I’ve observed that food bloggers are a dime a dozen nowadays.
With the accessibility of technology and the Internet, everybody and anybody can be and call themselves food bloggers. Taking pictures of the food they’ve eaten or the recipes they’ve tried. Writing a few sentences to capture the experience. Clicking the “publish” button and viola! A food blog post!
There is actually absolutely nothing wrong with food bloggers. The increase in numbers is an indicator that more and more people are interested in food, which is a good thing indeed! In fact, I’ve been reading a sizeable number of food blogs for the past seven years. Plus, I even look up to a couple of food bloggers.
But, when I conceptualized this project, I told myself that I do not want to be known as a food blogger.
I want to be known as a FOOD WRITER.
My dream is to be the first ever Filipina food writer to have a written food memoir with an international publisher like Random House, Penguin Books, or HarperCollins. And this dream seems so, so, so remotely possible…
But like the humble ginisa, a struggling food writer from the tiny archipelago at the edge of the equator can actually make a splash in the global scene.
I grew up with the ginisa. It was a quintessential part of the sensory experience of my childhood. It was especially prevalent during the summers, when school was out and we had no choice but to entertain ourselves at home, while our parents were hard at work.
Upon inhaling its intoxicating fragrance: sautéed minced garlic, thinly sliced red onions and/or chunks of bright red native tomatoes, it signaled that it was indeed time to eat: time to get out of bed for breakfast, time to take a break from watching out favorite noontime show, and time to finish off the day of non-stop horseplay with a heaping mound of food.
It is the Siren Song of the household, rallying the Paterno troops to get a move on to the dining room. Not only does it lure our household, the ginisa’s frolicsome vapors manage to escape the confines of our home, seducing in neigbors to the dining table with the question: “Anong ulam niyo ngayon? Mukhang masarap ah! (What are you having today? Smells great!) Imagine that just a few teaspoons of three humble ordinary ingredients can actually launch a gazillion taste buds to their death sentence: giving in to the temptation of a hearty homecooked meal…even it is the neighbor’s.
Someday, one day my written voice will be a siren song too. It will soon be the whisper that echoes through the valleys of food literature.
A girl can dream right?