Sunrise, sunset

Jared wearing anti-glare glasses that make him look mature

Kai online with Satchi as saling aso

Max as Binibining Palitaw

They were the little boy and little girls I carried. And now they are testing the video and audio of their respective home computers as they attend the orientation week of their schools. Except for Machiko Susi, a.k.a. Max, who's still on an extended summer from the University of the Philippines Integrated School. Which is why she's holding up a plate of palitaw that she had prepared under the supervision of her Wowa Pinky Lolarga Susi and yaya Sherilyn.

My family is agreed that Jared Susi (first photo) looks like an ultra-young executive as he meets his classmates onscreen. Kai has a photo bomber in Satchi, the golden retriever, who's peeking through the window, curious about the girl's activity.

As I write this, I hear Kai and classmates saying "Hello" and "Hi" to one another at their post-recess resumption of classes. Kai is a wee shy about speaking up so she just types her remarks.

Earlier today, she kicked me awake at 7:30 a.m. for not rising earlier to help her prepare for breakfast and home school. I was just coming out of a dream where I saw photographers Ev Espiritu and Wig Tysmans in a bus headed for interior Cordillera. As I tried to sort out the dream's message, Rolly took over the morning supervisory duties--seeing to Kai's full breakfast and getting her ready for online class.

I hear the teacher asking "Are you ready now?" And the pupils answering, "We are ready!" I think there's something to this home schooling thingy--grandparents like me being passive/active listeners and ready to assist these young souls whom we are privileged to shepherd.

Paella bella

My tiredness from preparing and cooking today's lunch has dissipated after my grandchild Kai rated the paella I served a 9.5. Even the other picky eater, Rolly, was so pleased that he asked me to duplicate the dish on his 70th birthday early next month.

Daughter Kimi, who took the picture below, said I should issue a disclaimer saying that I was not responsible for the uneven cutting of the hard-boiled eggs. Kai was. Maybe that's why the dish's rating is point five short of perfect.

I owe the cooking knowledge for this particular paella to Des Bautista's wife Auring. Weeks ago she demonstrated how it was done and even gave me the Paellero seasoning (it's a brand) and saffron threads for the day when I would find the courage to inaugurate our paellera with this well-loved dish. The paellera had idly sat behind our oft-used pots and pans for years waiting for this day.

What went into this one-pot dish? Onions and garlic sauteed in olive oil, Chinese chorizo, bite-size pieces of chicken breast, green peas, green bell pepper and jasmine rice. I made sure there was also burnt rice (tutong) for Rolly to dig into.

Next time, if budget allows, we add prawns, mussels and squids for the truly decadent paella of his dreams. Rolly's message to Ernesto V Enrique: "Sayang hindi tayo magkapitbahay. Otherwise, you get half of this."

Nostalgia for Vinzons Hall's beef stew

Every time we have some kind of meat stew, Rolly waxes nostalgic over the one he used to eat as a student at the University of the Philippines Diliman. For the beef stew, he went to Vinzons Hall. When he had saved more from his allowance, he went to the Tea Room of the College of Home Economics where a viand would cost five pesos, a fortune then in the late 60s.

I am five years younger than him, and I always brought baon for lunch at the university so I don't have his kind of memories. It has been hit or miss whenever I cook stew. Like today, I studied again a video of Simpol's Chef Mike Tatung Sarthou cooking a simplified menudo, then read a bit of Nora V. Daza's biography and collection of recipes A Culinary Life by Mickey Fenix.

Mrs. Daza and Sarthou both encouraged the use of available ingredients. Instead of potatoes, I used chayote freshly plucked by my grandchild Kai from the village vine. I had carrots, canned green peas and garbanzos plus half a packet of raisins at hand to add to the pot. Problem was the meat--tough beef shanks that I tried to soften by rubbing them in garlic salt and letting them stand for an hour.

Sarthou also used hot dogs. I sliced the remaining Hungarian sausage I found in the fridge. All the slices of sausage went to Kai's plate because she didn't want to deal with the beef shanks even if I cut them into two-inch squares.

Rolly still wished aloud for the tender cuts of meat that he tasted in his youth. It was a cue for our daughter Kimi to look for a different cut next time she goes to Monterey Meats.

Kai and camera

Satchi, Kai's playmate, at rest

Grandmother caught dollying herself up even if she's just working from home

Selfie with Satchi's snout

Kai, the nine-year old in our house, has found an old Canon digicam to keep her busy. She snapped away but was careful to compose her shots of Satchi and me. She would immediately delete anything that didn't meet her standards.

I asked my husband Rolly where she learned all these things because I didn't go out of my way to teach her anything about how to use a point and shoot camera. He claimed that it was all his doing.

Kai perked up on hearing we were discussing her doings again. "No!" she said. It was her Tita Maria Klaridelle A Reyes who taught her how to work a real camera, not the toy dangling by her wrist.

Thanks, Kla, the fruits of Kai's apprenticeship are evident in these pictures. Why, I've even requested her to take photos of the books that I've lined up for reviewing.

A pot of mechado, a bottle of beer and thee

Indulge this Aling Kusinera for awhile. Mechado is special to me and my siblings. We associate it with our mother, the great cook Gliceria D. Lolarga, who lived (almost) to feed and care for us to a healthy adulthood. Her mechado wasn't special Sunday fare--it was served on a regular day with us fighting over the sauce and the meat.

That is, until I tasted the mechado of sculptor Jerry Araos that used the fat-marbled batok of the cow. The dish is served at Gourmet Gypsy Cafe, 28 Maginhawa St., Up Village, Qc, immortalized in the menu by his daughter Waya.

For today's lunch, I brought down a couple of beef shanks from the freezer last night to thaw out overnight in the chiller. After breakfast, I rubbed garlic salt on the meat, a tip I picked up from Chef Mike Tatung of the FB program Simpol. The salt helped speed up the tenderizing of the meat.

With Kai as my kitchen helper, we prepared the carrots, potatoes, garlic and onions while I nagged Rolly to look for a slender bottle of black olives to add further flavor to the dish. We had run out of bell peppers.

Pot of mechado simmering on the stove

Using my daughter Kimi's cast-iron pot, I sauteed what Chef Tatung called the aromatics together with overripe cherry tomatoes. The meat was fall-off-the-bones tender after almost 45 minutes of simmering in its marinade, water and tomato paste.

When it was time to serve my take on Mommy's mechado, Rolly said that all it lacked was a dash of red wine to enrich the sauce.
He rated our ulam for lunch and for tonight's dinner a "7.0." I didn't ask for Kai's opinion anymore. It was enough that she was part of the preparatory stage.

Another day in the life in the kitchen.

The Book Lovers Day I missed

I was so taken up cooking yesterday's adobo that I forgot to add my bit about the observation of International Book Lovers Day, normally landing on the ninth of August of every year.

My husband Rolly and I share a computer so when he's busy reading and working online, I take it as my cue to read. When it's my turn to use the PC, he brings out his current reading fare--Adrian E. Cristobal's The Tragedy of the Revolution. He likes reading history, non-fiction generally.

Which suits me well because when I want a current and complicated political issue explained, he gives the historical context of why Filipinos behave the way they/we do, with lessons from the past unlearned or ignored.

My reading preference veers towards fiction and creative non-fiction or the essay. I am currently reading Yiyun Li's novel The Vagrants set in post-Mao Zedong China. I keep remembering the expatriate lives that Alma Cruz Miclat and Mario Ignacio Miclat led there as they carried out their patriotic duty to our own unfinished Revolution.

The book is a Christmas present from Delfin Tolentino, and he has been checking up on me if I've opened it. One of the fulfilling pleasures of my life is talking book talk with this retired professor.

I must confess I read slowly and in snatches. My eyes tire easily which is my cue to look after my grandchild and watch her at play.

The second photo shows my pile of books left unread or half-read--all Filipiniana that I acquired either at Mt Cloud Bookshop or at the Philippine International Readers and Writers Festival last year.

Another festival is going online this weekend, the First All-Filipino Online Bookfair Aug. 16-18. But at the rate I'm reading my pile of books at turtle's pace, I'll resist the temptation to peek at the latest titles available.

Sunday lunch

It has become a Sunday habit to just order our food and have it delivered. But not on this foggy and rainy day when the motorcycle rider might have a hard time looking for our house and navigating the zigzag road to our village.

After our champorado at dilis breakfast, prepared by Rolly, I checked the freezer to see what was going on there. There were pork ribs and chicken breast. Adobo! I thought. Merely thinking about this comfort dish already makes me salivate. But oftentimes, I get the cooking wrong due to too much soy.

So I researched in Chef Tatung's Simpol FB page for a simple procedure. I followed him to the letter and was careful about the amount of soy sauce I poured onto the sizzling meat. Also I wasn't used to cooking the mixture with water, but since the chef specified this liquid, I followed him.

I let the rest of the ingredients boil for half an hour. Meanwhile, Rolly and Kai were agitating for food since it was way past noon. He asked that yesterday's Dipasupil de recado longganisa be re-fried while she helped herself to another bowl of champorado.

The adobo was ready by 1:15 p.m., and I was the only one to partake of my cooking. Rolly and Kai said they'd have it for dinner.

And isn't that the beauty of an adobo? It keeps well and tastes better hours and days after it's cooked.

Dreaming of when it's over

Kai and Satchi

"What will this bleak time be called when it's all over?" ~ Tweet from Pamela Colloff

I'm afraid my grandchild Kai has recently developed some kind of insomnia. Every night it takes her later and later to fall asleep, and it's usually after midnight. No, she doesn't take an afternoon siesta. I'm beginning to worry that she's suffering from some anxiety that makes nodding off difficult for her.

She's active the whole day--playing with the dog Satchi, feeding her, giving her vitamin, chatting on FB Messenger with her cousin Machiko Susi in Antipolo, playing pretend with her miniature figurines and dolls, an hour of Netflix cartoons. You'd think that's already a full day for a child.

Yesterday she carefully wrote on two postcards and told her pen pals about how bored she was. And I quote: " Extreeeeeemely bored! Satchi is bored too waiting for me to go outside and play. Sometimes I am able to see a very pretty butterfly. Oh! And to go to parties!"

My Chocolate Kiss memories are made of these

Kai enjoying her Devil's Foodcake at Chocolate Kiss, UP Diliman

Oh boyoboyoboy! I lived for these cakes whenever I visited my old stomping grounds, the UP Diliman campus, right, Geraldine? Hoping The Chocolate Kiss Cafe will have a second reincarnation, maybe operate from the owners' house the way Estrel's Caramel Cakes does. Permanently closing it down sounds so final.

It was my late professor, Nieves Epistola, who introduced me to the campus cafe at the Bahay ng Alumni when I was scheduled to interview her on the occasion of her 75th birthday jubilee and 50th year of teaching for Daily Globe and Ang Pahayagang Malaya. She had a favorite table for two where she led and sat me and where we chatted over lunch, coffee and dessert for over an hour. The waiters knew her and took care of her every need.

My family of cake lovers, particularly daughter Ida and grandchild Kai, learned to love the cakes, too. Kai was partial to the Devil's Food Cake and has a picture somewhere with a moustache of white icing above her upper lip somewhere in her mother Kimi's phone camera. It would've illustrated my point well.

When I was a returning Fine Arts major in Diliman, the Kiss was where I'd hie off to meet up with Margarita Holmes and husband Jeremy or art prof Yasmin Almonte for friendly lunches. If I had enough allowance saved, I'd treat myself to breakfast there--coffee, daing na bangus with fried garlic rice, fried egg with the yolk well done and cake so early in the day.

During one of his fellowships with his Upsilonian brods, Rolly celebrated his birthday with a breakfast with Des Bautista, Guido Canero, Jo Salazar, Wawell Osorio. After we were done with our daing, Des, a Baguio restaurateur, called the waiter and asked him to collect the skin of the bangus left on our plates and to have them deep fried by the cook. The staff accommodated his request, and we enjoyed Des's version of bangus chicharon.

Reluctantly, I kiss the cafe goodbye!

Some like it sour

This pandemic has been kind to some small businesses, particularly the ones involving food delivery.

For the past two weeks, we've had different kinds of bread delivered to our door by the Baguio-based baker from Sweets and Greens. My daughter Kimi discovered the outfit through a Facebook ad and decided to try it out after being enticed by photos of its products.

It was love at first bite when Kai sliced and tasted the glazed lemon pound cake. She can easily finish half of it spread over a few hours between meals.

There's a variation of that bread, this time with herbs baked into it. It is just as good and lemony (sour, not sweet).

Sweets and Greens delivers to Baguio residents every Tuesday and Friday. This is not an ad. It is a full endorsement. Let's support our local bakers.

As for Rolly, he would like it better if the pound cake was heavily infused and aged with rum.

The art of improv

Yesterday was market day for Kimi as we were running low on supplies. Before she left, she brought down from the freezer a piece of chicken breast. I was to make chicken curry out of that one piece. And it wasn't even fat.

Midway as Kai and I prepared the ingredients, she quartering the potatoes, cutting the carrots and slicing the green and red bell peppers while I took care of the aromatics (garlic, onions, ginger and green chilies), I remembered my mother Gliceria D. Lolarga. When she was alive, she'd prepare a side dish of hard-boiled eggs to go with the curry.

It was the first time my husband Rolly heard of such. He surmised that it must be because Mom had to feed eight children so she needed extenders the way one put potatoes in an adobo dish.

I cut the chicken into several bite-size pieces. Kai timed the boiling of the eggs. I usually allow the eggs to boil for eight minutes to ensure the yolk isn't runny.

My grandchild was in a good mood--her mother and guardian was out, after all, and she could watch TV while having her lunch. Fishing for compliments, I asked her what the grade of our ulam was. From the living room she shouted: "Ten!"

I think the eggs did the magic.