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.