it's pronounced: ooh-bay

since i'm in portland, i decided to surprise my mom with her birthday cake over the weekend. and being that it was her birthday and not my own, i strayed away from chocolate ganache (oooh, ganache... drool).

instead, i made her an ube and coconut cake inspired in by my friends at ikneadthedough and designingurlife. for those that don't know, ube is a purple yam. it is commonly used to make desserts in the philippines. usually it's mixed with sweeteners like condensed milk and made into a soft pasty cakey-custard thing (if you could call it that). it's taste is similar to taro but it's not quite the same thing.

anyway, the cake was a ube chiffon with layers of coconut strings (macapuno) topped with a buttercream frosting and toasted coconut (the buttercream and toasted coconut was my deviation from this original recipe).

the cake ended up looking great and tasting even better!


*contrary to this post, there was no boxed ube cake. i made the cake from scratch with ube powder for the flavoring. is there even such a thing as boxed ube cake?

daydreaming of SBY

View Larger Map


all my posts on filipino food are not only making hungry but making me miss my mom's hometown island of mindoro. [ok, maybe there is some st. thomas beach withdrawal in there.]

i'm not slated to go to the philippines until next year as i have some domestic obligations here and there for the rest of 2009, so searching flickr will have to do. a girl can dream, right?

here are some pictures from flickr user kerolic. i love how his pictures are not touched up; they still capture the natural beauty of mindoro.

this is sablayan harbor. lots of fisherman = lots of boats

kerolic's boat ride to pandan island (across from sablayan)

my favorite place in the world: pandan island beach (sablayan is across the way)

things i won't do: mystery can

i've jumped off a perfectly good bridge but i won't do this.

first, read this: the plug issue #36 mystery can II

now, being that i grew up with a different palate than some that read this blog this is really funny to me. because I KNOW the strange things you can get in a can and i would NEVER take on this challenge. because i hate throwing up.

it's pretty funny though, i think jay walked into a filipino store as evidenced by the quail eggs (i gag just thinking about this), ginitaang munggo, ligo, and mangosteens that tracy had to eat. the challenge wouldn't have been that bad, but since they had no idea what they were eating (labels were taken off as part of the rules), it was more a mental thing.

hilarious.


would you do this?

taking bread from stale to fresh. rum helps.

despite my neverending bout with the plague, i've been making time to make some pretty food (for other people - since i can't really enjoy food right now). last week, i was excited to buy some pan de sal (filipino bread rolls) just to have sandwiches, toast, etc for the week. it was not-so-exciting when i realized that it was close to stale.

this is what stale pan de sal looks like

what does one do with a dozen stale rolls? make bread pudding.

rum raisin bread pudding

i've never made bread pudding, so i used this recipe from the foodnetwork. obviously, instead of bread, i used 10 pan de sal rolls. and as far as dark rum goes, i only had tanduay, from the philippines, so it fit in nicely to my [unplanned] filipino version of this dessert. finally, to add a little kick, i let the raisins soak and plump up in a little more rum before i threw it in with the recipe.

a yummy way to save perfectly good stale bread!

way past barongs and soens.

so as i was perusing rafe totengco's page for some spring vacation clutch inspiration (those that know me know that the LAST type of purse i need is a clutch but i can't get enough - see post on obsession), i stumbled across his blog again.

sidenote: for those that don't know, rafe is an international accessories designer that happens to be from the philippines. his bags are well known over the world and are huge amongst celebrities. his shop is in manhattan.

as part of his philippine celebrity, he was asked to guest judge the project runway philippines season 1 finale.

my 1st thought: oooh! i love project runway!
my 2nd thought: there's a project runway philippines?!

i watched the finale episode start to finish and it's pretty impressive that they were able to make a pretty much exact replica of the US version of the show. and i was doubly impressed and pleasantly surprised at the talent of the designers there. not that i doubt that filipinos have haute couture style but my view of the philippines is limited to my mom's provincial town/island (not that i'm hating because it's my favorite place in the philippines!) or the herds of people walking through the SM in makati - lovely, but not exactly bryant park.

i loved certain parts of all three collections, however, the obvious winner (and crowd fav) for his risks and impeccable sewing skills was aries lagat.


to see some filipino orginality (like totally "ee-no-bay-tib"), check out minute 2:30 until about 3:15. (take that US project runway!). my other favorite part of this episode was 8:23-8:24 but for all the wrong reasons.

if you want to see the whole episode and even better - who won (and how he admittedly embarrassed himself by falling down and hurting his knee - albeit in a endearing i-just-realized-my-dream kinda way), check out sweet project's you tube channel. pictures of all three collections (and other philippine fashion events) can be seen at kael06's flickr.

have a lovely day!

last night, i went home to see my niece and bring her my last batch of valentine-y cupcakes. when i got there, she came running up the stairs and greeted me with "happy balentimes day ninang!"
[ninang means godmother in tagalog]


happy balentimes day, indeed.

recipe: adobo

chicken adobo a la leah

inspired by mike's post, i got a craving for a good downhome filipino meal of adobo chicken tonight. and while he challenged his readers to an adobo throwdown, the reality is, there will be no winner because each family's adobo is slightly different, per the different regions of the philippines and quirks of each cook - in my case, my lola [grandmother].

my grandmother, mama, made the BEST adobo ever. however, there was no formal recipe passed down. all i remember is that it was heavy on the garlic, and i remember it was drier than most adobos -- most have a sauce -- an "au jus" if you will. after talking about it to my mom a long time ago, she mentioned that mama maybe used a cooking method of 'pinapasa' which literally means, 'to be squeezed'. i have yet to find a recipe to use this method but from what i understand, mama would take the chicken out after simmering and re-sear it with more garlic. needless to say, it was yummy.

i'm kinda 'a throw things in a pot and edit to taste' kinda cook. so here's my semi-just-now-made-up "recipe" for adobo (sans the extra pinapasa step). my recipe is for a smaller portion for 2-3 servings.

• 1.5 lbs of chicken wings, drumsticks or thighs (you can use breast, but it will probably be drier)
• 3-4 cloves of garlic depending on size
  
• 1/6 cup of soy sauce
  
• 1/6 cup of distilled vinegar
  
• 1 bay leaf
  
• 1 teaspoon-ish of whole peppercorns
• 1 teaspoon-ish of sugar
• salt and pepper to taste
  

1. salt and pepper the chicken - don't be too generous - you'll be adding soy and peppercorn later.
   
2. sear chicken in a hot pan with just a drizzle of oil. once the fat from the chicken renders, you'll have more than enough fat to keep the chicken from sticking. in fact, you'll have to drain the pain later on.
   
3. drain pan but leave about 1 tablespoon of fat in the pan.
   
4. lower heat to medium and add garlic. saute garlic for 1 minute.
   
5. splash a little of the soy sauce and vinegar in pan and scrape with a wooden spoon to de-glaze.
   
6. add soy sauce, vinegar, peppercorns, and bay leaf. simmer, add sugar, mix, then add chicken.
   
7. simmer on low for 40 minutes, turning chicken periodically to ensure chicken cooks on all sides.
   
8. taste the sauce. add salt and pepper to taste.
   
9. serve over rice. if you're not down with eating whole peppercorns, make sure to pick them out!
   

enjoy!

about: my heroes

The most important men in my life happen to be veterans.

Last year, I posted that my grandfather was accepted into the WWII memorial here in DC.

Here’s the memorial and his entry at the memorial. Neat huh?

After working out this morning, I read the eulogy that I wrote for him and remember him today as one of most inspirational people in my life and as an important part of this country’s history.

I could sing praises and praises of my Papa, but today, I think I’ll share with you my unsung hero.

This one of my favorite pictures of my family except that my sister isn’t in it (sorry sis).

My dad is one of the bravest men I know. Not only did he survive living in a house with four very strong, opinionated women (my mom, myself, my sister and his mother), but he left the Philippines to join the U.S. Navy back in the 1970s.

Did I mention that he didn’t really speak English?

After persevering through all the enlistedNavy stuff, he set a foundation for his life here in America, learned English and adapted. Always the gregarious social butterfly, he met my mother at the bowling alley and they decided to get married. My mother was lucky enough to have her whole immediate family and a lot of her extended family here during her wedding. My father? He got married alone with no family as everyone was still in the Philippines.

Eventually they had me and my sister. They decided early on that it would be easier to raise me and my sis if we didn’t have to live the military lifestyle. They set down roots and bought at house just right out of DC, near my mom’s family, and settled down. Dad did all the traveling he was assigned and came home when he could; mom worked full time, was the breadwinner and was home to raise us. This was one of the sacrifices they were willing to make to make sure we grew up easier. It was really hard on my mom to not have my dad there for long spurts of time. My mom relied heavily on her siblings; and my sis and I had to adjust every time he came home.

When I was around 10, my dad was stationed in VA beach. Besides being stationed in the Navy Yard, this was the ‘easiest’ for my parents. He would live on the ship from M-F and commute the 3 hours back every weekend to stay in our home. One day after Christmas, as I played my newly received Tetris game, my father was packing up to leave. This wasn’t unlike any other Sunday night, and I thought nothing of it. As I played, I was beckoned to say goodbye to my father, to which I responded with a casual yell “bye daddy!” controller still in hand. I was on level 5, after all. Not two minutes later, I was beckoned again to give him a hug. I don’t remember much from that moment but after being forced to hug my dad, I could feel that something was different. Something was off.

It was a few weeks later that the Operation Desert Shield and Desert Storm were all over the news. As I flipped through a Time magazine article detailing the war efforts, I noticed that my dad’s ship, USS America was in the Suez Canal. My dad was in a war zone. I was in the 5^th grade.

I was too young to understand it all, but I knew this was big. We wrote letters to the soldier in Miss Miller’s class and got my best friends at the time to write letters to my dad. (He later brought them Toblerones from Germany; it was a big hit.) Obviously, the war ended and they sent the troops home. My dad got a treat and the ship did a tour of duty throughout Europe, the Mediterranean and the Caribbean. Finally, we got word that there would be a formal homecoming and we were all invited to Norfolk for the ship’s docking. He would have been gone, I think, 2 or 3 years at that point.

When a Navy ship docks, the families are invited to stand on the dock and look up at the sea men in their dress whites lined up on the deck and hanging from every opening on the aircraft carrier. USS America was the size of a small city and was big enough to carry almost 80 war planes. When the boat docked, there was literally a sea of white on the boat. I remember my mom and uncle joking around that it was pretty much near impossible to be able to see our dad on the ship. But I searched anyway. And there he was, hanging from one of the lower level ports, waving right at me. It’s something that I’ll never forget.

When I was little, everyone told me I was just like my dad. I looked like him, I talked like him, I was loud like him. I always thought this was meant that I looked like a boy and hated it. Now I’m proud to be like my father: gregarious, loud, opinionated, and even carry the Mercado features. But most of all, I strive to be strong, generous and honorable like him -- my daddy, my hero.

observations

imagine:
I'm sitting outside on a beautiful, custom built, scalloped, patio overlooking a large, two-tiered expanse of grass surrounded by overgrown trees, lavender bell flowers, orange blossomed bushes, and a burgeoning vegetable garden of tomatoes, summer squash, and zucchini. A tray with coffee and two perfectly toasted pan de sal with butter lands next to the laptop where I sit typing (and listening to Pearl Jam unplugged).

I don't think I'm in Fairlington anymore, Toto!


As much as I have been pushing to go back to my own condo during this ordeal, I've not-so-secretly enjoyed staying at the parentals. I mean, I'm getting spoiled at this point (see above). They are great at making their "pasyente" feel better even though they are still doing their own thing (going out shopping, laying another patio under the deck, hanging out with my aunts, etc). I get to choose what's for dinner, get continuous ice for me knee, and don't really have to do much of anything but lay around a take drugs and play my mom's Wii. And there's the cable! (btw, I've officially know that I'm not missing much. I really am not getting cable anytime soon. I just need to make time to watch Project Runway online. Sidenote: the Season 5 cast = BO-ring. I miss the likes of Austin Scarlet, and of course, Santos + Andre! Tanning, tyed dyed Blane = annoying and contrived).

Anyway, I really must get on with my own life, get some cell phone reception, leave the parentals alone, stop complaining about the pain, and be able to sleep in my own bed. Nonetheless, I'm not afraid to admit it: I'm going to miss being spoiled. My parents are the best.




... who wants to keep me company?! hint. hint.

Perceptions VS. Reality

After our Victoria Falls shower, N and I decided to dry off. And by dry off, I mean, lay out by the pool to get even darker. She’s gotten to be the resident expert with the African sun. I, on the other hand, have proven that I’m not really Filipino. I’m red and it hurts. a lot.

Today’s other activity consisted of visiting the town of Livingstone to see what it had to offer. We went to the Livingstone Museum, which was interesting for about 5 minutes because it was tiny and dated. Interesting to note though that Zambians are not fans of owls, because they are ugly. Seriously. Otherwise, there wasn’t really anything to note there besides some great local paintings.

Our driver then took us to the market, where I have never been called sister so much. The vendors all had sad stories, asking to trade my tissues and hair elastics to give to their sisters in the village. It was sad at first, until everyone had the same story and I realized their game. After getting the hang of the haggling, I purchased some great souvenirs even though trying to divide everything by 3500 (kwacha to dollar) proved to be a little difficult. I’m sure I still paid way more that I was supposed to for some copper bracelets.

With nothing else to do that wasn’t considered an excursion and that didn’t require a reservation, we decided to go to the local pub and grille and have beer – in my case, a Peroni (who knew Italian beer did well here?). We happened to have stumbled across what I think was the bar near the closest hostel- read: lots of foreigners - but none of us were feeling social... just hungry.

When we were in Lusaka last week, I spoke to our Embassy contact that helped plan our event, and she had suggested that we visit the Funky Munkey in Livingstone when we were sick of the hotel food. We took her up on that and instead of eating at the pub, we went to Funky Munky, inviting our driver into the restaurant to eat with us. He was quite surprised and joined us. We started asking questions of him and his life and Livingstone. He had twins and 3 year old, was born in the copper belt to a miner, and moved to Livingstone for a new life.

Chella, our driver & the Funky Munky | 04.08.08 | livingstone, zambia

As he became more comfortable, he started peppering us with questions. Like many others we encountered in Africa, he was concerned with the upcoming election and whether America was ready for a black president. He also asked questions on whether or not there were homeless people in the US. And if Americans went to church. And what perception the Americans have of Africa. He also started going off about how the British people he’s encountered from the resort were not friendly and how he never thought that we would have invited him to join him. All in all, I think both sides learned about each other, and I’m glad we got the chance to really talk to him.

Oh, and the pizza was the closest thing to pizza that we’ve encountered on the continent. In many foreign countries, they’ll have their take on what the food is - basing it on local ingredients which is fine and understandable. Pizza is always one of these dishes, you never know what you’ll end up with. For instance at our hotel, the pizza has sweetened diced tomato instead of tomato sauce. In the Philippines, I remember getting a “pepperoni pizza” which consisted of a tomato and carrot based sauce, cheddar cheese, and sliced hot dogs. Not exactly my type of pizza. At the Funkey Munkey, they even had a brick oven stove in the back. This is very exciting. I love the ethnic food, but after two weeks, I’m tired of eating rice + stewed meat of sorts (either beef, chicken, goat, or impala). Yes, I tasted impala. It was good.

Later last night, as N and I slurped down ice cream cocktails at the poolside bar, we noticed that the zebras had returned to the lawn area in front of our building. After closer inspection, the herd had decided to lay down and sleep near our building, and very close to the path to our rooms. So, in an effort to get to our rooms without spooking the animals and getting kicked, we crossed the other side of the yard in the dark. Mind you these are the same yards the zebras roam on, eat from, and poop on. Umm, yeah that was fun.

"yes please "

Kigali reminds me of San Pablo in the Philippines. It's a city of about 1million people and is the same type of small town atmosphere. Kids are running around in uniforms during school break. People are all over walking to little street shops and to the market. There are people on motors (read: bigger than mopeds but not quite motorcycles). The landscape is hilly but the full of trees, grass, and tons of houses with terracotta roofs. It even smells the same -- that musty smell of earth and petrol (my coworker doesn't like the smell). Of course, I like it because it reminds me of the Philippines except it lacks that twinge of burning rice pods on the side of the road.

I had a driver today and rode around meeting with shipping companies, securing more drivers, going to the store to buy supplies, and going to the US Embassy to do some business. All by noon! Fridays in Rwanda = cool. They shut down at 1.

The hotel is really, really nice. Nicer than some of the hotels that I've stayed in the US. The bathrooms are marble tiled and I have separate tub (and I think I just have a standard room). And there is artwork everywhere. This hotel was renovated recently. What's sad is that it used to be the Hotel Diplomat, which was ransacked during the genocide a few years ago. If you watch the movie, you'll see. Actually, I confirmed this today, but had thought of it on my own last night, kinda freaked me out a little bit and so I slept with the TV on BBCworld all night. It's what I get for watching Hotel Rwanda one night before I left.

On a lighter note, I've noticed that lots of people here like to answer with either "yes please", "no problem", or "thank you". But I will say that it sometimes catches me off guard because I don't always understand their context.

leah: may I have some coffee please?
waiter: yes please. rushes off
leah: ... ? ...

brings coffee

leah: we decided to have our coffee outside, can we move please?
waiter: yes please. no problem.

leah: thank you!
waiter: thank you
leah: ... pause... your welcome?

now before you correct my punctuation, i want say, instead of "yes, please [insert it would be my pleasure to bring you coffee]... it's more like yesplease. said in one breath, as in one word. meaning... yes. it's cute. but jarrs me sometimes.

AND it isn't a "no, thank you!" situation, it's more like I'm just going to repeat what you just said and thank you happens to be it.

The "no problem" thing is just cute. They are the nicest people and smile all day long. I love it.

Again,we did lots of work that I can't really talk about but I did get to have some fun today.

After all our meetings, etc., we headed to dinner and realized that the cafe we discovered earlier in the afternoon had extended their al fresco restaurant from patio to the grassy area near the pool. It was cute. yes please!

Ok, we ate in the hotel (again), but this time, it was Rwandan and yummy. I tried as much as I could:

• Roasted tilapia appetizers: yum.
  
• Ugali: what i think was mashed casava. tasted like mashed yuca, without the fried goodness. or mashed potatoes without cream or butter.
  
• Beef brochettes: grilled beef kabobs with onion. can't really go wrong with that.
• Matoke in Tomato Sauce: matoke is a banana - that's pretty bland - simmered in tomato sauce. i could compare it to pot roast/beef stew, you know without the beef.
  
• Baked Tilapia: tilapia, fried, i think, then simmered in tomato and herb sauce. reminiscent of filipino escabeche but not sweet or sour. uhh, maybe not escabeche.
  
• Traditional goat stew: goat done all the way (read: not chewy) is very much like lamb. this stew was yummy! again, reminiscent of filipino calderetta - without the spiceyness.
  
• For dessert, I had nutella crepe with some kind of fruit as well as Maitaki - which I think was a fried cassava fritter with coconut shavings on top. I'm not really sure if my guess is correct, but it was pretty good. Even better when I threw some nutella on top.
  
• For my beverage, I had a Mutzig. It's the beer the waiter recommended. After I asked him if it was local, he said "yes please" and got it for me. After googling it just now, I find out it was a French beer. See what I mean. Oh well.

During dinner, there was a band (more like a beat machine, a guy on keyboard, two singers and later in the night, a guitar player). They sang everything and the keyboard player played for 4 hours straight. Their set included some Rwandan - this place was apparently a night out for the locals, some French for the tourists, some English 80's and classics for the tourists and some top 40, again I think for the locals who were dancing and drinking. It was nice. And pretty night on top of it.

No pictures today, maybe tomorrow. But just for some eye candy, here's my first souvenir for my niece.

isn't he adorable?! yes please!

Happy Peep-ster!

I'm on my way out to my family's Easter Egg-stravaganza. My family is crazy and crazy big. Just think the Bradys x 5. at every holiday. and child's birthday. until they turn 18. or... forever (my parents still throw me birthday dinners and invite the extended fam. I'm telling you, B-R-A-D-Y, just Filipino). At last count, the expected arrival at today's event is 41 adults (with a potential of a+ 5), 20 kids and at least 60 eggs filled with candy (and money). I'm excited for our little ones, but tired just thinking about it.

Anyway, I wanted to give a shout out to my cousins and friends who entered the Washington Post's Peep Show Diorama Contest. The contest is all about re-creating events in history or pop culture using Peeps (I mean, that's all they are really good for - because they are SHA-nasty [b & j that was for you]. I was dying to join this year, but alas, no time and I had a severe lack of focus. My many, many ideas spanned the following: "Peeps, I hate peeps " from the Indiana Jones movie - the part where opens the door and sees snakes all over the ground to Peeps on a Plane to Peepstock and to my favorite of "Addicted to Peep" a la Robert Palmer. Maybe next year...

Anyway, my friends were featured on CBS Sunday Morning this morning, in print in the Sunday Source and on Washington Post online (it's a flash file so I haven't figured out to paste here - it's entry #5). They were genius and used the following video as inspiration and became finalists. I'm so proud (of the peep diorama; i'm a little skeptical about the so-called exercise program in this Cebuano jail)! Check it out.


The inspiration (as if you haven't seen this a million times already - at least it's still hilarious for the 75th time):

Ok, gotta go deliver my potluck dish. Just a simple pasta carbonara a la leah - sans egg (one of the kids has an allergy). It's probably the simplest pasta dish ever; and with 50 people showing up, that's a lot of bacon. It only took me an hour to do this but now my studio and everything in it, clothes included, smells like bacon. According to Kitas' friend Matt, girls should wear bacon smelling perfume to attract men. I'd rather not test this theory- so I'm going to go see if I can find a warehouse sized bottle of febreze instead.

slainte!

What other Filipino (or Irish person for that matter) gets a phone call from Ireland to wish them a happy St. Paddrick's?

I do!

I love that I have Irish cousins!

Now I want to go out!



Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

just in cases

things i enjoy about living on the 14th floor:

• the view of the washington monument... ok , it's only the tip but it's still in my view - on a clear day
  
• that goes for the air force memorial too.
  
• my july 4th party = full view of the fireworks sans crowds and parking issues
  
• i can see if 395 is backed up
  
• the roar of 395 isn't as loud on this floor
  
• i don't feel guilty taking the elevator (i did when i lived on 5)
  
• the neighbors i have on this floor are friendly -- but keep to themselves

things that aren't so great about living on the 14th floor:

• i can see various motels, 4 mile run, and gas stations along with my monument view
  
• it's a pain in the ass when you forget something in your car
  
• it's really the 13th floor, and certain people won't let you forget it
  
• when there is a fire, you have to walk down 14th flights of stairs, not knowing where the fire really is
  

so, there was a fire in my building today. as far as i know, there was a some renovation work - possibly electric - on the 15th floor and it caught fire. the only damage was to the 15th and 16th floors; there was no one injured so that's fine. it's a little scary that my safety (and my things) are at the mercy of my neighbors watchful (or not-so-watchful) eyes. i guess that's my risk in owning a condo right?

in a effort not to be a stupid girl during what could have been a tragic incident, i decided that i would go down as is, with only my phone and keys in hand. yeah... did i mention that i went out funleah style last night and decided to have a lazy sunday in my pajamas? fourteen floors is a long way if you have to escape something. and i'm not about to be known as the girl who died in the fire because she stayed to change her clothes. there are less stupid things that i could die from. you know, like skydiving.

it was fun(ny) to see my neighbors in the lobby showered and dressed, or even coming home from lunch or church, while my lazy ass was in pajamas and had mussed hair. i mean, seriously, it's a filipino mother's nightmare. [insert your filipino mother's version about why girls should always have matching bra and panties here] and if you're not filipino, ask one of your friends during a happy hour. it's ridiculous and somewhat hilarious.

although not a fun event and certainly not how i wanted to spend 2 hours of my afternoon, laughing about my mom's "rule" helped keep my head on straight while most others were worried about elderly neighbors, pets they left behind or their stuff. i really must check on my fire extinguisher... and get new pajamas.

My Papa

Today, my grandfather was accepted and officially registered for the World War II Memorial. In the 1940's he joined the US Armed Forces of the Far East and served proudly for the US as a Philippine National. My grandfather recounted his war days to me as a child and it wasn't until I did my own research in high school and college that I knew what it all means to my family and my personal history. A humble farmer from a small town, on a small island in the Philippines, he was proud to serve his old country and his future country. He did so with valor, receiving the Purple Heart and the Bronze Star Medal along the way. There are a few war stories that I'll avoid posting here, not only because they are long, but because I can't do them justice.

My Papa was a good man, the best man - besides my own father, and I can't explain how proud I am to be a Martinez today.