Daydreams of an eating and writing life
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.
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 sun was doing what it did best: SHINE. But then, this is the desert, so the sun should shine better than it should in other parts of the world. It was not one of the best days to spend outdoors (unless you enjoy baking your skin to a golden – hopefully not burnt – crisp) but The Husband and I had to. Their company invited their employees and their families for a day of fun under the desert sun at Mina Siyahi. And so I slathered on some sunscreen on my face for good measure, put my sunglasses on and foolishly left my cap at home for a day of mingling with fellow strangers to this land.
Aside from knowing the scorching temperatures, I knew there’d be food…lots of it. I knew that there’d be games. But I did not know that the company’s big bosses would be dunked into a small vat of water.
We attended the wedding reception of some friends last night, another first in my life here in the desert. To be honest, it was such a refreshing change to the usual pageantry of Filipino weddings, which now involve too much frills…
Movie poster from www.clevelandmovieblog.com
I don’t like like chocolate. Honestly, it’s not one of my favorite food stuff in the world. And if the food gods would ask me to give up one food item on my repertoire, I could easily drop chocolate off the list.
Too sweet for my taste buds...
The Husband and I woke up to another normal day in un-Valentine’s Day like fashion. We kissed each other “Good morning!”, then I started my day with prayers and meditation. It seemed to be a normal day until The Husband reminded me that I actually was looking forward to making breakfast. Oh yes, I saved some tummy space the night before because I was dying to have a hearty grilled cheese and creamy scrambled eggs meal. How sweet of him to remember! After that filling meal, I honestly couldn’t eat anything else. I skipped lunch.
Maybe you want to think twice before joining the club (image from www.desperate-housewives.maxupdates.tv)
During those late nights and early mornings revising a 100+ slide presentation for a big meeting at 8AM (which was, by the way, requested by client late that afternoon only) or trying so desperately translate tables upon tables of media data into a single sentence consumer insight, I remember that we (as the media industry is dominated by females) would always sigh or often cry out in frustration on a quick 5-minute breather: “I want to be an AB housewife!!!!!!” “AB” refers not to the body part that we, women, aspire to have as flat and defined, but rather the upper socio-economic class (or SEC as we call it), the stratosphere of economic hierarchy. We, slaves to the often thankless overtime work schedule to help pay our personal bills and maybe even helping out our respective families, nurtured our pipe dreams of being filthy rich housewives, enjoying our chauffeur driven cars to take us to yoga class or whatever fitness regimen is all that rage at the moment then to lunch and coffee dates with our equally rich housewife friends, planning our next tres chic charity event. This is the life we desperately wanted to have!
So when people come to know that I am a housewife (in the interim), I always hear gushes of “You’re so lucky!” or “My, oh, my how I wish I could be a housewife too.” Well dearies, don’t forget that I still am not an “AB” housewife…and that makes a whole lot of difference.
Today.
I asked The Husband to take me out tonight since he had Groupon vouchers for an Eat-All-You-Can dinner at The Noodle Room at JBR. The meal was okay. Just okay. No gastronomical fireworks. Not even the belly scratching, full stomach satisfaction. But I think it was a delicious evening.
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