Jack Maawatan: Leather is food in some places

I'm not sure how "Haan ko nga maawatan." became "Jak maawatan," but I do understand Ilokano food. And by understand I mean gorged tons of it while growing up.

Kilawen (Kambing)

Those are goat skin. Fur already torched, hence the nasty burnt hair smell which (i think) helps bring out the Kambing flavor. But oddly enough, I learned from Anthropology that all humans do not like the smell of burnt hair--has something to do with sleeping too close to bonfires and catching fire on hair and pelt.
Back to food. Those are grilled (or boiled) but not all the way cooked I believe, then sliced lovingly to thin strips (lovingly because even with the sharpest knife, if you have to turn leather to food, you have to have lots of love for people you're serving it to). Ginger, onions, kalamansi, salt and pepper are then mixed in.
Viola! Pulutan!

it is just me? or is this FT? (1)

cows aren't beef they're great

(salamat kay Joshua Cuanzon)

Everyone is Born Tangled in Blood Ties

January is the Feast of Sto. Niño (witow baby jesaaas) and my family is big on making noise and eating. Put one and one together you find me growing (1) wanting sometimes to be away from them, (2) debating myself about the existence of God (with a capitalist G there)and (3) made me think I was better than most of my family.

But being the pig that I am, I find myself joining and enjoying the merrymakings every time we have them because of—what the f else?—the great food. This January we had Lechon because we did not have a whole one on 2010’s Christmas. I woke up to the smell of crabs my dad got for free from the DA that he himself cooked (do I hear allergies and upset stomach?). And I went along with the rest of them to watch the Annual Ati-atihan Parade along Roxas Boulevard, because of the prospect of street food.

the guy that made my night a little less cold

wakey wakey crabs are ready

mmmhh fat

fruits are friends, not fruits
- Chesca Co

About the title? More than four years ago, I thought a blog title clever and apt—“Severing Ties”. That’s not hard to do. Batman has it worse. Severing Ties is brave too if you think about it; no springy spider web to fall into when your own guts fail you because you go on and cut it yourself. But why build ties thinner than blood? (p.s. if you make the connection, Neitzsche was a crazy ugly fag! You possing automaton) And why sever ties when it catches good food for you?

Tapsilog! Sikreto ng mga Gwapo

Waking up feeling hung over makes me remember actual hangover mornings in Baguio where an ex and I used to ditch class and tapa hunt, then of course drink again. The best ones are from jeepney driver joints that, when you are particularly lucky, serve you cockroach as side-dish.

 Tapa – from Salcedo Weekend Market

"Don’t overcook it!" screeched father. Apparently this particular dried Tapa should be shocked in smoking hot oil then taken out immediately—cooking it enough but not subjecting it to too much heat that it gets tough and lose the meaty taste. This one in the picture is cut into small strips and fried until crunchy—works for me.

Sinangag—stir fried left over rice with lotza garlic.

Eggs—I don’t care what the school taught me I like my scrambled eggs with color

Because I Need to Think/Do Food

My chef said that Michael Jordan probably walked and slept around with a basketball in his hand for 20 years before he became whatever he is today, and that we need to do the same to be able to become what we want to be.

don't tell chef about this, i didnt ask him for the picture

This post is for my below average midterms performance. I could go on about my supra-inferiority complex; of being afraid to put out more than 65% of what I got and let the rest of me ferment away in its own dark moist crevice. But really I was just not prepared. Weeks before the midterms, I was yapping on about needing to practice at least twice, and that I knew that would be enough. But I did not even properly practice the whole set once. Here is to the under-seasoned Minestrone Soup, burnt Pork Cordon Bleu, sloppy Fries, and incomplete Andalucian Vegetables—aka my failed first test.