Or: food and Filipino Sons
I love cooking and I love cooking for my Filipino-American husband. Prior to coming to the Philippines, though, I hadn't made much Filipino food.
Last December before we traveled to the Philippines, Joseph and I were in California for a week with his mother, Aurora. Lucky me, I got to watch my mother-in-law in her kitchen and eat some of her delicious food. It was her big bottle of patis on the counter next to the stove that inspired the name of this blog.
Last December before we traveled to the Philippines, Joseph and I were in California for a week with his mother, Aurora. Lucky me, I got to watch my mother-in-law in her kitchen and eat some of her delicious food. It was her big bottle of patis on the counter next to the stove that inspired the name of this blog.
A day after we arrived to Dumaguete, I went out and bought a wok like Aurora's, a big uncured steel half-sphere. I bought a cookbook and got to work on learning about Filipino cuisine. For me, cooking Filipino food has been an adventure of discovery and joy. Soon after I started cooking Filipino food, though, I realized I wasn't alone in the kitchen.
The following is a testament to the beauty and power of Filipino cuisine and Filipino mothers everywhere:
January 28
At the table eating chicken apritada.
J: The sauce of mother's apritada is thicker.
February 2
In the kitchen before eating.
Me: I made a cucumber salad.
J: You know my mother used to make that, too. Pepino salad. Very peppery and vinegary. You're becoming my mother.
Later at the table.
J: My mother didn't put red onions in hers. Just cucumbers, vinegar, and sugar, lots of sugar. Tss, tss.
February 9
At the stove, making a mongo (mung bean) stew.
J: You know I'm going to say it again. That looks like my mother’s.
Me: Oh, really?
J: Except... (He hesitates, smiles), hers has pork in it.
Me: It was hard finding a recipe for mongo beans.
J: The ghost of Aurora looms large
February 15
In the kitchen making chicken adobo.
J: Are you going to make adobo?
Me: Yeah, I was going to the other day, but I think you've got to marinade it.
J: Not my mother, not the Aurora way. She just throws in the chicken. Jeesh.
February 25
J: My mom makes really good tapa... She cooks it in margarine.
March 13
At the table eating pancit Bihon I'd prepared.
J: My mother’s pancit has more meat. Even in chicken pancit, she tops it with fried pork.
The following is a testament to the beauty and power of Filipino cuisine and Filipino mothers everywhere:
January 28
At the table eating chicken apritada.
J: The sauce of mother's apritada is thicker.
February 2
In the kitchen before eating.
Me: I made a cucumber salad.
J: You know my mother used to make that, too. Pepino salad. Very peppery and vinegary. You're becoming my mother.
Later at the table.
J: My mother didn't put red onions in hers. Just cucumbers, vinegar, and sugar, lots of sugar. Tss, tss.
February 9
At the stove, making a mongo (mung bean) stew.
J: You know I'm going to say it again. That looks like my mother’s.
Me: Oh, really?
J: Except... (He hesitates, smiles), hers has pork in it.
Me: It was hard finding a recipe for mongo beans.
J: The ghost of Aurora looms large
February 15
In the kitchen making chicken adobo.
J: Are you going to make adobo?
Me: Yeah, I was going to the other day, but I think you've got to marinade it.
J: Not my mother, not the Aurora way. She just throws in the chicken. Jeesh.
February 25
J: My mom makes really good tapa... She cooks it in margarine.
March 13
At the table eating pancit Bihon I'd prepared.
J: My mother’s pancit has more meat. Even in chicken pancit, she tops it with fried pork.
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