braid of garlic. There is a gallon of extra-virgin olive oil trickles of which I use to fry rice with. What has kept me from replicating the Cantinetta experience? My husband asks the same thing—what’s stopping me? What is stopping me indeed?
I like Cantinetta’s mahogany tables with the grains of wood showing, the view of pine trees from the window, not bearing the heat of the kitchen, not having to wash dirty dishes later. Yes, the whole experience of dining out, being served by an attentive waiter and having someone else take care of the bill—all these add more flavor to aglio y olio.
Daughter is shown enjoying her panna cotta. Photo by BABETH
2 comments:
i bet you thought of this entry last sunday because you only had sampaloc for dinner which made you very hungry. i bet food (particularly caramel cake) was on your mind the entire sunday hehe.
This was a writing exercise I did during a workshop conducted by the Baguio Writers Group for the Ripples, an affiliate group of midlifers and senior citizens. Since we had the workshop inside a cafe, all I could think of was food. You know me very well.
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