tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29833006652993931982024-03-05T16:22:18.219+08:00THE ADVENTURES OF TOYANG & TWEETYThe adventures (and mis-adventures) of a 30-something daughter, niece, sister, cousin, friend and wife as she satisfies her wanderlust and her never-ending thirst for experiencing something new. After all, heck, it's the only way life ought to be lived.
Viva la vie boheme! =)TOYANG & TWEETYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09427393895925560349noreply@blogger.comBlogger161125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2983300665299393198.post-17943437892455751772011-03-29T07:29:00.051+08:002011-04-10T18:34:20.850+08:00ABE'S FARM / MARCH 26,2011 =)<div><br /><div><br /><div><br /><div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">With our recent road trip</span> to <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Pampanga leaving us wanting for more, Hubby Sweet decided to </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">use his one weekend off to go back. There were so many other places on the list that we have not yet gone to, but this particular weekend, he decided to reserve for <strong><span style="color:#000099;">Abe's Farm</span></strong>. Our original roadtrip for two eventually expanded to include Father, Sister Pusjing, Bro-in-Law G-Genius and Patita. Mother was feeling under the weather and decided to stay home in House Better. Bro I-gue and fam had somewhere else to go to. We also invited Panet (Eduardo's Executive Chef ;D), but she sadly had to go to work. Oh, well. Next time. </span></div><br /><div><br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592998531043412994" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtN9KU5h09MPAnEd_mW_M0wSKXEyGAjSKCtvRVjPW_vV9vr4PPNZDcFshMb8trksfx6JAHsA6Z8nu6fX6CuTmziRxgc5uOyAMnh3aCyLRPw-7aJuzoz01kom15G7JJ2WCAWv6mTJe_WJe5/s400/abe2.jpg" border="0" /> <br /><div></div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Abe's Farm is part of the LJC Group of Restaurants, and I suppose, among all the restaurants under its wing (Cafe Havana, Cafe Adriatico, Cafe Remedios, Fely J, Lorenzo's Way, Larry's Bar, etc.), the Farm is <strong>the showcase</strong> for everything that is important to its founder. First, it is quite a drive from Manila (take the NLEX, exit in Angeles. At the rotonda, choose the node that will take you down Magalang Ave., go straight until you hit Petron, turn left, then turn right on the first block, go straight until you hit an Munisipyo / Agricultural school, then just go down the offroad until you see the sign). It's pretty easy to find (much easier than Everybody's Cafe, haha), but it is far. Have you ever travelled with a kid in tow? Never mind that Patita is actually an adult in the body of a 7-year-old. The entire trip, we had to keep her entertained because as soon as she had time to think, the inevitable comes up: "Are we there yet?", followed by permutations of "How much farther?" and "How much longer?" Hahaha. =) The fact that the trip was worth it, however, can be seen in the way Patita lit up as soon as the farm gates were opened to let us in. </span></div><br /><div></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593896598475646354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipJskOHns-pZYeMsRF2rSZl7fEpRyRa9ChoHH3B6sbmqWtEa4Hfi-uRVfTi5X7cXAI-tYteUol6rRIufpAqh_Vf3NH3EVmUdNZc_v6uq4LxWqFML8To-sclmze-A_RPZPhyoDVB0HSquvu/s400/abe5.jpg" border="0" /> <br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">N</span><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">ow, be warned that the food at Abe's Farm is exactly the same as the one they serve in the Serendra outlet and in some of the other LJC restaurants. I put that up front so that you can manage your expectations (and in case you're the type who would go, "I travelled this far for food I can actually order in Manila?!"). That said, LJC food is good in any of its Manila branches, but it is much better enjoyed in the sanctuary that is Abe's Farm. (Same taste, different ambience, haha.) For this trip, we enjoyed the usual suspects, and then some. =)</span></div><br /><div></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"><strong><span style="color:#000099;">Chicharon Bulaklak</span></strong>. No trip to any LJC restaurant is complete without it. There was a debate as to whether we should order only one (health advocates) or two (realists, haha). We decided on two, taking into consideration that we had both Hubby Sweet and G-Genius present at the table. Good call! The pic below is only half a serving. It was half-finished by the time I managed to get a pic. Like I said, two servings, good call! Haha. =)</span></div><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593897715516131730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMPl-c8JctTu3I3Sst78Bo5uXlM1rh7SEuOYovJeaOEE-BMNIKTWPx2np3YLQjij_2gVCZIuijkcfeJDBFujdIUFTKy53cmTfRPGrR-PaNW_kD1hmFmRR9CoAICtbjC5KrgJEUbcwBXhih/s400/abechicharon.jpg" border="0" /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong><span style="color:#000099;"></span></strong></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong><span style="color:#000099;"></span></strong></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong><span style="color:#000099;">Pako (Fern) Salad.</span> </strong>Now the LJC group is not particularly known for this type of salad, but truth be told, I've always been intrigued by it ever since I read an article about how Patis Tesoro's guests would automatically look for it everytime they visited Kusina Salud. I therefore welcomed the opportunity to finally satisfy my curiosity. I figured, net of the dressing, what I really wanted to check out was how a fern would taste like. I tried. OK <em>lang</em>. I did not particularly like it. Haha. It was a bit "slimy" and I generally don't like slimy food (think okra and some types of seaweeds). Thought balloon: hala, curiosity killed the cat. Haha. =D </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593898276771850594" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCDqG7kskS6ldT1w03n7HJUxEjzlgFGk8_6-JSFnRg5EKfzbLzskhcC423fgl8PTpCP8qp2DgJ-_6waFm4oaMEiS3wOzHUumgAvkvUWTt-vGlhANtlEMhhvdwuQRMjvb24VkWkbBpeQs47/s400/190409_10150122863493248_672663247_6543901_7771237_n%255B1%255D.jpg" border="0" /></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong><span style="color:#000099;">Kamaru</span></strong>. We rounded up the appetizers with this Pampanga delicacy (which, I think, is not served in any of the Manila restaurants.) Father and Hubby Sweet immediately dug in. G-Genius and Sister Pusjing decided to take a moment to collect their bearings before trying it. Patita was adamant. No. Haha. =D Still, the crickets at Abe's Farm looked less Fear-Factor worthy than those we tried at Everybody's Cafe. They were smaller, less plump and roasted much drier, plus the "adobo seasoning" at Abe's was much stronger compared to EC's sauteed version so the natural woody taste was a bit more masked and subdued. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592988648695782770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB_NixxLSIjGPeB7qDdb_VgmkuQNh73JiIX_b2aKyZ2ppiUJuWa-0I4bs0HBNfeUvDqwil6ch8kgCJzOg3pyz_EdIA115wAvd9nUmmzJHgBmkDtNpyvv-dQrVnqjxDzHWyFoYXoJNe89Gq/s400/199102_10150122863188248_672663247_6543897_3681191_n%255B1%255D.jpg" border="0" /></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong><span style="color:#000099;">Binukadkad na Plapla</span>. </strong>We moved on to the main course with this. The men raved about the <em>mustasa </em>and <em>balaw-balaw</em> that was served with it, rolling the fermented rice in the mustard leaves and popping them into their mouths in quick succession. Sister Pusjing and I gladly gave up our "share" as we did not see the point in eating (even trying!) fermented rice. =D </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592988391963507410" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji86HbmYqq_0wWNgJD5wQ9mRxlPsWWHHVFUQVEnZP_WQB0GpZTOQR3-riJ0dQvZAOXSXzQso_TMHfDioWEvweSTauu9jBsDzDKuojD0YjnmMbUQ22FT_EbSluoHcFobia4-UzV9YbEz-gR/s400/196267_10150122862678248_672663247_6543892_7100585_n%255B1%255D.jpg" border="0" /></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong><span style="color:#000099;">Gising-gising</span></strong>. We enjoyed our fried fish instead with this recipe of chopped up Baguio beans (or was it kangkong) with coco cream and--I'm fairly sure--a dash of <em>bagoong</em> and <em>siling haba</em>. I happen to think that gising-gising is eaten best with grilled meat, but we decided to stay away from dishes we can cook at home. Once the mustasa and balaw-balaw were wiped out, the men moved on to help us with this one. =) </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592988515424276690" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMzy67GhE224v1MGHX3kz-0HqAlMGKK2ddVqmH9b4TolYbA6cLRQov3J5LF7_raNu_aJnw9g-bjT43MlD1XYoy3uO-ec4Kfmj1mW16GacmdVmzB7EYOgO9xWmwn8rTZ-9y804AOuQEwTnW/s400/197073_10150122863383248_672663247_6543899_3720970_n%255B1%255D.jpg" border="0" /></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong><span style="color:#000099;">Tidtad.</span></strong> The other native Pampanga dish ordered from the menu. It is a drier version of dinuguan. Love. Enough said. =) </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592988772602762898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDFTCDfU1fMiJ4EHIR5g4kELGJ_byGWzFZJVlxsNrKmfw8qk-C8DvoDKVQbyKEa1WQBlAbh_Vkq3huS_Gosqb5HcYuOyvBBvdZY49kAWa-Z2oDO7LI3dByojSagWZgtUraY3rVnXSEKvDo/s400/199521_10150122863298248_672663247_6543898_5510379_n%255B1%255D.jpg" border="0" /></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong><span style="color:#000099;">Lamb Adobo</span></strong>. Rounding up the main dishes is another LJC specialty which G-Genius insisted on ordering. I do remember devouring Adobong Kambing in Cafe Havana with BFFs Cheffy and Mrs. Smith during The Wander Years, and actually looked forward to giving this dish a go. I loved, but I still think I like the Adobong Kambing version better. (Then again, the darn adobong kambing did not have to compete with other great dishes on the same table, haha.) </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592988907645277666" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiyj-4Ygl72PQEwm4fX57p7W7biWyMXSM8Fz6zNeMGuWZR2EBjvSze1QU8RZOXkrjRb4MEk9G-ufYI9EZZIlcTpgbLI2jQi6bCT8K9AFyr_ealYmmvpFvn66wa0ccsGBuVUsK24PHCpHBd/s400/208435_10150122863448248_672663247_6543900_3817384_n%255B1%255D.jpg" border="0" /></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">We also ordered Bicol Express but were unpleasantly surprised to find out that it was a Vegetarian version. <em>Gulay </em>only. No meat. Ngyar. =S </span></div><br /><div></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Cups of coffee and tea, served with shared dessert plates of <strong><span style="color:#000099;">Buk</span><span style="color:#000099;">o-Pandan</span></strong>, <strong><span style="color:#000099;">Sticky Rice with Mangoes</span></strong> and <span style="color:#000099;"><strong>Banana-Ube Halaya Turon</strong></span> capped our lunch off. (Forgot to take pics, sorry. =))<em>Busog to the max</em>, we each wanted to sequester some of the daybeds that were made available for the guests in some of the sections of the house. Patita, unfortunately, beat us to the one nearest our table. Nancy Drew in hand, she seemed content with reading the afternoon away. </span></div><br /><div></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">The adults decided to walk what felt like a ton of food settling in our stomachs. Roaming around, it no longer surprised me to find Hubby Sweet clowning around with the staff. Seeing them clown around with him made me realize that Abe's Farm is less of a restaurant than it is a house that we have been "allowed" to visit. =)</span></div><br /><div><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592999533518200962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdVJwk32_lx4xtn_sr2ew3kdYZPMx1nPBlvEZRAf-ecznhcDoMCsK5QoUtoQyxKZupsOr0HZLZW1fVBhiFS_8AscyeohUsva8pohuds0yaBYnRA-BKCcsO-oD5YVOdnOPquizzjyZx_esk/s400/196751_10150122863613248_672663247_6543902_2910891_n%255B1%255D.jpg" border="0" /> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592999832452426242" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 389px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPGV7WlV2n8mn7gaqOkuDNS4fnyuDwwk9pnzx7cUeZRgvC5_O9f7d-vAYWCkcJqpaVlqWbYvWAx3qnuUvzzcmg_PI_DuEHvFaTL_OHPyOdOfLiJHn0wokWhlHuIdDhyphenhyphenUYYLQIjL5Uz4jDl/s400/200474_10150122863063248_672663247_6543895_5061548_n%255B1%255D.jpg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593000002325827106" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU-OIc_oKPY_w-kd7F3iHYPf_4pXrcS_iJgmojcYneTpVSbynQbHO97yrNzsW1VZjQeabmEK_mD0eKbhRdQAnhkRL_gNwIN2PJ8WbusXBWfbtg15y34AqsWrv-lDzPRWO9bxi6fsbmXj9j/s400/206997_10150122862823248_672663247_6543894_298477_n%255B1%255D.jpg" border="0" /> <br /><p><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Beyond the menu, what made the trip worthwhile is the place itself. This was the view of the grounds from the dining area.</span></div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593141349825842962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifxjq2l6_kCGRslFhl8uhqleh0KUO8R3WoYpXB6nJNCqxzA2FXBXC4A39T3g7ACwTbCm7YTsDa6G5GfcEQsIQ-Dy1qxT8hWEUJnIWq11i-G4ThQ984zm7UnT_5Pf0fsF1I5WNgRlkEHwqp/s400/abe6.jpg" border="0" /> <br /><div></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">After lunch, guests can choose to laze around and read....</span></div><br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593141842748221314" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRXp2JRMP5rqFWGlHxM4BdQOEkrbfNgTofbkAqgehk4WI_-io0kXo4BSxCKb4fNvWil0_Nc5NluPJVYJqAN8YizRRlaj8ojJhR5b-45RqNzaiBvt-0PrHDwG1XlIZ3UeLwyFK_f_dR4GrR/s400/188825_10150122863683248_672663247_6543903_4821668_n%255B1%255D.jpg" border="0" /> <br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><br /><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Or play pool.......</span></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593142104691678674" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEichbm1UdpDHH2fhF2rDR26Eot1FXJN6JC4IjCjB55In2zaLIVaP5tU2AgGlB88Ti4HYI1XTVr5JDG93EcDf6563bdCbJgXtlbsQf6oy098YnHXM9MfYWIXTnx4rEYdntStY2o3J3XyFeBs/s400/196325_10150122863768248_672663247_6543904_1937654_n%255B1%255D.jpg" border="0" /> <br /><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Or just explore the the grounds.......</span></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593143417336665410" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrVappc8VPghcQlEFLJvNkoxDgxrIKL0nSmMucRMDujyc6R62Lww5C8MsbMv897aa7mF1rmOzfIVRiidEkhDj-XNSO5jO5se96tYhsq1aXyHMhzBuuQrkq1CW-jaJgCCZLQoin0cl2AKUY/s400/188933_10150122864013248_672663247_6543908_5782854_n%255B1%255D.jpg" border="0" /> <br /><p></p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">...to eventually find your own sweet spot where you can choose to sleep an entire afternoon away. <strong><span style="color:#000099;">Nurture Spa</span></strong> actually operates within the farm, but we ran out of time. Next time, maybe. =)</span> </div><br /><div><br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593144006953150226" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiYEFdFMoSxLcjj3moDJdRxl49jTevrqJ9nqRme8yLzC3vrlMMXXhNSU5tl-fRNbaGFl86wzzr2FD4vIOABwEeUh73KqUZwWGgdQuPnFH5L7PJkXTCTTwauO62oopmzP4de4ZiIfqtResg/s400/199408_10150122863858248_672663247_6543905_2595547_n%255B1%255D.jpg" border="0" /> <br /><div></div><br /><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">My favorite activity in places like these? Walk around and take as much of it in. Oh, and yes. <strong>Dream.</strong> Dream that somehow, someday, I am going to spend my retirement years in a place just like it. Yey. =D</span></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593144432271993394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzztCEiE6vjZj6tkeTzePaMJbtib2tXn-ABR8X5HFYVOm_8CTphKjLBQf9hWfprhuh7BjdBJRVg3iCgHR5eXh3pH2-eXCjFusI3cutvBlzv5B7ZlV2Y8jKp1oJdL3SZeZT8_WSUSCF-aER/s400/abehouse1.jpg" border="0" /> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593145485186741858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWdkmjK3BFEFmpEqDhf2CUvHWsa547FJyb4WDEGM7lTHFCCr9JIMXaHUQb9z_V3Ek9QbGuuwVqB9bFaSd8bzPwAh-8W6XC-BvpGphJtCSq1oGbkwKaNiTQmJr9J7VHZu2pJ2fkSWqd68LH/s400/abegarden1.jpg" border="0" /> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593145016933437122" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtUgU0UL_FbVyHjiAhLcef9t6XukqB48J3m_9-K62YMdW2anHpQE6tZTWIzhphjFI3D-Hx0kI7P0xyJAJYLSS2W9s6TE3HUwbo6mspQ75Js2fO2xJGrzbb92pbfwxKxUvjmCIKhH-SH_fE/s400/abegarden2.jpg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593145856571234802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZJanabABvcqFSnUU-33TggQIvmQxb09oYob-2J9AqS0ABI1Q8fya5LPzXBQGZT0atG7pk7hXtI0b3uF8u9J5vBSCeat7diJSgXoJSSuShukiwi-IgAcGzq7WBZwMoqQqgEBiiL4yiZY2j/s400/abehut2.jpg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593146231738269266" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbIUIOrlYdm5cWP5qTsSsGUj_ozJHKZcvEoP-yt6SJrsqrTr0CXbRsbYTJ9Z2HUd2txExpZVGVwiYOzb5GL4YbRY_Ldie7Ipo7M21gAUaA0HF3aULXiTjYxQTBWHIE8Ze5fVjjtPURcfDn/s400/abehut1.jpg" border="0" /> <br /><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="color:#009900;">**************************************************************</span></span> <br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong><em><span style="color:#009900;">Abe's Farm sits at the foot of Mt. Arayat. For inquiries and reservations, call (045) 8651930 or visit their <a href="http://abesfarm.com.ph/">website</a> for more details. =)</span></em></strong> <br /><div></div></span><br /><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593146629100795522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijgALT0yqgTt42-spir-8gwHyoVxtKesmL9_c3n9wXNaeeQ1FFmgGQ0ssrR0HmmFye8J7TDzfK6OmFDZdZBGiPApwcK1MgmSIyS3CtJbLlW8dDnAw5EdoMRrP1XZW5zS196coByZwwSwza/s400/abesign2.jpg" border="0" /> </div></div></div></div></div>TOYANG & TWEETYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09427393895925560349noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2983300665299393198.post-56476871337127229352011-03-25T06:49:00.010+08:002011-03-25T07:41:13.183+08:00PET BED =D<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Yey! Search over. </span><br /><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">When we first had Buster, he automatically gravitated towards the three gigantic floor pillows that Sister Pusjing and Bro-in-law G-Genius gave me as either a Christmas gift or as a "housewarming gift" (a misnomer really as I never really had House Pioneer blessed). And so it goes that when we first got Barrioca, he also decided he wanted a piece of the pillows. I figured, no prob. There were three. </span></div><div><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587784725389560914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBx2JnT5o3k2oXEzr9Is1mvpyP_5tQ-53iVIIi6Sy_j2LJqF8WPIwmWyAgNGk4YAekTEpvOMKJDFFGHh-vOVDYKrE-eGq6ZKiKd0g5xPWKxBUlUL12JF4NqLUAlLOL2nXc-sSjQax-fTAt/s400/DSC01127.JPG" border="0" /><br /><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">What I did not count on was the Alpha-Dog-This-Is-My-Territory-You-Nincompoop struggle between the two (being of almost the same age). One evening, when Buster was (I suppose) particularly pissed at Barrioca, he ran and literally pissed on Barrioca's pillow. Of course he got a good "talking-to" from me and he looked properly apologetic. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">There were two pillows left. I thought, still no problem.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">And then, the following day, when Barrioca was (I suppose) particularly pissed at Buster, he ran and literally pissed on Buster's pillow! Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy......Gr. He, of course, got the same "talking-to" and he, too, looked properly apologetic. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">One pillow left. Big problem. I did not want to buy additional floor pillows because, well, I was convinced that they would all just go the way of the two I had to throw.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">And so it goes that after Barrioca went on to pet heaven, I took out the one pillow left. After all, there was only Buster again.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">And <strong>then (!)</strong>, Banzo came along. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Anticipating Banzo's size when he becomes a full-grown adult, we made sure that while he was still no bigger than a tennis ball, he <strong>KNEW</strong> who the Alpha-dog in the family was. (It's actually funny to see Banzo now. He can, technically, whip Buster's ass given his size and strength, and yet, he is literally <strong>scared</strong> when Buster starts barking at him. Big baby. Haha. =))</span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">In any case, the single pillow did not seem to be an issue. When Banzo was small, Buster didn't mind sharing it with him. When he started growing, Banzo would, nonetheless, step aside everytime Buster approached it. So I really don't know what came over Buster one day when (I suppose), in one fit of major insecurity (he's not stupid; he knows Banzo is a lot bigger and taller), he pissed <strong>on his own pillow (!)</strong> just to officially mark it as his territory. Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyyy....Gr.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Thing is, they've been used to sleeping on floor pillows and not on hard wood floors. And so, it was just a matter of time when they started jumping onto our bed when it's time to sleep! I don't care what you say. A queen-sized bed would never be big enough for me, my giant of a husband, one mini-schnauzer and one Siberian Husky. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">And so the search was on. I, unfortunately, couldn't find floor pillows as big as the ones I had to throw (Regalong Pambahay has since phased them out), so I just bought the biggest ones I could find. Buster would fit, and I figured Banzo wouldn't mind just resting a part of himself onto the pillow. Major fail! Buster, of course, took the opportunity to prance around hopping from one pillow to the other, showing Banzo (I suppose) that he was the true master and that he has two beds. <em>Hala!</em> Without a proper bed, Banzo continued to climb up--and while Buster would start the night in his floor pillows, soon enough, he'd be joining the midnight crush on the bed too.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">So it was a eureka moment when in the S&R sale last week, I discovered the Kirkland Pet Bed. Definitely big enough with room to spare (because Banzo tosses and turns when he sleeps--in other words, <em>magulo siya matulog!</em>) Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeyyyyyyyyyyyyy!!!!!!!! Yahoooooooooooooooo!!! I bought. I brought it home. The Hubby got excited, and decided to lay it on Banzo's favorite spot. Success! Bliss! Two floor pillows for Buster. One pet bed for Banzo. For the first time in quite a while, we had the bed to ourselves. </span></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587790047539687522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc0ltV6ixd6Q-nYZPW2fwCdjZku1m4b1dpHbsgtwWfQLXs6JR7feth1OwfRPRq-PoRbYRoCxd_aJVmeU4E9TcmDcK4lSgIUFc4k3AkMgoeQIbjFRQnYnh7SKJdAUAxCU3P6zgYxQnUyq44/s400/banzo%2525203.jpg" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">And then! Haaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyy....while Banzo was still busy wreaking havoc in the living room, I walked into the bedroom the other night to find this.</span><br /><br /><br /><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587791329368321058" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZlYvDgsak1BIKicjoMxjMRR2XYoeL1asdAi1Z-wnOo9lwetIyRLZXXxsMqt2fc6lQLx3l-1rDtlscla38m-SnnCMs_GH5SDsXXfzSss6QZL4oFdOAxUzh2ZM8IB-wWHznUabS8QYQX-WL/s400/buster%252520bed.jpg" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">"Mommy," he seemed to be saying with his accusing stare, "I don't care if I'm <em>kasya </em>in the floor pillows. I don't care if there are two. I don't want them anymore. Banzo can have them. I want this pet bed! HMP! " </span></p><p><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587791600884188354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1nte56JH-al88QtQ5Fn7XRmHgiFcjEuHFuNIdLSzLf8sGOdNbuUkU1XlGx0bh3dLlTx_j2zUwwhVmAVaJdnMbgyNxttXs-wyLIwkSMIc2lwl7ysGaN7zEWspGwKCZknBQs5lIyF1Ti7FX/s400/buster3.jpg" border="0" /><br /></p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Haaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyy.....@_@ Sometimes, I wonder if I would have an easier time raising kids. Then again, likely not. Haha....hay...=D</span><br /><p></p>TOYANG & TWEETYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09427393895925560349noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2983300665299393198.post-88900529591769070662011-03-15T07:38:00.027+08:002011-03-18T17:38:08.772+08:00FOOD TRIP: PAMPANGA, PART 2 / MARCH 4,2011 =)<div><div><div><div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Tummies full, Hubby Sweet and I decided to head out again, this time to <strong><span style="color:#000099;">Angeles</span></strong> where all the other stops seemed to be. We had a single objective: <strong><span style="color:#333333;">Aling Lucing's</span></strong>, the birthplace of the most revered of Filipino beer chow. If we could, we'd have lunch there. (The magazine article specified that it only opens 5:00 p.m. onwards.) It was only 10:45 on our watch. Would we really want to wait for dusk just to try it and brave the horrendous EDSA rush hour traffic once we enter Manila? We decided to just "cross the bridge" when we get there (all pun intended). For now, it would be good to just head on back to the NLEX.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Midway, we decided we were still too full to go straight to lunch so we decided to check out the Duty-Free shops in Clark. Instead of exiting in Angeles, we decided to exit in Dau instead. Three salescons and several ocular trips have taught me that, from the Dau exit, the Clark Airbase Main Gate is just a stoplight and a left turn away (allowing us to also skip the Angeles town proper traffic). </span></div><br /><div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Now it must be said that whereas 10 years ago, one could spend an entire day skipping from one duty-free shop to the next, only <span style="color:#000099;"><strong>Puregold</strong> </span>seems to be thriving inside Clark these days. All the others have been boarded up, and even the selection in Puregold is a fraction of what it used to be. I suppose with all the "PX Goods" now being readily available in any Metro Manila supermarket (yes, kids, there was a time we had to travel far for a pack of Pringles and Chips Ahoy =)), the only advantage of duty-free shopping is its price. (For reference, a can of Spam is only P84.00 in Clark against the P100+ in Robinson's Pioneer). In any case, since we know how crazy duty-free shopping could be, I set a $100 limit for this particular trip. Once we go over, we have to start putting stuff back. (We must be prudent in anticipation of the House Mahogany turnover.) </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Still, our big discovery on this trip wouldn't be the imported goods inside, but the <strong><span style="color:#000099;">adorable puppies</span></strong> being sold on a shopping cart outside the Puregold entrance. Hubby Sweet automatically gravitated toward the pups; I stayed a good distance (thus, no pictures). I knew it would be heart-wrenching to see the puppies and choose <strong>not </strong>to bring any of them home. Heck, it would've been heart-wrenching to bring home only one instead of all of them! When Hubby Sweet walked back, he quite expectedly, was begging to bring home a pup. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">"They're a cross between a collie and a malamute. Bred and born in Baguio. Blue <em>ang</em> eyes. No papers <em>nga lang</em>, but P1,000.00 <em>lang</em>, Tweet. P1,000.00 <em>lang</em>! Banzo would have a proper playmate," he declared smugly.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">I looked at him and momentarily thought, "Well, birthday <em>naman ni</em>ya....", but got hold of myself just in time. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">"We could save one more puppy, Tweet!" he exclaimed, knowing exactly which heartstrings to pull.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">"We've saved enough puppies for now," I said, walking away, mustering all the willpower that I had, lest I rush over to the <em>Ale</em> to buy an entire shopping cart full of Collie-Malamute mix-bred pups. <em>Hay! =S </em></span><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Still, I tagged the place in my mind for the next time we get crazy enough to add another pup to our, uh, growing family. =)</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">We walked down each aisle quite leisurely as we saw it as a good way to let our heavy San Fernando breakfast go down. $105.00 later, we walked out with several bags filled with mostly hard-to-find Asian condiments and a few other stuff we would be hard-pressed to find in Manila. Everything else that we could buy in Robinson's Pioneer, we decided to leave behind. It was time to head out to the "railroad", the only landmark reference for our sisig quest.</span></div><div></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Quite expectedly, as we drove out of the Clark Main Gate and asked for directions to Aling Lucing, we got a <em>"derecho lang hanggang lampas ng tulay, tapos dun sa kalyeng pwede kang kumanan o kumaliwa </em>(which we interpreted to be the first big intersection after the bridge =)), <em>kumaliwa kayo. Malapit sa riles."</em> Easy enough. Yes...=)</span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584091784350780210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimVjxzHc6TWsRSf3CeeTcoTPwkUG-9WVHeS7Cdc3vhioRBJXP8aaUJc5saEoZGcEGUg-cVjK3poU5FoU5fqhZDCC31LiXItHXO-Ai-ltm0_wF_3ENaFrW4Y9P0VSzTfiis9k-OIcP6BAXT/s400/IMG00232-20110304-1401.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">We arrived at <strong><span style="color:#000099;">Aling Lucing's</span></strong> to find no customers and only the "boy" mopping the floors. Uh-oh...not a good sign. Maybe they do really open only at 5:00 p.m.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"><em>"Kuya!!! Bukas ba kayo?" </em>I called out through a rolled-down window. We had a back-up plan to go for any other Pampanga sisig, but we were hoping that we would get to try the one sisig that really mattered.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"><em>"Opo,"</em> he nodded. Yey!</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Apparently, Aling Lucing <strong>is</strong> usually open for lunch, but primarily only for the "turo-turo / binalot" dishes that were laid out in several chafing dishes. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"><em>"Sisig, Kuya,"</em> I haltingly asked, <em>"Meron?"</em></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"><em>"Meron pa,"</em> he grinned. Yey!</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">That said, we ordered sisig, 2 cups of rice and a bottle of regular Coke and a bottle of Royal. (<em>Kuya </em>looked at me weirdly when I asked for Coke Light. Haha.)</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">When he laid down the sizzling plate, we got too excited and automatically dug in. It was only when we were halfway through that I realized I forgot to take a pic. <em>Ay!</em> =D (Must take pic from a different angle then, haha. =))</span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584093579423479970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTtwQ91iLB9QqbPw516ywuZW3WGEEeJWowwhAIblETZ3PYorzBi2Bm13fDsUjb4RqQEkeTkXnRaSQ0neJppQVG-PU4munsXiyeMUzTGTTnYaNTT9-o0Vaf47srCyXOS_uMbrEwRouz4OBQ/s400/IMG00242-20110304-1413.jpg" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">In <strong>No Reservations: Philippines</strong>, Anthony Bourdain declared, <span style="color:#009900;"><em>"For me, the Come-to-Mama-Moment of my trip so far is that most-loved of Filipino street foods, the strangely addictive, sizzling-hot melange of hacked-up pork face--a crispy, chewy, spicy, savory and all-together damn wonderful melange of textures that just sings. Everything I like on a smoking-hot sizzle platter. Oh, sweet symphony of pig parts. Oh, yes! The fierce love, the misty-eyed reminisces of Filipinos in the U.S. looking back on the food of their country, Sisig always comes up first and most emotionally, and I completely understand why...This is magical stuff. It's genius....This is just awesome. One more."</em></span></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">What a wonderful way to describe the experience that is <strong><span style="color:#000099;">Aling Lucing's Sisig</span></strong>. How particularly apt too . Even more impressive when you think that the late Aling Lucing did not really have any formal culinary training and only invented the dish from all the "free pig heads and excess onions" that used to be given away regularly at the nearby Clark Airbase. And yet with her one practical "invention", she has changed the way Filipinos eat and drink--not just in Pampanga, but practically everywhere else in the archipelago.</span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584095366490382866" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOVQL4kcuQMQwV3xbPGIBjkNjSnX7ivGskryOeKixdafOz8icjwVzzjx5xFbsTTnCtUOx_NT8WbKCoixlzzg60K0HoT9Th-wQn-fvbXaW-kuhyphenhyphenTDF1Q4u8P32ayMLZ1VB7ACLPdBHMJzwh/s400/IMG00240-20110304-14.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">One serving wasn't enough for Anthony Bourdain. Neither was it for us. We had to order one more. =D Midway through the second, we decided to bring another serving home for dinner. Sadly, they had run out.</span></div><br /><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><em>"Ubos na po eh,"</em> Kuya apologized, <em>"Pag hapon po kase siya niluluto."</em></span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">A father and daughter (who also looked like they were also from Manila) then arrived, looking to order sisig. The look of disappointment on their faces upon being told that the sisig had run out was directly proportional to the realization of just how lucky we were. We wanted one more, but there was no more. Oh, well. We'd be back again next time. Definitely. =)</p>Next on the agenda was a trip to <strong><span style="color:#000099;">Nepo Mart</span></strong> where all the landmark shops for native candies and <em>kakanin</em> seemed to be located. <span style="color:#333333;">Susie's Cuisine</span> for native <em>kakanin</em>; <span style="color:#333333;">Rosie's Candy</span> for supposedly really good pastillas.<em> </em>We decided to go there first before proceeding to the other food destination on our list, Armando's Pizzeria, where we had earlier decided to take our afternoon merienda.<br /><br /><p>We had to contend with traffic going to Nepo Mart, but it was something to be expected along provincial roads that lead to the <em>palengkes</em>. The <em>palengkes</em> are to the provincial folks as the malls are to Manilenos (never mind that Pampanga is more progressive than most provinces). The chaos brought about not just by cars, but also by people walking to and fro made it difficult for us to find our destination. In fact, we had almost passed <strong><span style="color:#000099;">Susie's Cuisine</span></strong> before Hubby Sweet spotted it from his peripheral vision.<br /></p></span><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584167530342907362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUCMPlAtwMTMNLeBicEPBpEOZkOp_aHUARMPVP2SESPrhyw3Gr44GoCSasWcSKXrHg0yPwekwvefv131_2erBKUg1QoUTWem-GEXVcEeDIu8-v025X4Yz-LhLmkBpbyuKxNsBL-cEKZgwy/s400/IMG00247-20110304-1448.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The steady stream of people coming in and out of Susie's seemed to validate the article's declaration that it was the go-to place for native <em>kakanin</em>. Hubby Sweet and I walked in to find the dining area with only a few empty seats left. Taking our cue from the people who walked in before us, we headed straight to the counter to check out the goods and place our orders. </span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584168650824275602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsFd7-D_aVAbujFSng5j_7NDx40gTfiZybQJCwH-ylrgW3B33viRrfe0cl5ZIPrKw1mv1iJNvclGYN3GU5hkxIqfdLmM-bPLdtxLZO9CXvUvxumGrI58jQyo47N9u0US2zS8HJy58fsPIh/s400/IMG00250-20110304-1453.jpg" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">We decided to take a sampler of the <em>kakanins </em>that intrigued us among the seeming million-and-one varieties (I exaggerate, of course) that were laid out for people to choose from.</span></div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><div>Being a <strong><span style="color:#000099;">Cassava Cake </span></strong>Monster, Hubby Sweet just had to ask for a slice<strong>. </strong>It was good, but we both agreed that we have tasted better cassava cake elsewhere. We liked our cassava cake a bit more sinful. We wanted it a tad more chewy, with a topping so buttery, one's lips would glisten with it.</span><br /></div> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584169530411525378" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGkXB2GsxjrUlydtCLlPUp2u_QIJJSa3bNHa5yES4X-f3_FJhf833pVcPzbSq6GGeFzEApQu3VN2EVqFt7-pYI9obYCutgKHOm9EDgr3dIItea04UfB2atYaXDDCJ08NzZ2mr7yAuEeugz/s400/IMG00252-20110304-1454.jpg" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">If the Hubby had cassava cake as a must-try, I had <strong><em><span style="color:#000099;">Bibingkang Kanin</span></em></strong> as mine. See, the dish always evoked holiday memories as it is part of the usual Christmas spread at Eduardo's (our ancestral home). I suppose it is convenient to have an entire <em>bilao</em> ready to be served as friends and family arrive for the usual Christmas visit. That said, I take my <em>bibingkang kanin</em> seriously, and the one at Susie's--while good--cannot hold a candle to the one we usually devour over the holidays. I prefer my <em>bibingkang kanin</em> much softer, and the <em>latik </em>topping much thicker (and consequently more indulgent =)) than Susie's version. Susie's version looked good though. =)</span><br /> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584169792296371506" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih0vh0P5D8EhqfrnCRLRTZw9w0Y9NuYagKue33txYJSqplReYT6X1nUzU2fXWi9R1Mqw8GAqrUYtGUIXzeOayeiQS4IWuK26P4VkOzak43jLubN7DI28o2nR_NxNUgftZu3XkvKuzJDffp/s400/IMG00253-20110304-1455.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Next on the list of our must-try was the <span style="color:#000099;"><strong>Mochi</strong>. </span><span style="color:#333333;">We ordered</span> it because I've heard so much about it at the office. Everytime there is scheduled trade visit to Pampanga, someone inevitably requests for mochi as pasalubong. I do remember tasting a portion once and liking it. (I only tasted a portion because it was a limited edition pasalubong and would therefore have to be rationed. =)) Mochi is sweet coconut (not quite <em>bukayo </em>but<em> </em>almost) and red beans wrapped in glutinous rice. Each is served topped with a generous serving of coco cream. Think deconstructed <em><strong>Ginataang Bilo-bilo</strong></em>, but simpler<strong>.</strong><em> </em>It is pure love (if you choose to ignore the fact that too much of it would also lead to major love handles). =) </span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584169120187452242" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHzirTV2RYXKiOSQ9DMDCKjNbKxz1TfdusUbk8U0hwCLKz3CnYrx7Drold_S5jFcfPQNihTqvYRkWgLDPbOKoDBWbTRoZtpSuCTp_itc1IalopFrht6BkwmPO2wrWzwWeZN0lqU-qK7j5i/s400/IMG00251-20110304-1454.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Our primary objective for the visit to Susie's Cuisine, however, was <strong><span style="color:#000099;">Tibok-Tibok</span></strong>, a type of <em>kakanin</em> so named because it supposedly jiggles like a beating heart when it is transported. The article sang praises to it and confidently declared that no other version comes close to Susie's. </span><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584170184456768898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv686k3BROdLaCC5DGZjKWErci_MJ9fcUwiVoe35Rwe9uoc5e6UwdtEWCYwdYRivmemz69EKblUMQRQJ9-ZdzrMZh1c1qm0-vN-9smjuncChTEgUHNAcKYPXjzeuJa9soImXa3DI6EY7ZB/s400/IMG00254-20110304-1455.jpg" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I admittedly had low expectations as I thought it would only be akin to...uh...maja blanca (which I am not particularly fond of). A single forkful, however, was enough to turn me into a convert. It was the farthest thing from maja blanca. It was milky in taste, silky in texture. Think panna cotta, but lighter, with a distinctly Filipino taste. I would soon find out that the distinct taste comes from carabao's milk, laced with dayap. The dried coconut sprinkles broke through the creaminess and was particularly helpful in lessening the dish' potential for being cloying. Hubby Sweet and I wanted to bring some back to Manila for the usual Sunday get-together at Eduardo's, but were told that it does not really keep too long even when it is refrigerated. We decided to bring home Mochi instead.</span></div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">We walked around Nepo Mart after Susie's, and quickly realized that it would take a lot to burn everything we've eaten so far that day. </span><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">We decided to put off everything else on our list for another trip. We checked the time. </span><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">A little past 4:00 p.m. Right enough to get back to Manila before the major rush hour traffic hits.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Everything else would have to wait until the next trip, Pampanga. Don't you worry. We'll be back soon. =)</span></div></div>TOYANG & TWEETYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09427393895925560349noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2983300665299393198.post-47039074445841146792011-03-07T11:54:00.027+08:002011-03-09T13:03:34.616+08:00FOOD TRIP: PAMPANGA, PART 1 / MARCH 4,2011 =)<div><div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">With "plated food" coming out of the Hubby's ears</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">, his birthday celebration had to be somewhere other than any Metro Manila restaurant. Whereas our past food adventures were about trying the latest Chinese, Vietnamese, Mediterranean, Persian, etc., etc. restaurant in the metro, Hubby Sweet was, this time, craving for something simpler. Something more basic. Something closer to the roots. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Inspiration came in the form of a complimentary copy of <strong>Food Magazine</strong> that was lying around in House Pioneer. A road trip! A food trip! Yessssssssssss. =D We haven't gone on one in ages (largely due to the vast difference in our scheds), and it seemed like the perfect time to go on. VL's were filed (it was the only way, really, we could sync our schedules these days). With nothing but a magazine on hand, we set off early Friday a.m. </span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581182793213109426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpP7XU2cJ2zOBIXVmoQUTxzHFT4wd1TjURBRaKvHTobEF7M9DTF5ayYvXQazNO2ZpvANt9xCYCs0v7qweQ5nf7M8TP-q6iU87tnaRwdqgoYNSRxVAhptCi6QtnT5ORPj_qkBdqFY6H0gTc/s400/IMG00181-20110304-0632.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Driving down the NLEX was a breeze (if a bit expensive). We were adamant about getting to Pampanga in time for breakfast, but a series of road signs leading to the Barasoain Church proved intriguing. Hubby Sweet decided it was just right for him to visit a church on his birthday, and he supposed the <strong><span style="color:#000099;">Barasoain Church</span></strong> would be as good as any other church. To cut a long story short, we got lost. A few stops, a few turns and a few u-turns (on a very wide highway!) later, we found ourselves on a very narrow street (like a barangay road, really) which was supposed to lead us to the historic church. </span><div><div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">"Goodness," I thought, "Traffic must have been horrendous here when Erap decided to take his oath as the President of the Republic." </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">We arrived to find several busloads of high school students on a field trip. I suppose it's par for the course since the church was the site of the Malolos Constitution (that of the first Philippine Republic). As with most teenagers, however, the significance of the church was lost on them, as they seemed keen only on taking group photos beside the massive church doors in "Japan-Japan" poses. Haha. </span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581185247536546082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcU46qgyVJKp6upWulimBgTIgXWHG-6X7FpODSGmQu3a8xfAPqfkMYk2DP1FDAo_QbNDfD5O5uYF_yB2t0T2jsamK6DHF2Pgmg7OTFd9zz-YFmbDAmp_t02JriY5P8c-N3bLk9b9pi7j9s/s400/IMG00199-20110304-0748.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">In any case, the Hubby and I were there for a different matter entirely so we proceeded inside. Having said our prayers, we did proceed to walk around. There is something about old churches and old buildings that fascinate me. It always makes me wonder about how it was to live in a different (albeit, not necessarily better) time. More gentle, I suppose, yes, but also more restricted. I don't think I would have survived.</span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581187584924006098" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3UP4Il85msnZnnZ-tTlcrWJJNEyw4sIYcfgpbtrZRwPdv654r2hrxxYTcJktCZCfMN__6UMNqvubzhnl4YJOErTen7jTHmZj4byVdgQP60hTBz1IHgNIVGZCb6wWD7PkaXrNTdYbZ8MtN/s400/IMG00205-20110304-0753.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Before deciding to go, we also took pictures of the structures as pegs for the time when Hubby Sweet finally gets around to restoring the house he grew up in in Marinduque.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581188347478316178" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxC9qtO9GDshCbmY5Lc0oMAcWRCYM13bn82VYkamAnQsg5Tcsy7kQkbaR9vZggcS6XVmhn877_eze2FNRStbHI2HpOJ8PDGTqi1028q0i575JqnWdTzF_tVXgiJbX0-MfCKirVoFxj3uVe/s400/barasoain.jpg" border="0" /></span></div></div></div></div><br /><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Now, if we got lost trying to get to Barasoain, we got even more lost trying to get back to the NLEX! <em>Naku! </em>Apparently, unlike the SLEX were the entry/exit points are matched on opposite sides of the road, that for the north version is slightly more complex. After a few starts and stops for directions (some correct, some not), we finally found ourselves crossing <strong>the bridge</strong> that would get us back on track. (Apparently, bridges are big as far as landmarks go as all the directions we received on this trip were in permutations of <em>"bago mag-tulay", "pagkatapos ng tulay", "sa ilalim ng tulay", </em>etc., etc. =))</span></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581189991781966098" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCOjK3O4BUuCSixWjt1m2GbrB_mDcgGvIWS_PTS69DAKmgVuVIOz7KT8aNZ74rCfJkkcZQCqzXyWdbEng6YzqJh5dt_ACz8meEaQyVkqnLOd9sEJrs9nhjWubtZ8LDPJzOAJzCh9TTnVR-/s400/IMG00207-20110304-0914.jpg" border="0" /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">We had earlier decided to eat breakfast in <strong><span style="color:#000099;">Everybody's Cafe</span></strong>. It was the home of authentic Pampanga cuisine, the article declared, listing two branches: one along McArthur Highway in San Fernando, the other in Nepo Mart in Angeles. I suggested that we go straight to Angeles since all other "stops" seemed to be close to the area, but Hubby was adamant about going for the original place in San Fernando. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Thus, "Along McArthur Highway" was all we had to go with. We both thought that would be simple enough, until we realized we have passed all the buildings and were already traversing on a wide highway with open fields on either side. Hubby Sweet decided to stop at a nearby precinct and asked <em>Mamang Pulis</em> for directions. True enough, we overshot in a major way and they advised us to drive back to town and ask for directions. A few stops and starts and a <em>"wag kayong aakyat ng tulay, sa ilalim kayo dumaan, kanan tapos sa rotonda kaliwa"</em> later, we found ourselves in front of an old house that looked like the 70's version of Boots Anson Roa would choose to live in. (OK, I apparently watched too many Tagalog afternoon movies as a kid. ;p) It was 9:30 a.m.--way past our normal breakfast hours, but we, at least, have finally arrived.<br /></span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581566203893210546" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFnICFq6panXi5s7-D6zW5nmCw2detVdnrmn-oOwn7S-EQLE69VW7uUOD1qzeQpmSooX7FzLX_nn_b2QmbJKIt57eJmQTnQOuaVFugXmP8HFD2e7SnO97ObD6fRLyA8xsjGDZzHLmflTl6/s400/IMG00225-20110304-1026.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The people at Everybody's Cafe are the nicest people in the world. They had none of the airs about things being a certain way because that's how it's done. Surveying the <em>turo-turo </em>line-up, we asked how big the servings are, and were told that they were good enough for two. <em>Yikes!</em> =S We explained to the good Ate that we were actually on a road trip, showed her the mag, and really wanted to try as much of their cuisine as we could. Being only two, it would be virtually impossible for us to do so if we got the regular serving sizes. Her face lit up at our story, and smiling, she said, <em>"Sige, pwede siguro small size na lang. Para lahat ma-try niyo."</em> Yey! ^_^ And so it goes that we had these authentic Pampangueno dishes for breakfast.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"><strong><span style="color:#000099;">Tapang Damulag</span></strong>. Sweet-sour cured carabao meat. Every restaurant in Pampanga probably has their own version, but the one in Everybody's Cafe is wonderfully balanced. Not too sweet. Not too sour. Not too gamey. Perfect! =) </span><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">We also ordered homemade longganisa, but I forgot to take a picture. Caramelized perfectly, that one is also a must-try!</span></div><div> </div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581195330408583026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0iH5EzwsizVLuDIftDHFT0GuAEwYyBLMWvx1MkXlrhM5IvpNrVW2zvSjwcpek3_1qV8eB8C8HffRIF_mCeioCDL4LZr4a695uMLVAdadifl9VOZvTjvoa0vKVzPKUDkaKHgGILlafaWiy/s400/IMG00221-20110304-0928.jpg" border="0" /> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong><span style="color:#000099;"></span></strong></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong><span style="color:#000099;">Kilain</span></strong>. Pampanga's version of adobo, but without the soy sauce--made with pork cube, liver and lungs. I also wanted to try the adobong dumara (wild duck), but the duck was too big and I realized we wouldn't have enough space for it. Next time. Next time. =)</span><br /><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581196001837677746" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcU8NJzCyBx3eyik8L1dxo2QRLTL0SQEyZUUItu0VOi2xi4zdjr4hjFuNSTHDN53oopLe1P7w55PGNDkyXQdHO60awYlDvKncDzsfzPdyPXVCwJzuRLKb8jt2F12FTLDvELgjRLKHWrGuo/s400/IMG00212-20110304-0925.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong><span style="color:#000099;">Dinuguan</span>.</strong> It was the Pampanga version with the blood coagulated as opposed to being added as part of the soup. We really should have skipped it because it tasted too close to the Kilain (save for the interesting flavor bouquet that Hubby Sweet said came from the innards), but the Hubby is a dinuguan monster. Oh, well. For the record, it was good, but it shouldn't be ordered in the same meal as the Kilain. =)</span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581197122586989602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2-xVa7wax0C_eL60rDdvgDjY4DLa63bxRgvIExdah5N1AGs51680NV-5hhb0ln3YfOyPJZ4mP-E8XIA3_qAKZyJBytKtS7WRi6DP8zdGvEm5VA5FbdPrwsfbvm_GZeQHw14c4DklVoLbz/s400/IMG00217-20110304-0926.jpg" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><div></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="color:#000099;"><strong>Mechado</strong></span>. This one was recommended by Ate, supposedly because it was one of their specialties. We decided to try it because, unlike the Mechado we grew up with, this one did not have any tomato sauce nor did we see any beef cubes. We thought it might be closer to Morcon, but wondered about why it was wrapped in I-forgot-what-it's-called which is usually used for wrapping embotido or longganisa. When it was served, we discovered why. It is so because it <strong>is </strong>a form of embotido, but saltier, more flavorful. </span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581198451208082738" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXcxIOU4Nye5s85BLlLTXLGClL6_E-m9X-r-AebvTn04VBqxKm6eA9I_-MUXV7okUotKPr4fSplDZtIWnHsYD-tdXlU815eUMS7TLJEQ8OKxl8MBRJvSZTLWdfnFtBZ3P00KFEl83O2LK-/s400/IMG00215-20110304-0926.jpg" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Now what kind of foodies would we be if we went all the way to San Fernando to try authentic Pampangueno cuisine and didn't order these? =D</span></div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"><strong><span style="color:#000099;">Betuteh.</span> </strong>Stuffed Frog. Yes. It's breakfast, Fear Factor edition. Still, I do remember being forced to try deep-fried frog's legs when I was a kid because one of my aunts (who married a blood-tito) was Pampanguena. I do remember thinking it wasn't half-bad--that with eyes closed, one can actually fool herself into thinking she's only eating a chicken wing. But stuffed frog, I haven't tried. Especially since it was stuffed to look like a whole frog and goodness knows what they stuffed it with. </span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581568011904761522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivNap8SkfmBAihUCQNby_2VGN4Cgw0HS55Rti917_dJ_T-G_FuGNxpgUF1eQPoe4wZNlcYcuTRo9C6bfCgfKqn1JY2mH3TNm-dpoqSIlbfcFI2QSIW75hofU7iOYroNqpCCSqFSv0ysMyV/s400/IMG00208-20110304-0924.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Ah, heck! Hubby Sweet just ripped the frog open and dug in. I watched him, waiting for him to lurch, but his eyes lit up. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"><em>"Masarap," </em>he declared, nodding, "Not necessarily something I would choose to eat for breakfast on a regular basis, but it's not bad." </span></div><br /><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The frog was apparently stuffed with ground pork, tomatoes and aragao leaves. I dug in. Not bad really, not bad at all. Think <em>relleno</em>--except that this one's made with field frogs. Ngyah. =)</span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Oh, but my prior experience with frog's legs as a kid prepared me for the betuteh, but this...<strong>this (!)</strong>, I have previously sworn I will <strong>never</strong> eat--<strong>EVER (!)</strong>--in my life. What kind of person would choose to eat an insect?! Then again, we went all the way to San Fernando, so I might as well try the other fear-factor breakfast option. Wah. =S</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"><strong><span style="color:#000099;">Kamaru</span></strong>. Mole-crickets, now harvested from the rice fields of Nueva Ecija (I suppose because the rice fields of Pampanga have since given way to development). Manong explained that they are actually sold in the <em>palengkes</em>, but those would still have the wings and limbs intact. To prepare the kamaru, the wings and limbs are taken off, then what is left is sauteed in tomatoes and onions then cooked/roasted until they are almost dry. Now, this, I really almost passed up on. I mean, really! Look at it. (OK, if you're squeamish, don't.) Still, I got it through my thick head that we drove all the way to San Fernando for an authentic experience and this <strong>(this!) </strong>is part of it. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581570434043213042" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQRZRV_FG8PVabUYvNJpwwfq6btRMJ23VMYDAIuoeW_jafnRacRVhuKedNjOq4eJpdOsx_oSMPO2IA0SV7Rd86W4UQp2n3MivRmQ5IRu93t9O8Evi3KD0d7YuytoRxzI0DtZW3Sg4T7m4Z/s400/IMG00210-20110304-0925.jpg" border="0" /></span></p><p><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Eyes closed, I picked one up and was half-tempted to just swallow it without chewing so I can finally lay claim to eating one without actually experiencing the grossness that has already been built in my mind. That said, my mind refused to let me cheat. My neurons probably sent some signal to my mouth because despite all my intentions, as soon as I popped one in, I <strong>automatically</strong>, almost involuntarily....chewed. @_@ It's not bad really. Actually good if you <strong>try real hard</strong> to think that you're not eating an insect. It's part-crunchy, part-chewy with a slightly woody taste (mole crickets feed on rice roots). It's like a mini-<em>chicharon bulaklak</em>, except higher in protein and lower in cholesterol. That said, would I eat it again? Uh, no. OK na ang one time. Haha! =D </span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">While leisurely eating what remained of our breakfast spread, we decided to go somewhere else for dessert. There was a list of places we could go to, but they were all in Angeles, and really, we needed something closer to cap off our authentic Pampanguena breakfast. We tried calling some of the few ensaimada places in San Fernando, but a lot of them apparently listed phone details for their Manila branches and the Hubby Sweet thought it too much of a hassle to get directions to the San Fernando outlets. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Which is why we ended up at Razon's. Yey! =) </span><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">We passed by it on one of the intersections along McArthur Highway while we were going around in circles trying to find Everybody's Cafe. While a kiosk now exists in Market, Market, I figured eating <strong><span style="color:#000099;">Razon's Halo-halo</span></strong> in Pampanga still counts as an authentic experience. =)</span></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581573195995341330" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRgm2qdqYzuoe4OfIsFfl_MhTFYy8JRyhnjr3dJwyVmDFy-qLFCGdvBWFndH9GKSvTT14Ej5ajipLBjBcUrhU3dl2VqueL0kH5SRiZjlWeVD9dIOui7QlKssq-i_NJLU-hfh8eXjItl6ys/s400/IMG00227-20110304-1042.jpg" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Razon's Halo-halo is relatively simple. No ice cream, no <em>pinipig, </em>no <em>halaya</em>, no beans, no <em>langka.</em> Just ultra-fine shaved ice, ultra-creamy leche flan, ultra-smooth macapuno and ultra-soft sweet bananas. Which is why, once you've mixed it up, every spoonful gives you a wonderfully-blended creamy dessert with an almost silky texture. None of the watery feel of coarsely-crushed ice, no need to bite on any of the ingredients. I also don't know if I'm just imagining things, but the Razon's in Pampanga tasted way better than the one I sometimes buy in Market, Market. =)</span><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581574718009075842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOFzgi4uD2zLidStEtnbipJJasLun6VvwZKcrW4W780BVuVE6d-MszLja3G9PbV-oedp0x9CKH4JajJ4tcvK6T_8VMUgezDY0Ts7NTqpzEGBGPSKOQZVYzt6fjFXLZr8TqidQ-VBj9L-Yl/s400/IMG00229-20110304-1045.jpg" border="0" /><br /><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Over halo-halo, we did a quick run-through of the magazine article. With most of them talking about ensaimadas and native <em>kakanin, </em>we decided to just leave the rest of the San Fernando destinations for another visit. It was time to drive out again. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong><span style="color:#000099;">DESTINATION: ANGELES. </span></strong> </span><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Next! =D</span></p><p> </p>TOYANG & TWEETYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09427393895925560349noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2983300665299393198.post-81275636663501382472011-03-03T07:36:00.025+08:002011-03-03T15:13:32.151+08:00ZOOPER ZATUHRDAY!!! =D<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">So this one's a take two. =D </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I previously raved about <a href="http://the-adventures-of-toyang-and-tweety.blogspot.com/2009/02/zsazsa-zaturnnah-ze-muzikal-d.html">Ze Muzikal</a>, having <strong>dragged</strong> Hubby Sweet to see it with me two years ago. My enjoyment of Zsazsa Zaturnnah (Ze Muzikal) was so immense that when I had no choice but to watch the movie version to while away my day in the province over the holidays, I laughed not because I thought the movie was funny (it was not), but because I remembered how the same scenes were hilariously played out in the stage version.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">And so it also goes that in an apparent facebook trail, I managed to goad my jeje office friends (;p) to see it the next time it is staged (except that they decided that they will only see it if I go with them). </span><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Thus, take two--and a take two, really, that I didn't mind--this time with Eyz-Eyz and Chrizh. (The Hubby is tied up these days anyway with weekend duties at the Shang so it turned out to be a girl's Zsatuhrday out! =))</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">We had previously decided to meet up for lunch before the 3:00 p.m. matinee, but decided to forego our Yakimix buffet try-out in consideration of Eyz-Eyz's...uh...condition. ;p Not being familiar with the area, we agreed to meet up in CCP instead (<em>yes, despite the title, sushal ang venue =))</em>, and just take one car in search of wherever else we will finally eat. I arrived earlier than they did and quite serendipitously found that there are now eating places right beside CCP. After a quick run-through of the area, I squealed when I discovered there was an <strong><span style="color:#000099;">Army Navy Burger & Burrito</span></strong> outlet in one of the nooks (yes, I'm also <em>babaw </em>that way<em>).</em> Hubby Sweet had previously raved about it, having tried it in Tagaytay with his wakeboard buds, but I thought Tagaytay is a long way to go for a decent burger and burrito. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">I immediately liked the place as soon as we climbed up the steps to get to the second floor (Yellow Cab was occupying the first level.) <span style="color:#009900;"><strong>OUR MISSION: COME IN HUNGRY, WALK OUT HAPPY</strong>.</span> Good mission, I thought. 'Hope they really deliver.</span><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5579635462785930018" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb8ngvDQZgmDwFWNNxQqccyV6_o5ugoFHot3Ql2sPp9Cwv_Z_mf68XVCc0QD9VaLuaVwMyPUwDIPXgP85kL8xDLXyDgXfBOx1bkV8brEYdH9is-kgBbkWcA95qNjNUmnOOYPH51ZhTDQEc/s400/IMG00164-20110226-1226.jpg" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">OK, so the plan was we will order different things after we surveyed the menu and realized that there was a lot we wanted to try (burgers, different types of burritos, cheesesteak sandwiches, quesadillas, etc., etc.!), but only so much that our stomachs could handle.</span><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5579635349768020098" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBE59CgniwZaIkXi1dHnfwdeUOi2b19djfLaBUkgHv2_vi67OLSyQIoV6mctJWhZNPB56drHIt9npO9vg5uDvLOFz9q8KglZfnDZuoOtXVD4lnrs1Qzv2Yij5UlZfELWYDHYJbRtLfntS2/s400/IMG00159-20110226-1223.jpg" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">I decided to try the <strong><span style="color:#000099;">Burger </span></strong>that Hubby Sweet was raving about with sidings of <strong><span style="color:#000099;">Freedom Fries</span> </strong>(think Twister Fries flavor, except they're straight. =)). Eyz-Eyz unsuccessfully tried to convince me to get the triple-decker. Hello! That's bigger than me, <em>'no</em>! I decided to stay with the regular burger instead with no fancy toppings. Just lettuce, ketchup, mayo, mustard. Burger heaven, notwithstanding the simple condiments, although I did wish the burger were more compact. =) I also found that dipping Freedom Fries in a combination of ketchup, mustard and spicy garlic sauce is close to french fry nirvana. ^_^</span><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5579634889683805682" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzU6yRnk_0p_aAtE8c52RL4J2MIhTOuhSZzUL8givGijnQS8d2mSjLCcPiI038DHud5XGnm16SbOCG0lQ0Mm010zWxrCcaitinw7QORA5NtgzpXmmPDMsXIMRnK8xQpTPeXFkdp-su9TU7/s400/IMG00167-20110226-1236.jpg" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"><span style="color:#333333;">That said, out came my two companions. Excitedly, I asked them what they ordered. Not having agreed on who will order what else, they decided to order <strong>THE. SAME. THING. </strong><em>Mga laos!</em> Haha. ;D In any case, they both ordered the</span> <span style="color:#000099;"><strong>Steak Burrito</strong>. </span><span style="color:#333333;">It was good and filling, but I'm not really a burrito fan. I actually don't see the point of wrapping and eating carb (rice) with another carb (tortilla wrap). </span></span><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5579634615071360210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZH2GpZh4fvAKQ42sHFeLOGuTLgxrEz5nQJ6Gi9HMWLvIju4HOSEOgC2q6ygIQ7tQ9XzU9RG1_YLxoVAN4Hl-VfHqEoSa58NjPQ2T97GuyBmuYrY0zkOnDLSjHATQ-UTkGwrWsuBTcVIoZ/s400/IMG00166-20110226-1235.jpg" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#333333;">I suppose I can come back next time to try the others. (Army Navy is owned by the same group as Yellow Cab Pizza so I figured outlets will be mushrooming over the metro soon. =))</span><br /><br /><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The outlet was small so we had no choice but to dine al fresco which we initially dreaded because of the noonday heat. Quite surprisingly, it was comfortably breezy outside, and the light breeze complemented our hilarious conversation over great food quite well. Situated next to the marina, we also got this view. Not bad for a P200-250/person meal (including drinks), right? =)</span></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5579635570806026178" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjl1VGmDR-Pfg8fcTYuCVVy1DA2TCAqksAlygJP1pU1xgqZrgUZJ34RxXTXbQI-WiPt8Xob9L8jBGyonDQH5SBCLwhOSKrEe-Wwgc-9kbdSTzwMALgj5P0pZ3VEt5ib_LZC3j6ilNKyUlz/s400/IMG00165-20110226-1230.jpg" border="0" /><br /><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">We had time to spare by the time we finished lunch so we all decided to skip over to the nearby <strong><span style="color:#000099;">Icebergs</span></strong> outlet for a halo-halo and mais con hielo fix. Diets be damned! <em>Leche.</em> Haha. =D</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5579634993937654082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo835iFxEiwK09KeyPL-YwzGH3TVMUXPcZdq9Li6K8_6z_iA50vyDOs8RMUxJvPaeM6VnJMyHC5yriBGpyYOfcT0xbclhmZuc687LNhmflOdr2xpZdx6Zkfvagl8QkwoGZ1jbHXYv28p8P/s400/IMG00174-20110226-1340.jpg" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">With 30 minutes to go, we decided to cross the street to the CCP Little Theater entrance. It was time for the show. </span></p><p><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#000099;">Zatuuuuur-nah! Ah! ;D </span></strong></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5579635100946508194" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTQ7ByXY-X86xqRSwrKroedwhQe0q1eOtKadlkV6ftcbWCeozmpstzvqZO6ouQGapQzWQ6aPyWVvQB1_ZIM3Ozp8o-e7TsWXP7eGUS82qm8_SJB_pcMc3ugsRhkzcbrOMrHmcx9Vgnzykn/s400/IMG00176-20110226-1754.jpg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5579635844035133074" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiClHwjcFMNO6RtLtd252m8CLGLj8EPhz63x9tRZXNAyFSGfNRwd32A4teGhyFRdAXYyiUKTnp3iH92lOMPL2WuIZ_E97rrZ8q0ztq1I2qDdtZon4hy-KOrQOHb_swfcCiCs09YGlBziP8z/s400/zsa2.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5579635733315262514" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjviGyW_IJNPLZpMWko3jyvm-p49BokVTG5YF2rE6sA9gSVzLOR8w8MVHWzfmDOQBTOi51hp2oWbCAGFncR7KupMQa1gTbWj-zhAUP_7EoGXbTUajbNbs3eYsHy-N6gWB1p4YSOiK1YTq_H/s400/zsa3.JPG" border="0" /> <span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#333333;">O, zsya! =D</span>TOYANG & TWEETYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09427393895925560349noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2983300665299393198.post-1615207476552649782011-02-11T18:15:00.012+08:002011-02-12T06:37:11.189+08:00SOUP FOR THE TIRED SOUL @_@<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">It's past 6:00 p.m on a Friday afternoon and I'm just about ready to keel over from sheer exhaustion. This has been a tiring, tiring week! Actually, come to think of it, this has been a tiring, tiring month! @_@ </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">I just realized that every Monday, for the past 4 weeks, I've been sleepily hitting the snooze button to bargain for just a few more minutes in bed. In my half-awake, half-asleep state, I would pray to God, "Just get me through this week please, because I really don't know how on earth I'm going to survive it." </span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Then the week ends and I marvel at the fact that I did survive--only to find myself going through the same cycle the following week. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Right now, I'm running on empty, and all I really want is to go home, curl up in bed and sleep. But my car plate unfortunately ends with "<strong>0</strong>" (long story) so I'd have to stay put just a bit more. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">I wish I had a bowl of <span style="color:#000099;"><strong>Ukokkei</strong> <strong>Miso Chashu</strong></span> in front of me while I wait. </span><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572381499014581938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicJq2XRTUx9DKki-GoB7aPwQWNZlBvdKs6CZBFfaxPNWymhQhC5gMQswP-fTrqy6HsfnSSO8ZdwRZ_eQvjj7g3ZXRXIwkqbPEpWh91ec4cF7WI2Ch6NEi0AU_HGS7oOIPVGe-mBXBZTkN5/s400/ukokei%2525203.jpg" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">My pic does not really do it justice, but never mind. My taste buds remember how it really is. Springy noodles. Pork slices with subtle layers of fat that practically melt in my mouth. Hot, miso-based soup. Oh, yessssss......<strong>THE. SOUP</strong>. So flavorful, there is a growing legend about it turning unsuspecting first-time visitors into raving ramen addicts who couldn't care less about paying almost P400 for every bowl. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">I wish I had a bowl in front of me right now so I can sip and feel the stressballs melt as the soup races through my veins. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">It's 6:55. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Well, what do you know. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">I can finally go home.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Happy weekend, everyone! </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#009900;">********************************************************************</span><br /><br /><em><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#009900;">For the curious, Ukokkei is at the Tesoro's Building along Pasay Road. If you're coming from Paseo de Roxas, turn right. If you're coming from Amorsolo, Ukokkei is about two buildings down from Kashmir. </span></em>TOYANG & TWEETYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09427393895925560349noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2983300665299393198.post-689629745984378492011-02-01T17:21:00.028+08:002011-02-06T11:12:54.111+08:00URAMESHI-YA IN LITTLE TOKYO =)<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">We've had previous forays into the Japanese establishments near Makati Cinema Square. I've heaped praises on <strong><a href="http://the-adventures-of-toyang-and-tweety.blogspot.com/2007/12/delicious-dish-coveries-part-2.html">Sango</a>, <span style="color:#3333ff;">The Burger Master</span></strong> long before they decided to open it up for franchising (I haven't been to the Rockwell franchise though). We once went inside <strong><a href="http://the-adventures-of-toyang-and-tweety.blogspot.com/2007/12/delicious-dish-coveries-part-3.html">Yamazaki</a></strong>, the grocery store where we discovered quite a good serving of Japanese ramen. That said, we have never really been inside Little Tokyo--not until that day when stress levels for both Hubby Sweet and I were at heights so staggering, the only way to relieve it was to go on a new food adventure. There were other choices, of course, but....well....we wanted to get new DVD's too, and well....Little Tokyo was right next to the haven of dibidis. <em><span style="color:#009900;">*Insert sheepish grin here, haha. =D*</span></em></span><span style="color:#009900;"><br /><br /></span><div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Notwithstanding the usual after-office rush hour traffic along Pasong Tamo and in the general area of MCS, the Hubby and I were in high spirits. We decided to park in MCS and get the DVD's before proceeding to dinner. We got out through the Plaza Fair side-door, and it actually made me a little sad to see Plaza Fair in its current state. I used to frequent MCS as a kid, back when it was still new, and everything was bright and shiny. It isn't so anymore, but while the upper floors still held some sort of flea market charm with its DVD's and treasure troves of second-hand antique furnitures and trinkets, Plaza Fair has since regressed to just plain old, tired and dingy. I actually wondered if anyone still shopped there. "Oh, well," I thought, "it at least provided a convenient way to get to Little Tokyo."</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">We crossed the street to enter this inconspicous landmark. It's pretty easy to miss what with all the cars and street vendors stationed outside it. </span></div><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568652708859793362" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGcKh9byVU9_1ktWE-SpRN_clOPJeBMzpjAH-RJMM4GqQEsGLlqH7pOfHqAepd6deEGCVT8XR50NP1XSBUFaf2ASPRbdt6ZzaTvh-6ovYgLdp182X0Ftsw__daK8sXUtId6foeIRzYi9LQ/s400/DSC01982.JPG" /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">We walked down the long alley which, I suppose, was meant to help you transition from the chaos outside to what you will unexpectedly find within. Hubby Sweet and I let out a collective sigh as we turned the corner to find a small pocket garden surrounded by tiny shops. All of a sudden, the bumper-to-bumper traffic outside--ironically just a few steps behind--seemed like it was a world away. Even the noise of honking cars seemed to have magically dissipated. Inside, there was peace and quiet. How quaint, I thought. How very Japanese. =)</span></div><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569772343145224658" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3kysuvwKWlvZHhqwu-OCbnbUrUKDlcc0cGFTk7jh-ouVfRdEqp3oWWiXEuV-_3Kn95ekv8e1L95DCch1T4TJc8zPynozIgun-h4411Dt2jruVc40Zc4ChHj463RsI_S5LYrjlZqA6VR1j/s400/DSC01975.JPG" /><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">We looked around, surveying the menus of the different mini-restaurants which were all conveniently posted outside. There was the usual Japanese fare: sushi, sashimi, ramen, tempura, teriyaki....etc., etc., but we didn't feel like regular Japanese fare that night. We were there to try something different. We hopped from one entrance to the next until we discovered this.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Ah<strong>, <span style="color:#000099;">Urameshi-ya</span>. </strong>=) </span></div><div> </div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569772488320695906" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuSRnOWWI01e3lrb8chf6sWZDP-YUiTZo3LOFJxbp_Yhyj-U6ju6iICAi9QSH5Xo_mBnrB2_Gwa5mBP8uKYTN38aszxcDGkpVMq4bOnZ4w4RX2NDqtlVtOe0g6z4y-50hO8Zfr_MFn9ZQv/s400/DSC01970.JPG" /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Amidst the ramens and the sushis, etc., we found a yakiniku place. Urameshi-ya is all about grilled food. Now I love yakiniku restaurants and have gone to a few during the Wander Years with BFF Apes and Tats. Unlike higher-end restaurants that have built-in electric table grills / gas stoves, however, the servers at Urameshi-ya bring an actual, charcoal griller to your table. Really. =) Anticipating the smoke, we decided to sit outside.</span><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Hubby Sweet and I watched as our server went to the side of the restaurant entrance to retrieve a clay pot. She proceeded to fill it with unlit charcoal from a very big sack. Then she and a companion, quite ceremoniously, lit the coal up and fanned them alternately until they glowed. The experience actually seemed strangely synonymous to going to a friend's house just in time to catch them light up their makeshift griller for a regular-night-BBQ.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">As we waited, Hubby Sweet and I surveyed the menu. One can choose to pick indivually from the list of items to order, but the Hubby and I are <em>tamad </em>so we just decided to go for the full set (approx P2,000++ at the time of our visit) which the server said would be good for two. </span><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">The set included 5 different proteins (beef, pork, intestines, tongue and I forgot the other one =)), served with salad, kimchi and soup. We had to order rice separately as it was not part of the deal, plus a side order of edamame just for the heck of it. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Service was quick, but that ought to be expected, I suppose, since we would be cooking our own food. =) When this was laid on our table, however, I initially thought we had over-ordered, thinking this could actually feed 3 (or even 4) people. <em>Yari! =S</em></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569775200874454450" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7gtiRLLSPe7Mn0yHgS49GZr1S_BtUll2h7IpfgAP32m3ejcZicW7NURpDo_qeP8FAXeKKYVGTngeYYnbpiEL35Fzqgo0N_VT2n57BVh9R775qZ9uP6zW2pTLV361B24mIoB2pMEKhF1C_/s400/DSC01965.JPG" /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The heat from the tabletop charcoal grill radiated toward us as we grilled, but we didn't mind. I suppose it actually made everything seem better as we downed the hot-off-the-grill meat dipped in sweet-spicy sauce with spicy-sour kimchi and Japanese rice over several rounds of ice-cold drinks (beer for the Hubby, Coke Light for me). By the end of the meal, my earlier concern about over-ordering seemed ridiculous. The Hubby was apparently hungrier than I thought. <em>Simot! Haha. =D</em></span><br /><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Now, you'd think we would have stopped at this, but as we discussed whether to go for dessert or not, we saw, from where we sat, a lone Takoyaki stand to one side of the garden. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><em></em></span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I decided I wanted to try the takoyaki balls--despite the fact that I was already practically bursting at the seams with our yakiniku dinner. I wanted to see for myself how real takoyaki balls differ from the versions sold in the kiosks that have sprouted all over the metro. Turning to our server to ask for the bill since it has been decided that we will forego dessert, she all of a sudden blurted out, </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><em>"Gusto niyo pong ibili ko kayo? " </em></span></p><p><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"><em>"Pwede?" </em>(We had to ask since adjacent establishments usually do not take kindly to one eating someone else's food at their table.)</span></p><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"><em>"Opo. Ok lang yung dito. Magkakaibigan naman po yung mga may-ari. Japanese Pizza po, gusto niyo?" </em>referring to another stand. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"><em>"Ay, wag na. Takoyaki balls lang. Next time na yung Japanese pizza," </em>I replied, thinking what the heck is Japanese pizza anyway?! Haha. Still, I made a mental note to try it the next time we find ourselves in Little Tokyo.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">The takoyaki balls cost P120 for six pieces which is really not too expensive--especially since you'd really feel the texture and taste the cuttlefish with the delicious blend of aioli and fish flakes in every single bite. Yup,<em> </em>this one was definitely way better than the takoyaki balls sold in the food kiosks that have sprouted all over the metro. =)</span><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569778708535739858" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH2LXezNBtHc-PEpQ_G0bKb0m6D1E20FfWCY30l6xw_75yU9S3Ot8yDzZfzWIAfFtJdcig872uA1UML-0Xp9nimPlKZhZN4KwSR4DPET2ylYUy4VmkWcBuQzxams4gMoAqNYtsjDyBotLd/s400/DSC01979.JPG" /> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">' Twas almost a good two hours by the time we finished. We ate unhurriedly. We took our time, happy to have discovered a pocket of peace amidst the chaotic metro in the middle of a particularly stressful week. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">We paid for the bill (including the separate bill for the takoyaki balls which they conveniently brought to our table as well). As we got up to leave, our server said something in Japanese that I could not understand. I suppose she just meant to say thank you. Come back. I looked at her smiling. She seemed to have read my mind.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><em>"Balik kayo, Ma'am,"</em> she nodded with a smile.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Then she continued before I could reply<em>, "Chaka kung gusto niyo po ng dessert, may masasarap na Japanese ice cream dun sa Choto Stop Yung grocery po dun."</em></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Haha. =D</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="color:#009900;"><strong>********************************************************** </strong></span><br /><em><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#009900;"><strong>Urameshi-ya</strong> is in Little Tokyo beside Makati Cinema Square along Pasong Tamo in Makati. </span></em><br /><em><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#009900;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUoe4tf8Gg-VZsXmjmWsPsSyi1_71AjTnyvqGLyzNIrHjzfvi_xj5LjdilXchTXF7klVDvrgua2CrPIop0kAFn6GNwgfscLpazg98UjWWSSpgx4wv6WAuIQNTp43aksucEpSqhgLbmPvUc/s1600/DSC01952.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 300px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569773394001110514" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUoe4tf8Gg-VZsXmjmWsPsSyi1_71AjTnyvqGLyzNIrHjzfvi_xj5LjdilXchTXF7klVDvrgua2CrPIop0kAFn6GNwgfscLpazg98UjWWSSpgx4wv6WAuIQNTp43aksucEpSqhgLbmPvUc/s400/DSC01952.JPG" /></a></span></em><br /><em><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#009900;">Bit of trivia that we found out while conversing with our chika servidora. </span></em><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#009900;"><em>The owners of Urameshi-ya shuttle regularly between Japan and Manila. </em></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#009900;"><em></em></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#009900;"><em>They get fresh ingredients from Japan for Urameshi-ya. </em></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#009900;"><em></em></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#009900;"><em>From Manila, they bring fresh ingredients for the Filipino Restaurant they own in Japan. </em></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#009900;"><em></em></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#009900;"><em>Interesting, right? =)</em></span><br /><br /><p><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><strong></strong></p>TOYANG & TWEETYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09427393895925560349noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2983300665299393198.post-87315671024022756412010-12-27T15:04:00.007+08:002010-12-27T15:28:39.670+08:00LAST YEAR AS A 30-SOMETHING / JAN. 6,2010 =P<div><div><div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I remember dreading the year I turned 3-0 like a plague, as every single, 20-something girl probably does. Then I woke up on the day itself feeling not only "not bad", but actually great! "So sue me that I was not married," I remember thinking, "but I did pretty well with myself in the 30 years I've been given, if I may say so myself." I remember being smug about doing well career-wise, about moving into my own space (independent-living, here I come!), about having a whole new set of friends (in addition to the solid ones I already had). Never mind the tragic love life; I had managed to convince myself back then that I would get over and outlive it. (For the record, I did. With flying colors. Nyahaha. ;p)</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">The 30-something years were really something. It started tragically enough, and I did allow myself to wallow in it for quite a bit, but after some time, the comfort of self-pity can turn into a cold, hard pillow so I told my heartbroken self to get my act together and move on. There was no turning back since. I built a career. Bought my first house. Opened myself up to new friends, though not necessarily the possibility of a new love. I think I may have overdosed on </span><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Sex & the City (which I religiously watched on HBO every Tuesday) and thought, I wouldn't mind being single for life. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Travelled to Chicago for work. Met up with my long-lost American Ninang whom I have not seen since I was three. Fell in love with the Magnificent Mile and the tulips that lined the streets in spring. Probably gained a ton with all the deep dish pizzas that I ate. To this day, I still dream of Giordano's (and I'm not even sure if it was the authentic one, haha). </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Travelled to New York to meet up with old friends, Charles and Michelle. Saw Wicked. Fell in love with Wicked. Watched the last episode of <strong>Friends</strong> in the one city where it ought to watched. We sat glued to the TV set in our house clothes, tears in our eyes, while wolfing down a steak dinner, eating strawberries with dark chocolate and drinking wine. Met up with cousin Tam and cousin-in-law Chris. Participated in some street festival in Tribeca. Fell in love with street festivals. Walked through Central Park, Wall Street, Time Square. Fell in love with Manhattan and decided that with its vibe, it was my favorite city in the world. Flew to L.A. to meet up with Eric, my favorite ex-boss and a slew of ex-officemates. Went to Universal, California Adventure and Six Flags again with Cousin Dooders and Now-Grown-Up Baby Cousin Rae. Screamed our heads off once again and cursed quite a bit on the rides--in different languages. Haha. =D</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Wanderlust hit our group of single 30-somethings with nothing better to do. Travelled to Europe with Gnie Gurl, Ade and Cheffy (plus a bunch of other people who were friends of friends of friends, long story) and decided that travelling was going to be our collective passion. Arrived in Paris alone (as everyone else was coming from the Athens Olympics and I was left behind in Manila for work), got briefly stopped at the airport for being a single Filipina who was travelling alone, and was allowed to go through only when they flipped on the passport page with my U.S. Visa. Darn French--i.e., until I met a lovely French lady who did not exactly smell like roses (if you know what I mean), but was kind enough to translate every single French sign for me until I got to Gard de Nourd (the central station) so I can hop on the metro that will take me to the student hostel we decided to stay on because our budget couldn't exactly pay for one night at the Four Seasons. Did the Da Vinci Code tour of the Louvre. Clowned around Notre Dam and ran after pigeons. Decided to walk to the Eiffel Tower because we can see it from where we were and it seemed close enough. Big, HUGE mistake! <em>Malayo pala!</em> Haha. Got there nonetheless, and spent a good part of the afternoon just lying around in the park, waiting for dusk and what would have been--according to professional photographer Gnie Gurl--the perfect shot. Ran like crazy like stupid contestants on The Amazing Race, trying to catch our train for Vienna, all luggages in tow--when we were really just being like stupid tourists who didn't know any better trying to run like hell so we can get on the "right cable car" which happened to be among the front cable cars of a VEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRYYYYYY long train. (We heard, at a certain point, the train will split with each part going to different places). Stupid tourists. What we really should've done was get on the last cable car, and simply do our leisurely walk <strong>inside (!)</strong> the train until we got to the right cable car. Hahaha. =D That said, we did end up on the <strong>wrong</strong> cable and actually had to do a midnight run for the right one before the train split with one part going to Germany (yup, where we were) and the other going to Vienna (where we should have been). Haha. =D </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Fell in love with Vienna. Decided that Tyrol, Austria is the most beautiful place on earth. Needless to say, fell in love with it. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Fell in love with Rome (despite the grunge and the darn pickpockets). Fell in love with the gelato. Exhausted myself going up 360 steps to the top of the dome of St. Peter's Basilica (where I saw the only Filipino phrase in all of Italy<em>--"Meron pong elevator pababa."</em> Wahaha. =D), wondering the entire way if it was going to be worth it. It was. =) Oh, never mind that I never saw the inside of the Sistine Chapel because we all thought it would be better to just to to the Vatican for Sunday mass and do everything else there after. Hello, the Sistine Chapel is the pope's personal chapel. Of course, it would be close on a Sunday! Darn it! Haha. Stupid tourists. Oh, well. Just one more reason to go back. =D</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Fell in love with Venice, the glass-blowing shops and the yummy streetside pizza (with, according to Ade, the even yummier-looking Italian pizza vendor, ha!). Vowed I will be back there eventually to stay longer. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Fell in love with Florence and its flea markets (never mind that I only got to see the faux David because the museum was already closed on the day we took the trip). </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Fell in love with Barcelona and the tapas bar along Las Ramblas. (Never mind that the Spaniards' propensity for siestas threw off our body clocks. Breakfast at 10am, lunch at 3pm, dinner at 10pm....) </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Fell in love with Jerez, a side-trip to the quaint wine town, included only in the itinerary because BFF Cheffy had to visit an aunt he has not seen since birth (an aunt who supposedly looked exactly his mom whome he lost a few years ago). Family reunion. Vineyards all around. Lovely. =)</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Being single, we made plans to bring our nephews and nieces to HK Disney as soon as it opens the year after, then plans for a Lord of the Rings tour to Australia and NZ the next. Well-laid plans. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Came home. Unexpectedly met someone over Friendster who was a friend of a friend (back in the day when testimonials still meant something, haha). Someone who managed to make me believe in possibilities again. Fell in love. Said yes. Got married. =)</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">It's been four years and counting. Highs and lows. Changed careers. Bought a new place, lightyears away from the single-girl's pad I started my thirties with, but much more suitable for our expanded interests and growing family (pups and yaya included). Plans to travel the world put on hold. Never mind. What we have is the real lifelong deal. There'll be time enough to see the world once we get everything else in place. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Whew! =)</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">So earlier this year, I turned 39. If someone told me at 30 what was in store for me over the next decade, I wouldn't have believed them. But God, apparently, has a plan for me--one that was so wonderfully different from the gloom and doom I had found myself stuck in back then. The only thing I could be is thankful, really. </span></div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><br /><div></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">In about 10 days, I will hit the big 4-0. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Let the new adventures begin. =)</span></div></div></div>TOYANG & TWEETYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09427393895925560349noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2983300665299393198.post-55616572607341749572010-10-28T07:28:00.022+08:002010-11-02T12:55:39.503+08:00WAGING A FULL-BLOWN BATTLE OF THE BULGE =)<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Earlier this year, I decided on a New-Year's-Cum-Birthday-Resolution that by the time I hit 40, I would have to be down to my weight when I was 30. <em>Ang yabang ko. </em>Haha! I, of course, at that time, was thinking I had the whole year ahead of me, and that I was the type anyway who can lose weight quickly if I just put my mind into it. What I did not realize, of course, was that sometime between my 35th year and my 39th, my stupid metabolism decided it had nothing else left to prove and that it was time to slow down. Gr. Hay!</span><br /><br /><div><div><div><div><div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">My lackadaisical metabolism was, of course, further aggravated by my seefood diet. I see food, I eat it. Gr.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">The extent of how much I've gained is best summed up in a post I previously wrote in my...uh...old friendster blog. =p It's one of my favorite stories and one that I do not tire of rehashing. I always have a good laugh everytime I remember--all at my own expense, of course. I won't go into details, but you can read it <a href="http://eileenmanuel.blog.friendster.com/2007/03/mistaken-identity/">here</a> if you have time. =D</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">In any case, three months to go before I hit the big 4-0, I decided to get down to business. I decided as a starting point to weigh myself on the scale. My target weight is to go back to 94-97 lbs. (Yes, up until I hit 35, I had no problem keeping my weight below 100 lbs. Bliss. =)) Now here I was, thinking I was only about 110 lbs, but I decided to make it official anyway. Using the office weighing scale, I weighed myself and had to gasp when the digital reading threw back 118.5. NOOOOOOOOOOO. WAAAAAAAAAAAY. "Bullet," I said matter-of-factly<em>,"sira ang scale mo!"</em> Haha. =) </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Still in denial, I decided to weigh myself again in Father's trusty digital scale once I get home to House Better over the weekend. Quite confident, I stepped onto the scale, eyes closed. With one eye, I squinted at the reading on the scale. 118.4. Darn! <em>Ano ba!</em> <em>Lech.</em> <em>Sira din ang scale ni Father!</em> Hahahahaha! ;p </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">I simply could not believe it. I mean I know I get ribbed a lot about the weight I've gained, but have I really let myself go <strong>that much</strong>?! Apparently, yes, and it was time to do something about it. Wah. =S</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">First, however, I needed some sort of motivation. Some sort of North Star that I can guide myself against to track my progress. See, I know myself. With the first person who tells me, "I've lost <strong>some </strong>weight", I'd be off celebrating with a venti coffee frap or a cup of froyo. So I decided to look through my archives for a photo of the "old me" I should be gunning after. I decided on this. It was a photo of me soon after I meat Hubby Sweet. Goodness, I couldn't believe this was taken just a little over 5 years ago! Santa Barbara. =S</span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533745643687784898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSghyphenhyphenOsrMvWNQ1G-L4txMWlZAyGTUfpyVnFNckSXlQUUXx8prkw9_q5kCFLbYOkwhUDkt_oYTgZOLfisKSGbj10xQzP8metVP-_jdxYDa3TzfnN3GWmDWzWC2uTYNjGCrspmtKsVQXzCZX/s400/Image(123).jpg" border="0" /><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Then, I suppose I was inspired by about 5 or so people in the office who have lost weight (some of them older than me, some of them in a perpetual diet without much success). Thing is, they were all on the Cohen diet which requires you to get blood tests and pay P50,000 (yes, I kid you not--albeit, supposedly in staggered payments) for a list of items you can and can't eat and in what quantities. I marveled at their weight loss (some as much as 20 lbs to date), but decided I have better use for my P50K. I decided to just strictly follow--one way or another--the South Beach diet (or something like it) which previously worked for me. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Quite serendipitously, two of my friends told me about the protein shake which came in choco or berry flavors. They've been taking it along with supplements that had one of them losing 10 lbs after one week, and the other 18 lbs and going after years of struggle with her weight. I can drink the shake as a meal replacement for a week, and I'm even allowed to eat fruits as snacks. "Hmmmm...," I thought, "it's not something I can do long-term, but I suppose doing it for a week wouldn't be too bad". So I tried the routine for a week, but while I lost weight, I did not lose as drastic a weight as my friend. "Oh, well," I thought, as realization sunk in, "There really won't be a shortcut for me this time." </span><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5532890990453284002" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh_8lcWvTnvq1nPNxQlP1aioDGmBJps6SEUqQOIBgMoWOJGqcc2w2ksTwVcNlu6yLrYDTBslYrU6fiOgrIR6NZI_n8K60vm5mqxF0sakwGC6vjxJCmEYPL8eGWAJPhwEV6gSVGclCzP0_b/s400/nutrimeal.jpg" border="0" /></div><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">What it did allow me to do is to rebuild some form of discipline with re: eating on time, eating the right of food and resisting the chips, pastries and sugar drinks that are regularly served to us during meetings. While it did not allow me to lose weight as drastically as my friends did, it, at least, allowed me that. =)</span></div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">What I am thankful for, at least, is that I am back on track as far as healthy eating is concerned. Fruits and veggies have become my friends; chips have become the enemy. (Mantra until I get every single pound of excess weight off: "I would love to see my jawline again more than I love eating chips....I would love to see my jawline again more than I love eating chips...." Haha. =)) I've also done away with rice for now. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">In the past few weeks or so, <strong><span style="color:#000099;">Goolai </span></strong>has been my favorite lunch buddy. I discovered it along with a office friends a few years ago when they still delivered to our old Citibank office. 'Am not sure if they still deliver these days, but thankfully, these "to-go" salads are available at the Robinson's Supermarket near House Pioneerso I get my stash at least once a week. I prefer their fruit vinaigrettes over their cream-based dressings (with the exception of their Tex-Mex salad). Goolai has made healthy eating really good for me. =)</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Imagine: </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"><strong><span style="color:#000099;">Mixed Greens with Poppyseed Vinaigrette</span>. </strong>Mixed greens with chicken strips, mangoes, strawberries, dragonfruit, walnut and poppyseed vinaigrette.</span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5532890505334959938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO6uaErUqyqAYlrVZFbZxQ_Z0RSa9EFvEQxUf5b54-PqdWED7LWE8iQ_qn2xFAZ0QIcWzWsGGPr71Bk4azztdk4UXG8qW7uZB5Vm-uqTR4D86kHJQU2TJhQzFAOR8eP-lVnETLZSCMbP7O/s400/DSC01942.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"><strong><span style="color:#000099;">Mixed Greens with Raspberry Vinaigrette</span>.</strong> Mixed greens with peaches, kiwi, dragon fruit, raisin, Feta cheese, honey almonds with raspberry vinaigrette.</span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5532890257151910082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwf8AN13mctYJAu-5IT3nNQkbzfuzAXheb_wPQJ7VgnSUGYOXXGgHbtVQ34lE7YAuXQQtzbkg9bSasH1xRG_zURE3BcCpRIst3EL-6wO19HLHBChsy5RkQHDOLWXLMSeXd5-wbcFUvqi3o/s400/DSC01938.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#000099;"><strong>Tex-Mex Ranch. </strong><span style="color:#333333;"><span style="color:#333333;">Aaaah, this one shouldn't be considered a salad really. Haha.</span> Still, I choose to consider it so because of the veggie, never mind the other ingredients. =D Mixed greens with ground beef, tomatoes, onion, grated cheese, nachos with tex-mex ranch dressing. =D</span></span><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5532894778528072946" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitFTPP92_6nWl6bJnij_93iiVznu4hp92JyTiSYZFlj5jpF_egJW82Wd6NmpDTini9h74TMoCVMkljFpJWpx1NNBwlAWDHPGEQB82GehLPIs7XiHhh6H8SqTwvCLHA_BCMkk5l0XQWFMEB/s400/DSC01939.JPG" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">In addition to my North Star picture, I have decided to weigh myself only once a week using Father's digital scale in House Better. I wanted to lose weight, but I did not want to be obsessed by it. I do weigh myself every morning in the House Pioneer scale, but that scale is in kilos so I really just use it as a guide but don't obsess by converting the kilogram readings into pounds. So far, after 3 weeks, I've lost 6 lbs. Definitely not as quickly as I used to do it, no, but Hubby Sweet tells me 2 lbs a week is not a bad pace. I figured a week or two more of getting my system used to my new eating habits, then I'll pick up exercising again. (I know enough that unless I do actual cardio-exercises, I may lose weight, but I will be hard-pressed to lose the extra fat in the tummy area. =))</span></div></div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><br /><div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Another serendipitous discovery in this hopefully-not-so-quixotic-quest of mine is the Blood Type Diet. Two Saturdays ago, I was in the office (saying goodbye to what would have been a long weekend); there were last minute changes and back-up requirements for the Board Presentations. I arrived to find our CFO eating a plateful of pineapples. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">"Breakfast?" I teased. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">"Actually, yes," he replied, " I've lost 3 lbs this week just eating pineapples instead of bananas." Then he proceeded to tell me about this book that his sister brought home for him that states that people tend to digest and process certain types of food according to how well they react to the inherent chemistry in their blood (thus the term Blood Type diet). </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">"Depending on your blood type," he continued, "there is a chart of meats, grains, seafood, fruits, vegetables, etc. that would be most beneficial for you in the sense that it can be best processed by your system, food that are neutral and food that you should avoid entirely. It's a book by Dr. D'Adamo, but I can't remember the title right now. I think the book is also available locally. Try checking in National." </span></div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">A quick internet check enabled us to get the specific title: <strong><span style="color:#000099;">Eat Right for Your Type by Dr. Peter D'Adamo</span></strong>. I did manage to find a copy in Fully Booked Boni High, except that they were out of the original Eat Right version so I got the <strong><span style="color:#000099;">Cook Right for Your Type</span></strong> version instead. </span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534735890229466546" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoP71SP_uW1tDEEwIVjhhPPUD42kpljy835Gj5AMpyOmJAESX7znM4sJFgr7jiPkmkKfiMEVXmFsFhGXVwyKS2OyyjwDBmBeDepusBfE2jy-GKPV7OETewdEKHIHx0MZisUmRYJVWb3QaR/s400/cook+right+2.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">The original has the <strong>full</strong> explanation of why eating based on your blood type makes sense, but the Cook Right version provides a good enough overview of the rationale behind the type of food that each blood type needs to maximize and/or avoid. In addition, it provides several recipes that can set you down the path of blood type dieting. I've been at it since late last week (at least as far as the type of food is concerned), but this week I'll start being strict on the quantities and frequency as well. We'll see how it goes. =) </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Before I decided to take things seriously, I picked my North Star. I suppose it also makes sense to post a starting point. =) The picture below was taken outside Dong Bei in a recent Binondo outing with college friends. (Thank you, Annette, for the pic. 'Hope you don't mind me using it. =)) To be fair, I looked happy, but I suppose that is not the point. I want to <strong>be happy</strong>, but <strong>look sexy</strong>. Haha! ;D</span></div></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534413445582288210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaYxorS79Kzbic77oq49xIXErDh60N2WV00ZmcDvFcM4VPFECimweXOcQd60hMcYkf9wBHGuvNz8Se8n9qp89bOUMA0bJX-du33cguZZNtFL_QniD1g_bp_q3C2jEByacbz2CbLNHPFuYK/s400/binondo.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">With only a little over 2 months to go before I hit the big 4-0, I suppose I've got my work(out =p) cut out for me. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Good God. Heaven help me. =)</span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#33cc00;">********************************************</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><em><span style="color:#33cc00;"><strong>Goolai Salad Packs</strong> are available in most supermarkets. I'm fairly sure they're available in Robinson's, Rustan's and Landmark. Check your favorite supermarket's chiller section for availability. The last time I went, they also have a stand-alone kiosk in Virra Mall. =)</span></em></span></div><br /><div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#33cc00;"><em>If you want to know more about <strong>Eating Right for Your Type</strong>, click </em></span><a href="http://dadamo.com/"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#33cc00;"><em>here</em></span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#33cc00;"><em> for the official site. As I tried to find out more about this type of diet, I found that it was also featured in </em></span><a href="http://www.livestrong.com/article/279030-diet-for-blood-type-o/"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#33cc00;"><em>Livestrong.com</em></span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="color:#33cc00;"><em>--which, rightly or wrongly, built more credibility for it for me. O, sya. =)</em><br /></span></span></div></div>TOYANG & TWEETYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09427393895925560349noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2983300665299393198.post-82679645054440274162010-10-17T18:06:00.038+08:002010-10-28T07:09:17.410+08:00REMEMBERING GRANDMOTHERS & PAYING HOMAGE =)<div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Sometime last week, Hubby Sweet posted <strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">"What did your grandmother cook for you?"</span> </strong>as his Facebook shout-out. It was a quote from Chef Alice Waters who may have been mentioned in the article he was reading about organic food.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">In the comments bar, I posted, <strong><span style="color:#000099;">"Champorado, tocino, fried chicken and egg...every single day. And never, NEVER, akong nagsawa. =)"</span> </strong></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">His shout-out brought me back to simpler times, back to when my siblings, my cousins and I were between 5 and 7 years old. Back to the time when our parents were still working--when they used to drop us off at Daddy Iston and Noni's for the day. Noni was our maternal grandmother (my favorite grandmother actually, as I was her favorite grandchild. <em>Walang kokontra. ;p.</em>). </span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529239482468059890" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 288px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEkSI7IVDpe_TQO_aAsIScxhWNdhyphenhyphenpF4_iQIaOaDt30DVXdsRACWp1LihEQGaWcoGljPBmu_mTwL7yEIOA0iYf4AT-agJgD33wAXf9yRUo5G_s8yqZrJpl0xlzKpElvsKuxdEOviPr8oVc/s400/THANK07.bmp" border="0" /><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">There was no cable TV back then. We had five channels: GMA7, BBC2, RPN9, IBC13, NBN4. Cartoons were only aired every Saturday morning. Sesame Street was aired once in the morning and replayed in the afternoon. In the time in between airings (yes, we also watched the replays, haha), we kids had to find something else to entertain ourselves with. Usually, we'd be running around, playing "football" with a cheap plastic ball in the front yard. Sometimes, we'd be playing house. Then, there'd be those times when the weather was just too sticky-hot--when Daddy Iston would either bring out the garden hose to spray us kids with, or when Noni thought it better to just let us "swim". HAHAHA. They had no pool; my grandparents weren't rich. When they asked us if we wanted to go swimming, it actually meant that several basisn (although the term "<em>batya" </em>seems more apt, haha) will soon be brought out (one for each <em>apo</em>). Me, I was special. While everyone else got to sit around in their <em>"batya of choice" (haha)</em>, I got to sit in a mini-drum that had me submerged in water up to my neck, never mind that the bottom was probably thick with "<em>lumot</em>". I remember us regularly wasting half a day away just sitting there in our underwear. =) </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">The other half of that memory is precious. See, back in those days, Noni cooked food not in the proper kitchen inside. She did it in the makeshift kitchen outside. The gas range inside the house was used only for reheating food (pretty much how we use the microwave these days). The real cooking was done outside on a makeshift stove made out of stone, fueled by logs <em>(pugon)</em> and dried twigs. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">The laundry area were we sat around until we turned into human prunes was next to Noni's makeshift kitchen. Every day we'd watch her carry plates of ingredients out through the back screen door. She would set them on the table, before turning around to try and get a fire going. She'd pick the logs carefully. They would have to be dry enough for them to catch fire. Then she'd arrange them on the "stove", careful to leave space for air in between each piece of wood. Then she'd crumple several pieces of old newspaper and insert them through the pieces of wood. Then she'd light a match and ceremoniously hold it long enough on each of the pieces of newspaper, waiting for each to catch fire and ignite the logs. Pretty soon, she'd get a good fire going. I remember the smoke. Goodness, the smoke! It would've been an environmentalist's nightmare, but those were simpler times when burning wood ovens were not necessarily a bad thing. If any, they made for better tasting food. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">And so we'd sit around soaking while Noni cooked several dishes in quick succession, taking advantage of the going fire. When Hubby Sweet posted his shout-out, I said "Champorado, Fried Chicken, Fried Egg, Tocino" because I was pretty sure those were our daily staples. Daily staples that we never seemed to get tired of. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Then cousin Zaldy posted, <strong><span style="color:#000099;">"My lola's EMBOTIDO...YUMMY!!!"</span> </strong>and I found myself nodding, "Ah, yes! Noni's embotido! Sweet, salty, smoky, simple yet rich. Sausage, carrots, green peas...." I found myself reminiscing and mentally agreeing. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Then, apparently not quite done, cousin Zaldy followed it up with another comment, <strong><span style="color:#000099;">"And my lola's HOME MADE HAMONADO!!! =)",</span></strong> and I found myself smiling and thinking, "Ah, yes! Noni's homemade hamonado." I remember the leg of some pig sitting in a ceramic basin as Noni cured it with a mixture that I never got to ask her about. Then she'd "bake" it in a big wok (the elders called it <em>talyasi</em>) in the makeshift stove outside. My favorite part was when it was already cooked, properly browned in some parts, a thick layer of fat glistening on the edge. Then, she would sprinkle brown sugar all over it, covering the fat as she waited for the steel spatula she set on the burning fire to heat up until it glowed red-hot. Ceremoniously, she would pick up the steel spatula, telling us kids who were watching her eagerly, to stay a good distance away. In a graceful move, she would sear the glowing steel spatula onto the brown sugar and just the mere memory of the sizzling sound and of the sweet smell that followed as the brown sugar caramelized into the fat still makes my mouth water to this day. "Ah, yes," I thought, smiling as I reminisced, "Noni's homemade hamonado." </span></div><br /><p><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Then Sister Pusjing joined the trail and posted, <span style="color:#000099;"><strong>"Si-cream with langka! :-) Macaroni Soup! And, Harming, anong tawag dun sa pang-special occasion food na talya-talyasi lutuin ni Noni? May hotdog, chickpeas...."</strong>,</span> and I remember thinking, "Si-cream with Langka! And Macaroni Soup! How could I forget?!". Si-Cream is Noni's play on the word Ice Cream. Back in those days, Magnolia was only served if someone was celebrating his birthday. During ordinary days, us kids would have to content ourselves with either the 5- centavo ice candy that is being sold by our next-door neighbor or with ice shavings that Noni gets by rubbing a bowl against the side of the freezer (hahaha!). This was before the advent of no-defrost refrigerators. Then she'd take the bowl of ice, heap strips of fresh langka over it, before dousing it with a good portion of Alaska Evaporated Milk and a teaspoon of white sugar for good measure. One can call it Langka Con Hielo, I suppose. We called it Si-cream. Haha. It was simple, but heavenly. ^_^ </span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Oh, and yes. <strong><span style="color:#000099;">Noni's Macaroni Soup</span></strong>. Shell-shaped pasta swimming in milky chicken soup. Nothing complicated, and yet it was everything that Chicken Macaroni Soup ought to be.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Sister Pusjing's post was followed by a few more comments and "likes" about how Noni was the best cook ever, about how they missed her, about how they missed her cooking.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">---------------------------------------------------</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Hubby Sweet and I ate in a restaurant once. I had read about it in some article prior, and found the concept endearing. </span></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5528973779848921554" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja60V6ZXXwJ6SO0qNgPW_2eCSp8WnxzIYTfqqWPk2pyciPCuWjKsO5HXuIfcPJThmZ0sKb9KEJvxG-AqlZDR7MwcRPJPCOvgAE05iuj_3hNHTxDnmJ2QdaNuR1aeZ36jj82SxlhPWXneJc/s400/petra+-+DSC02016.JPG" border="0" /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">The restaurant was really more of a levelled-up carinderia. It was owned by Katrina Ponce-Enrile. Her reason for putting up <strong><span style="color:#000099;">Petra & Pilar</span> </strong>was simple, she said. She wanted to share the dishes her lolas used to prepare for the family. Petra is her paternal grandmother; Pilar is her maternal grandmother. </span><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5528974212718491170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7J6SlWtt5nTDjI7eF7di8-etHQEeGJNzQTBpiFx_ZdK7ys1NjIiddmRhyphenhyphen6tPpf1pN87tLjbb0VftN79dIDyKo_yvSkqKn5LMfheGEbkjCJEViTTDryPbdXt505V449X-NTinZfrgSKtut/s400/petra+-+DSC02017.JPG" border="0" /></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Armed with nothing but stock knowledge that Petra & Pilar was on the ground floor of the Jaka Center which was along Pasong Tamo (between Makati Cinema Square and Buendia), Hubby Sweet and I set off to find it. Finding Jaka Center was easy enough. Realizing that Petra & Pilar was on the side of the building (along a one way street) was the difficult part. Thankfully, the building guards were helpful. Waiting for a break in the steady stream of cars passing through, they slowly guided us (blinking hazard lights and all) to the restaurant's parking lot. I liked the restaurant's facade. Simple but classy.</span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5528974350328851058" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWE87ofqvnIa511xdadPV5X9hx7ykuVxC4Z3qEw4zWnqQIDr8oNrxnK_r7vFvDyZopO5s_fif7C2-cPNzfsjwL-NS-ay8hYHsCR2ExS-0l1-DgWBksfxARIcgqzTMFCms7cKg74_cnxOJJ/s400/petra+-+DSC02019.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Maybe Petra & Pilar is for the lunch crowd. When we got there for dinner, there was only one other couple eating inside. Just as well. At the end of the day, sometimes, one could really do with a little peace and quiet. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">The <em>"turo-turo" </em>was on the far end of the restaurant, but before we could get there, we were sidetracked by the <strong><span style="color:#000099;">Delimondo</span></strong> cove right by the door. Not yet too hungry, I told Hubby Sweet to go and check the food if he already is, but I wanted to check out the deli goods first. I've heard much about them--mostly from friends who frequent the Salcedo Saturday Market--but I have not, until then, had the opportunity to try them out. </span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5528974544222981106" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBdx1VeBnAZSrXusxZ4o4hjycZpbH3BwudoQzhnoNa9tPT0JfKil09Rp5uaFFmx4uxqHddKpWWEA7R0m3AU4IRP7K6wNJsOTdDIm2M56NvfdojUeCbaHKbz8m5kkEx2AcrC8xyPD_HXY48/s400/petra+-+DSC02006.JPG" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The goods with their plain white labels and simple text branding looked, for lack of a better term, almost "artisan". Being displayed against a simple backlit wall also added to the drama. </span></div></div></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I found the <strong><span style="color:#000099;">Ranch-Style Corned Beef</span></strong> that my friend was raving about. I wondered how much different it would be compared to Palm (which is my favorite brand) or even Purefoods for that matter. I decided to take three cans just to find out.</span></div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529535723025493922" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR_MUnzI2pknQjxzUqiAWjpRlZodoGErZNH_Tn7yViVqF3_jzL4qscFtlJphYl4g4swhNc0jPwS1uKs5yQtVFWLACXv5uW6bpQ6paecncOGZkidPGNy6ju6x_ttxNreWwz5XmR4CDKifbI/s400/petra+-+DSC02007.JPG" border="0" /><br /><br /><div></div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><em>"Ma'am , malapit na kaming maging available sa Robinson's kung magustuhan niyo siya," </em>the deli attendant offered, <em>"Yung iba po kasi, di naman nakakapunta palagi sa Salcedo."</em> </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><br /><div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I smiled and thanked him for the info. I moved beyond the corned beef to the other goods on display and instantly found myself thinking this place would have been heaven for me had it still been The Wander Years. Bottles of "instant food" that at least had the semblance of being "home-prepared". Haha. =)</span></div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><br /><div></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">There was <strong><span style="color:#000099;">Calamares en su Tinta</span></strong>, and I imagined it would be perfect with pasta. Pasta al Nero. ^_^ I was tempted to take one, but decided to reserve the purchase for another trip, thinking about how much food we still had leftover in the ref at home.</span><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529536380043001778" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5ImM5_raPbwdcsp6C_PYQnGf5hM3tfzXJX5LX_pvSlgclrI6tNQ2QTrYLnQki7dffTavKvrFBdVIHk_e3Xjb_ZDs097qwSUX-NTindLKPU0Poqrc7Nsz6SuA2OMRLApBSodKCZtTZFAGq/s400/petra+-+DSC02009.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">There was also <strong><span style="color:#000099;">Bottled Callos</span></strong> which pretty much sealed the deal for me that, one way or another, I would have to go back. =)</span></div></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529537096193912866" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK4xBoZnC8v1z-YTY_ngqFWiGbmz0EJ1a1hh_XAS0uB_zZUjdeaaNry6IBHcCNBFwVc96PmQHNpp6Edsqj-CF5zAF7_h1hq4rlwRDV4d3jrAFvNL17GzrF2xuVRSeXbRSsR-na5YQVTagB/s400/petra+-+DSC02010.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I also found <strong><span style="color:#000099;">Bacalao a la Vizcaina</span>. </strong>I am not a great fan of fish, but I did remember Father wishing out loud quite recently about how he missed the Bacalao in I-forgot-what-restaurant and decided to buy one as well just to take home. <em>(Note: Father, when he tasted it, found that it was not salty enough. Bro-in-law G-Genius, however, thought it was really good Bacalao. =))</em><br /></span><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529536030042148290" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmR0dW3V8xrnbwcBsOF1ilu2ZDEfd933SEP02u6ti0nNca0DMTmBTwRZhOIrT4JcVfmyN6l_Tbqf24Conktzwl5qDyVsKGDwdC0NTjALqsUAHw90u7SOqt1B5rouBiTmjRv44C2629jJa2/s400/petra+-+DSC02008.JPG" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Further down, I found bottles of <strong><span style="color:#000099;">Chili Oil</span></strong>. I had wanted to get a bottle for House Better, but decided to postpone it again for another trip. Just the weekend before, I had gone home with a bottle of Claude 9 XO sauce and a bag of chili flakes. I figured, well, the Delimondo Chili Oil can wait. =)<br /></span><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529537344345786930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOx8xCzeYqvdSOaFvML13TEugoBYflfgMvgwt1s5txTEMF7elxPh09_D_EfGsU3nNoTR0R05psgSCdrDhhW_nqKzqd84w6QN6AE30p83iTUuxWSsY2VS0El-4SRLJ1B0DUPVtAxj80o26N/s400/petra+-+DSC02011.JPG" border="0" /></div><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><em>"Ma'am, pag Christmas po, we actually make Christmas baskets. Pwede po kayong pumili, tapos we can wrap it for you</em>," the deli attendant said as I surveyed the sausages and the cold cuts in the chiller. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">"Really?" I told him, <em>"Babalik ako. Gandahan niyo ha." </em>And, at that point, I really meant it. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"><em>"OO, Ma'am. Maganda,"</em> he continued, as he handed me a small bag with my purchases. There was much more to look through, but I figured, it was already time to join the Hubby at the food line.</span><br /><br /><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I went up to the <em>turo-turo</em> to find Hubby Sweet looking at a menu. The <em>turo-turo</em> was already closed, but was advised by the attendant that we can order ala carte. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Hubby Sweet decided to go for the <strong><span style="color:#000099;">Adobo sa Luyang Dilaw</span></strong>. Apparently, it is a dish fairly common in the Southern Luzon provinces, but not so in Manila. In a place that prides itself on "my lola's cooking", I suppose it made sense for him to choose something that would bring him back to his childhood roots. I initially found it weird (being used to the dark adobo of Manila), but decided I actually liked it after trying. There was something interesting about the way the "cool" ginger note, blended with the sourness of the vinegar. I suppose there was no soy sauce used for this version. Possibly only salt. </span></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529237989711933954" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik7K4zLIwtiS7VRTphIkGkN1rbNyK8P7W89VYF5aESkcRNELPdxfyxRt_r8-MgEha0nbnrFW4ZgG9BjbmUPsT8hzJUObzPB3160Ex_jO4VCREF-CdNG4fP-HRiGPLuxWMg_ypJniS1m6Xk/s400/petra+-+DSC02014.JPG" border="0" /><br /><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I couldn't quite figure out what I wanted. I found the description of the <strong><span style="color:#000099;">Bicol Express</span> </strong>interesting (although how it was actually described escapes me now), so I ordered it--except that when it arrived, I was sadly disappointed. I prefer my Bicol Express more coco creamy than milky, and this version was milky. It also was not spicy enough. This one, I can skip it next time. =S</span></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5528975221336288146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK86X1pBUPyXcpFi_17Xyp1uTnPID8w_2GUwcykHL5_7D_Y6ybN0JJoonPtnWfza06BdnrM9EYfKcEJSupZqswQM13YUUSkHbCw7lLfxckHYQB4p4pmFjx-ksgzHX4XzWMKboGhnN4Gxn4/s400/petra+-+DSC02015.JPG" border="0" /><br /><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Good thing that with my indecision (or gluttony, depending on how you look at it, haha), I decided to also order the other dish I was eyeing. <strong><span style="color:#000099;">Batchoy Tagalog</span></strong>. I grew up with the dish. Mother used to make a great version even though she does not eat it herself (don't ask me how she managed). With recent diet restrictions for the "adults" in the family, however, she has not cooked it in quite a while. I secretly celebrated the fact that it was available in Petra & Pilar. Hot, gingery soup. A bowl of innards. It was a perfect foil to the soft drizzle outside, and at first sip, it was love. ^_^ Now, <strong>this</strong>, I would go back for. =)</span></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5528974692874387634" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVUVsMZZEKTjp37V8Ew0ihkWJhNQ7W2E6_9XdbRA0kE0IrjK3btbNPrO8pMzghFLZ8M7M-Pn6V2oYR9b9qoKA_s6RQnd4XAQ0zYCq80VJymlMHt9grFKEDBxTi1ZYb3SwGHZunK0y0he6P/s400/petra+-+DSC02013.JPG" border="0" /><br /><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I looked over to Hubby Sweet, and asked him what he thought of the place.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">He shrugged and smiled, <em>"Uh, Tweet, para lang siyang lutong bahay."</em></span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Haha! <em>OO nga naman.</em> </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Then again, sometimes, that is not necessarily a bad thing. =)</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">----------------------------------------------------</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">I used to think Noni was the greatest grandmother cook in the world, but Hubby Sweet seems to think it was Yayay, even as Katrina Ponce-Enrile thought it was Petra & Pilar. I'm pretty sure Patita and Ray*-B think Lola (as in my mom) is the greatest. I suppose the feeling is universal. <em>(</em>Hence, the catchphrase<em>, "Wala ka sa lola ko!"</em> Haha. =D<em>)</em></span></p><p><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">That said, I am sadly inept in the kitchen and so there is no way I could pass down the recipes that Noni has passed on to Mother. Writing this post, however, made me realize, one way or another, I would have to find a way to document them so that, long after we're gone, they can continue to be shared. </span><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">After all, it is in sharing that we remember. And it is in remembering that we keep the stories of old alive.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Darn it! Now I miss Noni. BIG. TIME. <em>*Sigh. =S*</em></span></p>TOYANG & TWEETYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09427393895925560349noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2983300665299393198.post-75166253667827580292010-10-08T07:20:00.028+08:002010-10-14T07:04:14.191+08:00COFFEE CUPS & GARDENS =)<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">It was a particularly crisp February morning. We were on our way to Tagaytay to celebrate Panet's birthday (our tita who hosts Sunday lunch for us every single time at Eduardo's). </span><br /><div><br /><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Traditionally, the cousins come together and plan her birthday surprise (which is never really a surprise, I suppose, because Panet has come to "expect" it). We usually hold a special dinner in one of the Metro restaurants, and was even crazy enough to plan a <strong>lunch</strong> birthday party at McDo Fort once just to throw Panet off our usual birthday surprise track. This year (and this is a much delayed post--2 years delayed, I think, haha), Lolo Art kindly offered to arrange it with the Tagaytay Royale clubhouse and simply have the cousins foot the bill. Go. =)</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Now, I've always liked roadtrips, but this one, in my mind was special. I don't go on roadtrips very often with my parents, and really wish now that I could. During the Wander Years, I was too independent-minded, and I suppose with much to prove, I would much rather go through things alone or with my, uh, other friends who also felt the need to prove that they were finally adults. Not so these days. More settled and with nothing more to prove on both sides, my relationship with Father and Mother has evolved to include easy friendship.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">It was a particularly crisp February morning, and as soon as we got through the Rotonda, we decided to shut off the car aircon and roll down the windows instead. It was early enough; no car fumes yet on the usually busy thoroughfare. Just as well. We don't get "fresh air" that often in Manila, and Mother really prefers fresh air to the aircon. Father was wearing a crazy grin. As usual, I suppose he is just happy to be on a car going somewhere. I highly suspect I inherited my highly-developed wanderlust from him. Haha. =)</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">It was just Hubby Sweet, Mother, Father and myself in the car this time. Sister Pusjing and family--who usually rides with us on roadtrips--has decided to celebrate her own birthday in advance by spending the night in Tagaytay. We will just be meeting them there.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">When you go on a roadtrip with Mother though, you have to be prepared to leave early. She hates traffic, and really, in everything, she'd rather be an hour early than 10 minutes late. (I realize now that I inherited my highly-developed need for punctuality from her! Haha. =)) Which is why, before 11:00 am, we were already in Tagaytay, much too early for Panet's birthday feast. </span><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">No biggie. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">"I suppose we can just have coffee somewhere," I suggested.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">"<strong><span style="color:#000099;">Bag of Beans</span></strong>?" Hubby Sweet asked. It was almost our default coffee place in Tagaytay. </span></div><br /><div></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">"Yup," I nodded.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Father's grin grew wider. =)</span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526560864426961778" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZhrH2lzVQCxci-1x3qOLhiSC8_f0GgzmS6jmj36kK8n-FGUjf0EGbtoCmtR_lVSPz3i84b_ZwMzkgLv7N5eU-_6cSKcuOaRf0QOfGwvhs1rQe-cmVzlGXsbYIpVU11Q0w-ETOsbhXFX2M/s400/DSC00485.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">I discovered Bag of Beans years ago. BFF Marts and her then-BF-now-Hubby-BJ introduced me to it. We were a group of about 6 or 8, and had just come from a volunteer <strong>Habitat-for-Humanity</strong> housebuilding activity. We were all young and single, and in no real hurry to get home. I remember going down a flight of stairs into a garden, illuminated by candles--an attempt to help dispel the darkness that will soon follow dusk. I fell in love with the garden then; it was enchanting. The coffee was good. Their own home-baked bread even better. The image of BFF Marts fighting with the resident monkey who took revenge by throwing nuts (I think) at then-BF-now-Hubby-BJ still makes me laugh to this day.</span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526562096201114274" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYDTdVqSNZZSghyphenhyphenaOM0UATRwfMAir_JLFej_hTJga3vkFSGDOcrJCpjGYpg2-6cACL0kNS-tDCfidUWEdQItheGkRgugGrcHOteohzQq9ADWJvAhyAxS_KnQl_2jziMB6QZzwFIBK6NLUW/s400/DSC00483.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">A few years ago, on another roadtrip, I introduced then-BF-now-Hubby Sweet to it. That was my best visit ever to Bag of Beans. It was early morning. The garden, even without the twinkling candles, was just as enchanting. I was just set to have coffee, bread and butter then, but when we walked in, we found a buffet table laid out with beef tapa, tocino, fried fish, rolls of every-kind, coffee, tsokolate-eh, etc., etc.! P250 per person, the waiter said. Sold! Haha. (Click <a href="http://eileenmanuel.blog.friendster.com/2005/11/road-trip-nov-42005-part-i/">here</a> and <a href="http://eileenmanuel.blog.friendster.com/2005/12/breakfast-bag-of-beans-the-much-delayed-part-ii/">here</a> to read my past blogs on it. =))</span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526561320772019826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCEIYtLNhx3h_nBu4qjWzvNoL-zcH9tRnI-0kiiVScdBk-oEMtgPtvRDULk-LkXSkUeF5htX-Bs1NbjSnICWVh3MOumz5Z7dsA92CPMFuBGp2LNq48O_WsZ09foqz_8X5WvM5dUtrzm-jH/s400/DSC00468.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">The buffet has since been discontinued. Just as well. We were not here for the buffet this time anyway. I just thought Bag of Beans would be the perfect place to take my parents to. Father loves coffee. Mother loves gardens. </span><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Bag of Beans is all about having coffee in a beautiful garden. =)</span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526562935784672658" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6hfjzZYGwxFoJ5BWb-m2ek_09Z4KgdjyTnXpoW1hg5PB6FGf8NEevu6-Nx8mST2FEPZpcQDj_I0EVRHyyF3pkQCLaiCREChFJwnk4ra6BYQHTzQ3gsSLTDngLOnVofI8t_TISqfOvTU4q/s400/DSC00481.JPG" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">We walked down the stairs, under a canopy of floral ivy. Mother smiled. She likes gardens, and usually picks a thing or two to apply to her own in House Better. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The cabana were Hubby Sweet and I usually sit was already occupied. We looked around and decided to stay under one of the "umbrella-covered" tables in the middle of the garden.</span></div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><div></div><div>"<em>Pa'no ginagawa yung</em> leaf imprints?" Mother asked as we sat down, clearly referring to the leaf marks embedded on the walkway.</div><br /><div></div><div>"I'm not sure, but I saw it on TV once," I replied, "I think they press real leaves on concrete that is relatively stiff, but not yet fully settled. Then once the concrete hardens, they just take out the leaf and the imprint stays on the concrete. Then they paint."</div><br /><div></div><div>"Oh," she said, smiling, an idea clearly forming in her head.<br /></div><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526561616793584802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8kGmFwhKVhlmed9raDS8TqFbvAMei36ya_FQwR3vw0uAzKvQPNJL0U8C-61-nBDgNxSeW4A7uiabNcegwodFXHCedqnHWXoEAWlFugCP0dPw2dSmGrXSpx37PGhaYa3v-FRl8I1pIgwao/s400/DSC00473.JPG" border="0" /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">"<em>Eh yung mga nakasabit na lamps, sa'n kaya nila nab</em>ibili?" she asked.</span></div></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">"I think they sell it in the country store next to the bake shop. We can check it out later," I replied.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"><em>"Sige,"</em> she said. (NOTE: We did, but it was still sadly closed when we got out.)</span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526563095409546418" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7iE5y6atlm93OC71oRwFc-axUiE-fVtXMGs3iZu-EDI_cQOuzozyOeKC6Vf6OEuYsMx6U1i_13FkSnQpM-4GgY1YKk4x1xLcSqwbfvBDWu-WRSKtGMHjg13zGFQIVFiHqLWcTjoITK8dI/s400/DSC00464.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">"They actually sell the plants," I volunteered, thinking that she might want to bring some back home to Manila.</span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">"Nah," she said, shaking their head. "These kinds of plants thrive here <em>dahil malamig</em>. <em>Sa </em>Manila, <em>malalanta lang sila</em>. Or <em>kailangan silang i-water several times a day. Eh, sa atin pa...</em>" she trailed off, referring to the fact that in Paranaque, water from the regular pipes is scarce, and people have actually made a good living out of delivering water to homes.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526940415816749122" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-wKbG3cFx9N9Rhy1tYrP8xsjpgoj5HrxHdDopnzzv_2waj75rV1s3M_RO7eyMMCwgmYZ2GD96SXc-W1ZzJ1K9vmI6VFMMSmldqJJ3vS6mXPtjZ6YgZcyYRDCW3_JkO66hU_VonkPERpnD/s400/DSC00470.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">The waiter approached us, menu in hand. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">"I'm not hungry," Father said. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">"<em>Ako din</em>," Mother seconded.</span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526563221259401154" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_gpgGf-50LNW9H62GSfqUh8nPguTMW1_Z2f1i9qDva3feyM3rKvIdw9VbcW9ohviRRPENzGaMfPVTdHsxrfRCr2C4Zp_H73FxYjlk8ztl3J8fPoda1xUCDCKzsmJf_k_yz2X1IFr9xsfm/s400/DSC00465.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">"We can just get coffee or hot choco," I suggested, "and bread. You have to try their bread!"</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">"<em>Kuya, dalawang kapeng barako</em>," I ordered, "<em>Chaka</em> bread basket with butter and marmalade."</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">"Hot choco <em>sa'kin</em>," Hubby Sweet piped up.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">"Orange juice <em>lang ako</em>," Mother said.</span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526562795497545874" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0vI7JoK8CWD1Vhuq6X1RQiNatpkTl9DvRrNNoI7L8ncgELj38X4b82tpG_sGeEnthSAjVj5oRUqvmv0hOnNSF69oZ3yjqH8JOYxjLrLjxeM7n4Ko9LaV3pffgmMuTDrwXQAQRr-_74h89/s400/DSC00478.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The waiter nodded and smiled, then turned around back to the kitchen. He was back in no time with our mugs, and quietly set the bread basket in the middle. It was freshly-baked, crusty but soft. It still felt warm through the cloth bread basket liner.<br /></span><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526562282850840274" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2FN0W-5AtJabU5wRYoipzsHJlUhtc0szCIfO_DRV8x_0sKGRvTU__xhQ-Z9IMjoTI_L7txQKD36WElnWmZEu-aMTa2ml_Jq1JU78Ib8giafwO7W6fkqEIX5m34ivXLsaK3_MiggJtEarF/s400/DSC00474.JPG" border="0" /></div></div></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">We all dug in. The butter melted as it was spread on the warm bread. The marmalade spread just as easily on top of it. </span></div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><br /><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Father took out the newspaper he had brought along for the trip. Mother continued to survey the garden from where she sat. It was a scene right out of House Better, actually, except that we were in another enchanting garden, about an hour away.</span></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526562593136347186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2zMApVq0AVTCYdND2v_oTLylY76gsdSGsilUH4NS9qUVlkEI2ISbGbndr4Y4WRAp0SUHZP1XbXAL1uufre-_y5LC8CPJ4bD0ZU3F007g4ZeCpfaPBZwUoHeiqRFLpc_rdxGXyuACfgc51/s400/DSC00476.JPG" border="0" /><br /><p><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Regular life is often complicated and chaotic. Not so that day.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">It was a crisp, easy Sunday morning with family. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Hot drinks on hand. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Warm bread on the side.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">In its utter simplicity, I found perfection. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I would be so lucky just to have more days like these.</span></p><p><em><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">*Sigh. =)*</span></em></p>TOYANG & TWEETYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09427393895925560349noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2983300665299393198.post-52496916269565136262010-10-01T07:20:00.013+08:002010-10-04T07:55:24.976+08:00A TASTE OF SINGAPORE =)<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">During our late high school and early college years, Father was based in Singapore. For practical reasons (mostly so as not to disrupt our schooling), Mother deigned it better for us to stay in Manila. Consequently, long weekends would find Father flying back home; summer and Christmas breaks would find us flying to the Lion City.</span><br /><div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Now, I've always loved the city. Never mind that some people find it boring. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">I suppose it had a lot to do with the fact that the first time we landed was in December 1988--when all of Orchard Road looked like some Christmas Giant threw up sparkles, lights and decors all over the buildings and trees. It was so festive, you'd think the primary religion was Christianity when it was really not. Never mind that Singapore did it for the tourists, I do remember the scene automatically dispelling the melancholy I felt about being away from the clan on a holiday that we, as a family, usually spend with them. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">I suppose it also had a lot to do with the fact that Singapore was, for lack of a better term, efficient. And clean. And orderly. And green. And smoke-free. And everything else that I wished Manila could be--if only we had the political will and commitment to do it. It's not from a lack of trying. I'm not sure if you actually noticed that, with every change in administration, trees inevitably get planted along the main roads, and signs are put up proclaiming the "Greening of Metro Manila"--only to find the same trees wilted and covered with dust a month later. The thing is, we treat the trees as decor, when we ought to treat them as a commitment. (Sidenote: I'm glad that they actually passed a law that requires people to pay extra for shopping bags every Wednesday; it's, at least, a good start.) To say that I was fascinated with the city transforming itself from an urban jungle into a garden state was an understatement. I suppose though, it is really much easier to focus on "aesthetics" when one does not need to worry about having to feed practically 80% of its population.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">I digress. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">The other thing I loved about Singapore is the food. I have yet to eat anything there that I did not like. Weekends would inevitably find us in one of the Hawker's Centers each downing a bowl of Hainanese Chicken Rice and wolfing down Chili Crabs like there was no tomorrow. Good food. Good price. =)</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Which leads me to the point of this post. Good Chili Crabs, one can find in Manila. Good Hainanese Chicken Rice is not as easy to find. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">I serendipitously came upon really good Chicken Rice at the old Philippine Plaza coffee shop, but I don't think they retained it in the menu after they renovated the coffee shop into Spiral. People tell me that there is this restaurant in front of Pan Pacific in Malete where they serve authentic Chicken Rice (the Chef is Singaporean), but they said it's quite pricey. Besides, I no longer have the patience to weave through Malate traffic, much less the patience to find a decent/relatively safe parking space--at least no longer at the levels I used to have during the Wander Years. I also tried the Chicken Rice at Makansutra at the Manila Ocean Park, but it was only <em>"OK lang"</em> and failed to live up to my high hopes. During one stop at Edsa Shang, Hubby Sweet and I also decided to try the version at Penang Hill. Two words: <strong>STAY AWAY</strong>. Variation to the two words: <strong>DON'T TRY</strong>. I wanted to cry after trying that version. Naku! =D</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Father has since moved from Singapore to Glendale then back to Manila, and yet the family's craving for a decent Chicken Rice has remained. I mean, it is not really too big of an expectation really. Our thinking was that we used to eat good Chicken Rice in the hawker's centers (which is a levelled-up version of the local carinderia). How can the local restaurants not get it right?</span></div><br /><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Well, someone finally did! =) </span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Cousin-in-law Mi was the first person who asked me to try it. I think the owner was a personal friend. Admittedly though, I have not gotten around to it, until last June when we were originally supposed to go out for Father's Day, but had to cancel because Mother was not feeling well the entire week. It was a sort of Eureka moment when the idea of ordering Hainanese Chicken Rice for take-out danced around like a lightbulb in my head.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong><span style="color:#000099;">Stevie's Hainanese Chicken Rice</span></strong> to the rescue! =) </span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I had to scramble around the internet to find the contact details because I couldn't find Mi's original email, what with all the junk in my inbox. I did not have a hard time because, apparently, in the time between Mi's original email and me finally getting around to actually trying it, most of the leading bloggers in Manila have already had their fill and were singing high praises to it. (Click on the link for the posted reviews on <a href="http://dessertcomesfirst.com/archives/2308">Dessert</a> Comes First and <a href="http://www.marketmanila.com/archives/stevies-hainanese-chicken-rice-to-go">Market </a>Manila.) All the reviews got me even more excited. Yey! ^_^</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Calling was easy enough. With the entire family (including yayas) descending on House Better for Father's Day, we ordered four orders. On the side, Sister Pusjing decided they will also drop by Pixie's to get several orders of their much-raved about inihaw na bangus. I gave them an 11:00 am pick-up time, and asked Sister Pusjing to pass by for it on their way to House Better. All set. =)</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Except that come Sunday, it was already way past 11:30 am and Sister Pusjing and family were nowhere near House Better. I gave them directions to Stevie's (go to the Bel-Air gate near Shell Buendia), but apparently they did not need it. There was a looooooong line outside--about 20 cars or so--all waiting for their orders! Naku. =D They finally got to House Better at 12:30 with 7-year old Patita declaring as soon as she stepped through the front door, "That Chicken Rice is sheer torture!" Hahaha. As Sister Pusjing explained, it soon became clear that she wasn't referring to the long line and the long wait. Apparently, the entire trip home, the scent of the Chicken Rice wafted through the car and Patita had to endure the entire trip smelling it, but having to wait to get to House Better before she can eat it. Haha! ;D</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Stevie's did not disappoint (although, when I first saw it, I thought, <em>"Ay, mas maraming chicken kesa rice!"</em> Haha. How plebian. =))</span> </p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The chicken was moist and flavorful. I was a bit surprised to find it "swimming in broth" as I was used to the Hainanese Chicken already being served "dry" on top of the rice. Still, no biggie. We all used the broth as "soup" of sorts to top our rice. Haha.</span></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523965163847913938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCA_AoL-olG634eBGEmeYcikbjX-jvXdoLsGAbv5CMz-RSnjFMIqUSfV5_FHGoMESa0hxqkE2leVOuDSjSzXl2aaziSv1oyBGpcVYOfOWcc1H3K63aTg4HNVItci8p2sF93mGDBRJ7od1H/s400/stevie+-+DSC02031.JPG" border="0" /><br /><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Oh, the rice.</span> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Fragrant, flavorful, jasmine rice. None of the cheap kind that comes out either hard or clumpy. Good Hainanese Chicken Rice lives and dies by the quality of the rice, and Stevie <em>(naks, parang kilala ko siya, haha) </em>made sure that their rice lived up to expectations.</span></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523965817034770002" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSM7juutSqYHdM4zDm4IcGdkzfzUIIlSdi0nH1LjP2B8A_kxqD-3T4TMQKUtuo2ATHoK9h8veKiGhE6eCyzmbTR6clou3hm7EmLeylLR8XneZMpVTIVz-HJHvLOP42ZGw-mh-9Y2HVwkNZ/s400/stevie+-+DSC02032.JPG" border="0" /></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The entire set came with traditional dipping sauces: smashed ginger in sesame oil, chili sauce (which was not to spicy actually =(), and the sweet-salty soy sauce mix.<br /></span><br /></div><br /><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523966729513738594" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHg-XMLRqcGSMzmtoHcID6ldEK4GmhN5cxm38vLG6j7XhixFZ4v1Xt0xWeBxjaH8SUF64h1W7l4Lo0CJZC1wCcWhKDOgifn6H0Xwq9zwvROy0jdcLgQx2_CsH59wmonofnKt7PHLw68-Kp/s400/stevie+-+DSC02034.JPG" border="0" /><br /></p><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">It also came with a glazing sauce which we were supposed to pour over the chicken if we wanted to reheat it. It was supposed to prevent the chicken from drying up (which also, by the way, explained why the chicken was set in broth still). </span></div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><br /><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Reheat? We did not. We did not even re-plate. Haha. The entire thing (aluminum trays, plastic cups and all) were placed on the lazy Susan soon as it arrived. Game na ang lunch agad. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I will keep a secret how long it took for us to finish the entire thing. Haha! ;D</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#009900;"><em>********************************************************</em></span></p><p><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#009900;"><em>If you want to try Stevie's Hainanese Chicken Rice To Go, call 0906-5084155. It's P950 per set (at the time we bought anyway), good for 4 people. =) Go. Now na. ;p</em></span></p>TOYANG & TWEETYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09427393895925560349noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2983300665299393198.post-90317995018130430572010-09-30T17:41:00.003+08:002010-09-30T17:46:33.643+08:00HAPPINESS IS....=)<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Being able to sleep peacefully.....</span> <div><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5522639849772745426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFgTX3bbdkjQjUVlA5b6FTxAaoVo9mrhU_M1lW1FifXspn4UkNfrGYCmg6jfPkAFMUlGFLYI66sIIvDPTGWu8xbeNL2OI3d_x_mmmqKiOPa1CJj5lfkr0BLdBnqrHM3aP9QQfcC_4mVQhz/s400/DSC01991.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">....next to the people you love. =)</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5522640127548538754" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjung2h91LCyqWnrMyAE6GcE6ANnn7V4-ISWTsmI2iVQUS3ca4CHgc5P6FAlOxqtyUgjfu2wn7suJPGqcw83mbF6uSe3BNg4_oxMFVWWYW_jFbcqXb0INu8DDCJ1YEBG3EHZR5KiEx_QsTC/s400/DSC01987.JPG" border="0" /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Shhhhhhh.... =)</span>TOYANG & TWEETYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09427393895925560349noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2983300665299393198.post-24284915664135056692010-09-22T12:23:00.050+08:002010-09-24T13:46:32.731+08:00DOS PALMAS TWICE OVER / 2006 & 2009 =)<div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I fell in love with Puerto Princesa the first time I went there. I suppose it had a lot to do with the fact that I was starry-eyed-looking-at-love-through-rose-colored-glasses-in-love the first time I went there. </span><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520264251404081954" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAuBn4n_AN9e5wMfY24qf-1eRxhxZ8Ub9yGFDeMstVh7QxCTjJ61FW7ZaXxRvqbFlw6Gy8MumBWR23_PH1RfTyhzFxuCCSOU8ahed7KprVDvUc3YMmfulue43llVvkqQanxlvwhTiP-Fp9/s400/kiko+eileen+wedding+1+003.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">It was soon after Hubby Sweet and I got married, back in 2006. Having separately travelled to different places with other people during our individual Wander Years, we had decided to go someplace neither of us had been to before. Given time and budget constraints back then, it was quite serendipitous that we discovered <strong><span style="color:#000099;">Dos Palmas</span></strong>. </span><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520263558087962546" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJl9Ty3kWBtZJGv6fOEEsorwZ-ATrItfFOkNwFKaT_ZJH72jc9uCOMq-6AY2vLTv_7ofhSeS75JlNLRoVkslCY8pyeOyaTRcogeWW4PCBa7jRKa5XrfSx2oCeg2_Xo3-M63GbR7qIxIvx2/s400/DSC01737.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The resort was, at that time, reeling from a series of unfortunate (high-profile) incidents. With the Abu Sayyaf and Rico Yan fresh on everybody’s minds, Dos Palmas, I suppose, was bent on dispelling the jinx image that had been seared onto everyone’s minds. Php 12,000 per person, inclusive of airfare, transfers, use of facilities, accommodations and full-board meals for 4D/3N. We checked out the website. Nice. =)</span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520262986425085522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil1mMOLppywpuldkrl1W-bjr1kGJwy5HxTo0cHpf1w2t_mzDrYkRrcZAA5vrxQwnCrJaW-ULcTDhl1LHB9fApN2lwaEOFOMYOxZy4uQbwUFoETfeLxJG3tzXgY4b4fguGi7bP9okj2XaQn/s400/DSC01722.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Hubby and I discussed it, and decided that we were not really superstitious people. Still we had a good laugh over whether we should stay in one of the Bay Cottages (where the folks kidnapped by the Abu Sayyaf stayed) or in one of the Garden Villas (where Rico Yan unexpectedly died). In the end, we decided that the probability of a second Abu Sayyaf outing is likely much less than the probability of a <em>moomoo</em> sighting. Bay cottage, it is then! Haha. =)</span><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520263381063197682" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXNlicsph00DwbkOpJJd9E7JkJG4R-m7UKrwwLXFK0nJVxMbwOXAyLlkKAS8ZsFTSCgEKF9MyQ1J0Bw4G-gboDtJWAz6KNSkt_tawdJaJPapkGYgkQ1_E7ZfltO5dUf7Xga9ozz_94jlDC/s400/DSC01735.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Dos Palmas is not for the impatient. After landing in Puerto Princesa, one needs to take a 30-minute road trip to the port, after which (depending on the speed of your assigned boat), one needs to take an hour to 1-1/2 hour trip to the island. It was so remote, it was easy to understand how bandits could speed away with a horde of tourists without the authorities managing to catch up. Legend has it that the Abu Sayyaf were actually targeting the posh island of Amanpulo, but took a wrong turn and ended up in Dos Palmas instead. </span></div><br /><div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Times have changed. </span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519596764955874066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbFaXthl9gpb-u3d9qpfCGOwMjEsB1lzaCYs4MrnwnEfd8MWy_jRqwMGn5jIMNGtJCQcBqDAgv0FW00lGI2aSA8q_9B_R8_4IETKYhbes7zLZoJnbb-a5Bjgt8k4FNTOMGYuOVnUMGIhv9/s400/kiko+eileen+wedding+1+016.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Since then, Honda Bay security has been beefed up, and on one morning during which Hubby Sweet and I woke up particularly early, we walked out of the cottage and realized that the super friendly security staff were actually Marines-in-disguise. (Truth be told, when we first got on the island, we both thought that their security was much more fit and disciplined—despite their amiable personalities and their perpetual smiles—than the average Manong Guard. =)) </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">That said, the security details are masked and actually blend well with the resort feel of the island. Dos Palmas is all about relaxation and being in a world far removed from the urban jungle. </span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519595146567682242" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggBqF0f9NKZvdlXdDvBPXn-JgR15eKG64QOf-GHAFKBfPyzkwiAutpwNKom_513GLKSHwsBrqsxfrqHfVzwWv2TmCKEVRsFCJ1z9yuyxJYtVt34dJr2nV3VUAU8MqSd4u-C5ksiGruswHP/s400/kiko+eileen+wedding+1+028.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">It is all about spending quality time with the people you’re with. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520259775579327362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRwVLhmhfbtPbpUcvwiREOkSVtTOWnOWyMkjlR-yax_i7RJX-nmGG4zujKrlU02ksdW_kAZpNh18gsODY0m8-525nKF6Ob3GzC0PDW9UdYdgx0LeKipKdJ-urwn6j5aXMIyA0wUFdNFfPz/s400/9723_137704942599_519647599_2530165_3559901_n%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">You can have long conversations while stuffing yourself silly at their fabulous buffets. You can lounge around by the pool. You can go snorkeling. You can hike. You can bike. You can play billiards or pingpong. You can sing your lungs out at the videoke room. </span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520259950174555378" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8dHv-WgLWnyjvmCbZmuGna-GP8NzY3MZYUzCK46VN3SqW-ACYaVowoP9-HiFXdi01guRrfFDrl5J7ab3t2aVLMx_-wTt2MpRaEDvxS6XOL0iU2WOjSFz2xuP638v93De-6vLQbRxdlFFz/s400/9723_137705112599_519647599_2530188_7885740_n%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">If you think you have either the stamina or the courage for it, you can even kayak through the mangroves and row around (yes, around) the island. Hubby Sweet and I actually tried it, and it goes down in our personal history as our first-ever-fight ever as a married couple. Halfway through, I had a panic attack and wanted to turn back. He, on the other hand, reasoned we would row the same distance back as we would if we just kept going forward! I, of course, retorted that if we turned around, we would be going through a route that we already know. Usually, I'm the more adventurous one between the two of us, except when it comes to anything that involves deep water. Naku, stalemate in the middle of Honday Bay. Hahaha! We ended up going <strong>forward</strong> only because I realized that I cannot row all the way back by myself, whereas he can actually move the kayak forward without any help from me. Haha. Ngyah. =D)</span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519599783017015170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFvkxXamk-EtDlMaViwq8WwOFeyv8DQXIriHO3CmSd6eRGZTFcuwpJINDorTOrq0PKL2p6MQqn-1-x9QFyXwnDgtJ1DaThwHzuFkUpkH1vazEUhCnR1kiMykvrJ4Qfpxl4eWShw64hUbOA/s400/DSC01718.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="color:#333333;"><strong>That said, what you cannot do on Dos Palmas is watch TV</strong>.</span> There are none—at least not in the rooms. The lone concession is the TV hanging over the bar (which actually has a complete set of free TV and cable channels), but you sit there only if you happen to like the TV taste of the first person who asked the bartender to put it on. Haha!</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#000099;"><strong></strong></span> </div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#000099;"><strong>GARDEN OR BAY: WHERE TO STAY</strong></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Back in 2006, we stayed at one of the the <strong><span style="color:#333333;">Bay Cottages</span></strong> where most couples usually stay. </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I suppose there’s something to be said about having the bay as your view and about sitting out on your veranda to find schools of multi-colored and multi-sized schools of fish below. We even had sightings of baby stingrays (or were they manta-rays?). </span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519599214827551378" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiB7yzvi-OiCZOEvlpOlNDbSMt4LG9PboW4nnd9kf8xxiWRPLs1Knww14mdzSaxcWtP7lP2Vlznt9-WlGVB_pCV5iTct13XWsyYZSLsHXjRIK1NO5T5asMSeFaeu-OG1ZtAMrwOZOg-aqM/s400/DSC01713.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The Bay Cottages were meant to provide more privacy, being situated away from the “main island” where most of the activities are. </span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520265009870668898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyeyGuH9ASJOTPJ525bG24Bg1MZF1e_62_EjXn8R1U4RzPQuDrDSEl-GgVshoYhllrvzl0EQWNednjKcjmWvzA_x41cjAgV_0cI2nYgqpMIKbE7sy5rZQcYK1hx_-67oE1xMOLtOvLbAYX/s400/kiko+eileen+wedding+1+109.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">In 2009, I had wanted to book the Bay Cottages (never mind that we were a group/family), but every single one was taken. Besides, the beds were not enough to fit all of us. Haha. </span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519600040486502882" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikdN7tPKe_3Cy6m6e1URBqi5E6KSnGviHmlgCXDturvFd59TBOYSXNloqcJ0brA1BEJxWOh3AJnyP7bjrjH6PmKB_jcxuacZSL7RmIotMONuDzSri5aQkL8xCNd_0LRoxpI8GoRhgPNtVK/s400/DSC01730.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">So we decided to stay in the <strong>newly-renovated</strong> <strong><span style="color:#000099;">Garden Villas</span></strong> instead.</span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519600379014654194" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCykEDo39EDy2jH3PwET91-QvBmVTc57hI9dbg9hgIxx5HSEJnmIdoGLaKIY0yyKqwNeQZMf67xE_dlB3f7rSl1CO_Vu-olB89BKqvOpToiX6S2tnzUTCcvi3XSj-2vGd4fwT8S6L3Cy6t/s400/DSC01711.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Not bad, really. Not bad at all. =)</span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519603013124221842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3a1bWJEIKg6SLwFlX2HWXgky2tUuGgyn8Lz0kLm320cDxTaJYmuCBw1ImhPQpsSHu7y1AMWtRsbGL9uPEkezN5bo948nwaytuWvTlAe-jhcCmNA9AAULPJenlo2ovenZvFrSORelNHwiT/s400/DSC01710.JPG" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#000099;"><strong>WHAT TO DO</strong></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">There are enough activities to go by if you’re not expecting the vibe of Boracay. One can actually choose to be marooned on the island and not leave its premises during the entire stay. However, if you decide that you want to explore the world beyond the island, the resort can actually arrange for other “Puerto Princesa” activities. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong><span style="color:#000099;">Honda Bay Island Hopping</span></strong> would always be tops for me. </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">When you arrange it with Dos Palmas, the trip usually starts with lunch at Isla Puting Buhangin (or is it Isla Puting Bato? I forget. Haha). </span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520260766413582786" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFnWOZV5n1D2wRI83_jaHzJjHfUkhsl5pNdsPGi4kxs8dmsqpdYdDd0Xf9CWgJPQmhwQQJxkkaXTKkgPTEb9J6yj-oDQmH9z3J-D2CY_tQ8T2sWs0PlAHG4INnVNVQzb8NmXYm1dnO8EwG/s400/kiko+eileen+wedding+1+146.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">There’s something to be said about having lunch on a sandbar in the middle of a tranquil bay. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520261827068335474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDM5J_oXlwzAOaQ8d6OPS1fzu0-s-6PsGJfOcRqwLqCbvU2xsHiBZCc3QJBXgMLT0g5NOEmCB7vllhZK1hI2YFaodebK2YL5AxyEQGLsG7sBqrxSiD5sofMNpuoobhs_sqXebnf0VTkHP1/s400/kiko+eileen+wedding+1+142.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Oh, that, and feasting on a buffet of freshly grilled fish, liempo, shellfish, along with servings of <em>manggang hilaw</em> with <em>bagoong</em>. </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Down it with ice-cold softdrinks and you’re pretty much set for an afternoon of swimming around, running after (or, in some cases, running from) schools of fish of different shapes, sizes and territorial temperaments. </span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520262550799700514" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHlRCvhVwpoZ5Gf0gqltzUpySWiBoASV4hyTCNPWZl1jBq8G0f82k15Yn-UUA4_y_YLwcYFOJN706lNSINHYYDRFhP-zVw61Ot4gTwRlxudkeJOve9V5N9K_dKYePsgNfem9wxrRaegxZ8/s400/9723_137705142599_519647599_2530192_3432827_n%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I’ve been to many snorkeling spots and the diversity of the types of fish one can see on Honda Bay is impressive. I won’t elaborate further. I did write about it in a previous blog though (during a different trip to Puerto Princesa). Read about it <a href="http://the-adventures-of-toyang-and-tweety.blogspot.com/2007/07/honda-bay-island-hopping-day-2.html">here</a> na lang. =)</span></div></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520264659097623026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNVVn7iY_I7zK67RJkUlLw6uJrPYPHfQcQHR4xkXZ3bWa0Q2ZEddvi1YqZ7xzbPOO0ABvulyp4wgKXgSdx6fIBGEmIMjmZ0slLCtRZOXskL8LR-3EbmRTsTzDvZ1r4_sy_0F6oiAkFU557/s400/kiko+eileen+wedding+1+145.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div><div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">When you get tired of snorkeling, the island hopping trip ends with fishing. Now, Dos Palmas is a marine sanctuary so fishing would have to be done a good distance away. </span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520260190266063490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj60UgBp5vm0LpiEQeAMffcYRNScBbYHaOezUMYtFpehmlw587LrSYxk4H1NewzH1Jr5FHR0ZDma8Qtz-aTIz3YhJksv2tBt_QU-KhfOt_VK1BEwl9rj7FQbozEUTeTT5gpYny-eH6VoaOo/s400/9723_137705267599_519647599_2530211_761479_n%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Now, I’ve never fished in my entire life prior to Dos Palmas. Come to think of it, I’ve only attempted fishing in Dos Palmas. I say “attempt” because, whether in 2006 or in 2009, I did not actually catch a single fish. Still, there is something quaint, I suppose, about being able to say “I tried fishing”. Haha. (The picture below is with Manong Security Detail who actually reeled in the fish while I was sitting next to him so I decided it...uh...counts. Haha.)</span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520260949765661986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZIgS1cMA6zKNVqnJ9mMyHZS9loajwdJUQHeuQpOeYOvrJJ2Rl9hp0gru6Ooyg5xVWbjhEWoIXtBIYkNY33kI_EoT6-4xQPzi9pDBqgfl4PfuhyphenhyphenOrLGp2ycySBOPdvJB3J9GntmuN-rTud/s400/kiko+eileen+wedding+1+156.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">When you do catch a fish, if it’s too small, you have to throw it back. If it’s big enough (and I use the term “big” loosely here, haha), you can actually choose to throw it back OR bring it back to the resort and have it cooked. Manage your expectations though. Both times, we’ve only managed to catch <em>“bisugo”</em> which I know only as the kind of fish you make <em>paksiw</em>. Haha. ;p </span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520266514106063602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGRE3o_YbLA5e6PFwVgLp-X7enySwOXoNx4TSyWQJASWbkUYWp9gpUm3Qxo5Y1zeVG61WjcoCsHMl_PezXDAN3EdqQXlBZhOPLVMADd-DqSBeow3_hIzsnR2w6p3zLCx9H_hLiZjQhUrEw/s400/kiko+eileen+wedding+1+153.jpg" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">While it is not practical, Dos Palmas can also arrange for trips to the now-famous St. Paul Subterranean River Park (more popularly known as the Underground River). I say it is not practical because one would have to take the 1-1/2 hour boat trip back to the mainland, then take another 2-1/2 to 3 hour road trip to another port, after which you take another 30-minute banca ride to the island where the Underground River is. Now imagine that you have to do the same thing to get back to the island. Naku! </span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520261192830576818" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggc9HfThN7kr45hutZ9MYy0nzCs2_1yUGDrHi54_UwiRtDjXQRUlT8_nRnNrwBlTCu5niwTtKCRS_5HOv6tzA-ZCDQG5hdiCV34uQ5Jmkq0pQuVWbx0L7eIA-CxG_iGs-tpL3CRY9-LUDT/s400/kiko+eileen+wedding+1+052.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">This was “manageable” back in 2006 (it just means you kill practically an entire day travelling to ride through the Underground River for 30 minutes), but after the site zoomed to the top of the updated list of Seven Wonders of the World, I’ve been told the lines and the waits have increased to box-office proportions. (As one of my officemates once said, albeit she said it about the long lines during an S&R sale, <em>“Hindi Titanic ang katapat. Pang-Avatar ang level!”</em> Haha.) For perspective, my other officemate, last December, had to wait <strong>5 hours</strong> just to hop onto a banca that would take them to the island where the Underground River is! </span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520262179413641058" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR_57vHGjALiAkmTN6KEH6DmjTFdbi8K-fSDaL0p580NnckmfzpDKbIFhgIt7d9lfPEf5I5VzBUC4hBIVuxuzziFnX6khlycj1AuFv5PLtbuvLZAvI9stkGCoRbR_-Dyy7HiTW14Mu-kur/s400/kiko+eileen+wedding+1+065.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">That said, if your primary intention for going to Puerto Princesa is to go to the Underground River, it would be best to just stay in one of the city hotels instead of staying in Dos Palmas. (Two more tips: First, be careful of the "monkey snatchers". You'll know what I mean once you get on the island. Second, if you do manage to get to the Underground River, maneuver your way to the <strong>front seat</strong> of the kayak. That way, you get to hold the floodlight that will allow everyone to see inside the cave. After all, he who holds the lamp gets to focus it on whatever he wants. Haha! ;p)</span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520262362256553234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKtA3Uko4oDVvDi5QBuSkb7h74klut1DiWgFD270ODvvn66jtz2XcFqNTf_5vDcn8HE4o38VV93Q4C7D0lAITg-lMl4OPlzWn6qQq_QKTgLFtFkn__9gL8bcWecz9Bdl0OzI9BO835K_jS/s400/kiko+eileen+wedding+1+072.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong><span style="color:#000099;">THE FOOD</span></strong> </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The food is what makes Dos Palmas—more than anything—worth it. Usually, if it’s a full-board meal, I have learned not to expect much. At Dos Palmas, “much and much more” is what they give! I suppose they realize that with no other option to go to, they better give their guests good food, lest they grumble and complain for 3-4 days. Haha! </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520263751783774002" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitcT7cewcwOIL6XN_Q77vKkKjOwChHKS59fbs4mOqjr-NBaGouhP0qaJwyhBlv6HDk-uY49JSNs-FdPqHaOli5R28nfkA5J2bgB2fRD7519Ne8JZsAgHgUMomIdovRdGHXLdWoPCNi5hR5/s400/DSC01727.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The breakfast buffet usually has a Filipino station (with the usual <em>tapa, tocino, longganisa, danggit,</em> fried rice, egg, etc., etc.). On the side, there would either be a vat of <em>lugaw</em> (with the usual condiments of fried garlic, spring onions, <em>calamansi</em>, etc.) or <em>mami</em>. For the foreigners, they also have an American breakfast station (with the usual ham, bacon, sausages, eggs, French toast or pancakes, cereals, dried fruits, etc., etc.). A separate table would contain native <em>kakanins</em> for dessert in addition to the fresh fruit platters. That said, on a daily basis, we would have a Filipino AND an American breakfast with <em>kakanins</em> AND fresh fruit for dessert. Haha! The usual joke after one comes back to the table with a heaping plate is, <em>“Hindi ka naka-decide kung ano gusto mo?”</em> <em><span style="color:#009900;">*Insert sheepish grin here. =D*</span></em></span></div><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The lunch buffet is decidedly much simpler as most guests opt to do their off-resort activities. Still, the buffet would have a good mix of native salads (sometimes <em>lato</em> or seaweeds with tomatoes and onions, dipped either in calamansi or vinegar or diced <em>manggang hilaw</em> with <em>bagoong</em>), grilled fish and meat and a soup viand (<em>sinigang or nilaga</em>, etc.).</span><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The dinner buffet, however, is something else. It could be set within the usual café or on the beach with <em>sulos</em> providing light or by the pool with a small band playing. The dinner buffet is usually themed. One night, it was Japanese. Another night, it was Mongolian. Usually, if there’s a big group leaving the next day, the dinner buffet even has different stations. On our final night during our last trip, there was a steak grilling station, there was a Japanese station, there was an Italian Station, there was a Mongolian Station. That dinner, <em>di din kami naka-decide</em>. Haha! ;D</span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#000099;"><strong>OVER-ALL</strong></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Staying at Dos Palmas provides good value for money. Actually, that’s a wrong statement as it makes staying Dos Palmas seem like ”it’s <em>pwede na</em> for the amount that you pay for it”, when what I meant to say is that, “you actually get much, much more than what you pay for”. </span></div><br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519598842299634690" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNvLQquOHUji5b6WWfnp3Q4Qz81x5KSq44FpgC3yRHQKYWONSKgL8XGz_L2OAL5aKxuavXFhh2POEawUkABtmnoNyT0QFB-NacRT2GmGUyIm_gqp7AIWfPihniYsUxqMeMWAF_V7Il8_Ap/s400/DSC01734.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">What is not worth it, though, is for you to go on a Day Trip to Dos Palmas (I found out that such is actually included in the day tour packages of some of the city hotels). </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">To truly appreciate Dos Palmas, you have to stay in it. So that, for a good 3-4 days, you can forget that the hurried life you lead in the urban jungle is, technically, only a boat ride and a plane-hop away.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#009900;"><em>*********************************************</em></span></div><div><em><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#009900;"></span></em> </div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#009900;"><em>You can arrange for the plane trip and the resort stay separately, but both times, I found that PALakbayan actually pro<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqiwdgpv_K7emNoizFi5Rg-sh00kUJrZbj5-padzCuo_rmn-J0X0Yn73dqprojjcafL6tF0ldGR_hHjqaWnI2YMR90HiNfirz0-RUtuJvZO3XJpiv06WLn1fwDlZSWPuQMEzFYDeSGA9-L/s1600/DSC01716.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520338519074850322" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqiwdgpv_K7emNoizFi5Rg-sh00kUJrZbj5-padzCuo_rmn-J0X0Yn73dqprojjcafL6tF0ldGR_hHjqaWnI2YMR90HiNfirz0-RUtuJvZO3XJpiv06WLn1fwDlZSWPuQMEzFYDeSGA9-L/s400/DSC01716.JPG" border="0" /></a>vides a simpler option (book everything once) at good value. </em></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#009900;"><em>Click on the <a href="http://www.philippineairlines.com/tour_packages/tour_packages.jsp">link </a>for more details. </em></span></div><br /><div><em><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#009900;">P.S. - The photos are a mix of pics from my 2006 trip (with Hubby Sweet) & my 2009 trip (with Mother, Father, Tita Doy, Rhae, Dooders and MJ). This would explain why, in some pictures, I'm payat (yey!), while in some pictures, I'm...uh...pleasantly plump. </span></em></div><br /><div><em><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#009900;"></span></em></div><div><em><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#009900;">Haha! =D</span></em></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>TOYANG & TWEETYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09427393895925560349noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2983300665299393198.post-26390960445185889022010-09-07T12:37:00.012+08:002010-09-07T12:57:45.717+08:00BEACHED WITH FATHER AND MOTHER / BORACAY, SEPTEMBER 2009 =)<div><div><div><div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">This post is one year delayed. I know because Cousin Dooders and Special Girl MJ celebrated their first wedding anniversary yesterday (which reminds me, today, Banzo has officially been with us one year). Yey for both occasions!</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Still, I know this post is a year delayed because it was soon after their wedding that I chaperoned my parents, Tita Doy and Cousin Rhae (the latter being Cousin Dooder’s mom and sis who can home for the wedding). </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Now, cousin Rhae hasn’t been on Philippine soil since they migrated to the U.S. in the mid-80’s when she was three. </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Over the years, as Dooders flew to Manila for different weddings, she has had to live with his photos in Boracay, Palawan, etc., etc. She therefore came home with a mission. To see as much of the Philippine beaches as possible.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Thing is, September is NOT really the best time to go to the beach. It is, after all, typhoon season—which also means that all the parties and events that happen regularly on the Boracay shores are practically non-existent. She will not be deterred. Haha. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">That said, we can only do so much for this visit and so the choices were narrowed down to Boracay (required) and Puerto Princesa (which, if statistics continue to hold, has never been hit by a major typhoon in decades).</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The last time I went to the beach with Mother and Father was way back in 2001, soon after the wedding of Sister Pusjing and G-Genius. Both Ate Babs and Dooders had come home to Manila (one from Canada, the other from LA) so an out-of-town family trip seemed to be in order. We stayed at Pink Patio then--which was perfect for me—never mind, that it wasn’t right on the beach. At that time, I was passionate about wall-climbing and Pink Patio not only had its own pool (a rarity for a Boracay hotel at that time), it also had the only “wall” on the island. Beyond the hotel amenities, however, what I do remember most from that trip was the joy of walking barefoot on the sand, wind on our faces and sitting on the shore, sipping fruit shakes from Jonah’s when it was nothing but a small, makeshift stall on the far end of the shore. As adults, we used to go a lot on out-of-town trips with friends. I suppose when you're in your early/mid-20’s, it never really occurs to you that going on an out-of-town trip with your parents could also be just as fun. That was the first time such a realization hit me.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">“This is the life,” I remember Father murmuring, a Cheshire cat grin planted on his face as he sat on a lounge chair facing the ocean. It was their first time on the shores of Boracay.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Fast-forward to almost a decade later. Times have changed. The wall has since been transferred to D’Mall (which has since replaced the talipapa as the “eating and shopping destination of choice”). Jonah’s is no longer a makeshift stall, but a full-fledged restaurant. Hotels along the beach have since been upgraded from nipa huts to concrete structures—each with their own pool / bar / restaurant.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">We arrived in Boracay mid-afternoon, having had to take the road trip/sea trip route from Kalibo after flights to the more convenient Caticlan airport were temporarily prohibited. Earlier in the month, two planes overshot the runway and authorities were still investigating whether the planes are too big for the runway or whether the runway is too short for the planes. <em>Haaaaaaaayyyyyy...</em>So it cost us half-a-day. Whatever. </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">After a protracted route, we were finally on the island. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514026973934348322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVeC-7fR7_PRbsFdRePTfMzimKWrTv7u1y-IXzDdSuzYjBoyPGun0lR1gjFdbFPyi2wsiGs7zNtVfKKAabl0qpyiV6Mildu8SGdyl0n3UdpPpTRfepNc0RG1nuvsG851iKsicWxFA_cZFf/s400/9723_137704457599_519647599_2530091_5082423_n%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">For this trip, I thought maybe it would be good if we can stay in a reasonably-priced beachfront hotel. At the PALakbayan site, they gave several options, and I stupidly chose La Carmela. I had often heard of it on TV being thanked by all those artistas, haha. I figured, Boy Abunda may be showbiz, but he does have expensive taste, so it couldn’t be that bad. (*Cringe, I know. =D*)</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">What I did not realize, of course, was that there was that La Carmela had an “executive wing” where they all probably stayed, while the rooms at the PALakbayan site referred to the rooms on the regular wing. As soon as we entered the hotel lobby, I realized, “This is not a hotel. It's a dorm!” Gr. Haha. Think youth hostel as opposed to a real hotel. It was good enough, I suppose, if you were on an out-of-town trip with your barkada, but I always adhered to the idea that for an out-of-town trip with the family, a higher level should be called for. Still, it has been pre-booked and pre-paid so we had no choice but to live with it. Ngyar. (Sorry, guys! Next time, we're staying at the Regency. =D)</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">We left the sunshine in Manila and arrived on the island to texts from Sister Pusjing and Tito Bie checking if we were OK and asking us to be careful. Apparently, it was announced on TV that there was a tropical depression headed our way. Yay! Haha. Oh, well. Worst case, I figured, I’d get to experience my first typhoon on the beach. <em>Naku!</em> =S</span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514027279212871490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOo5xtbrwrt980XJ47N4zwtH7TOCLOV-eQuRDAsBSNMJ-6jFDZTi2XsBOD0dLb2hbSX4nXZpOjNd2yL0nOWIKTGY44iOkSq3akJBQnKOYrPBcXfnrmwVixJzxNHH5TQOaYXriISwtlndN4/s400/9723_137704452599_519647599_2530090_655421_n%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">So the winds were strong (clear indication was that bamboo windbreakers have been set up along the shoreline, and all the kiteboarders have transferred to White Beach from the kiteboarding site on the other side of the island). </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">So the waves were huge (big enough to cause an accident at the far end of the beach with one fatality). </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">So it rained incessantly. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">So what the heck.</span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514027454575958706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge44YVd-JhFWT6YipPBn4aImzU9VUE8mSf7WC_KbRXiWzIRFXFJbFofbr4eOSY8KQeh8G9nAHMuTxdXXXPr3EGz0rrjVF-K1pWMAwBe31SLwmGXgZoSyE5jrkbFCqspwtX9fH9o0TIXYlr/s400/9723_137704552599_519647599_2530103_1125053_n%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">We swam anyway. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">We lounged by the shore.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">We walked to both the talipapa and D'Mall in heavy downpour, keeping our purchases in water-proof plastic sando bags (very effective kahit di sosyal, haha).</span></div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><div>We ate. </div><br /><div>We talked. </div><br /><div>We enjoyed Boracay anyway--despite the rains and the gloomy skies.</div><br /><div>Still, more than the activities, what I would remember most from this trip would be the smiles and the peace that came with temporarily being away from the hustle and bustle of Metro Manila (or of L.A., in the case of Tita Doy and Rhae). Being on opposite ends of the globe is not easy; the trip also gave us the opportunity to catch up on each other's lives.<br /></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514027660968019218" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMXbiNADZuzVjeOow64s2x5N9Yky9fjzJftmytulv9AswC2UGN7ZaQdVLDIjtHiOvoVNg-jtz7j0ivG58MkM9On63XFmuvqTrk6KHX6flahQyKFZMEPaQKaaSsHOG4968Sn_WIX1QtkU2P/s400/9723_137704532599_519647599_2530100_4244297_n%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div>“This is the life,” Father once said--on these same shores, almost a decade ago.<br /></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514027817341218354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWnrElWWvTH5Qupe8DFH2_gFanl_NezCRQfpUmKt6F7-rgH5ITOrK29lNGCJH1tgKLhNqGmT_bj4Uz_c-6LvO3M08s-36ZP4bKN1oKxPUbLbKN4gGDc_gyxd6aLL93y4Uh5GYmQ8j5L7Yo/s400/9723_137704507599_519647599_2530097_4266688_n%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div>Except for the La Carmela booboo, I suppose, it, indeed, is. =)</div><br /><div><em><span style="color:#009900;">**********************************************<br />Dos Palmas, next! =)</span></em></span></div></div></div></div></div>TOYANG & TWEETYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09427393895925560349noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2983300665299393198.post-45338224637170031272010-08-20T15:40:00.013+08:002010-08-20T16:18:36.246+08:00GOING DOWN THE SPIRAL / JULY 15, 2010 =)<div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">We arrived at 6:00 p.m., despite the horrendous traffic we had to wade through along Buendia, way too early for our 7:00 p.m. reservation. For our fourth anniversary dinner, Hubby Sweet had wanted to try out The Goose Station, Rob Pengson & Sunshine Puey’s new restaurant at the Fort, but degustation (get it?) did not really appeal to me. Midway through it, I envisioned myself pulling at my hair and screaming, “DAAAAAAAAARRRRNN!!! Can you please just set everything down so I can eat what I want at the pace that I want?!” Hahaha. How plebian. =D<br /><br />That said, I also thought it was ridiculously expensive. P2,500 for a 9-course set, P1,500 for a 5-course set. I mean, of course I know Rob and Sunshine from all their TV and magazine exposures, but I don’t think they have established themselves enough in my mind as culinary gods worthy of such price. So I told the Hubby, what if we eat in Circle or Spiral instead? I mean, it’s practically the same price and there’d be different stations <em>pa</em>?! I mean, come on!<br /><br />It didn’t take much for him to change his mind. Haha!<br /><br />So there we were, an hour early for our reservation, but no biggie. Apparently, the buffet opens at 6:30pm. We would have to wait it out.<br /><br />“Can we sit out on the deck?” we asked, thinking that the temperature in the then relatively empty restaurant was too cold.<br /><br />The hostess looked up at the sky. It was relatively blue, but the gray clouds looming in the horizon seemed to worry her. After all, it hasn’t even been two full days since <em>Typhoon Basyang</em> battered the Manila Bay coastline.<br /><br />“You may sit outside, Ma’am, if you wish. I can just retain your original table inside for now—just in case it rains.”<br /><br />She walked us out and told us she’d be back shortly with a complimentary bread basket.<br /><br />“It’s OK,” I stopped her. “No need. We want to reserve space for the buffet.”<br /><br />“Beer for me, please, “ Hubby Sweet piped up, “Beer na lang. <em>Chaka, meron ba kayong….roasted highland legumes</em>?”<br /><br />She smiled, recognizing the joke, <em>“Meron, Sir. Sandali lang po.”<br /></em><br />We kicked back on the deck. Despite the fact that we were not quite beside the pool, and that the air was not quite as fresh as if we had driven out-of-town, the wide-open space looking out to coco trees and blue skies still provided a different vibe. It was a well-appreciated pocket of calm within the metro, especially coming from work stress and the traffic gridlocks we were immersed in practically just half an hour earlier. </span></div><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507397569681258706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizNvjtSj4XLp8u0iVqNmCqUgaCtF7xZbN4z8aSgL-2b6DkbPAqpHKuPMSCGb3F8dbu4FcmKavubvYMTucyalw_bzPSuCD07-mnqxIALtTVnGrrip0LjWLBHdZ04xWEC59wdQpY7n5uCjUE/s400/sofitel+garden.jpg" border="0" /><br /></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">6:30 came soon enough. And then, the feeding frenzy began. Haha!<br /><br />Actually, frenzy wouldn’t be the correct term to use as we actually took things <strong>SLOW</strong>. While waiting for our turn to be seated, Hubby Sweet made the rounds of the different stations. There was an oyster bar, a cheese station, a grilling station, an Italian station, a Japanese station, an Indian/Mid-Eastern Station, a Chinese Station, a Thai Station in addition to the dessert buffet.<br /><br />From the range of food that he saw and reported back to me, we realized that the only way we will survive this dinner is if we: (1) <strong><span style="color:#000099;">choose wisely</span></strong>, (2) <strong><span style="color:#000099;">eat slowly</span></strong>, and (3) <strong><span style="color:#000099;">walk around a lot</span>.</strong> Hahaha.<br /><br />Choosing to dine al fresco—while more inconvenient because it meant being seated farther away from the buffet stations inside—quite serendipitously proved to be the strategically correct move. Now, I didn’t want to keep lugging my bag around while going through the buffet so we also decided that only one of us should stand at any given time so that the other can stay with our stuff while the other one was away. While he was still unwinding with his beer and peanuts, I decided to go inside. (Unfortunately, taking pictures of the buffet was not allowed, so I would just have to resort to listing them down.)<br /><br />Early on, I decided on a strategy. From light to heavy. From bland to spicy. Oh, and yes, I thought I’d skip those that I already regularly eat somewhere else. We also decided to just go for different things and taste each other’s buffet pick. We figured it’s the only way we can actually taste everything.<br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#000099;"></span></strong></span></div></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong><span style="color:#000099;">FIRST ROUND: MINE!</span></strong><br /><strong>Three Types of Breads</strong>: whole wheat dinner roll, pretzel, crusty bread<br /><strong>Different Types of Spreads</strong>: hummus, baba ghanoush, yoghurt, olive tapenade, etc., etc.<br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#000099;">FIRST ROUND: HUBBY’S!</span></strong><br /><em>Kalimutan ang appetizers! Haha! The Hubby, apparently, decided to go straight for the jugular.</em><br /><strong>Grilled Lamb Chops with Mint Jelly</strong> (which turned out to be worthy enough to be declared Top of the Heap, the Best of the Bunch, the kind that we continue to dream of to this day….haha! ^_^)<br /><strong>Grilled Fish</strong> (also, reeeeeeeeeeallllllly good, although we continue to debate whether it was gindara or local “salmon”) =)<br /><br /><br /></span></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong><span style="color:#000099;">SECOND ROUND: MINE!<br /></span>Pork Siomai, Beef Siomai, Sharksfin </strong>(Ack! Bad. =S)<strong> Dumpling, </strong></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong>Cuchay Dumpling<br />Raddish Cake<br />Mini-Asado Siopao</strong><br />Fine! I know I said I’d skip those that I can eat somewhere else but curiosity got the better of me. With memories of Emperor’s Court at the Renaissance in my mind, I needed to know if it will be soooooo much better than all the other siomai I can buy for P25 in all the kiosks that seem to have sprouted all over the metro. Haha! (For the record, it was. Then again, it was much smaller and much more expensive <em>so dapat lang</em>. Haha. =))<br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#000099;">SECOND ROUND: HUBBY’S!</span></strong><br />A Platterful of </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong>Crab Claws<br />Raspberry Vinegar</strong><br /><br /></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong><span style="color:#000099;">THIRD ROUND: MINE!</span></strong><br />A small bowl of </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong>Sukiyaki<br /></strong>A ramekin of </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong>Edamame<br /></strong>A ramekin of <strong>Chawan Musni</strong> (My winner discovery of the day! Yey! It tasted strangely like <em>balut</em> soup—yes, the duck egg—except that it was all about steamed egg white with a treasure of sliced mushroom, chicken, fish cake, etc. at the bottom. I dishes that provide multi-layered texture and tastes in a manner that combine almost effortlessly into a simple, comfort dish. )<br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#000099;">THIRD ROUND: HUBBY’S!</span></strong><br /><strong>Prime Rib</strong> (end-cut) with Demi-glace<br /></span></div><br /><div><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong><span style="color:#000099;">FOURTH ROUND: MINE!</span></strong><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong>Chicken Tandoori<br />Lamb Curry<br />Roti<br />Mango Chutney<br /></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#000099;">FOURTH ROUND: HUBBY’S!</span></strong><br />Four Slices of </span><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#000000;">Fois Gras with Fruit Confit<br /></span></strong></div><br /><div><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong><span style="color:#000099;">FIFTH ROUND: MINE!</span></strong><br /><em>Nahilo</em> sa fois gras at <em>naumay</em> sa tandoori and curry, so I decided to go for something relatively neutral <em>(walang kokontra, haha).</em><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong>Crab Claws<br /></strong>Steamed, then iced <strong>Mollusks </strong>(a.k.a., tahong! Haha. Gigantic, succulent ones. ^_^)<br /><strong>Oysters</strong> (Wooooooooooooow….more…I want more….@_@...haha!)<br /><strong>Raspberry Vinegar</strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#000099;">FIFTH ROUND: HUBBY’S!</span></strong><br /><strong>Chawan Musni</strong> (he was so intrigued when he got to taste mine, he decided to get one for himself)<br />A ramekin of <strong>Edamame</strong><br />Several <strong>Yakitori </strong>sticks<br /></span></div><br /><div><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong><span style="color:#000099;">SIXTH ROUND: MINE!</span></strong><br />Still reeling from the fois gras (and I actually only ate half a slice!), I decided to defer taking from the Thai buffet . Instead, I got these.<br />Several <strong>Crackers</strong></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Slivers of about <strong>Ten Types of European cheese</strong> (the names of which I no longer remember—except for the plain goat cheese and the goat cheese with ash, haha. ;D)<br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#000099;">SIXTH ROUND: HUBBY’S!</span></strong><br /><strong>Thai Prawn-Pomelo Salad</strong><br />Two other types of salad whose name escapes me now<br /><br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#000099;">SEVENTH ROUND: MINE!</span></strong><br /><strong>Fresh Fruit Platter</strong>: Pineapple, Melon, Watermelon<br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong>Japanese Green Tea<br /></strong>Yes, I was still reeling from the Fois Gras. It’s either I’m really no longer as young as I used to be. Or I shouldn’t eat Fois Gras in quick succession after Lamb Curry or Chicken Tandoori. Haha!<br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#000099;">SEVENTH ROUND: HUBBY’S!</span></strong><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong>Mango Sorbet<br />Green Tea Sorbet<br /></strong><br /></div></span><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="color:#000099;">EIGHTH ROUND: MINE!</span><br /></span></strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><em>Yes, humirit pa ako ng eighth round. Bakit ba! Haha.<br /></em><strong>Cold Stone Ice Cream</strong> with marshmallow bits, M&Ms, plus white & milk choco chips<br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#000099;">EIGHTH ROUND: HUBBY’S!</span></strong></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong>Japanese Green Tea</strong><br /></span></div><br /><div><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#000099;">NINTH ROUND:.....</span></strong></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong><em>Wala nang ninth round! Wala nang space. =D</em><br /></strong><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Hubby Sweet looked at his watch. 9:45 p.m. By the time we surrendered (yes, <strong>"surrendered"</strong> seems particularly apt, haha), we have been eating three hours straight.<br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#000099;">BAD NEWS:</span></strong><br />Three hours! But still, not nearly enough time (and stomach space) to try everything. =(<br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#000099;">GOOD NEWS:</span></strong><br />Oh, yessssssssssss......we left with reason enough to go back. =D </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#009900;"></span> </div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#009900;">***********************************************************</span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#009900;"><em>For reservations, call <strong>551-5555</strong> or <strong>832-6988</strong>. </em></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#009900;"><em></em></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#009900;"><em>My personal tip. Go easy on the drinks. Not only did they take up stomach space, they actually took up about P800 of our bill. Wah! Lesson learned. Next time, tubig na lang. Haha! =p</em></span></div><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507397988483436626" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9zl8FIXg3IWGjXxXV-dJ8PbCkYSw3dOAwYKKjKb3iv4gGxtP7f7FpLkvsG1q5qI2fptikFeAte5TmdAWWJVSBMWtxLbPZgAw4Xv89GcIodWlYYsolouxxfum9w1W6aLJE9N0BtqoXyyhf/s400/sofitel+table.jpg" border="0" /></div>TOYANG & TWEETYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09427393895925560349noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2983300665299393198.post-32683828400045863142010-07-14T16:28:00.007+08:002010-07-14T16:56:59.508+08:00THE IV / JULY 15,2010 =)<div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">When I was a child, I used to wonder how on earth my parents got together. Mother and Father were as different as night and day, their interests as different as black and white.<br /><br />Father would often joke, <em>“Gumimick nga kami ng Mommy mo nung Friday!”,</em> to which we would all react, quite surprised, <em>“Talaga?! Sa’n kayo nagpunta?”</em><br /><br />Laughing, he’d reply, <em>“Ako, sa Glorietta. Siya…ah…ewan, sa simbahan yata.”<br /></em><br />Wahahaha. Nice one.=D<br /><br />Now, I never really understood how their dynamics worked (although the vast difference in their temperament and personalities did make for some pretty “interesting” conversations). When I was young, I tended to think of love and marriage in terms of rainbows and roses. I used to think marriage ought to be about two people who finished each other’s sentences, who walked hand-in-hand everywhere they went, who loved the same things, who hated the same things. Marriage ought to be about people who did everything together. My parents weren’t like that, and I used to wonder, actually, how they could’ve lasted as long as they did. I suppose with friendship and puppy love as the only real benchmark for human relationships, I tended to think back then, well, if you didn’t like doing the same things, you’d look for other people to call as friends, right? Why on earth would you marry someone whose tendency is to go East when your clear preference is to go West?<br /><br />Then I met the Hubby, got married and all of a sudden, kaboom!<br /><br />I realize now it’s because you don’t really start out thinking that you live on opposite ends of the spectrum, or worse, that you may actually live in parallel universes. When the relationship is new, you find yourself willing to try just about anything. So you’d eat pesto for the first very time and declare it really good (even though in your mind, you’re practically eating grass). Or you’d take thrice a week tennis lessons (even though you know deep inside that you only enjoy tennis while planted horizontal on your couch as you watch Rafa deliver death by forehand). The list is endless, of course, but the point is this. As you try to learn more about this person who caught your fancy, you would inevitably want to take part in the things he/she enjoys. To get to know him/her better, I suppose. To find out if you’d enjoy doing the same things too, maybe. And because you technically still live in different houses, there really is never enough time to try out everything. This Friday, we would do what you want. On Saturday, let’s try out what I enjoy. Your friends, for the most part, declare you missing-in-action. For the most part, hopefully, they also understood.<br /><br />The thing is, in the process, you find out that there is more to this other person than the things he/she likes doing. Things like ambition. Like <em>diskarte</em>. Like a sense of humor. Like kindness. Like love of family. Like love.<br /><br />And then you decide that you like enough of what you see.<br /><br />So you make the leap of all leaps.<br /><br />You get married.<br /><br />To have and to hold. From this day forward until death do you part.<br /><br />Thing is, after the wedding inevitably comes the marriage, and you find yourself settling in a place where you have all the time and freedom in the world to do “couple stuff”. And, initially, you <strong>do</strong> try to still do everything together. Until you begin to realize after the nth tennis match, that hitting a yellow fuzzy ball really isn’t your thing and that you’d rather just stay home and read a good book. Until you begin to realize after the nth pasta dish that, unless it’s the hotdog and ketchup variety, pasta does not really float your boat and that all you really want is good, old <em>sinigang</em>.<br /><br />So your world begins to open up again. Of course you have to make sure that you do <strong>enough together on a regular basis</strong> (otherwise, you run the risk of ending up as two mere boarders forced to live in the same house), but, really, after a while, you realize that it’s OK to meet up with other friends who genuinely love tennis as much as you do. After a while, you decide that’s it’s really OK to eat out with other folks who, like you, find real comfort in a plate of Aglio Olio and a good round of crostini with spinach dips. After all, it would be a sad, sorry life to live if you had to give up everything you used to enjoy when you were single just so you could do "only the things you can do together with your spouse".</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br />The point, I suppose, is this. Even as you open up your world to include other people again, you inevitably go home.<br /><br />A boyfriend/girlfriend is there as a gimmick bud (with benefits) who can technically be replaced when the going gets tough (or boring)—which is why a husband/wife ought to count for something more than a hobby-mate.<br /><br />Every cliché in the book is practically true.<br /><br />More than just someone to do things with, your spouse is your anchor. Your north. Your light in the darkness. Your rock.<br /><br />Never mind that you now occasionally play tennis with other people or that you now get your pasta fix with someone else. The thing is, these people and you, no matter how good your friendship is, go your separate ways at the end of the day. So while they commiserate with you in times of trouble and toast to you in times of success, at the end of meal (or the game, for that matter), they go home to a life separate from yours with its own set of worries and its own set of celebrations. They go home to a life where your stories are only incidental and someone else’s concern is king.<br /><br />Only your spouse is bound to you in a way that makes your worries his/her own (whether he/she wants it to be so or not). Only your spouse is bound to you in a way that makes your success his/her own. He/she lives your life like you do, in the same way you live his/her life. There is no escaping it. And, no, it is not an automatic grant that magically comes with that little piece of paper that you signed. Beyond legalities and societal expectations, it is borne out of a deep sense of personal commitment.<br /><br />To be each other’s anchor. Each other’s north. Each other’s light in the darkness. Each other’s rock. Every single day. No matter what.</span><br /><br /><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Beyond finishing each other’s sentences, beyond walking everywhere hand-in-hand, beyond choosing to be on the same side of every argument, beyond loving the same things, beyond hating the same things, beyond doing everything together, that is the essense of marriage.<br /><br />In the movie “Shall We Dance”, Susan Sarandon’s character delivered one of the most profound lines I’ve ever heard in cinema. It was definitely not foremost in my mind when I took the leap, but the moment I heard it, it struck a chord because I appreciated the truth behind it.<br /><br />To the question, “Why is it do you think that people get married?”, she replied:<br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#000099;"><em>“Because we need a witness to our lives. There’s a billion people on the planet. I mean, what does any one life really mean? But in a marriage, you’re promising to care about everything. The good things. The bad things. The terrible things. The mundane things. All of it. All the time. Every day. You’re saying your life will not go unnoticed, because I will notice it. Your life will not go on unwitnessed, because I will be your witness.”</em><br /></span></strong><br />When I was a child, I used to wonder how on earth my parents got together. Mother and Father were as different as night and day, their interests as different as black and white.<br /><br />Then I met the Hubby. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Took the leap. Got married.<br /><br />Today, four years to the day I walked down the aisle, I finally understood.<br /><br /><br /><em><span style="color:#009900;">***************************<br />Happy 4th anniversary, Sweetie! Here’s to more years of noticing and witnessing. Kahit na ayaw mo na kumain ng pesto at ayaw ko nang mag-tennis. Haha. ;p </span></em></span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><em><span style="color:#009900;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493679318220947618" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRjwFexpPLRwhTmPBjSTw3mXYIUTA7FOgJkcmEEQYXXdgmJsOnW5kgV-DbwqgEBon4lns2Dry5ALLuoPvRtBb0myQBm3tj2Xtupe3I7HER_8-kZYN3MZLPTjNsHD4vqbc4Bu_tH0PRTM8g/s400/phuket+154.jpg" border="0" /></span></em></span></p></div>TOYANG & TWEETYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09427393895925560349noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2983300665299393198.post-40267776766342261832010-07-07T07:27:00.004+08:002010-07-07T07:56:48.972+08:00CELEBRATING MOTHER / MAY 25 OF EVERY YEAR =)<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Every year, celebrating my parents’ (separate) birthdays has always been special. Except for one year when Father’s party was cancelled in deference to Lola Thelms (who was then at the hospital), end-May and mid-December have always been earmarked for clan celebrations in House Better.<br /><br />This year wasn’t any different, save for the fact that for the first time in years, we didn’t have a camera on hand (oh, yes, I do want to kick myself for not having one ready). That said, I suppose I would have to write this blog the way I used to write blogs before I discovered I could actually append photos to them—I would just have to attempt to recreate everything from memory with as much detail as possible. =)<br /><br />For as long as I could remember, I looked forward to Mother’s birthday celebrations. Typically held on the last week of May, it was the literally the culmination of summer for me. I anticipated it not just because birthday parties are always happy occasions, but because I always looked forward to the other tradition that everyone else looked forward to every time the end of May rolled along.<br /><br />When we first moved to House Better, Mother did away with the usual ornamental plants, flowers and Bermuda grass. Having been born with a dominant practical gene from Noni’s side, she, instead, had carabao grass and all sorts of fruit-bearing trees planted in the garden. Never mind that they didn’t particularly go well with the Spanish villa theme of House Better. Roses, no matter how beautiful, wilt. With fruit-bearing trees, well, at least you get to eat the fruit.<br /><br />And so it goes that we had a dwarf mango tree in one corner, a santol tree somewhere in the middle, a langka tree on one side of the backyard and a guava tree (the traditional ones that yield small fruits for sinigang) right outside Bro I-gue’s bedroom window. Somewhere in the garden, we also had rows of calamansi and <em>siling labuyo</em>. At a certain point, we even had rows of bananas and papaya trees. Oh, yes, I lived in a real-life Farmville when I was a kid (which probably explains my current fascination with the darn game, haha).<br /><br />Anyway! I digress. =)<br /><br />Mother’s birthday celebrations always coincided with the full-blooming of those trees—never mind that their flowers start sprouting at different points in time. The anticipation inside me bubbles up and grows as the flowers of the mango and santol trees slowly give way to small green fruits until they finally grow into a multitude of big, yellow orbs that dot the green foliage. Somewhere in the garden, the banana hearts slowly peel, layer by layer, to reveal the small fingers within that eventually grow into either long, yellow latundan (or were they lakatan?) or into stubby, fat and brown saba. By then, the papayas would also have ripened, and the langka fruits would have been heavy and fragrant, ready to fall off the tree. The guavas, if I remember correctly, seem to be available year-round so they’re really no biggie to us kids, except for that one year when Father—with his typical naughtiness—brought home several giant guapples from one of his trips (guapples weren’t as widely available back then), and tied them discreetly with straws to the branches of the guava tree. I remember how loudly I laughed when Tita Thelms rushed excitedly up the guava tree only to guffaw herself silly while perched up on the ladder when she discovered that the guavas were “fake”. =D<br /><br />Every year, we’d wake up to hear the dirty kitchen abuzz with activity as Mother cooked one of her signature dishes (one year, it could be roast beef with mushroom gravy, another year, it could be roast chicken, another year, it could be mechado, etc., etc.) to match the staple soup, steamed crabs/shrimps (high impact, low stress, she says, haha), <em>inihaw na liempo</em> or BBQ, <em>manggang hilaw with bagoong</em>, etc., etc. In the far, hidden end of the backyard where the dirty kitchen was built, the maids would also be busy firing up the charcoal grill, peeling the mangoes, chopping onions and tomatoes, even as they remain on their toes, ready for Mother’s further directions.<br /><br />Us kids (along with Father) knew better than to meddle in the goings-on in the kitchen at that time. It was literally a no-fly zone: <strong>no kids AND Father allowed</strong>. Haha. <em>Bawal kami makigulo at panggulo lang daw talaga kami</em>. =) Instead, we would eat breakfast leisurely until the party tables and chairs were delivered. That was our task: to set-up the tables and chairs (which have since evolved from the wooden folding chairs and tables of yesteryears to the plastic monoblocs of today) under the trees, careful to choose the right spots. Our objective was to provide protection from the noontime heat while minimizing the possibility of having the guests bonked on the head by a wayward falling fruit.<br /><br />Every single year, for reasons I could no longer remember, us kids and Father would always have a discussion as to where the tables should go.<br /><br />“<em>Eh</em>, last year, that’s what we did, eh <em>di ba</em>….”<br /><br />“<em>Eh, mainit diyan mamaya</em>….”<br /><br />“<em>Eh</em>…….”<br /><br />Hahaha! Hay! ;D<br /><br />I suppose because of the series of third quarter storms, a good number of branches inevitably get cut off by the raging winds, so much so that by the time next summer came along, the branches would have grown back in different directions, effectively rearranging the patches of shade under which we can set up the tables and chairs. And so, year after year, we would set up tables…..then rearrange them……then rearrange them again. Success came only in the form of plaid rental tablecloths finally being laid out on the tables; it was the clear signal that an agreement has already been reached to everyone’s satisfaction. <em>(Buti na lang, hindi kami ang assigned sa kitchen! Haha. ;p)</em> Setting up the citronella candles on each table was the final touch.<br /><br />By around 11:30 am, uncles, aunts and cousins would slowly be trickling in, by family, by batch. By then, the food would have been laid out on the buffet table. The electric fans would have been set up in strategic locations in the garden. Mother, Father and us kids would have been squeaky clean, fresh from the shower. There would have been no trace whatsoever of the stress and chaos that was House Better earlier that morning. It was time for celebration. =D<br /><br />Over lunch and tons of food, chatter would be incessant, laughter boisterous. Never mind that, back then, we actually used see each other practically every week at Eduardo’s. There would always be something new to talk and laugh about. During birthday celebrations, however, the decibels always seem to go up several notches higher. Haha.<br /><br />And so it goes that we would while the day away, practically glued to our seats, getting up only to either get more food or something to drink. Lunch would slowly give way to after-meal coffee which would then give way to afternoon merienda until it was finally time for Mother to blow out the candles on her birthday cake.<br /><br />My siblings, my cousins and I looked forward to the ceremony because after the candle has been blown and the pictures were taken, we were—finally!—allowed to take and eat as much of the sugar flowers on the cake as we want.<br /><br />The blowing of the candles had an entirely different significance for the adults, however. It signaled open-season on the fruit-bearing trees. Some would end up on stepladders. Others would reach for the makeshift <em>“sungkit”</em> that Lolo Danding once made out of bamboo and wire, as the others stood by holding out their shirts/skirts, ready to catch the fruits as they fall. Still, others (usually Tito Art) would literally climb up the trees to either shake the branches or pick the fruits by hand and throw them down to the people waiting below. Celebrating Mother’s birthday was literally harvest time in House Better, and the freshly-picked fruits went into sando bags along with packed food from whatever was leftover from lunch. Lootbag! Mother-style. Hahaha. =)<br /><br />This year, we celebrated Mother’s birthday—as usual—with a lunch party at House Better. Same rituals on food preps and table set-ups—except that all the trees (save for the Santol) have been uprooted, at one point of another, by the different super-typhoons that have ravaged Metro Manila in the intermittent years since we were 10 years old. That said, even the Santol is no longer the same. The years, I suppose, have finally caught up with it. It still bears fruit, but the fruits are decidedly fewer and much smaller (closer in size now to the local santol fruits compared to the Bangkok santol-sized fruits it used to yield). The fruit trees have also since been replaced by bromeliads, euphorbias and other ornamental / flower-bearing plants. Even the banana that sits in one corner of the garden is now of the ornamental variety. With the kids all grown-up, I suppose, Mother has learned to tame her practical side and allowed herself to finally pursue those that she really loves for no other reason than just because she enjoys them. As she added each year to her age, her garden evolved along with her.<br /><br />For this year's party--with the fruit trees gone and a new generation of kids running around Eduardo’s and House Better--I suppose a new tradition needed to be put in place. It came in the form of plastic inflatable pools that were set up under the Santol tree which kept the kids entertained all afternoon and the adults free for lunch, for coffee, for merienda, for never-ending stories, for boisterous laughter, for catching up on each other’s lives.<br /><br />While the details may have changed, some things will always remain. <strong>Life. Family. Love.</strong><br /><br />Happy birthday, Mother! </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">May you live long enough to celebrate your 50th Golden Anniversary (even if walang renewal of vows, haha), to see Maia, Raya and Siobe dance on their 18th birthday, to see them walk down the aisle, etc., etc.!<br /><br />Love always,<br />T&T =D<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5490939512808327458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 269px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXNLCb0XkttKqP6x6xxXDt1pRahSvbjmxaOhWMaKArY39EARV6z0GeW56Sa2JluIKHFdVtJzyAnLGOxSLoXIlyaTqvfmm9rZBf7rKqpO0oT9xjOJxNgnXM_JiRs5Krl1Asu48A1sM_OZUF/s400/WITHMOM6.bmp" border="0" /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><em><span style="color:#009900;">************************************************<br /><br />I typed this on Word but refrained from posting it to my blog until I have fine-tuned it. Last Thursday, my siblings and I woke up to a text from Father telling me that he rushed Mother to Makati Med because she was experiencing chest pains. Thursday afternoon, we were told that tests have confirmed that she had a mild heart attack and that an angiogram would be necessary to confirm the extent of the potential damage on her heart. She had the angiogram early Friday morning which confirmed that an angioplasty was necessary (but that thankfully, a bypass was not). We always complain about work stress, but we now know that nothing compares to the stress of having one of our parents in the hospital as everything hung on the balance. </span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#009900;"></span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#009900;">Mother is home now, and thankfully, much better, but that was quite a scare. So may I just reiterate: <strong>Happy birthday, Mother! May you live long enough to celebrate your 50th Golden Anniversary (even if walang renewal of vows, haha), to see Maia, Raya and Siobe dance on their 18th birthday, to see them walk down the aisle, etc., etc.! We love you! Mwah! =D <br /></strong></span></em><em><span style="color:#009900;"><strong></strong></span></em></span>TOYANG & TWEETYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09427393895925560349noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2983300665299393198.post-28721116001231340472010-03-18T07:41:00.024+08:002010-03-26T08:14:53.558+08:00THE MOM & POP SERIES: PART 1 =D<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Sometimes, I get surprised. It may be an ordinary Sunday at Eduardo's with everyone in a post-lunch huddle at the garage over <em>butong pakwan</em>, <em>pinipig suman</em> and brewed coffee. Then Patita, GB, Ray*-B and Kirstie would come barging through the front door--some holding scratch paper and colored pencils, the others holding mismatched plastic plates topped with oversized plastic pizzas, hotdogs and fries.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">"Here's your order, Mom," GB would declare, holding out a plate to Cousin Trix--never mind that we never really "ordered" anything.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">"That'll be P10.00," Patita would declare, handing over a piece of paper with doodles all over it as Ray*-B giggled by her side. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">"My turn!" Kirstie would shout out, and just like that, she'd be off running back inside--conveniently forgetting that she did not get any order from us.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">The others take it as their cue to run back inside, only to come back out with a new set of dishes for the "diners" at the "restaurant".</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Then, it hits me. <strong>We </strong>used to be the kids who'd run to and fro, pretending to cook, serving baked mud as chocolate cake to our unfortunate parents, titos and titas. </span><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5452719946841406162" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 318px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-rWOfrR_zYksrxp1DmxwOxFPNJ1q-ur2TpKmj2xigH86eJxm6WytRmwdRVLK8ZTtrzYrz6l76XC8bdj9zDkU4gqotW0q9SSmDJHV77QwFtZb3me4n-9K4kFwMVcpt-1sTeefukMHCOtZ5/s400/Family3.bmp" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">The wheels of time have turned. <strong>We</strong> are now the parents, titos and titas. Our parents have turned into doting lolos and lolas.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">The past few years have made me more aware of our mortality. While the Eduardo's group continues to be a crazy bunch of people, things have been decidedly different after we said goodbye to Tita Thelms first, then Tita Eds, then just recently, Tito Jorge. We continue to talk about them with fondness and laugh at their past antics as boisterously as we would have if they were still with us physically, but really, the loss of our loved ones have brought on, for me, a heightened sense of appreciation for those who are still with us.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">When we were kids, I remember Mother fussing about Noni and Daddy Iston, and Father always considering Lolo Danding in his plans. So we grew up with a trunk-full (a gigantic trunk!) of memories rich with the presence of our parent's parents. I don't think Mother and Father deliberately did it so we could grow up with tons to reminisce about. As far as their parents were concerned, I suppose, they really did it so they can "give back". Not that they were being required, but because they wanted to.</span><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5452722180788550994" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 311px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT4WDWfBom_s8v03CxQuh8OtXZlWomO33vtX5LPSUpyXqdat1xImf5bA-0H8043pV8dRBGgcSzhfTpPc9DbS8UTGlXcyKSvGDC350pQcPHbRK4b2qxlpt2DmDwBVparm4vfUoAIPtnDiS9/s400/Family5.bmp" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">The wheels of time have turned. And so, these days, we do (or at least we <strong>try</strong> to do) as we saw them do while we were growing up. </span><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5452722307350186594" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 272px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSagUrpJQCBkVAyW1ifJAe_6Mpdvhox-I-pu5THz5QuXZ9qNGJNfb9P4r2ks7hpNx2fl0KoD9JCDymXnesw-txTTo4i7iRR-kQCVig5Hn2Dl4Ve4tDfrkIvHHrtQELJwnOIsyzVYPDLeMu/s400/Family6.bmp" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Now, Father and I have always belonged to a mutual admiration society. Being his firstborn, I suppose, allowed me that privilege. Mother used to say that when Father is in a bad mood, the clouds of gloom and doom are automatically dispelled as soon as I walk into the room. (He may deny it, of course. I don't think anyone will believe him, haha!). When I was younger, I was the quintessential Daddy's Little Girl. As I grew up, our relationship evolved into one of easy friendship (laughter all around) even as the respect between father and child was clearly established. Although....uh.......on occasion, maybe not, haha! </span><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5452722783676470050" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 293px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4K0uCe1owpEiMwrhc_gkFAKAZpMiC4uBhE_QJwBp8Prxwyn1qkOmXGai69ZUsASb1ksXIq902_LckufJUz61PJ9yoIp3bTwtp9sLShDA3OlUQpsflBJdJh1KutRR2JRD-JfqCIVMYM97b/s400/WITHDAD2.bmp" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">"Father, can I go to with so-and-so to so-and-so's party this Saturday?" I'd ask nonchalantly.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"><em>"Hindi,"</em> he would say decisively, not even bothering to look up from his paper.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"><em>"Ba't hindi????!!!"</em> I'd jump up, hitting him playfully on the arm, half-meaning the playful scowl on my face.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"><em>"Eh, ba't nagtatanong ka pa?!"</em> he would reply, suppressing a laugh.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Such easy banter would not have been possible if I didn't have the kind of relationship I had with my Father. On most occasions, I got away with it. On those occasions when he really felt I shouldn't go, he had a ready answer, <em>"Sa mommy mo ikaw magpaaalam."</em> Ngyar.....=S</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I suppose to establish some sort of balance, all parents decide that in any situation, one must play the "good cop", the other must play the "bad cop". Truth be told, Father can never be a disciplinarian. He'd attempt to sound mad, and Sister Pusjing, Bro I-gue and myself would all be guffawing by the second sentence of reprimand. Ngyar...=) In any case, with Father away most of the time for work, the task of disciplining us crazy kids unfortunately landed in Mother's hands. (Truth be told, I don't think it's a role she relished, but it was a role that she probably felt she needed to take on.) </span><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5452723039239112386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 346px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 245px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbETgYkAwnQcDbohMbmUCaf4l8UcE-F9qIhQpqvGBC92k1eRlRFw6x2WIAxVbub8bvBXg-LOm210v_QkEAJmGzhzMmmMHZJ2u5L6WTd-rzMS-TWHkb1r42uRc5_CTcRz-84BpnFACUeCua/s400/WITHMOM3.bmp" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">To say that I didn't have the easiest relationship with Mother growing up would be an understatement. The fact that I was the firstborn who necessarily had to "test the bounderies of what will be allowed and what will get you in heaps of trouble" made it so. Don't get me wrong. Love and respect was all around. It's just that, I suppose a stubborn, independent-minded teenager and a strong-willed, protective mother do not exactly a match-in-heaven make. Mother used to tell me, <em>"Pagtanda mo, maiintindihan mo...."</em> and I remember my arrogant, 16-year old self thinking, "Nooooo way....not eveeeeeeeer!" The irony was, at some point, </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I've come to realize that--like some biblical prophecy--her words of old did begin to ring true. These days, my sister and I marvel at the fact that to a great degree, "we have turned into Mother". Haha. =D Which is why, I suppose, I'm appreciative of the kind of relationship I have with Mother now. With me no longer needing to prove anything, and her no longer needing to worry that I would be foolish enough to sneak out on a Sunday morning to jump off some plane, Mother and I have <strong>finally (!) </strong>met somewhere in the middle. We have finally become more than just mother and daughter; I'd like to think we have finally become friends. =)</span><br /><br /><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">And so, while my teenage and early adult years had me dreaming of moving out of House Better to live in a place of my own so I can finally "do what I want to do", I soon realized, no more than a few months after I moved into House Pioneer, that I practically spend the entire work week wishing for the weekend so I can go home to House Better. HAHAHAHAHA! =)</span></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5452720270476372818" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 355px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 356px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8bvwp_hyW9ie3nMKR4Lv5pvhqG-o0gOzfzNMATeQwqtsZJmQaOTFsE4Ffu1LIoIPXmfuT9VRrZ6-HjnoQYD6ar3wU4U4PuZjTZXOCFPp0jIdrChCN8Chr_OLk20iWOyhevAOYmY25yfYv/s400/Family1.bmp" border="0" /><br /><p><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Spending the weekend bonding with Mother and Father is something we all look forward to (we defined as Hubby Sweet, the pups and me), but getting to spend time with them out of the usual confines of House Better is always special. (Such will be chronicled in this series. =)) </span><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">I suppose, there is something blessed about being able to share our "adult world" with the very people who reared us from childhood to become the very people primarily responsible for the kind of adult life we enjoy now. </span></p><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">The wheels of time have turned. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">It is now <strong>our </strong>time to give back. =)</span>TOYANG & TWEETYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09427393895925560349noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2983300665299393198.post-10461723784725630102010-03-17T18:27:00.009+08:002010-03-17T18:32:28.320+08:00THE SIMPLER WAY =D<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">OK. So I was reading my directions to <strong><span style="color:#000099;">6404 Camia</span></strong> and even I got confused. Haha! </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Take two. =D</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Go to Estrella from EDSA. On the street between the old Metro Club and SC Johnson, turn right. On the first street (Camia), turn left. Park as close as possible to Coz-Kuts, the parlor. The restaurant will be among the doors to its right. Look for the 6404 on top of one of the doors. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><em>Ayan. =D</em></span>TOYANG & TWEETYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09427393895925560349noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2983300665299393198.post-21190343683527305232010-03-15T07:58:00.005+08:002010-03-16T17:31:19.341+08:006404 CAMIA =D<div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">So this may be a bit late because practically the entire <strong>local </strong>blogging world has been abuzz about this place since...uh....two months ago. Still, I suppose, there's merit in writing about it as it has figured in several of our key occasions lately: Valentine's Day, Hubby Sweet's Birthday and First Dinner Out with My Visiting In-Laws. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">I first heard about it from our CFO who couldn't seem to stop raving about it. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">"There's this hole-in-the-wall Chinese restaurant near Rockwell," he would say, "It's owned by recent migrants from China who couldn't even speak English! And it's not regular Chinese food," he would continue, "It's Hunan cuisine so it's really, REALLY spicy. Sarap!"</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">More than just rave about it, however, he practically hauls over everyone who would care to go with him to eat there for lunch. Now CFO has a Thai wife who is excellent at cooking; he is used to spicy food and is not beyond eating everything with fresh siling labuyo. So it got me fully intrigued that he has brought even our expat visitors to eat there, only to come back raving even more about how everyone loved the food and how their eyes watered at the spiciness of practically everything in the menu! "I even asked them to tone it down because I wasn't sure what Mr. So-&-So's tolerance for heat is," he usually exclaims, "but even with 'medium-spicy', we were really sweating!" (Mental note to self: request for <strong>mild </strong>spicy when we go there.)</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Now, there are two things you ought to know about <strong><span style="color:#000099;">6404 Camia</span></strong> (that's more the address than the "official name" which escapes me at the moment): </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">(1) They will not charge you for ambience. There is none. White walls. No decors. Wooden tables and chairs. Just about it. Heck, even "house water" is served on recycled 1.5L Coke PET bottles. Table napkin is unheard off. In their place, you would find a roll of toilet paper in a plastic container. Diners are even allowed to come in their basketball jerseys and slippers. It's like there is this big, invisible sign: "Please leave your pretentions by the door. They are not allowed inside." Haha. =D</span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448637414715370194" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPOXNxJkRkzwHV9VM3ZFOz5p76eYQID0WklNnrHC0f28pJw4Qp5UDUWNHbNmwhQgWe8JyL8Ir-fW4F4YxJEcXAI-f48GVC-oz-hQ1fk28wOsZqovVG4gsNnOw0UCaGBUdpox8XYjhTRu3g/s400/DSC01823.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">(2) Bottomless rice. None of the sticky bottomless rice at Mang Inasal. This one is all about fragrant, long-grain rice. The servers are not about to volunteer the information so it is pretty much passed on from one customer to the next through word of mouth. There is a reason this rice cooker sits in plain view in the middle of the dining area (yes, in plain view--didn't I tell you there was no ambience? =)). It is so you can get up and get your own rice refill--as much as you want, as often as you want. =)</span><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448637666779079714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguwhVtj8eNjpnfJUPU30doo6EO0CyOhhAgAHmvT7242MytTUErHuyGWMXZ-yAHpWdKOQHdQCXLZGPsgaumbPfDZ2W6JINaHu3A-x0JOYq5mbYdMr4r1j7ZcB45e-c-WPLZyzomwR_sqn2Y/s400/DSC01822.JPG" border="0" /></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">We went there first on V-Day, before proceeding to RCBC for the restaging of Rent. Now, it hardly seemed like an appropriate place for a V-Day dinner, but we really were averse to queuing (and on V-Day, there usually are queues even in Pizza Hut, ngyar). I suggested that maybe eating in some hole-in-the-wall, off-the-beaten-track Chinese restaurant may be the better option. I was pretty sure Hubby Sweet would be intrigued. He likes eating in places like these where it's really less about the ambience and more about the food. Our V-Day dinner consisted of the "bestsellers" and the highly recommended dishes. Given CFO's warning, we decided to go slow and requested that everything be prepared with "mild spiciness" only. </span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">"It's our first time," I felt like telling the waitress, "Please be gentle." Haha. ;p </span><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">On to the line-up!</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"><strong><span style="color:#000099;">Hot Pot Duck.</span> </strong>There are several hot pot versions on the menu, but on this, our first visit, we decided to go for one thing that we probably won't be able to order easily from anywhere else. The serving size was good for 3-4 people, depending on how big their appetites are or how many other dishes they order. It pretty much reminded me of the <em>Adobong Itik</em> that one of the Test Kitchen girls (who lived in Pateros) used to bring for lunch sharing. I liked it, but I suppose, with all the hype, I wished we did not request that the level of spiciness be toned down. Next time, Hubby Sweet and I agreed, we will level up to--at least--medium spicy. =D</span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448634228736531186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0YX-pK-9HP28mwzsr5I5uMrtQUgdqoyrkk6s0CV6VigGj6KvFd37qmQeg5B1HJu_s8EjIyOeS5Sa4VHtz75ITBjSY1WsCpvUapYB29wAm8KDJZwzlZeyDtFnX-ydF9g1EtHkOJrmu81T3/s400/DSC01824.JPG" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong><span style="color:#000099;">Gong Bao Chicken.</span> </strong>Or Kung Pao Chicken if you're more familiar with the term because of all those American sitcom reruns you've been watching. Now this has become a regular part of the line-up everytime we go there. I LOVE Kung Pao Chicken, but before 6404 Camia have been unable to find a restaurant that serves a decent version. Oh, joy now that I've got a place to go to everytime I need a fix! Happy, happy. Joy, joy. ^_^<br /></span><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448641341110997858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU_XVE8w7QMUZK3bAjUS1nrPZLItAxXCrOb-VJiE82mgnmA2wvQcp84U5gr8tALTackN7Hoe_5OKKnxVjVz-s4vy6IGC8zZPdP2f5HrLVlL566TIg-5c6u50z6U9Lgp-LnAbO_agec6lsD/s400/DSC01866.JPG" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong><span style="color:#000099;">Boiled Dumplings.</span></strong> Now, this I ordered because everyone kept telling me it's like eating Dong Bei dumplings. Now, I haven't eaten Dong Bei dumplings yet because I haven't been anywhere near Binondo lately so I thought, maybe, this is my chance. I had high expectations though, thinking that it would approximate the dumplings Hubby Sweet and I had during one of our trips to the side streets of Mongkok. I remember that day clearly. Tired, we decided to just plop down in one of the "<em>carinderias</em>" where no one really spoke English and this lady was preparing dumplings right in the middle of the dining area, a steel basin <em>(batya, </em>yes) in front of her filled with...uh...dumpling fillings. So we asked to taste. It was divine. I was hoping to replicate it here, but was disappointed. I found the dumplings a bit bland for my taste. It wasn't bad. It's just that it wasn't what I expected. It tasted more like fresh gyoza to me. Oh, well. =)<br /><br /></span><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448640741116481986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-U8o1uMxnuYGsnuyC6eV19xLSpQ0NMdd0i2sJfINGDQrDPdnSwMpnV7LAZfiQNWqAGbE6b_c-UYTxQ9vuxhfjbAyHhsWGCENJu4Q3IhWanAHNZv5_syri3Dju4eajOqsabBrSrn4E_Wqw/s400/DSC01826.JPG" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong><span style="color:#000099;">Mapo Tofu.</span> </strong>We ordered it only because the Hubby needed a protein fix, but I suppose we can skip it in future visits. There are other more interesting dishes to try. =)</span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448640935326590962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGgOQxu6V2kjuZHWxkkk5Fn4if_KOFdoVwRPTcoe9hgr2XGvnOWySVLMXJ48XV0t12wwbYt4X8IhwQ1ETXkdZVFBWBnIaw12IW0audAOlzgJpB4udXHmQ2e7ZbIR7ZgXyQwrnf8WQZ2Aek/s400/DSC01827.JPG" border="0" /><br /><span style="color:#000099;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong>Egg and Seaweed Soup</strong>. <span style="color:#333333;">This was not really part of the plan, but the Hubby was going through a cough spell and he desperately wanted something to soothe the throat in preparation for Rent. He didn't want to be known as the man who kept on coughing at Orchestra Center. Haha. =D It tasted....uh....medicinal. I suppose if I had a really bad flu, this would be the one mean soup that could get rid of it. Hahaha. =D<br /></span></span></span><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448641161614748642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy7Y3cziipKz8b5MX61BqUHrFMo0Wlya8bfwdsfyIqMlNdmIzoVBO8u_3_ZPIBZZDL0roZhQChJ25EZnpWjeuzuBG-9qoeqHQ1QMmHDW_KiQiWSL-uSInATbDIxqGobzqd-BOkBBYqQruU/s400/DSC01828.JPG" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">On our next visit (for the Hubby's birthday), we decided to keep the Gong Bao Chicken and try other things on the menu. He was on a quest and right there and then, we decided that while we will retain our favorites in future visits, we will have to try something new everytime we go. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"><strong><span style="color:#000099;">Boiled Fish with Spicy.</span></strong> I kid you not. That is the name written on the menu. Now, I'm not particularly a fan of fish. Especially not of boiled fish! I like my viands strongly flavored and fatty. Haha. But this one....oh, this one, I loved. ^_^ As soon as they set it down before us, Hubby Sweet and I looked at each other. Thought balloon: "Oh, we are sooooooooo in trouble." Slivers of white fish swimming in red soup. Oh, yes, it looked like it was <strong>definitely "with spicy".</strong> Haha! =D With one sip, Hubby Sweet declared that if Gong Bao Chicken is going to be my staple at 6404 Camia, this was going to be his! Game. =D</span></div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448641548495834274" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSSk9DutLLoXFQKn_UOGWY_8rYgHlLzkIuTGpFatnh8szsdfT14hSTfh-XnSBPG5u29cXirjFWr3-GviAcM8byEreht8M2uJFVAnECrSIAdU1h4o2kWK0Ga6jxeYgHtpu-ec7do_M4ONh8/s400/DSC01865.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><div></span><span style="color:#000099;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong>Twice Cooked Pork with Tofu. </strong><span style="color:#333333;">I stupidly asked, <em>"Miss, maanghang ba 'to?"</em> The waitress cheekily replied, <em>"Ma'am, lahat ng pagkain namin maanghang."</em> Hmp. Haha. Anyway, I meant to ask what they mean by twice-cooked, but the owners don't speak English and the servers don't really know how the dishes are prepared. Never mind. 'Twas good--a new taste at least. The tofu, in particular, had a different taste dimension. The Hubby suspects that it was made to rest first in a soy sauce-based marinade before being sliced and cooked. I actually liked it, but wouldn't really mind bumping it off from the menu in favor of some other new dish to try next time.<br /></span></span></span><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448641753431493666" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcAzQvWrHaB-QQDsKlT68kCQYDA6oVtpxuhV4XFOLUNS-Kpj2bM69IHjeSOMBbtzoQdsNcLWsPhwW-rdNP5F5N8YNypYPhDBol1rU8Msw8PKnxuOiCaT2xqHaGOYwe8wkZjH9qHW1F76wN/s400/DSC01867.JPG" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="color:#000099;"><strong>Steamed Pork with Buns</strong>.</span> Ain't it pretty? =) The servers recommended that we eat it with buns. You'd have to order the buns separately though. I originally thought it would be a glorified version of Asado siopao. Haha. I was wrong. Expecting the meat to be sweet, I was actually taken aback when I first bit into it and found it salty. Maybe I should've eaten it with the bed of pickled vegetables it was served with to get a full appreciation of the taste, but I never did like the taste of pickled vegetables (I grew up thinking they were food decor, haha) so I didn't. I asked Hubby Sweet to taste it, but he was too distracted by the Boiled Fish to even give this one a serious try. Oh, well. I had the time of my life using the steamed buns to sop up the sauce of the Gong Bao Chicken and of the Twice-Cooked Pork with Tofu though. Haha! How plebian. =D<br /></span><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448641949773328962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnHYr3keeemSRp3QEYAPQ6L3loHYzKQ3uyWo6RUtuhcTvK0dJQLUPHpT7OmghEcKvPuwf2gKHN-lxyWzdwh_hC5qybdeJlbclElhPPmXiy6yme7nnfUh-F_1y8zbs_wAjt2zkqjkY8_05u/s400/DSC01869.JPG" border="0" /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448642120838542418" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNq73gvJOEiAZntpdMrcRABLKIeQwVr33vVViEFmEtR25WpgekYEvBvR-DNx8fVCWhcTiy7EphbEv3cx2gs4J7N9DMevDFeNykRg5J6xoQSWwPq3SRN1ZSQRRwNWiSfYlg2BzKwBv0qe_4/s400/DSC01863.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong><span style="color:#000099;">Hot Pot Spareribs.</span></strong> Last weekend, my in-laws were in town for a visit as Hubby Sweet's sister was flying in from San Francisco sometime this week. So we decided to bring them over and in addition to the Boiled Fish and the Gong Bao Chicken, we decided to give this hotpot dish a try (basically because, this time, it was going to be the "designated pork dish" in the line-up). 'Twas OK, but I felt that they may have overcooked the spareribs a bit because I found it to be a bit dry (despite the fact that the dish was actually saucy). Oh, well. I suppose this means, we would have to try the other pork dishes <em>naman </em>next time.</span><br /><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448642303387891826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjjjLHiJNQbkFMr2ZLaQpqJuflmwr1ojRD5NF40NVuEj3kclqqCMTIuRMoVCgZBKd_4Yz0M1uKiuVIRmM1PCHu0iPi3K4Arjkc734E7IAYLceKzJ87yfn6vqU9MDjKLwbDa2pWCYm_BpDg/s400/DSC01875.JPG" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong><span style="color:#000099;">Fried Lamb.</span> </strong>Now, I'm a huge fan of lamb but have never really tried it "fried" so I was actually wondering if the game-iness would be too overpowering. I loved and decided that this will be part of the staple now. Woopee! =D (Forgive the hazy picture. I was rushing the photo because the Hubby looked like he really wanted to devour it <strong>ALREADY</strong>! Haha. =D)</span></div><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448642491305696098" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPVG5gERexHLQ9fmm8jbF8LELW1PTfnzBBX3YlSmyRKNUEcXGvdyHoONY88OQHCkJhyphenhyphenvqNMtwT4YTLl6CeG9_7peusEVhKcmIJtkmB3wnipN3xdpz1ttATte3ZzEhyphenhyphen9S05CHMwVouyk9bx/s400/DSC01876.JPG" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">On our last visit, Hubby Sweet also discovered that they now serve more than water in recycled PET bottles and softdrinks in can. <strong><span style="color:#000099;">Tsing Tao Beer</span></strong> has arrived! Double woopee for him! Yahoo. =D<br /></span> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448642769497918642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYMyxAN6eoIKGOYlVIo04QKX3eeHdT4kTgpHALqUvsRIXUnxeIuMTS0-sZdCu_1ybGOwrJq4rqwUc3joKkXt-21uLxlcu0EXd-6bIPzZfuBCizneEV9-cp_4hhyAqq5yqwZdzQnoCBlkW-/s400/DSC01873.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#009900;"><em>***************************************<br /><br />Giving directions to 6404 Camia to a first-timer is the equivalent of leaving direction clues for The Amazing Race contestants. It's the kind of place that people-who-know have to struggle with everytime they are asked exactly how to get there. The first time I heard directions to the place, there was instant recognition on my part only because it ran right smack in the middle of the "shortcut" that I usually take through the maze of Guadalupe Viejo sidestreets on my way home to House Pioneer. I use the word "shortcut" loosely because on a by-kilometer basis, going straight up on EDSA would definitely be the shorter route, except that one can save up at least 20 minutes by going through the traffic-less sidestreets. (I digress.) </em></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#009900;"><em></em></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#009900;"><em>Now, when first-timers finally hit a "eureka-moment" on the street directions, the entire thing begins all over--this time with having to identify which apartment along Camia they would be welcomed to dine in (as opposed to all the other apartments they may accidentally barge into only to find the entire family glued to either Panday Kids or Agua Bendita. Haha.)</em></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#009900;"><em>In any case, these days, I just tell people to go up the Rockwell ramp from EDSA to get to Estrella. On the second street (between SC Johnson and the old Metro Club), turn right. They should see the Barangay Hall along the street. Otherwise, they turned on the wrong one. After turning right, they should then turn left on the first street (Camia St.). On the right side, they will see a beauty parlor, CozKuts--yes, CozKuts =)--and that they should attempt to find parking as close to it as possible. The restaurant will be along that row of apartments, to the right of the beauty parlor. They would have to look for the very small <strong>6404</strong> on top of one of the doors. </em></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#009900;"><em>In all the visits we've had so far, our bill ranged from P1,000 - P1,500. </em></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#009900;"><em>Good enough for 4-5 viands with softdrinks and bottomless rice, right? </em></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#009900;"><em></em></span> </div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#009900;"><em>Go. =D </div></em></span></div></div></div></div></div></div>TOYANG & TWEETYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09427393895925560349noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2983300665299393198.post-22889178904326769572010-03-10T07:27:00.023+08:002010-03-11T07:21:57.408+08:00CRUISIN'..........=)<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">It's been a while.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">As I drove down the entire stretch of the NLEX, traffic whizzed past me. I was alone in my car with nothing but music to keep me company. I turned the music up and sung to...errr....Michael Buble at the top of my lungs. (The CD was not mine, but it was the only one on deck coming from a weekend in House Better and driving in the car with Mother and Father.) </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">"This all seems vaguely familiar," I remember thinking, despite the seemingly inappropriate standard music soundtrack. I felt the blood rushing through my veins just a tad quicker. </span><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">I couldn't help but smile.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">I haven't driven down any long stretch of road alone in quite a while; it was something that I used to do quite often during The Wander Years. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">"Dang!" I thought. I wish I still had the Charlie's Angels CD that I used to keep in my car. I laughed at the memory of me and BFF Gnet driving home from Malate in the wee hours of the morning, hands waving, heads banging as....uh...."Independent Women" blared out from the speakers. <em>"All you women, independent," </em>I would shout out, "<em>throw your hands up at me...." </em>Hahaha. =D </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Those were my days of independence. Being the faster driver compared to all the other girls(except BFF Marts), and I suppose, being the more willing one (in addition to BFF Marts) to hop onto a car to pick-up and drop off everyone else, I was more often than not the "designated driver". I suppose the fact that I did not have kids to cook breakfast for and a husband waiting for me to arrive before the designated time also counted for something. I can come and go as I pleased. Ergo, I would be most flexible when it comes to time. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Those road trips from the Wander Years brought us to Punta Fuego for a Marketing teambuilding session, to Tagaytay for a coffee-planting tour, to Clark for a salescon, to Anilao for a weekend's stay at BFF Carmi's place, to an airstrip near Santo Tomas for a weekend skydiving adventure, to somewhere south for a visit to my cousin as he dealt with drug rehab, etc., etc.!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">I was on my way to Fontana, this time for another salescon. Everyone else had to take the bus, but work, quite unfortunately prevented me from staying the entire three days. So I was driving to Angeles instead so I can attend Day 1 (for the serious business sessions) and drive back to Manila in time to submit RAOP requirements to Finance the following day. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">This was my first salescon out of Marketing; my first salescon in Demand Management. And while the salescon (and the simultaneous covert parties in the villas that happen every night) <strong>is always fun</strong>, it is just as well that I needed to get back to Manila. In the past few years, I have been away every time the Hubby's birthday came along as it always coincided with salescon week. The bright side to me not being required to stay for the entire duration of the salescon this year is that, for the first time in years, the Hubby will actually get to wake up on his birthday with me by his side. (Woooohooooo! I am assuming, of course, that...uh...that's what he wants. Haha! =D)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">I stopped by the Shell Station in Tabang. I was supposed to meet Judith there (one of my finance officemates) at 10:30 a.m. to make it in time for the opening lunch at the salescon venue. She lived in Bulacan and decided it would be too inconvenient to go all the way to the office at the Fort only to ride the bus that will take her all the way back to Pampanga. I offered to give her a ride, but I arrived too early. Not to worry; I came prepared. Just the day before, I had given up all hope that I would find Cousin Trix's New Moon copy (that I seem to have misplaced) and decided to just buy a replacement copy from "A Different Bookstore" in Serendra. I wanted to see the movie, but have always had this thing about reading the book <strong>first </strong>before seeing the movie. Waiting for Judith would give me time to finish a good part of the book (which, come to think of it, I started reading Holy Week last year! <em>Susko</em>...=)<em>)</em>. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">I skipped over to Starbucks and decided to forego my usual coffee frap for a chai tea latte. It seemed to be the healthier choice. </span><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">As I settled into one of the comfy couches--cup of latte on one hand, book in the other--I couldn't help but smile. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">I haven't done this in quite a while; it was something that I used to do quite often during The Wander Years. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Back then, Saturdays would find me driving to ATC (Alabang Town Center) where I would go to Powerbooks to pick my book of the week. From there, I would go to Cibo where I would eat my Spinach Dip with Crostini and Il Classico Pasta at a leisurely pace as I pored over several chapters of my newly bought paperback. I would stay until I realize that Cibo actually <strong>needs</strong> my table already to serve other customers, after which I would ask for the check, pay the bill, and scoot over to Cafe Breton next door for coffee and dessert. There, I would eat my crepe and drink my coffee at a leisurely pace as I pored over a few more chapters. Saturday was my de-stress time. Never mind that I seemed like a loon eating alone in restaurants. While I absolutely love being with family and friends, sometimes, a really good book is all the company that I need. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Judith arrived soon enough. Teenage angst between vampires and werewolves would have to wait. It was time to go. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">We roared down the remaining kilometers along the NLEX to Fontana and got there with time to spare. Had lunch with the Marketing folks. Attended the inspiring salescon opening and kick-off. Had a quick chat with everyone else after the sessions. Congratulated everyone who deserved to be congratulated quite enthusiastically. Said goodbye. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Soon, I was back on the road. It was just a little after 5:00 p.m. "Perfect!" I thought. In the middle of summer, it just means that I will get back to Manila (and more familiar territory) before it gets dark. Hubby Sweet would be surprised. Earlier that day, I told him that if the business sessions end too late, I would stay overnight in Fontana and just drive back early the following day. He agreed that it was the most prudent thing to do, and quite honestly, probably expected that I will be staying over.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">As I drove down the entire stretch of the NLEX, traffic whizzed past me. Once again, I was alone in my car with nothing but music to keep me company. I turned the music up once more and sung to...errr....Michael Buble at the top of my lungs. Strangely, however, this time, there was no hankering for the Indepent Women anthem of my Wander years. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Earlier that day, the song blaring out the speakers seemed highly inappropriate. It now seemed particularly apt. </span><br /><br /><em><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Let me go home,</span></em><br /><em><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I’ve had my run</span></em><br /><em><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Baby, I’m done</span></em><br /><em><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I gotta go home</span></em><br /><br /><em><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Let me go home</span></em><br /><em><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">It’ll all be all right</span></em><br /><em><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I’ll be home tonight</span></em><br /><em><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I’m coming back home........ </span></em><br /><br /><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I hit the repeat button and sang all the way back.</span></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446954597650577570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ1HgHDGpqXzARHh9nI52dHE0ER4AaeGtZatlPNJleabc3MS-Tmacl9ywJmd6qz4FCTjfu_JfeZHQr3-yMJHdkVHlANUXbxudby3OOd9jB61VDrk13l7lI7BHJwb_gCsAbFYtMIA6KUB3j/s400/DSC01855.JPG" border="0" />TOYANG & TWEETYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09427393895925560349noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2983300665299393198.post-12924866784297820862010-03-05T17:26:00.015+08:002010-03-09T18:30:19.812+08:00ONE LAZY, SATURDAY AFTERNOON....=)<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">'Twas turning out to be a good Saturday all around. We got home to House Better early enough and Banzo had just about wreaked enough havoc in the garden, pulling on leaves and flowers, as Buster J chased all the birds away. <em>Hay....Santa Barbara.....</em></span><br /><div><br /><div><div><div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">After a quick breakfast, Hubby Sweet rushed off to Elorde for his new weekend passion, boxing. Soon after he rushed out the door, I rushed off to my all time favorite weekend passion, sleeping--which just about explains the big difference in our physical shape these days. (Hey! Round <strong>is </strong>a shape. Hmp. Hay...<em>*Insert sheepish grin here....=D*)</em></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">He got back (and I woke up) just in time for lunch. Having run out of things to do after lunch (and with the pups sleeping, tired from all the running around in the garden), Hubby Sweet decided to go to Gourdo's for some kitchen equipment. I had decided early on to use Saturday afternoon to finish my slide presentation due Monday morning. Being the great procrastinator that I have always been, however, that "resolve" pretty much sealed my slide presentation's fate. (I ended up deferring actual work to late Sunday evening. Never mind that I practically had to subsist on 4 hours of sleep. <em>Hay! =)</em>) I decided lying around "feeling guilty" about not working isn't the way I wanted to spend my Saturday afternoon so I told the Hubby I'd tag along.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">The thing about me is that while I cannot cook to save my life, I actually find it relaxing to watch cooking shows and browse around in places like <strong><span style="color:#000099;">Gourdo's</span></strong>. I never buy anything there really, but I find the merchandise....uh....pretty. Every single time I go there, I end up wishing I could cook so that I can find some use for all the things I want to buy. But I don't cook so I just browse. =) </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">As the Hubby looked around the serious kitchen utensils section, I went to another part of the store where they sell...uh...<strong>ready-to-eat</strong> bottled pasta sauces, imported food stuff, etc., etc. Haha. Deep inside, I squealed with delight when I set my sight on one of the bottles on the shelf. <span style="color:#000099;"><strong>Claude Tayag's XO Sauce</strong>.</span> <span style="color:#000099;"><strong>^_^ </strong></span><span style="color:#000000;">I've always heard people talk about it with reverence, but until then, I thought I would have to go all the way to Bale Dutung to give it a try. Apparently not. Yey! I decided to buy one bottle to try in House Better.</span></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446039666235500466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghmxZ1eq90PI74dSxZDAJdfUzV2unlE7_XLET51t1dE2tIUQFr-TCBVipeaT6R0C0Iza9mKUIiCLwBKkyMoNNOEqcGqXjwjdC86cBK9MSZWax2ZW0RMUMw2yMMFXEprDCyrmpQsEjy5fZ-/s400/DSC01872.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">It did not disappoint. (The pic above was taken only one week later. Half-full <em>na lang</em> because apparently, Father puts it on practically everything! Haha. =)) Dried shrimps, Chinese ham, red chilis, garlic, spices, mushed together into a "sosier" version of the traditional Chinese chili-garlic. That is actually not a fair description. Claude Tayag's XO Sauce is <strong>exponentially several level-up higher</strong> than any Chinese chili-garlic version I've tried. That's saying a lot, actually, considering that I love the usual version enough to literally pile it on every time I eat in a Chinese restaurant. =) I suppose it's the Chinese ham that adds the unusual sweet-salty-fatty <em>linamnam</em> to the spices. Heaven in a bottle. Thought balloon: I must hoard the next time I go to Gourdo's. Haha. ^_^</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Now, quite unexpectedly, back to that Saturday afternoon, as I made my way to the counter, I heard my name called out from across the room. I turned to look and squealed with delight (<strong>outwardly</strong> this time), "BOOTSIE!!!!!" We haven't seen each other in ages. We used to hang out a lot when I was still single and her husband, George, still worked at the Tomato & Pineapple Company. She called out to Ysa and right there and then, I realized we <strong>really</strong> haven't seen each other in ages. Ysa was no longer a little girl; she was already a sophomore in ICA. <em>Naku!!! </em>Running into an old friend unexpectedly is always a joy. Arm in arm, we went around Gourdo's browsing and talking endlessly about what happened to whom and when and why...<em>naku! Chismis nang chismis.</em> Haha! =D</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Soon, however, Hubby Sweet went up to the counter with his loot, and I realized that we really <strong>must </strong>go because right before we left House Better, I told Father that we will be bringing home merienda. At about that time, the clock struck 4:00. Ngyar. =D</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">We paid for the merchandise and with a really tight hug, I said goodbye to Bootsie and Ysa. (The old gang really should get together again soon. =)) </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">As far as merienda is concerned, Hubby Sweet and I were on a mission. Earlier that week, I literally gasped when I checked out the <a href="http://dessertcomesfirst.com/archives/2318">Dessert Comes First </a>website to see a post on La Paz Batchoy. If you clicked on the link, you would understand why I just <strong>had </strong>to have a taste of that darn batchoy! Haha. =D</span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445088975884677938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw0sZAXxM4tVz7YpDTjAn0b-E4CezwMsaehimsrWK9ywyMUhIYNBeq7kVIfhfNDXWewrdvNS3S9J3crhyphenhyphenE_lifqqyvFdtoiYMre7_nbwak8JbBfC9wv6hIBSQTyMT67OkZI6DeftqOBrsg/s400/DSC01841.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Getting to the Alphaland Southgate Mall was easy enough. Finding <strong><span style="color:#000099;">Deco's</span> </strong>inside took quite a bit of time as there seemed to be an absence of guards to ask and most of the stall owners did not know what we were talking about. After going around in circles up to the third (fourth?) floor, we finally located a guard who told us to go back down to the first (!) floor. We would find Deco's in one of the coves beside Mang Inasal. We finally found it eventually! (It was a very small cove. Hay.... =D)</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">I won't go through the entire history of Deco anymore as it was really the generous toppings and the idea that its broth was <em>sebo-</em>free that convinced me to try it. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">"Seven orders for take-out. Extra-special. Yung six with miki. Yung one with miswa," I ordered from the lady in the counter (yes, Deco's is <em>parang </em>fastfood). While waiting for everything else to be ready, the Hubby decided to get his Batchoy with Miswa fix right there and then. (He had been pretty cranky in the car already and getting his hunger relieved is the only sure-fire way to lighten his mood.) Deco's Batchoy is a magic potion. With the first sip, Hubby Sweet's grin returned--stretching from ear to ear. =D</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">I sneaked in a few sips just to give it a try. To be quite honest about it, it took everything in me to stop myself from actually devouring the entire bowl! Haha. My batchoy craving would have to wait until we got back to House Better.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Our take-out orders came in properly-sealed styro bowls with the soup packed separately in big plastic bags. Mother seemed perplexed when we brought home only seven bowls, but with soup enough to fill a big cauldron. <em>Susko! </em>I suppose, that's because we would have gotten the benefit of bottomless soup if we had eaten everything in the outlet (yes, bottomless, refillable soup). Just right, I suppose, that they give us more than enough soup in case we want to do the same at home. I'm loving Deco's already. Really. =D</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">This is how my take-out batchoy looked like before I poured on the beef broth. Noodles buried under a ton of pork slices, slivers of liver and crispy pork chicharon. </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Cardiac delight in a take-out styro bowl. Haha!<br /></span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445092405287068066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUMX27drTddef-jXXbrtuadbq9Nmg35ip09WvsZGWGdWW_FbOicEHIqATprC2kgDTMgVQPddCBOXOfnq7gOOBFPiV3l40v3XdZ3CZkpgOrCNVNGalGo6oT2CjQo3KYhLa7ILXb4nvEMyVC/s400/DSC01843.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I poured on the soup and miraculously, none of the ingredients turned into mush. The chicharon, in particular, retained the crispness it had even after being soaked in broth for quite some time. I refilled my bowl with soup before devouring everything else. (OK, fine. I was practically snorting the soup up my nose and figuratively shoving everthing down my throat. Haha!) Soon, I experienced the heady feeling that comes with food that is sooooooooo good, but also soooooooooooo deceptively deadly. Hahaha. Ngyar. I don't mind. Deco's La Paz Batchoy was worth it. =)</span><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445093060751010514" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikPhhVWLm2a7OewyH3a6H_JWfCNFxDMal5nXivWtB6NK_PAskDuf7sMyN-nv7T10NVg7hLj_JMOyvlFPfxwHUsLM4d_B2VjY7LHrKQj_BGZ6zaY5FC2p2M3wgZ4PTtm4QC91BLd7aOkIxF/s400/DSC01848.JPG" border="0" /> </div></div></div></div>TOYANG & TWEETYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09427393895925560349noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2983300665299393198.post-26397764794773790672010-02-23T06:31:00.013+08:002010-02-24T07:15:49.642+08:00SUMMER'S HERE! NGYAR......=S<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I just know summer's here (in February, really?!) when the breezy, cool <strong>noontime </strong>walks I didn't mind taking from Boni High all the way to Market! Market! for lunchtime errands is no longer possible. I get out of our office and barely make it to Starbucks (no more than 50 steps away) without melting.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">I just know summer's here (in February, really?!) when I have to turn the aircon on much, much earlier at night as opposed to turning it on only right before we sleep. I just know summer's here when the barely there aircon cooling (more for air circulation really, whether real or imagined on my part) gives way to lower and lower temps. It's a vicious cycle I know.....Guilty as charged! Ngyar. ='(</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">I just know summer's here (in February, really?!) when I couldn't resist having a tall glass of ice-cold Coke Light poured over a tall glass filled with ice. Get that ice-cold Coke just isn't enough? In the office where the aircon blasts on the entire day, I drink coffee. I drink green tea (to aid in my quest to lose 15 lbs. by the time I'm 40!). In House Better, during weekends, nothing else does it for me. Forget the "happiness bit" that they blare out on all their TVC's. It's all about fizz and bubbles going down to soothe a dry, parched throat. <em>*SFX: glug-glug-glug...Aaaaaaaaaaaaah! =D*</em></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">I just know summer's here (in February, really?!) when droughts, low water levels and cloud seeding take precedent over presidential campaign buzz and political mud-slinging in the early evening news. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Still, this being Banzo's first summer, I have had a few more reminders. These days, I just know summer's here (in February, really?!) because Banzo has started to shed, his loose furballs rolling all over the place like desert tumbleweeds against the air being blown by the industrial fan. We have started to put bottles and bottles of 1.5L Coke PETs filled with water in the freezer so that Fe-licious can repeatedly replace his water dispenser with ice-cold water throughout the day. (And just like that, he drinks practically half the bottle now everytime he goes, haha.) I have also taken to texting Fe-licious in the middle of the day to check if she kept the industrial fan on as I told her or to direct her to put on the aircon if it's particularly hot <em>(mag-jacket na lang siya, haha</em>). </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Finally, I just know summer's here when the resident Siberian Husky who used to curl up blissfully as he sleeps now spreads eagle like an accidental porn star in all those video scandals every time he takes a nap. </span><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441575720156984914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih0qe8706to7p4xRchcIwTYuaGv-U3LusGnVyJi4ctaftWeF0DIbmzp-5XVnCaIst_hJkqJthR1SqHbR7wmOfGVW9g5UZTc_4ye-pbdM4Fub-LHYHtCNBXcmeNcMbaSbEN2AIRs6szGZsT/s400/DSC00051.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Welcome to the start of a potentially 40-degree summer. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Heaven help all of us. =S</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#009900;">*************************************** </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#009900;"><em>If there's anything that'll help cool things down, it's trees. </em></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#009900;"><em>I know because there is a world of difference between driving down old acacia-lined McKinley Road on the Forbes side and driving down the same road on the Fort Bonifacio side where the trees are still young (in time, in time...). </em></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#009900;"><em>I know because there is a world of difference between walking the pups on the street outside and playing with them instead in Mother's House Better garden with the Santol tree covering practically the entire backyard and a gazillion other plants and mini-trees cooling things down. </em></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#009900;"><em>Sometime last year, I goaded the entire family into a <a href="http://the-adventures-of-toyang-and-tweety.blogspot.com/2009/05/saving-la-mesa-watershed-may-172009-d.html">tree-planting activity </a>at the La Mesa watershed. 20 seedlings prepared in honor of the kiddies in the family (including Buster J and, back then, Barrioca, haha). 'Would have to find time (and cash, haha) to do that one again. </em></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#009900;"><em></em></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#009900;"><em>In the meantime, I do hope this will inspire you to find some way of planting a tree in your own neighborhoods or your own backyards. Come rainy season, they will help keep the floods away. Come summer, they will help cool us down. Could there be any better deal than that? None. So go! =)</em></span>TOYANG & TWEETYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09427393895925560349noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2983300665299393198.post-65969309477303686252010-02-15T17:53:00.024+08:002010-02-16T18:55:27.809+08:00WHEN I GET RICH, AS IN SUPER, SUPER RICH!!! =D<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">When I get rich--as in super, super, rich!--I will build a house with a non-descript facade, an ordinary wooden door and a small pocket gar</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">den in front. </span><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438406456081517522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjQo5vyWNbdVvN-HvtDxicXkiQ8enFFxW0oFdyPyCQfH1nYXyCGKbTg3PA_ajU428jLIluYoGtgdc3JV7LZ0wxvUqpuTL2QQ7SpYoFuzuEROIsUaDK5K-u9hxxWvuSCa7SlygvFqMG1t71/s400/DSC01686.JPG" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">To balance the simplicity, I would line the floor with pretty, pretty tiles. The kind that practically turns into a kaleidoscope the longer you stare at them. I will have them brought in from some foreign country--never mind the cost--for no other reason than the fact that they fascinate me. </span><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438407256605010754" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ8mBA7O5v_iI_rA8NqPGVOrneo22HcgVmObn7XTS-Ni46J9Ex2ducErmjI8XuSL1zD9ExlrRZEzBi5XjAHzQJYVmKOeXxLttbiyM_AXuQ7JJ-Ps3ksgCO3wATHgcd2Z4MhoDvYz3ht7rv/s400/DSC01680.JPG" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Unless I invite them in, no one would know that beyond the small pocket garden, behind the non-descript facade, through the ordinary wooden door, my pretty, pretty tiles will lead them to a room so huge, so elegant and stately, that my unsuspecting guests couldn't help but let out a gasp. Of delight? Of envy? Probably a good dose of both.</span><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438409022246193154" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf3slQ_B4-wBiBFVEmdT2KpPmz1TFwKseg_TDWg1Xbh8PqbIDcMyr_Fu9m7I0H3zVZoTj8u3xyMkrPchj-uAtQz5Yd2liCd-AY3zVeHON6Bbf6H1F4cdkptDwIrXtAUlifNzDD0KTDhjYf/s400/DSC01684.JPG" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Then involuntarily, they would tug at their jackets just a wee bit closer as the cool morning breeze blows gently through the floor-to-ceiling windows. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">"Is it too cold, Madams? Sirs?" my butler will ask them, as my uniformed househelps, decked in their standard French maid black-&-whites, take their places near their assigned windows, ready to act at the slightest, most subtle signal.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">"No, it's OK," my guests will say. "Leave them open. We don't usually get air this fresh from where we came from."</span><br /><br /><p><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Then, rushing ahead of my butler, my guests would gleefully run to where they want to be seated as opposed to where they ought to be led. (The butler is there for a reason, you know.) Still, my butler would just smile a knowing smile and leave them be. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">My guests will take their seats beside an open window and gaze at the garden outside...until they realize that there is also a garden above...and a garden below. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Then, to squeals of delight, they will realize for the first time that this huge, elegant, stately room that my pretty, pretty tiles had led them to--beyond the pocket garden, behind the non-descript facade, through the ordinary wooden door--is actually sitting on the side of a mountain, albeit hidden from public view. (After all, the truly rich don't find the need to flaunt their wealth; they think it is an utter waste of time.)</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">My guests would wonder if they will be allowed to step outside and wander, but before they could ask, one of my French maids would be back, bringing with her a press full of mountain-grown coffee, roasted and brewed to perfection. Then, they would temporarily forget their desire to hie off as they lose themselves in cups filled with this dark, mystical brew.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">They will be served breakfast to their liking--all carefully prepared by our in-house chef. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"><strong><span style="color:#000099;">Huevos Rancheros</span></strong> if they want a Mexican meal. (I, personally,never did fancy eating one.)</span></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438414301296870930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy1wU1qD1Mz__5ilH_7eLtf7kNNYBv49CVfXjW-Ese71l2AnRbGnVJDGWHaW29WZkTsDneNk9FfG76oBwnzHDSVe2CycE2uUO7MCnplnZ-ftUNeV4dj7pMzWIzNq0jgGmVXek4Dqm6c25G/s400/DSC01681.JPG" border="0" /><br /><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Satisfaction can only be found in a Filipino breakfast for me. I'll let them try the <strong><span style="color:#000099;">garlicky, lean longganisa</span></strong> that they serve in, this, my stately home. It'll be cooked, toasted just right. I'll suggest that they dip it in our special vinegar. Sure, maybe they'd probably miss the cloying sweetness and fat that seems to be a prerequisite for the store-bought variety (I confess, I sometimes do too), but, I suppose, they can eat that next weekend. After they go home. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438415052241223490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsvotdYZQWZjd-osdXQO4Np2NEvJpCSpSO5sAncVvOfOcFHapymyR88_jk4wMlZlvJ27FLiNCPfRYOm3sCQbdbH7j2XAyvSppRdBNaoVJTytmj7A0Z1xSoui1SR9lzDQvHStvHB8gMCpbv/s400/DSC01682.JPG" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Or maybe, just maybe, I can persuade the Hubby to let them try the <strong><span style="color:#000099;">homemade corned beef</span></strong> that he taught our in-house chef to prepare just for him. Canned corned beef is not really available here on a regular basis (although, I must admit, that Palm Corned Beef is one of my guilty pleasures). Here, <span style="color:#333333;">corned beef is prepared from scratch</span>. Beef brisket cured in a special brine, flavored with secret spices. Not too salty. Not too fatty. But really flavorful. My guests would be surprised. </span></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438416823456559842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLQxjqHWdJp5kcu2g3i83bm6PbY3e3hWuzjAOGEEt-4W_slc8A2hEpGyXU8HpsZS2DtfP04L78VUGDo83ayDuUrTlOeANiOaDoyccu7rWT-eW6FZ5LeKLtxrkQyE4sPEx4e90xOrEveiGW/s400/DSC01683.JPG" border="0" /><br /><p></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">They will sit at my table and while the day away, conversing, laughing--until it is finally time. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">At dusk, they would wish they can stay longer, but they would always--sadly--have somewhere else to go home to, something else to do. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">"Next time," they would say, as we walk out on my pretty, pretty tiles, through my ordinary wooden door. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">"Until next time," I would call out to them, as I stand outside my non-descript facade, as they walk through my small pocket garden to get to their cars, still laughing, waving.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">These things, I dream of doing.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">When I get rich. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">When I get really, really rich.<br /><br /></span><span style="color:#009900;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><em>*********************************************************<br />I dream only of doing these things, but those who know me well know that even if I manage to amass that much wealth, I'm too kuripot to actually build a huge, elegant, stately house on the side of some mountain. I, <strong>personally</strong>, think I'm just too darn practical. Imagine how many rental units I could buy instead! Haha. Which is why I'm glad there's <strong><span style="color:#000099;">Antonio's</span> </strong>for us to go to. For all those times I want to pretend and dream. </em></span></span></p><p><span style="color:#009900;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><em>"Tiburcio, ang kabayo." Sabay palakpak. Haha. =D </p></em></span></span>TOYANG & TWEETYhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09427393895925560349noreply@blogger.com5