I
AM fortunate that my birthing and flow out of innocence have been
blessed with a sportscentric and cookery crazy family. My father is a
hyper soul whose ageless chakras know no respite. That's him playing
chess with a tribal leader in Ifugao mountains back home. Dad would
travel rough roads amidst typhoons and countryside strife just to
hang with his superhomeys. And play chess and backyard basketball. Paulo built a martial arts gym at the back of the ancestral
house when we were kids and, with Uncle Jimmy, taught us and other
kids in the `hood karate, judo and arnis. (No, dad didn't teach us
the Valentino lover-boy moves, we were just grade school kids, ha!)
Mom
used to manage a bowling alley in a mining village where we once
lived so we learned how to play it when were just little kids. All
nine of us siblings, especially the boys, got into sports early. We
didn't just play them, we also organized summer sports events as
well. Putting up basketball events in the community was my brother
Sonny's summer madness so much so that his first job as a teenager
was as sports organizer for the city government's anti-drugs program.
Two of my bros got some kind of school tuition privilege playing
basketball. One commits to village-level sports clinics, pro bono. My
older brother Alberto is a golf champ but not like PGA kinda, but
still a champ. He also won bowling tournaments when he was working in
Saudi Arabia.
Cousins and a niece (CD) are chess champs in regional
school events. My son Duane, who is a professional artist and writer,
is also a mixed martial arts fighter and now a trainer. Nephews got
athletic scholarships and stuff, and sports still meld the family
today as in the past. When we argued as siblings (featuring second
youngest bro Allan The Enforcer) and cousins, dad would usher us to
the punching bag and get the rage off our chest in the gym, or let us
play basketball and sweat it out. Definitely no unfriending.
SOME
COOKING thoughts and ruminations.
THINK
of another human activity that is closer to sex or lovemaking?
Cooking. Why? Well, it's all about touch, smell, feel, sound,
taste—all senses come into play. And it's very individual and
personal. Cooking is rhythm, like dancing, like bedroom
scrimmage—it's cadence, flow, vibe. So cooking is best when you
really know the person you are feeding.
IT
is always tough to cook for kids. I had to come up with a few
kidstuff BS to be able to convince this sweet little girl to dig in
my spaghetti magic. I tried, “Santa Claus dropped by today to give
me this recipe...” and “I cooked this just for you because I know
you love spaghetti.” But what worked was, “That cheese on top of
your spanghetti is called Hello Kitty Cheese!” I remember when I
was a kid myself, I won't touch dinner unless there's broth on the
side, or I never ate any food that is dark (like black beans,
chocolate cake etc). My eldest daughter Donna refused to eat any food
that didn't pass her olfactory standard, and well, once I've set her
plate in front of her, nobody touches that plate—otherwise, she
won't touch that food and dinner is over!
COOKING
is personal—it’s like poetry, like sexual intimacy. Cooking
flows from your inner self and into the stove. It is about
smell, taste, sight, hearing. Sensitivity. Touch and feel.
When you feel like writing, write; want to cook, cook; feel like
making love, do it—these are the best moments to flow… Sexual
intimacy or the cooking process—it’s communication between you
and your senses, sensuality/sensitivity channeled to your partner. If
you don’t know your inner truths—it’s not possible to project
it, or derive pleasure from sharing it.
“I
WOULD love to cook for you...” That offer always, instinctively,
comes out of my mouth—when I meet new friends. Food could be the
most accessible and most convenient gesture of human connection. I
eat whatever is offered me by friends, relatives or and even
strangers. It is a natural reflex... Food breaks ice and starts
conversations on a freewheeling, relaxed mode. Food also loosens up
supposedly super-serious, ultra-dramatic, nerve-wracking
conversations. I always say, if we have food on the table and we are
all having fun eating—there's not much room to argue about anything
at all. In fact, when the food is so good—everybody's silent.
Living good, loving good, eating good.
I ALWAYS nurtured an indulgent fascination with feeding
people. Eating is human right as well as living imperative, and food
is as basic as shelter and education. Yet I get the heat from
vegetarian friends when I say that mere contemplation of a life
without meat is a luxury, a romantic snobbery by the affluent
first-worlder. Truth is, the world's poor doesn't feast on dead
flesh—they eat whatever is available so they could live another
day. Over all, rich nations eat much more meat than poor ones, and
raising animals takes more agricultural resources than raising
crops--so less affluent people eat less meat. Even if I maintain a
non-meat diet all my life – when I go out there and see starving
humanity, I will still feed them with whatever is called food. Food
keeps people alive. When it comes to eating, my logic is gut-level.
MY
cooking reflex is random but calculated, non-systematic but adaptive.
How is that? First, I don't religiously follow recipes—I just
basically refer to them as “guides” or motivational patterns. The
most important aspect of cooking is the significance of feeding
people, of knowing individual tastes: what do they wish to eat, what
are their preferences, ingredients/spices/herbs that they avoid etc.
I am very confident that whatever foodstuff, condiments, herbs etc
are available in the fridge, cupboard, garden—I can whip out a good
meal from those. Cooking is like playing music—you fit in, fill in
the blanks, jam in the vibe, work it out as the beat flows. Art is
never prearranged. Cooking is art.
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