It's in the Blood

Here’s how my love for cooking began.

Perhaps one can say that it runs in our family. My grandmother, known to many as Naty, used to own a karinderya in Malate just within the compound of her old house. My auntie Judy was her assistant in preparing and cooking the dishes. Everyday they serve various Filipino cuisines that were really well-liked. Among the popular ones were kare-kare, sinigang, ginisang munggo, pinakbet, adobo and paksiw na bangus. Lunch was definitely the peak time where customers go to her small place and savor the delicious taste of her specialties. Students, office workers, housewives, taxi drivers – they all went to my lola’s humble turu-turo.

When I was in elementary, I used to stay in my lola’s house after school and wait for my parents to fetch me in the evening. Many times when I went there early after class (Primary pupils in Malate Catholic School go home at 12nn), I was surprised to see plenty of people standing outside the compound. I remember vividly that those were customers waiting to be seated. They’d rather stay than go to the other nearby karinderya. They all loved my lola’s cooking!

Her son, my father, most likely inherited the talent. He told me a few times that his family owned a small space in a wet market where they used to sell vegetables. I assume this is through this experience that he learned the knack of choosing fresh ingredients. We had a few talks years ago in the kitchen, while I assisted him, and he taught me some of the do’s and don’ts. But perhaps, my father’s skills were refined when he started working in a professional kitchen.

He worked in a hotel in Saipan in the early 90’s. He went home after a year and continued working in kitchens of various hotels and restaurants. If I remember it right, he started as a dishwasher before he had the opportunity to use knives and ladles and pans. 11 years ago, he found a job in a cruise ship abroad. It was like he started all over again because for a few years he washed, sterilized and wiped dry kitchen utensils and china wares. Yet due to hard work and perseverance he is now an assistant cook. The sad part is, his lack of formal learning hinders him from further moving forward.

During the times when he was at home with us for a vacation, he really cooked a lot (No wonder I gained weight this much. Haha!). I stayed close to him, watched his every move, offered help with the simple tasks like beating eggs, peeling potatoes, slicing onions, etc. I tasted his dishes and tried to remember the techniques of cooking them. Our little kitchen has been the bonding place for both of us; it is where we met and talked and shared stories.

While he is away, I take charge of our kitchen. Although my mother does cook once in a while (Her kaldereta is oh-so-good!), I burn pans and consume ingredients most of the time. Sometimes I succeed, sometimes I fail. My mom and my siblings are my critics. I have been trying new things, experimenting with what’s available at home and following the recipes I see on TV and read on magazines. Sometimes I even put twists into them. But to expand my know-how I know I needed a broader audience. I have been cooking for my friends and put into consideration their comments and suggestions.  Back in college I would invite some of them to come at home. I cooked simple meals and they liked them. At least that’s what they told me.

For some time I forgot about my love for cooking. Crazy, isn’t? Perhaps I got too pre-occupied with the things going on around me; I might have focused too much on what I need to do rather than what I really want to do. But, quite frankly, thanks to Hell’s Kitchen and Master Chef, I was revived. I was reminded of the passion. The flame was ignited.

I continue cooking and experimenting once in a while. I try to be resourceful most of the time, using the available stuff at home. Even if I lack sleep I wake up early in the morning to prepare baon for mama and my siblings. On weekends, I still cook lunch and dinner. But even if my father is working abroad, I am not alone in the kitchen. Freedom, our youngest, always volunteers to do things for me. She asks for instructions, calls me when she’s unsure of something and takes pride of her accomplishments. She is my “assistant”. Oh yes, I see the young, inquisitive and persistent Maverick in her. The best part is, she said she wants to take up culinary in college. I couldn’t be happier.

I owe it to my family, to my father most especially. And although my mother does not cook as often as my papa, she is my number one fan and would always encourage me to go on and do what I really want. The same thing’s gonna happen to my siblings, to Freedom in particular. She’s gonna cook her heart out, do well in her chosen career, and I will be there for her all the way. That’s just how things go in our family.