Daydreams of an eating and writing life
Today was a lazy cooking day.
I was supposed to whip up something, but The Husband and I decided to enjoy our boerewors (South African sausage) loot from our Dubai Mall trip last weekend. Since we still had some leftover beer beef stew (And since no food should ever get left behind to fester into inedibility), I thought that we could jazz up our plain sausage and egg brunch.
Cured pork for the two piggies!
This is a story of two little piggies: Sir Loin and Miss Piggy.
Two little (But oh…who in reality are not-so-little anymore) piggies, who are psycho porcine cannibals because they enjoy eating their own kind with much gusto. They would go the extra mile or maybe a few more to purchase a kilo or two for their monthly food supply from these hidden porky enclaves in the desert city.
Today was no exception…
“Come here. I want to embrace you.” The Husband called out to me for a quick afternoon nap. I was in dire need of one because of some intense headaches I’ve had this morning.
All the effort is worth it.
I’ve been cooking for myself and my family for quite some time, but cooking has indeed changed when I started to cook for a customer, who is not compelled to gloss over or sugar coat the truth. The Husband is brutally honest and I love him to bits for that. So when he says my cooking is disgusting, he means it…every single word.
Despite being at home in the arms of The Husband, there are just days that I feel pretty much out of place in this country.
Even inside our wee home, it feels just odd. Imagine that I have to tippy toe to the best of my abilities every time I brush my teeth (which is more than once a day) just to be able to reach the sink at a proper angle to avoid making a wet minty foam mess. It seems that things were built for more vertically gifted people, and not for petite people like me. In some restaurants, tables and counters are built for towering westerners and Arabs, making it quite awkward for teeny sized me to comfortably enjoy the eating experience.
Damn you Tapsilog. Damn you.
“I’m craving for Tapsilog.” (Remember Filipino breakfast math? Tapsilog = tapa / cured beef + sinangag / garlic fried rice + itlog / egg)
It was around 2AM when the craving crept into my taste buds and gurgling tummy. The Husband and I used to have a trusty go-to for tapsilog at ungodly hours, but, here in Dubai, at this hour, there was nowhere to have a quick tapsilog fix.
“Let’s go get some tapa from West Zone.” he heard my Filipino breakfast craving loud and clear; but I, for some delirious reason, declined his generous offer for a tapa run. I thought the longing for salty, vinegary, garlicky tender yet crispy beef strips with steaming hot garlic fried rice topped with a sunny-side up egg would go away in my slumber.
I was dead wrong. So wrong. You know that feeling that nothing else would ever satisfy you? This was so it.
Would mango chutney be enough to satisfy my mango cravings?
The intense berating of the rays of the sun on my skin signaled the arrival of the summer, a season I love to hate. I hate it with a passion because the burning rays along with the sticky humid sweat isn’t the best feeling when you want to look and smell your best at a client meeting after un-air conditioned commute. But I love the summer because, along with the rising temperatures, it brings the pile up sunshine yellow fruit of joy on the roadside fruit stands.
Unfortunately, the rise of the desert heat does not signal mango season.
Butter-sugar roasted Malaysian ground coffee
Dubai ethnic eats queen, I live in a frying pan, was so kind to share her exotic coffee stash, fresh from one of my most favorite food places on earth, Malaysia, where coffee beans are roasted in butter and sugar. Arva had me at “butter” roasted coffee, so I was convinced that this was indeed a special blend and needed to have a cuppa ASAP.
But like most good things, there is a catch. Why does there always have to be a catch? Why?!?! I needed a coffee filter to weed out the ground coffee from the buttered liquid black gold. And coffee filter we have not.
The Husband rolls his eyes whenever I say I’m going to buy my favorite cheap eat: falafels, from the store right across the street. I don’t know what is it about these Middle Eastern balls that make them so addicting.
But for 1 AED for 3 pieces of filling crispy vegetarian yet not-so-healthy, deep-fried garlicky and secret spiced chick pea balls, it ain’t bad at all for people like the meantime-housewife-me on a meager budget.
I’ve been going to this falafel joint for months ever since I’ve landed here in Dubai. Never a week passes by without my fill of this Middle Eastern street food treat, so I am obviously a loyal customer. Whenever I drop by I get the standard free 1-piece of falafel and a friendly “how are you?” plus a charming smile from the Arab staff. Regulars get freebies all the time, right?
But I didn’t think all regulars do get some serious pick-up lines until last night…
Recovering from my 4-hour sleep with a few hours of afternoon napping, I woke up with a painful tingle below my right shoulder, the kind you get when you’ve slept in an odd position. And so I tried to knead the pain away with a few drops of lavender oil, hoping to relax the muscles somehow. Fortunately, the self-massage seemed to have shooed some of the pain, but then it was replaced with an insane throbbing headache from the inside of my left eye up until the top of my left temple.
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