Kitchen Interest

When I was growing up, my parents never trained me to learn how to cook. I remember one time when my mom was out for one month and I was all alone at home, it was summer time. I tried cooking rice and frying hotdog (I didn't know how to determine fresh fish) for several days. Then, I decided that it's faster to eat if I only fry bacon or hotdog and eat it with sliced bread bought from the bakery just a stonethrow away. And if you ask me if I survived in sliced bread and bacon/hotdog alone. Nope! I am way better than that. I got to enjoy food straight from the stove - I normally would visit my relatives around the town and time it during lunch or dinner time (bread/bacon/hotdog was only good for breakfast or dinner when I didn't want to go to the town proper).

Even when I got older but before getting married, I was just a gourmand and wasn't interested to cook. Well I would like to cook, it's just that the drive wasn't there.... That until I got married...

My interest to cooking didn't start right after the wedding, rather when my mother in-law joined us right after our daughter was born. My mom-in-law is one of the best cook i've ever knew (I would visit my wife-to-be back in high school to taste her mom's dinuguan with home-made puto, or home-made hot chocolate or turon); I remember one time when we were descending from the mountain after a couple of days of hiking and we didn't know where to ascend - I suggested that we just check Tin's house as a reference point (their house is situated near the mountain side) and get down there and hopefully have free snack from her mom.

Mama taught me the basic of cooking that all starts with ginisa. I started with Bicol Express and Carne con Ampalaya. Eventually, I tried pasta with white sauce (I cooked it twice with my wife already but I cannot remember it's name). And last night, I cooked Ginisang Sayote - half-cooked, with less than 1/4 kg of pork... And I forgot to put some salt... My wife called it dietary menu (in the hospital, they don't put salt on the patient's food). Luckily, our maid improvised and put some salt after I cooked it - I didn't notice that there was no salt at all (aah, admitting mistakes is really hard).

Anytime this month, I am planning to cook my daughter sutanghon which she tried when we were staying in Paranaque. She liked it more than her regular mashed potato for breakfast.

Married life really made a dent on my behavior... It's hard to admit but I am becoming domesticated.