I’ve been seeing this headline (or headlines similar to it) increasingly throughout the past year, let alone months. I take great pride in knowing that food from my country is growing in popularity here in the US (although I’m pretty sure it’s been very popular out in the west coast) and I thought it would be a good topic to (re)start this blog with.
I can’t say that I’m an authority in Filipino cuisine. Heck, I fought my parents whenever they tried to teach me how to speak and understand the language. In my defense, they tried teaching me three of the native dialects at the same time, so it’s really no wonder why I found the language frustrating and couldn’t be bothered with it. Every now and then I take a stab at learning one or two of the dialects only for it to end in a fight with my mom on the correct pronunciation. However, the language barrier never stopped me from understanding Filipino food but, there are times when I’m unsure of what makes Filipino food, Filipino food.
Fun fact, I spent a year trying to create what I think is the perfect chocolate chip cookie recipe.
Last week I had the strongest craving for a freshly baked, chocolate-chip cookie (or two) like the one I’m holding in the picture above.
Does anyone ever have cravings like that?
Anyway, usually I have some dough from another batch sitting in freezer, ready to be dropped onto a baking sheet and popped into the oven. I could have sworn I did, but to my great disappointment there wasn’t. So I settled for the emergency roll of cookie dough.
In my year of crafting the perfect cookie, I gathered, as I usually do when I’m cooking or baking, many life lessons. Here are my top three.
After many requests to start a blog, I’ve finally started one with the intention (and determination) to keep it alive, well, and updated.
Hopefully you can see in the picture above, beneath the mountain of rice noodles, vegetables, and meat, our kaldero which, translated from Taglog to English is “cooking pot.” For as long as I can remember, we’ve always had this kaldero in the family. Growing up with an older sister, five aunts who were close in age, parents, and lolo (my dad’s dad), there was always a need to make enough food to feed an army, on a budget, and preferably in one pot.