dynamite-ish

My good friend, Oli told me about this thing he and his friends cooked for a party once.  It was called, dynamite.

It was deep fried (crispy) spring rolls with green chilli, minced beef and cheese.

I love the meat, chilli and cheese combination, but I was not sure I was up for some deep frying.

I decided to, make it my own :)

As my brother and sister in law were coming for lunch, I decided it was the best time to try something out.

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For the chilli, I picked the same type used for dynamite.

I sliced off the top, made a slit and pulled out the seeds.  I don't think I'd be able to down one with the seeds intact.

heat

I  bought a pack of green chilli, but was surprised when I opened the bag, there was a smurfette.

more color = more fun

I started to think that I should have gotten traffic light chillies as well.  Maybe next time.

effect of a cold shower

Instead of minced beef, I decided to use the (homemade) chicken and pork longanisa that I had in the freezer.  

I sliced the patties thinly and fried them till they were crispy.

longanisa strips?

Here comes the tough part, assembly!

I used a mix of cheddar and mozzarella cheese.  it was the lining of the chilli.  It will also hold the meat in place.

an experiment on 'proximity theory'

It looked so good that I was tempted to serve it this way!

I think I made twelve.

At this point I was getting tired, after all this wasn't the only item in my menu.  I also had Carbonara, Jalapeño Chicken Wings and Mashed Potato with the latter, deserving it's own blog entry.  Coming soon.  

ready to bake

Popped it into the (overworked) oven and after twenty minutes… this.

party time

I really enjoyed cooking this and it was just a bonus that everyone loved it.  

We had no leftovers!

something sweet

I missed baking.

Since it is Christmas, I decided to bake butterscotch.  It is an old recipe that I had been using countless of times.  I thought I'd change it up for today.  Instead of nibbly squares, I'd make it more pie-ish, that way we can put vanilla ice cream on top.

I baked it in a pie dish and tweaked the recipe just a little bit.  And that is our Christmas dessert :)

pacman

 My husband who is not a big fan of sweets, had already eaten two portions!

crunchy and chewy

I think I just discovered what I'm bringing to the next potluck I'm invited to!

Merry Christmas :)

toxic

what lies beneath

My husband and I went to a Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM) centre yesterday.

We were coming in for gua sha, traditional chinese massage and cupping.

I have had cupping and gua sha done before, but not at the same time.  I had not experienced the traditional chinese massage before though.

My husband, while familiar with these treatments, will experience it done professionally for the first time.

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I like deep tissue massages.

I enjoy the relief that comes after a spot is pressed to release blockages.  You feel it when the therapist puts pressure on certain points and there, discomfort.  You think 'I am in trouble'.

And then, Wow.  

It is like overcoming an obstacle.  Done and done!


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I especially remember that time I went for foot reflexology and I started feel warm in the face then before I knew it, I was sweating despite the a/c (and I hardly sweat, even during hot yoga!).

I knew then, the therapist found something.

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TC massage was good.  

And by that I mean, the therapist really got in there and made it her business to get those stubborn blockages out of the way so that Chi will flow, as it should.

I felt every line she traced, every spot she pressed, every area she scraped (gua sha).  Everything.

It was goooooooood.

---

I came home with spots and seemingly worked up muscles.

Admittedly, I felt exhausted after everything.  I was too happy to get home and nap.

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My husband?  He loved it!

It was more interesting for him because his body bore a significant amount of sha from the scraping.  I didn't.  Not any.

We could barely stop talking about various steps in the process, comparing experiences.

Like me, he also felt new spots.  These are key points that somehow were neglected in all other massages we had in the past.

This is unlike new poses in Yin class when you feel new muscles being stretch--being aware of a certain muscle for the first time.

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The only challenge was that the therapists could hardly speak English so we are unable to catch their recommendations.  

The only advice we were able to capture was that my husband must refrain from drinking ice cold beverages because his body is too warm inside.

Think, steam.

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We decided we will come back in February.


As the therapist said you come more more, less less.

By that I think she meant, the more sessions we have, the less markings we'd get.

under cover

'you can see right through me'

This are our leftovers from breakfast.  These don't look to me, like leftovers.

And why is that?

My husband had arranged the patties neatly beside the baked tomato.  He even balanced the cheese that got crispy at the bottom of the baking dish on top of the tomato.

An artist.  My husband.

The glass dome was given to me by my sister.  Another household item that I absolutely love.

I honestly sometimes bake / cook extras just so I can use it! :)

Oh it also comes with a slate tray (not in the photo).

where in the world are you?

At the beginning, it was my husband's assignment to check the mail.  He does it regularly--as in once a week, and that was okay.

But one week suddenly felt too long once I started (restarted?) buying things online.  If an item is being shipped using forwarders other than FedEx and DHL, tracking information provided are not really helpful.  

Shipped.

In transit.

Customs Cleared.

It isn't even telling of the location.  

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So everyday from the date of expected delivery, I wait.

Everyday, I ask my husband 'Did anything come in?'

'I will check on Saturday'  he would say.

'Ummmm.  Can you check now?  Please.'

'I can check tomorrow.'

---

One certain day, I felt I needed to know at once.

I went to our mailbox myself. 

Since then, I had claimed ownership of our mailbox.

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I am especially waiting for a package that had been shipped to me more than two weeks ago.

Everyday, I hope.  

I hope that when I open that mailbox, there is a note there from the postman that tells me my package is here.

suka and PATTIES

I was on leave yesterday--and what a day it was :)

It is always nice to have an extra day.  Since getting married, things I do during these days had change dramatically.  

I woke up the same time as I do during weekdays.  I watched and talked to my husband as he was getting ready to head to work.  After seeing him off, I tried to sleep some more--by 10AM, I could not sleep any more.

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I went to our kitchen and set out to do what I had been excited to do since the day before.

Longanisa, the filipino version of a sausage.  

I was using my mom's recipe, only I tweaked it a little bit.  One of the changes I made was to put MORE garlic.   My sister told me that she does the same, adding more garlic. 

Instead of the usual cylindrical shape, I decided I would make  mini burgers instead.  I lined a baking tray with aluminium foil then I used my hands (making this is always so much fun!) and a spoon to make balls.  Each ball went to the tray and I almost immediately flattened it.  

Did I mention that it was so much fun?

I then placed the tray in the freezer and left it there for around thirty minutes.

When it was ready, I took it out, cut the aluminium foil and placed the patties in a plastic container that went back to the freezer.

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Okay, I lied.  I also made a few typical skinless longanisa pieces.

But it was so boring rolling the meat mixture.  Plus mini patties are cuter ;)

today's breakfast

I went (b)rogue

one of the boys

I have not written about shoes for a while. 

I guess, with all the things we needed to sort out for our home, shoe browsing somehow took a back seat.

As it is nearing Christmas time, my husband and I started making our lists.

And when I thought about things I wanted--that are not household related, I remembered.

I was not sure if I'd go for oxfords or brogues, I needed to try them both and see what looked better on me.

But I knew knew knew I wanted one.

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I love this kind of shoe.  

In fact, I generally enjoy window shopping for men's shoes--leather ones.  I like how they are generally well made and shaped to perfection.  You never get that solid feeling with Ladies' shoes--not even from the better brands.

The stilettos don't stand a chance.

---  

I will be too happy to skip looking at men's running shoes.  Thank you.

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This style is reminscent of my Dad.  He also loves shoes.  I remember that as a child I would see my Dad line up all his leather shoes and shine each one until they gleamed.

No, this task is never delegated to the maid.  My Dad needs to do it himself.

Oxfords, Brogues and Loafers. 

Black, brown and tan.

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While the perfect shoe was still just an image in my mind, I was sure of some things.

1.  It had to be tan--preferably with some sort of gradient to brown.

2.  It needed to be well made. 

3.  It must look and feel like a man's shoe.  I'm not going for cute here.  

4.  I am getting a classic perhaps tweaked shape-wise to fit a girl's foot.

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I looked far and wide online.

While I had favorites, I could not bring myself to check any out.

Buying shoes online is something that I often do.  But it was different this time.

I. Could.  Not.

There was something telling me that I needed to see and fit the shoe.  I needed to do it old school.  Go to a shop, try it on, walk on it then decide.

It was only fitting.

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My husband and I found two stores that had what I was looking for.  There were two that were comparable in looks and pricing.

I'd be happy with either, but I needed time to think about it more. 

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We then headed to another mall to get shirts for my husband.

Walking in, he told me we should check out a certain store for my shoes.  He said that maybe they had it.  I was reluctant.  

We went in anyway.

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The moment I got in the store, my eyes locked in what I knew to be my brogues.

 The End.

daddy potter

natural born nurturer

My mom just posted this in Facebook today.

I thought the timing was perfect.

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My dad has a green thumb. 

As a child I remember him pruning bonsai and I always thought 'Wow, he really knows where to snip'.

He seems to be able to make anything grow.

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I remember the first time I saw our farm--back when we had one, my dad bought it so he could pass the time.  I was so impressed.  

It was beautiful.  Organised.  You can see that a lot of thought and care had gone to it.

Though I did not express much interest on it, I was secretly disappointed when it was sold.  I was imagining retiring there someday--cooking produce and making my own pasta and bread.  

It's true.  Most people would probably think it funny, but I know that is a kind of life I would love.  

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We used to have a greenhouse at home too.

Now that I think about it, we always had a lot of plants.  One way to describe the house I grew up in dim-and-green.

I think this really influenced how I imagine home.  As in where my husband and I would live.

During the day, I like to pull up the shades.  I seek natural light.  It is not until I really have to open lights that I do, and even then I prefer multiple low light sources, versus the harsh halogen.  

Now that we have almost everything we need in our little home, I feel that I am missing the green.  And this weekend's little addition made me realise just how much. 

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It had always been a family joke who I take after.  When I was a child, I remember insisting that I took after my dad.

I have a feeling that I'd have a chance growing plants--here's to hoping I got it from my dad.

introducing some green

the beginning?

We had actually lived in the same area for a few years now (we used to be neighbours), and while we are very familiar with the vicinity--we don't really check things out.

On Saturday, my husband and I decided it was time we did.  Not without an agenda though, as there is a relatively big shop on the next block that sold plants.  We wanted to look at what was available.  

(And grab some brunch too!)

I knew I didn't want to go trigger happy.  I knew I had to see, go home, think, rethink, research then make the purchase.

That being said, there was a specific plant that we agreed we'd get if it was available in the size we preferred.  

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I swore I could have walked around the whole day.  

There were so many plants that I fancied.  But at the end our our field trip, there was one plant that stood out.  To this minute, I am imagining having it here with us.  

I think that right there, I had already chosen the plant-to-go-back-for.

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My husband was equally enthusiastic with his find.  He, all smiles called for me.  When I reached where he was, he was pointing at his choice.  

I had to smile.  

I knew it.  

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We went home with one plant.  

Our first plant.  

The plant we intended to get.

I was surprised on how much difference one simple non-flowering plant made on our balcony.  It felt more comfortable.  Alive.  Refreshing.

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We have two more plants in mind at the moment.

My husband is excited about his future plant.

And I can't stop thinking about mine.

We've given each other's seal of approval to the other's choice.

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It is too bad that we can't have a garden--but I am appreciative that despite our very limited space, we are still able to accommodate greenery.

Life is good :)

calling it in

Yesterday, I called the police.

My husband and I got home early evening, when we got out of the cab I immediately felt the heat.  I turned and saw that there was a car on fire at our street corner.

Now, if you live in the country where I live you know that these kinds of things never happen.  

I pulled out my mobile and dialled the emergency number.  

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Two concerned citizens walked up to us and said that an ambulance was on the way.  They said they were there earlier and saw smoke coming out of the car, moments later it was ablaze.

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I heard a siren.

Crossed paths with two running fire men.

At this point, we decided that as help had arrived we can rest easy and head up to our home.

this is real

I think this is one of my favourite photos from the wedding.

This was the moment we were just pronounced husband and wife.

It was also the point when the priest was just about to say you may kiss the bride.

I remember feeling giddy and ever so slightly shy.

My husband is going to kiss me.  

Deep breath.

Sweaty palms.  A drumming heart.

I wait.

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Oli, my eloquent friend once again had found the exact words.

when reality is finally better than your dreams...

book i: pre-production

us

Love of Photography

I had never taken any form of photography class all my life.  I don’t have a top of the line kick ass monster camera.  I probably would never.  I do not have the desire to.  And while these seemingly negate what I am about to write.  It is true.

I love photography. 

I love images.  It may be a single frame from a movie clip.  It may be a polariod.  It could well be even in instagram.  Or a still from a dream—an image in my mind.  

Love.

I love looking at pictures.  Good ones.

I maybe, can spend an afternoon just taking in the beauty in frames.  I sometimes get lost looking at images.  There had been times when I just could not stop looking.

I don’t consider myself a photographer--far from it.  But I’d like to think that there are times when I am thrown a carrot.  All the elements come together and I am allowed to capture that moment perfectly.  And for me, those moments are enough.

I am an enthusiast.  Not a professional.

My Love

My husband and I hardly have any photos together.

Sometimes, a birthday goes by without one photo taken.  This bothered me. 

I think about the lack of photographs, but it had always been a constant struggle--taking photos seems to pull us away from the present.  It gets in the way of now.  

It breaks my heart, the thought of not having something to remember us by.  I mean, if we are going The Notebook here, how would I remember?

Our Love, Captured

In celebrating our love, through the sacrament of marriage, my husband and I knew that we had to find the team who could give us what me don't have, in a form that is raw and pure. 

We wanted a team who sees us--and puts us in a frame in their artists' eye. 

It almost seemed like a quest for a love.

A Journey of Love

We looked. 

Everywhere.

We looked at so many websites that it was exhausting.  I personally, was close to feeling spent.

I contacted friends who got married the last couple of years and asked them for their shortlist. 

Maybe, I thought.  Maybe we will find them there.

And just when I thought I had seen everyone, my husband sent me a web address.

Look at this.  He wrote.

That was all.  

Look at this.

It was lunchtime.  And I didn’t have the energy to look—given our track record.  I decided to wait till evening. 

Love at First Sight 

Jeff and Lisa. 

I had not come across them before.  Their names were not familiar.

But I typed into the URL and looked.

Saw.

Loved.

The images that drew me to the husband-and-wife team were not that of a wedding nor a couple.  It was a series of portraits of a young family taken in their home.

I could feel the love.  Really.  Truly. 

Pure.  Innocent.  Bliss.

I could never forget how real those images felt.  Happiness immortalized. 

The way the sunlight went through the windows, refracted by the motion of the curtains. 

The curve of the children’s feet. 

The smiles.

The imperfections of day to day life; the perfection of unconditional love.

Perfect, imperfect. 

Reality. 

Then, I knew.

New Age Love

I asked my husband how he felt about their work--Jeff and Lisa’s.

He said that when he saw it, he had a feeling I would like their style.

I contacted Lisa and set an appointment.

That meeting just validated what I already knew, the search was over.

Perhaps, this is how modern love grows.  Digital touch points.  Virtual connections.

Love Blossoms

We met Jeff and Lisa personally in Manila when we went home to attend a friend’s wedding.  By then, Lisa and I would have already exchanged long emails wedding and non-wedding related.

Meeting her in person was really exciting for me. It was like I was meeting an old friend.

The couple walked into the veranda of the café all smiling.  I bet that even if I didn’t know how Lisa looked like, the giant smile she had on her alone would have told me, it was her.

The Lovers

I can say that I like Jeff and Lisa even when they are not Jeff and Lisa, husband and wife photographers.

I like them as Jeff and Lisa, husband and wife.  Just the same.

You spend time with a couple and you get a good feel of how they are.  How they deal.  How in love they are.

This is not to say they are lovey dovey.  They are professional and appropriate in every way possible.  But, you see their love.  I think love can’t be hidden by formalities and professionalism.

And I think this love reflects on their work. 

And I think they are truly the people you want to be around you on your wedding day.

Believers.

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Note: This is the first instalment.  More entries to come as I sort though the box of photos and a flash drive full of images from our big day.   

a gift: something for HER

Beautiful things keep coming our way, literally.

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Sitting by our dining table, I look at the hand painted porcelain wall dish I was holding dearly.

I am amused.

It was that of my favourite Klimt painting.

I smile to myself.

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The Kiss.

I have not seen it in real life, though I know someone  who literally stood in front of it for as long as she could.  Staring.

It is not hard to imagine myself doing the same.

It is not unlike what I was doing there, while sitting by our dining table.  Staring.

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I don't remember where I first saw it.  A book?  Poster?  No idea.  But somehow, I never really forgot it.

Maybe I was even consciously trying to find it again.

Seeing reproductions allowed me to later figure out what it was called--and who's work it was.

Apps as we know them today were not available to me then.  Besides, it was not like I had a picture.

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Sitting.  Staring.

I was holding thoughtfulness realised.

from someone who listens and remembers

This was a gift from our dear friend, Gela.

I'm touched.  Really.

Associations.     

Selecting this, out of all things was a decision bore out of multiple conversations shared between us spread over what could have been years.

• My love for Klimt
• When I go to museums, I can't bear to buy a canvas print because I feel it is wrong
• Despite #2, I would love to look at something that reminds or represents specific art pieces
• I am excited to decorate our home, but don't want to rush buying things
• My husband and I choose, think and re-think every single thing that comes into our home very carefully because we have limited space and it should be filled with things we love

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Bull's eye.

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There is one other thing from Gela, I will reserve that blog entry for another day.

cruet (within a cruet)

I had been looking for an olive oil AND balsamic vinegar cruet forever.  Okay, since my husband and I found our first home.

Every now and then, there would be candidates.

I once found something I could have taken home , but then the 'bubble' for the balsamic vinegar was too small.

In another occasion, the proportion between the two liquids was correct but the actual cruet was too small.

Either would have worked, but it would have caused me to refill way too often.  Bad.

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As I don't like buying things twice, I preferred to defer my purchase until the right one came along.

I can be quite patient with postponing purchases if the feeling is not right.

Waiting game it was.

the search is over

Carleen, my close friend from work came to my desk earlier this morning.  

She was holding a plastic bag that said thank you and have a nice day, with a yellow classic smiley face drawn smack at the center.

"I have something to give you", she says.

I reached for the bag and thanked her.

Still smiling, she says “Open it.”  

From the look on her face, I can say that she was excited.  I started to feel excited too.  She is infectious like that.

And while I was making my way though the bag, she added that she hoped I didn't have that thing I was about to discover.

Plastic, paper, paper.

And there it was.

The perfect cruet.

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Welcome to our home.

(don't let it) slide

Lately, conversations with friends revolve around 'stepping up'. 

This of course, means different things to each person.

For the most part, it is stepping up to keep--if not make one's self more healthy, fit and possibly attractive.

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This is not centered on any particular agenda, except that you wouldn't want to 'slide'.

Youthfulness from a physical perspective is something that easily slips between your fingers when you reach a certain age.

Truly for me, turning thirty shook me up pretty good.

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It did not happen overnight.  It was a slow process of packing in pounds. 

Someone came to visit, we went to a buffet.

It was someone's birthday, we drank a little too much cocktails.

My Mom sent over my favorites.

I attributed the tightness of my pants to these small seemingly harmless activities.  I thought to myself, I am just bloated, I'd be back to normal next week, when I go back to my routine.

It never happened. 

One day, I woke up overweight.

That was my new 'normal'.

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As if having to buy clothes one size bigger was not enough clue.

It took my brother pointing out that I needed to lose weight to get me started.  I need to thank him for challenging me to a round of biggest loser.  That made all the difference. 

I bought a digital weighing scale. 

And gasped at my weight, the first time I stepped on it.

I weighed myself everyday.

I gave up some things.

Eventually, I was somewhat back to my old self.  Not as I was early in my twenties, but a more 'realistic' version of it.

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I've managed to stay somewhat the same since.

And now that a few years had past, and we are all about continuous improvement, it is truly time to step up again?