Those that deserve a swift kick in the butt

Thieving Philippine politicians
Feminazis
Crab mentalists
Paedophiles
Psychos
The pretentious
Social climbers
Celebrity columnists
Gold diggers
Gossip mongers
Reality TV
Bad cooks
Traffic cops who show up for work only on payday
Divas and not so divas
Big headed celebrities
Hypocrites
Bullies
Neanderthals
... And anybody who gets in my way.

NatGeo Earth Run and what we didn't do about it

It was supposed to be an easy Sunday morning, the way Lionel Richie would croon about.
It started at 3am, after a night at Brotzeit. We got ready. Put on our lightest clothes, running shoes and drinking water.
After breakfast at the nearby McDonald's we headed out to the venue. The National Geographic Earth Run 2013 was to begin.
Little Maxine ran with her Aunt Anna and cousin Colin. Made the three kilometers in just under thirty minutes. It was fun all around. Great event. NatGeo had a good idea. It's the people around them that made me think that there was something off with the concept:

Water in plastic bottles everywhere, despite the fact each runner was issued a reusable hydration bottle.

Sponsors giving out products in hotel room size unreuseable, unrecyclable containers.

Runners throwing excess water unto the ground.

Nobody knew what car pooling was.

After the run, they head on to nearby restaurants and load up on pancakes, rice meals and coffees and cigarettes.
I'm just saying.

2nd to the last straw

It was a bad day yesterday. The monstrous Metro Manila Traffic got me in trouble at work for being late. What usually is a half an hour commute took three times that. I guess it’s a sign that the Holidays are upon us.

Getting to work to find that the manager has sent out the guests because there was no one in the kitchen. What? There are two inane questions here that need to be addressed:

Why are there no kitchen staff at the restaurant when it opened? And more importantly…

Why did the manager send out the guests instead of having them wait in the comfort of air conditioning and good music?

I work with complacent cooks. These are cooks who do mise en place a la minute. They were already bad apples when I was recently added to the roster. And yesterday nobody was in the kitchen due to either that they were on day off or they were late too. One was late. But he was always late. Always. And yesterday I found out why he was never chewed out before I took over his job. But I will get back to that later.

The motley crew consisted of three cooks when I took over. Al I knew from years before at an Italian restaurant. He was surprised that I took over his job, owing to the fact that he drove the kitchen down so low that it was covered in stain, dirt and rat droppings. Much can be said about the many levels of mediocre his food was found to be. Alvin was a steakhouse guy before. Most reliable. Fast worker. Can be taught. And shoots before asking questions. Stocky and healthy as an ox, moves quickly. A few polishing around the edges and he could well outpace half of Manila’s cooks. And then there is JC. Dishwasher and so-called cook. The dirtiest kind. The kind you would see toiling in a backwater canteen.

The Manager seems to have this cook as a favorite. And since the cook makes the manager’s meals, I supposed it applies to that adage ‘do not bite the hand that feeds you’. I guess that is the reason. He can probably get away with murder.

My days are numbered at that place. I look forward to the day when I leave that place for good.

Eat Eastern Ho

It really is a sorry state of affairs if a hotel can't keep up appearances. Some hotels hide it so well you wouldn't know that they are close to filing Chapter 11. Other less fortunate operators have to go through the fiscal year with properties so dilapidated that customers have to think thrice before booking.

And then there are the ones who don't care. I have observed one such hotel in the last two months because my projects have brought me within striking vicinity. The Great Eastern Hotel along Makati Avenue used to be a very good mid-scale hotel. One of my favorite places to eat steak when I was a lot younger.

But it has run down lately, and it shone a shining beacon to show its mediocrity recently...

Now it was curious they let this happen. So, feeling like a good Samaritan at the time, I went to the hotel to let them know that their sign is sending the wrong message. It's been years since I entered the lobby, and I was surprised at how sleazy the place has turned out. Waiters playing cards in a vacant restaurant; dark corners made creepier by dirty marble floors. A lone receptionist told me coldly there are no supervisors or manage on duty. I showed her the picture. She just shrugged and said she will note it down.I left, thinking it's no loss to me.

Two weeks pass and that signage still held up, until it got repaired to show the full sign. Perhaps somebody else noticed. The absentee manager? Yet, two nights later it broadcast-ed a different message...

Now do they have a new product? A new incentive to patronize this hotel? I never bothered to go back. The receptionist was blase about the faux pas anyway. That sign stayed up for two and half weeks before it got fixed.

But a few days after that was hilarious...

The Manager obviously does not care. A month goes by and it still is blazing its red letters that way. I wonder how many got duped into thinking that there is that to eat?

Mediocrity. Along Makati Avenue. Eat. Eastern. Ho.

Have you seen equally disturbing hotel signage elsewhere?

Is a call center job for you?

I am not a hypocrite. Well, not all the time. To err is human. But I did for exactly 365 days take up work with headset on my head receiving calls to earn a few bucks. Yes. I did the call center gig. Among other reasons, the primary raison d'être was the bubble had to burst. Because, no matter how desperate you are, or how jaded you are, a call center ‘job’ will not live up to what you want in life. Call center gigs is not something to be proud of.

BPOs outsourced their customer relations strategies for just one reason alone: money. Because labor is cheap in Manila. And to earn a measly $300 a month as an agent saves a bundle for the overseas companies. This is one view.

From the employees view, they think they are working for an international company, where skills and communication are king. And to work in the commercial business district and calling your half a cubicle your ‘office’ makes you feel like you are on the prow of the Titanic. In a way you are. Tragic ending and all. Let me give you the reasons…

1. You work with scripts. Set phrases and words that are supposed to be posted on a notepad on your desktop. And they are strictly the only words anyone is allowed to use. Quality analysts, team leaders and coaches listen in on your calls to make sure that you don’t get creative. This script is ingrained in the first two weeks, where each and every agent is taught how to speak English like an American. With the twang and drawl.
2. Your ‘office’ is half a cubicle, which holds a desktop computer, a phone interface and headset. As an agent, you are not allowed to make that office your own. No family pictures. No personal effects. That is where you will be stuck in for 8 hours a day. Watching a computer screen endlessly, accumulating carpal tunnel syndrome and dealing with the frigid air-conditioning because the PCs are more important. So very loud woolen blankets with prints of Winnie the pooh and bright patterns are part of the uniform
3. Your work is determined my numbers on a spreadsheet. You are graded and judged by both the customers and the internal Quality Analysts. These stats determine how aligned your mindset is with the company, in a more robotic drone kind of way.
4. It’s like college all over again. The freshman year. Aforementioned stats are summarized by teams and posted on walls as an arts and crafts projects. Bulletin boards are plastered with cardboard, Styrofoam strings, markers and everything else except cheerleaders pom-poms. You have coaching, team huddles and Team leader and agent conferences. In the center I worked for, you basically have no uniform, pretending to have the Google culture.
5. Incentives are incredible. Where else can you get a small can of Pringles and a bottle of iced tea as a prize for getting a perfect score in one customer survey (which is subjective, no matter how you see it)
6. The extent of your customer relations is through phone. Never face-to-face. So being a jerk will not incur reprimands because the customer on the other end can’t do anything about it. Connecting with the customer is simply a digital voice that works a script to empathize and acknowledge
7. You work with people from all walks of life. Gay, straight, corporate, hippie, yuppie, dirty old men, cougars. I even came across hookers, former doctors and nurses, singers and transvestites. Because of statistics, equality rules. And you meet hundreds of them throughout the tenure, since turnover is high
8. Unlimited amounts of coffee. In the form of premixes. Convenient. Don’t have to deal with brewing another pot or waiting in line for a latte. Just bottomless dredges provided by Nescafe.
9. It’s easy work. You sit on your butt for hours, in an air-conditioned room, play with your computer, take a few phone calls, and you get a pay check. No brain needed. Just scripts. And the tools that help make those scripts happen to get that perfect customer survey so you can enjoy this time a bag of chips and some Oreos.
10. Office romances and politics are nil, so there is no chance of making a mess in your own backyard. Like I said, interpersonal relationships are by phone. As a trainee all you and your team member will be asking is ‘how are your calls?’

Call center work is really a stop-gap when you are in between legitimate jobs. It also is a dead-end. If you decide to make a career out of it, think about these things: If someone asks you what work you do, can you honestly be proud enough to say you work in call center? What happens after a few years of call center work? Do you advance? What skill can you get from taking phone calls that could land you  a real, if not better, job? And last, but not the least, did you really work hard through college just to answer phone calls for a living?

 

 

I think not.

The very reasons not to be a chef

Admit it. You personally know at least one chef or professional cook. At least have come across a professional cook significant enough to warrant a second look. Or know of someone who recently graduated from a culinary or hotel management school. Maybe 10 or more years ago many people looked down on the lowly cook. Thinking they were criminals, half-lifes, never amounting to anything. Ironically, it is the spirit that keeps professional cooks going, chugging out thousands of identical plates every week, working in near-submarine conditions, at very low pay. Because we love it.

Recently though, it has been very difficult to weed out the posers from the professional cooks. Every technical, vocational and fly-by-night schools sport culinary programs, making diploma mills spit out more culinary certification. Is it the ‘in’ thing? Are more and more people considering a career in the culinary arts? For what reason? These should not be one of those reasons:

For the glamour – a chef, by definition, is a cook that leads other cooks. The personalities you see on TV? They are called chefs because they earned that title, not bestowed upon themselves. Anthony Bourdain documented his rise in the ranks. Eric Ripert made a name for himself. Gordon Ramsay got michelin stars. But Rachel ray? She’s not a chef. She is just another Martha Stewart wannabe. If you want your 15 minutes of fame, you have to travel a long and winding road before you get there. Earn your battle scars.

For the money – this is an attainable dream. We all dream of a high salary, royalties and product endorsements. But one gets into this profession with more spirit than a ready checking account. In fact, most start out as stagiares earning next to nothing. For years on end. As an apprentice, or someone lower than an apprentice. A pot scrubber, a peeler. Yet they trudge on, because they learn something new every day, every year, working on their craft.

Because everybody is doing it – Keeping up with the Joneses is very bad at the get go. If you think following the trend will turn you into the mindset of a chef, much less an actual chef, then the line cooks will skin you alive and sear your working hand with a hot iron pan. This is a sign of a finicky mind, only learning how to cook because somebody told them to. Where is the passion there?

Because I cook at home – A professional cook is very different from a home cook. Even if you could make the best BBQ sauce in your small town, or make a mean casserole, that does not make a chef. There are a lot of things to learn. Because whatever you learned at home will be obliterated from you mind as inefficient, redundant and a waste of space. Professional cooking is an art. In some cases, it’s a discipline, a way of life.

Be a chef, a professional cook, because you love cooking the same thing over and over again with no difference from one plate to another. Because you have gone through the burns, the cuts, the bruises, humiliation, and other such forms of rite of passage to earn the title. Earn it. Don’t call yourself a chef. hear it from someone else’s lips. Someone that matters. Not from your culinary school instructor.

The things that annoy us

Or to put it bluntly, what pisses the hell out of hospitality professionals

1. Announcing they’re bloggers or critics the moment they get in the door. Especially when don’t know jack-shit and act all Amuse-Douche like.
2. Attention grabbing fake allergies. One customer came in and said they were allergic to garlic. I say ‘then don’t go to an Italian restaurant’
3. Nursing their solitary beer or cup of joe for hours on end, mooching off the free wifi
4. Getting boisterously drunk
5. Treats waiters like 3rd class citizens, acting like they are about to be married to Prince William
6. Splitting a bowl of soup, salad or sandwich for two
7. In Manila, it’s the bodyguards they bring. Occupying other tables and not ordering anything
8. Asks for non fat, decaf, artificially sweetened cappuccino to go with her slice of Black Forest cake
9. Asks to speak to the chef in the midst of dinner service. On a Friday night. When the kitchen is deep in the weeds
10. Showing up 30 minutes late for a reservation. On a Friday night. Expecting a table ready
11. Leaving their valuables such as a DSLR camera displayed on the table, then blames the wait staff when it gets nicked
12. Utters the words “Do you know who I am?!”. Obviously not, buddy. You are given the same VIP treatment as everybody else
13. Finishing two thirds of the meal before complaining, then wanting it written off the check.

13 things that say you are an AMUSE-DOUCHE

We know or have come across at least one person like this. Hell, we may even have a friend who is exactly like this. Sometimes amusing, most of the time annoying, we put up with them for one reason or another. I hate stereotyping, but there are characteristics that can help anyone spot one a mile away. And here are some of them…

You just graduated from culinary school, and you think you are better than the chef

You appear on TV as a celebrity chef, but never have worked in a professional kitchen

Your professional timeline is that of a precious antique. You go to the highest bidder

You are a chef-whore. Hang around professional chefs and bona fide foodies just so that you can say you are

Vegetarian or carnivore, you impose yourself on the other side of the fence

You show up at functions and events uninvited, hogging all photo-ops

You have a whole line of cooking products under your name, yet you do not know how to fry an egg (K___ A_____?)

You have a steak cooked medium well to well done

The amount of cookbooks you actually have and used are less than amount of mobile phones you’ve owned

You blame ‘Climate change’ on irresponsible companies but haven’t changed your lifestyle to at least help the situation

You own a $100+ chef’s knife but never used it in the kitchen

As a culinary school graduate, you have no respect for cooks who learned it the hard way

You don’t know the difference between a hollandaise, a béarnaise and a maltaise sauce

Do you know any more traits? Let everyone know, for goodness sake!

Top reasons not to go to the gym

...and what to do about it.

I choose not go to the gym. Millions have used their New Year's resolution as an excuse to migrate to these institutions. I don't blame them. One would do anything to feel better, healthier, and be more confident for the coming year. 

Years ago I signed for a membership at a local university gym. I felt at the time I needed to lose weight. To build up some muscle. My friend Joel hooked me up with one of the personal trainers. I went through orientation on the various machines, areas, and rules of etiquette. Program ran two weeks, by then I just stopped going. Not because of laziness. Not because of the lack of motivation. It was because it was redundant. But I will get to that point later on. I found good reasons not to ever sign up for membership again:

Lining up - Equipment in most gyms by quantity would satisfy most clientele. But it draws the line when you have to wait 10 minutes for a turn at the machine. By then your rhythm has slowed down, out of timing and basically screw up a mojo  that was built up at the previous machine. And to line up for a machine that is not designed for natural body movement is not, well, natural. And lining up is not limited to actually being in the gym. On average a gym is about 25 minutes from anybody. Most of which is stuck in traffic.

Social network - You go to the gym to work out. That means concentrating on your programs repetitions keeping in time. The gym is 'me' time. Not anybody else's. Why would I stop in mid-workout just to show you how to use the treadmill? Check out this list of annoying people.

It ain't exactly cheap - The fees are expensive. Put together about a year's worth of monthly membership you could have your own equipment at home.

Substandard trainers - Many of these trainers have no experience training clients and by looking at them don’t have experience training themselves.

They're like hospitals - breeding grounds for sickness and diseases. Think about it. Machines not wiped down. Sweat all over the place. Dead skin cells. Heavy breathing. Bleeding sometimes. And that's just one person. You get the picture.

With that said, I delve into the reason for redundancy. I work in the restaurant business. Each day involves body movement that would put any gym equipment to shame. I already go up and down a flight of stairs a few times each shift half the time with 20-30 pounds of food stuffs, equipment in my arms. Transferring full simmering stockpots and reducing sauces from one area to another requires strength as it carries 30-40 liters of hot liquid, and a high amount of dexterity.

I bend over hundreds of times for the low reach-in cooler, and stretch out to get pan after pan for cooking the various entrees.

I walk from the bus station to work and back, each way toning up my legs for a straight 20 minutes, more so if I am late, then i break into a run. Which is the oldest method of exercise. Only now in Manila the residents are getting on the bandwagon of running. It used to be badminton. But running. Most basic exercise. And it turned into a fad. I breath in fresh air, not reconditioned cool air. I use reusable water bottles for hydration.

I very rarely get sick. My girlfriend Rossana hates it that I don't take medication. Philosophy is that if my own body fights the sickness away without the use of chemicals, that means antibodies have built up my immunity the natural way. I very rarely get sick. My lungs are unremarkable, according to my last physical, despite smoking. Dentist doesn't think I smoke. I have a gut but only because I have so much good cooking to taste everyday, as opposed to eating like a rabbit just to lose 5 pounds. But my weight does not wildly fluctuate. I have no movement limitations. 

All this because I do not go to the gym, because I already have access to the best workout everyday. And my daughter Maxine is a pleasant addition. You might want to think about having your kids as the gym. Or workout ideas that can be done at home. Here are a few workout regimens that do not require a plastic membership card.

But then again, that's just me. What is your favorite work out regimen?

Would you like your steak delicious? Or well done?

it always happens. Tickets coming in  like crazy, dupes fluttering on the pass. The kitchen slaving away in a small space barely enough for four, let a lone a chef's table. The oven is buzzing, the idiot by the fryer is staring at the already golden crusted fish turn into shoe polish brown. Then a loner walks into the restaurant wanting, of all that is holy in the carnivorous world, a well done Prime Rib eye steak. I stare at the ticket. Prime Rib eye with grilled vegetables and mash. Ribe Eye. Well done.
'Oi' I call to the fryer idiot. 'Prime Rib eye! To be nuked!' Like time delay lock at the local bank, he springs into action.
From the refrigerated drawer, pulls out a perfectly marbled piece of meat, chilled. No blood drippings. Slice open the vacuum packaging. Then with the grace of a well lubricated Russian ballerina doing the pirouette, tosses the meat, marbling and all, into the 360F fryer. Then finishes it off on the grill. I turn around and do the fixins. I can hear you. You go WHAAAAT???
Let me tell you why I did not go into a rage. Why I did not dunk him and the guest into the fryer and be done with it. Why I hummed to the tune of 'Complicated' and just went my merry way clearing out the dupes.Why I did not ask the more able cooks to nuke the steak.
Have you ever had a steak well done? Referred to by Buddy Holly as 'Burnt to a crisp' in Pulp Fiction, it's pink on the inside, charred on the outside, and people with dentures will make their dentist richer by daring to take a bite. Like every well done steak I have ever had.
It's animal cruelty to order steak this way, an attack on the leisurely life the host cow had. It takes a long time to cook steak until its juices run clear, if any juice runs at all. And 90% of the time, the idiot guest would claim that it's rubbery, tough, bitter, 'Where did you get the steak? Where did you learn to cook?' tirade spewing from his maw.
It does not take great skill to make a well done steak. Hell, it does not take any skill at all. Pan fry, bake roast, and deep fry until it's cooked through. All the way through. Don't need to be Heston Blumenthal to figure that out.
Why do people order for a well done steak? I can think of many reasons:

Blood is disgusting
If they wanted raw food, they would go to a sushi bar
He wants to be man about it
Does not want to get sick
Recently got off vegetarianism
Got kicked by a cow as a child
Hated the Matrix
McNuggets was not on the menu
Know-it-all
Didn't know any better

Let me tell you what a well done steak is good for:

As an effective door stop
A charcoal brick
A deadly weapon
Table leveller
Torture device
Time waster for the swab who does not know his way around the kitchen
Goes great with really cheap watery wine
For the ugly girlfriend or boyfriend
For the cruel wife or husband
Can go with the much passed around fruit cake during Christmas
Paperweight
Hockey puck
Premeditated indigestion

That is why I gave the order to the fry boy. Because the dishwasher is busy with the soiled plates. Because it occupies valuable burner space on a six top. Because guest dissatisfaction is not done deliberately on my watch. Because the guest does not know any better.

Here comes the rain again…

“Here comes the rain again

Falling on my head like a memory.

Falling on my head like a new emotion

I want to breathe in the open wind

I want to kiss like lovers do

I want to dive into your ocean

Is it raining with you”

Annie Lennox, Eurythmics

Rain. The romantics would agree: it is in everything. Everything is nothing without it. With it, everything is not the same. The first taste. The first sensation. The first kiss. The first love. Rain. Droplets big and small. Droplets that covers everything in a magical shine. Droplets of water that paint the town. Ironically, it adds more color, adds vibrancy, adds life. Much the same way water is to us, to the food we eat, to the life we live.

The rains are not depressing, not even remotely.

“And when it rains on your parade, look up rather than down. Without the rain, there would be no rainbow.” – Gilbert Chesterton

The smell of moisture, the ground emanates with such power, with such deliberation whenever it is inundated.

“Let the rain kiss you. Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops. Let the rain sing you a lullaby.” – Langston Hughes

It is when vegetables are at their best. It is when the herbs are at their greenest. It is the coming of spring in some parts of the world, the end of summer in others.

“Many a man curses the rain that falls upon his head, and knows not that it brings abundance to drive away the hunger.” - Saint Basil

It was raining that I made my first recipe: Chicken Teriyaki. It was during my years at state university. And mom just left the family. Left to my own devices, and a well stocked book shelf and fridge, we had dinner. Despite the somber occasion, it was my first step. And I was happy. I was cooking. With a ladle, and a wing and a prayer, our family moved on. Broken, but nevertheless moved forward.

It was pouring when I went for my first day at the job. Sixteen, awkward, and passing the threshold of the local McD’s. Back then, the restaurant chain was magical to me. Red bricks. Systematic cooking and ordering. Everything surgically clean. Video training. The smell of burgers. The packaging. My first paycheck two weeks later.

It was a deluge when I first submerged in the flooded waters of Espana in Manila, appreciating the comforting soup like no other a few hours later. It was dangerous. It was not natural that manholes, despite being left open to take care of the flood, actually posed more of a threat with the rushing water. It was chaotic for people to rush at the few remaining transports that have not been seized by the rising waters. It was surreal, because the umbrellas added color to an otherwise drab city. Red, blue. Black, Plaid. Rain coats of different sizes. Shoes floating. The lights had halos, casting a golden tint on the damp streets. Cold, drenched to the bone, it was at that moment I realized things should be better. Let me start with a hot bowl of soup.

Saute chopped white onions in olive oil until transparent. Toss in some chopped celery, stalk and leaves, and carrots. Let it dance for the length of that Annie Lennox ditty, then toss in some chorizo. Toss, then vandalize with a table spoon of tomato paste. Pour in some fresh chicken stock. Let it roll to a boil, then simmer. Add sliced cabbage, sprinkle in some sage, salt, pepper, and a smidge of chili pepper flakes. Stir. Serve this hearty soup in big bowls with a chunk of baguette.

It was drizzling when I left Manila for a few years in Switzerland. I still could remember how many droplets painted the airplane window. It was my first time away from home, out of the country, and completely alone in a foreign land where only tourists speak English. No friends or relatives. I should have been sad because of the world I was leaving behind. But I was not. I was looking forward to this. I was not looking back. Can I equate snow with rain? Because it felt that way, landing at the Geneva Airport. And it was magical, the way the snow flakes landed on my coat. Up until then, I thought snow flakes were just a product of people’s imagination. But I saw this flake, in all it’s crystalline glory for a few seconds.

It was the Spring Rain that found me in an apartment somewhere in Zurich Old Town, listening to Alanis Morisette’s “You Learn” and tapping to the beat. I knew how to speak Deutsch by then, fluent enough to tell a joke, to tell a story, to get around, to get lost. I knew Zurich like the back of my hand. The alleys, the back streets, the stores, the restaurants, the kitchens, the chefs. It was on that rainy spring day that I was to assume the position of Executive Sous Chef at an Italian Restaurant on Neiderdorfstrasse.

It was a dark, damp gloomy day when I lost my job at the Century Park hotel. I was not a chef there. Far from it. Room service manager. Dead end job. Slow professional growth, if any. I needed to be in the kitchen again. I walked out of the hotel, albeit with some regret, to grab my whites and find a place where I can strap on my apron again. I eventually did.

As you can see. I do not think of the rains as a depressing weather phenomenon. It is the mark of new beginnings. It is the signal that things are about to change. It is the rhythm of droplets like drumbeats that sound out what is to be. Notice how your skin feels smooth and velvety after an hour in the rain, that no other beauty product can match? Notice that only during and after the rains the food smells better, the light is more alive, the mood, as an understatement, restless.

It is the spirit that moves people forward. And it is the rain that nourishes some people’s spirit. It cleans the soul. It inspires, it gives hope.

“Some people walk in the rain, others just get wet.” – Roger Miller

Pasta for mama! Mama mia!

It was a hot sweltering day. For Mother's Day we took Rossana to ‘The Old Spaghetti House’ at Market! Market!. We wanted to be off the beaten track, and since Rossana loves pasta, this place suited our purposes. The drive was short, even in the heat, and it was pleasant because we were looking forward to a good meal. Fast food and junk begone!

  Walking into the restaurant, we had a hint of nostalgia from our childhood days, but this restaurant was just short of that. It had the decor, it had the food, but something was missing. I was afraid that we might luck out on this one.

The menu is as varied as ever. But the pretentious foodies who expect this to be an Italian pasta joint need not apply. It’s straightforward pasta, pizza, rice meals (OMG, that is so tacky to put it in there), sandwiches and desserts. They have a section for International Pizzas. More like fusion. More like East meets west. Pizza in itself is international.

As we sat down, me gorging on bottomless Ice Tea to quench my thirst and hide from the summer heat, we perused the menu after having waited a noticeable minute for the waiter to notice us as we walked in. It was mid-afternoon, and the  restaurant was occupied by only two other people. Slow for them, quiet and pleasant for us. After making our selections, the waiter took the menus, and we were left to look around. Maxine busied herself by vandalizing the paper placemats.

First to come was the Pepperoni and cheese pizza. Thin crust, on a wooden chopping board. Topped with cheese and sliced sausage. The crust was crisp, despite the lack of ‘toastiness’ around the edges. The cheese was less than stringy, but was adequate in taste, complementing the sliced sausages. I would like to say pepperoni, but that was not pepperoni. Somebody must have switched the meat along the line. It was a good pizza though, better than what other restaurants are touting as pan pizzas or ‘chef quality’ pizzas.

The spaghetti carbonara and pasta negra came next, delivered in deep bowls.  With toasted garlic bread. Even though the bread was not toasted properly (seems to be a recurring theme where dough is concerned) it was enough to sop up the sauce. The carbonara did lack the richness of the egg yolk. Bacon taste was a scale of 4 out of ten. What did they use? Canadian bacon? Bacon in a can? Pasta all around was ideally al dente, no doubt about that. The pasta negra, turned out to be as good as the authentic teeth staining kind, but lacked spice. Though the pastas were warm, I would have liked it to be hot enough that steam was wafting from the bowl when it was served. In this case, the dish got cold before we were halfway through the meal. The bowls being ice-cold probably helped.

The remaining dish were the lasagnas for Maxine and Alie. Rich, steamy. Melts in your mouth. But it think it was a matter of convenience that they were simply nuked in the microwave rather than baked before serving. The lack of tomato and cheese spatters on the bowl indicated that it was cold to the touch as well, so the inherent heat came from within. Notice the lack of golden brown on the bread? Probably they did not have an oven to begin with. Hmmm.

The day ended with Rossana enjoying a small glass of Sugar-free chocolate mousse. Even though Maxine begged to have one, Rossana was encouraged to be selfish.

Overall we had a good time. The Old Spaghetti House is close enough to be an institution, but it will, as for the past years, not be foremost in my mind. The attention of the wait staff seems to indicate that they are just there to serve the food. The lack of attentiveness made us order what we wanted, not only to be safe, but also we did not know how the other items fare. During downtime, ironically, the wait staff were discussing their salaries unmindful of the guests that could here.

The food overall, could have been better. The appropriate heat from cooking the food would have been welcome, even though it was hot outside. Bread not toasted. Pasta lacking stem. Plates that are cold to the touch. Somebody must not have paid their gas bill. The drinks were cold, and no effort there. Maxine, even though a six year old, filled out the survey form, giving an overall rating of 3 out of 5. I asked ‘What was wrong, honey?” And she said “the food was cold.”

Despite the lack of attention to detail, we did enjoy ourselves. Because it was an afternoon that we were together. The minuses did not bother us that much. But it would have been a great experience if the food was up to par as what the ‘Old Spaghetti House’ has been known for. At least during my growing-up years.

Feel free to leave a violent reaction. Because I, as well as other readers, would like to know if this is just a one-time thing.

An afternoon at the museum

During the rare time I get a day off, I took my daughter to the Ayala Museum in the Financial District of Makati. Or to put it more frankly, she took me. She has been bugging me for days to see the museum. She says 'the museum' because as far as a 6 year old is concerned, there is only one museum.  And of course she expects to see dinosaurs. Damn you, Ben Stiller.

I tell her it's a date, but not to expect to see a T-Rex lumbering through the hallways. So on a hot Tuesday afternoon, we made our way to the famous Ayala Museum. The last time I enjoyed this museum was way back in grade school. I was fascinated with the dioramas. And I wanted little Maxine to see them.

The entrance to the museum opens up to the museum shop, with a small reception area. Being a hot day, we both welcomed the cool airconditioning with a frosty hot fudge sundae in our hands. This is where our experience starts.

Without batting an eyelash, the receptionist tells us we can not bring the sundaes into the exhibits area. Fine. Understandable. But is that really the first thing you say to a customer when they walk through the door? The same customer who pays for your salary through Museum Ticket Sales? I brushed it off as maybe she is feeling the summer heat, too. After inquiring what the rates are, which were lower than what I expected, we then proceeded to the museum. We haven't walked more than 6 feet from the reception then one security guard says we can not bring in out water bottle. By then we have finished the sundaes. What is wrong with the water bottle, I say. With firm conviction, he just said not allowed. So Maxine took a swig, then I took a swig, then tucked the forbidden water bottle into the bag. A few steps later, we came upon the steps that leads to the exhibits. It had a window with a great view of Makati, so I thought it would be a great photo op with the Ayala Museum signage in the background. So I whipped out my camera phone and took shots of Maxine to capture the moment. A second guard comes out and asks me to put away the camera. We were not even in the exhibits area, and now this 2nd schmuck tells me I have to put it away. By this time I was irritated. What was supposed to be a pleasurable experience at Manila's premier museum is starting to turn sour. I took the pictures anyway, then grumbled invectives at guard.

So Maxine pulls me to the exhibition area with paintings and sculptures. She actually was interested in each painting, and having recently acquired the valuable skill of reading, is equally absorbed in the title and description. She even tried to decipher the abstract sculptures, and was engrossed with the various chicken sculptures on display.

Unfortunately the Gold Exhibition was closed that day, so we moved on the diaroma section. She was drawn to the scaled Galleons on display. It is amazing how we can create these things 1/20th the actual size. She pointed at the different riggings, sails and miniature decks. With my basic knowledge in sailing, she was able to appreciate the functions of each, at least in theory.

On to the Dioramas. Started out with the depiction of the Filipino cavemen. It then progressed to innovations and the arrival of different cultures. Each diorama by itself is pretty much detailed, giving you an idea of what is happening. But I noticed something amiss. The Dioramas had titles, and the obligatory famous quotes. But no description. Why are the figures fighting? Why is the fighting in Limahong so important? Why is the assassination of General Luna so important?

And upon closer inspection, each diorama window pane had an earphone icon. Did that mean there was audio accompaniment with each diorama? Could we be getting audio lectures explaining each diorama? So I turned and approached the security guard who has been shadowing us since the sculpture section. As we were the only customers that day, I guess they had nothing else better to do, or they thought a middle aged man and his 6 year old daughter would be potential vandals. In any case, I asked what those icons were. He casually said that audio headsets were available for use, with a price of PhP100 per headset. ??? Rent a head set???

We went through the dioramas, taking in each beautifully detailed scene. I tried my best to explain to Maxine what was happening. Since my Philippine History was rusty, there were of course a few gaps I could not explain. We ended up at the only audio visual section which features the move to people power. Two separate rooms. Two different audio visual presentations. Both very loud, each room drowning out the other. Maxine actually creeped out in those rooms. So we ended the tour.

We went to the exit. before leaving, I inquired about the headsets. Reception didn't know the details, so they had to get somebody on the phone. While waiting, I wondered why reception didn't know about the head sets. They had the pamphlet about it, but they did not know the price nor what is in the audio content. A whole 2 minutes later, some character by the name of Justin came on the line. But he didn't know why he needed to talk to me. 'Yes?' he says. I go 'So they didn't tell you about my inquiry about the headsets?'. And he said 'No'. Hmmm. I ask why is the headset considered a rental and separate from the admission price. His justification is that it is a peripheral. Period. Care to expound on that? It's just a peripheral. Why can't it be included in the admission price, since it is part of the exhibit. Because it is a separate peripheral. Obtuse isn't he? Quite articulate. Turns out he is one of the Tour Operators in the museum, or something like that. I ask reception where is this guy. They said he was downstairs. I tell Justin I understand how the admission price would cover the museums overheads. But the headset rental rate? What does that cover? Batteries? Justin then tells me production costs for the audio tape. Huh? So I threw in a little bit of logic for this Justin. How many customers does the museum enjoy patronage on average each day? So he sucked it up, and I imagine stood up like a rooster, and proudly said 80-100. So I calculated and told him at PHP100 per head set, that would be an income of PhP8000 from the headset rental alone. Museum is open an average of 320 days a year, so that comes out to roughly PhP2.5M every year. Even if only 10% of the patronage decide to use the headsets, that is still quarter of a million in revenue. That is how high the production costs are for the headset? All he could say was that I could bring this up to upper management. I had two issues with that response: One is that why bring up upper management since he is the official tour guide for the museum; second is that why is he speaking to me over the phone instead of personally attending to my request face-to-face? He was just downstairs. Could he not be bothered to come up and properly inform me, in person as courtesy dictates,  on the benefits and features of the 'peripheral'? So then I ask Justin if one were opt out of the headset, and the dioramas not having any descriptive copy, how are people supposed to know the details? And you know what this tour guide said? He assumes that most people know Philippine history. So what does the tour guide do all day? Ack! I gave up and left. My daughter missed out on a great experience with Philippine history.

The Ayala Museum has always been a landmark when it comes to the Philippine arts and culture. I have fond memories when I was a kid. I tried to pass it on to Maxine, but the individuals working at the museum that day were not the most enjoyable, much less informative. They did not tell me anything special. Reception I expect would let me know what they have on display, suggest what may be of interest, even just mention the headset. I would have gladly paid for it on the onset. No problem.

I guess the 'upper management' are complacent enough to allow these lazy people to rely on the assumption that 'most people know about Philippine history' and that customers are left to their own devices when it comes to exploring the museum. And the constant shadowing of security guards make the experience more creepy. I wanted to take my time. Precious time with my daughter. But here guards made me feel to want to hurry through the museum.

Sigh. The National Meuseum treated me better. At least that is what I remember, last time I was there. Years ago. But it is going to be a while and for good reason for me to bring Maxine back to the Ayala Museum.

Celebrity chefs and whatnot

I am not a celebrity chef. Nor do I want to be one. Being on TV would be nice, I guess. Recognition of course would be every cook's dream, of being known for their cooking. And that comes from years of experience. Of experiencing countless ingredients, different locations, different people from all walks of life. I talk to people, athough admittedly I have not been very diplomatic with some as I have been very accommodating with others. The same goes with the different foods that come my way, that pass me by, that wait for me. Have you ever held a small globule of white truffle? Held it close to smell the aroma, that sweet pungent aroma that inspires you to make a truffle pasta right then and there? While in Zurich, I was impressed with the concept of an assembly kitchen. Mind you, not like an ssembly line, but ingredients that would save you kitchen time and still consistently get the same high standards in cooking. Not shortcuts. No cheats. Still the same great tasting food. Of course as a cook you should know the basic stocks, sauces and seasonings. Just in case something goes wrong. Do celebrity chefs make use of stock that comes out of a can? A cube? Do celebrity chefs use peeled tomatoes from a can to make a wonderful pomodoro?

I recently updated on the comings and goings of the cooks featured on that reality show TOP CHEF, including TOP CHEF MASTERS. What becomes of the cooks after TOP CHEF? Do they gain notoriety? Are their restaurants more popular than ever? Do they become celebrity chefs?

Then I look at the current chef offerings on local Manila TV. Some of them do not look like they have apprenticeship experience under their aprons. How do they get on TV? And the food that they feature, is typical culinary school fodder, the type you first jot down on your notes on the first day of cooking class. How do they get to go on TV? How much exposure do you need? Who do you have to know? Are they considered celebrity chefs already the moment the camera is focused on them?

Wolfgang Puck. Tony Bourdain. Jamie Oliver. Emeril Lagasse. Fernan Aria. And countless others. These Celebrity Chefs made their bones. Scraped their skins. Cut off fingers. And make really, really good food. And a lot of people love their cooking. And they all consider themselves cooks. They do not go around and introduce themselves as Chef Jamie, Chef Tony, etc. Yet people know them. Their reputation as good cooks precede them. They can make a souffle effortlessly. From scratch. Countless other cooks can do what they do. But they opt to not go around trumpeting themselves as chefs. I know a few who are very good cooks. Who are resourceful enough to make a mean roast with a few ingredients. But they never get on TV. Not that they want to. Or have the courage to. But they would make great TV instructors. Because they taught me what I never got at culinary school. And it helped me a lot during my career.

Should celebrity chefs be idolized? Do the current cooks want to be celebrity chefs? Do they get into the profession to be able to create, or to get into the spotlight?

I am not loving it

Over the weekend I spent the afternoon at Enchanted kingdom to celebrate my daughter's 6th birthday. She was looking forward to it since Christmas morning. And she especially woke up at 4AM to meet the day head on. More updates on that trip wil be posted. But first, I must really put on record on what I detest most about how the service industry is like in Manila.  product of a long line of patronage, the final straw came in the form of a local branch on the South Super Highway.

Let us lay thr groundwork for this rant. My first job as a wee lad in high school was at the local McDonald's on Quezon Avenue. Store 008 was what it was designated as my workplace. I took the job because back then McDonalds was new. And it helped augment my allowance. It was my first taste at independence, as I was earning my own money for the first time in my life. It was also at McDonalds where my hands dove straight into the frigid waters of potato peels and rehydrated onions and enter into the hospitality business. During the Orientation, we were briefed on company policies, the survival skills, and given our brand new uniforms. it was a maroon number, with a headband with visor. It didn't matter how itchy the polyester material was riding up my ass, or how the visor gave me headaches, but I felt proud. I felt good to be a part of something bigger. A part of a precision machine that flew all the way from the U.S. to make their magic here.

The training was handled by a young woman by the name of Michelle, who led us on a three month training program covering all aspects of the McDonald's restaurant. Counter service. Lobby service. Drive-Thru. And eventually, kitchen production. Everything was systematic. Everything was mapped out. Little was left to chance. All policies and procedures were precise. Deliberate. 1 minute to service each customer, 30 seconds for drive-thru. What stuck to me was the service sequence, and it served as my foundation for getting into the service industry:

1. Greet the guest
2. Take the order
3. Suggestive and upselling
4. Serve the guest
5. Present the bill
6. Thank the guest

This has served as a basis or foundation for every service related transaction I have experienced in my professional life. Certain variations apply, adapted to diffrerent situations, but all lead to the same  goal: guest satisfaction.

Unfortunately, years later it does not seem to be the case. Going to several McDonald's over the years, I have the noticed the downward spiral of the once mighty QSCV philosophy of which the great fastfood chain was known for. Inconsistency reigns supreme. With the average check matching those of some full service restaurants, you would expect the service quality to still be at an acceptable level. It is not the case recently. The service sequence is not followed to the letter, for example. Getting to the different branches allowed me to develop a consensus. Different locations, different sets of employees, throughout the year. And they all have the same common flaws which have widened the gap between guest satisfaction and mediocrity:

Suggestive and upselling is not de rigeur anymore - the counter staff do not read customers anymore, and therefore do not make an effort of matching the right product. Guests just order up what they want, but not knowing any better that there is something more. It seems that staff are now just going through every transaction mechanically. If an item is not available, they just say 'Sorry, not available.' and that's it. Would not take the initiative to suggest something else, adding to the wait time. Just stare t the gueast, willing him to move away.

Service time - the average time a guest spends to get an order in is about 3.4 minutes average. That is a lot of time to stand in line for a measly burger that does not look anything like the photographs plastered all over the menu board. they don't use back up staff to assemble the orders anymore. The people who handle the money are the same people reaching their grubby hands into the warming bin and the french fry station. I do not know how an order taker outside on the lobby by the lines would speed up service. Evidently it is not working. Thank God they got rid of the screeching greetings.

Cleanliness - the bathroom is the one benchmark guests can gauge the sanitation practices of the restaurant. And McDonald's has been consistent about this, but in the wrong way. It is usually wet inside. No basic amenities. Facilities are in a state of repair. In another face of the restaurant, the lobby is always littered with trays, paper, cups, spills and whatnot. Not very attractive. And this is during down time.

Kid friendliness - Or the lack of it. My kid's favorite haunts had the playplaces removed. This is disappointing, since the restaurant thrives on family patronage. The playplaces give another sense of wonderment for kids. And removing them just loses some of the magic. No more paper mats for kids to color and doodle on. No LSMs attending to their distractions. The Birthday parties have a host who thinks that screaming the events makes it more lively. The Mascot costumes are filthy.

Product line up - The Bigmac is not as good as it used to be. They have removed the shakes. The apple pie is half the size and quality than what it used to be.They expect the guest to make full use of tablespoon of gravy for their chicken order. Condiments are sold separately. The Butter isn't whipped anymore. Happy meal boxes that allow construction by young minds are replaced with non-biodegradable plastic.

Identity - Is it stilll a place to have fun, both young and old alike? Do we associate the golden arches with a good meal? Isn't there anything better? Maybe the Bee has something on them.

Most guests do not know these things or the differences. They do not know any better. Ironically, more restaurants are popping up everyday around the metro, yet McDonald's still holds true to what they think is best. It is starting to be not the restaurant it used to be, but as an empty commercial shell that wants to sell cheap looking burgers and useless toys. I am not  loving it anymore.

Personal Chef clients who should never be personal chef clients

Let's call this character Eddie:

Tuesday

Eddie: (Over the phone) Hello, Chef. Can you do an Italian menu for me and six of my buddies this friday?

Personal Chef: That's a bit close. This weekend you mean?

E: I know it's cutting it close. Saw your ad, and I just moved into my new apartment. Wanted to have a housewarming.

PC: Ok. You were lucky I am free that day. It IS the weekend. Here's the menu. (a 2 minute spiel on what is on offer)

E: Okay. Sounds good. Let's do...(makes a selection for a three course dinner)

PC: Good. Here are your booking instructions

E: Can I just give you a check when you get here? It's an office expense.

PC: On the day itself? Let me see...(ranting and raving in silence, seething). Ok

E: Ok then. See you Friday Chef

PC: Friday

Click!

Thursday

Shopping for the three course menu. Not cheap. Guy knew his food.

Friday

1700h Set up the ingredients in the new apartment. Prepare the different sauces and dressings. Broil the chops.

1915h Two guests come in. Eddie tells me that's it. Ok. Too much food. Hell, he's paying for it.

1945h 1st course served. Salad. With an interesting dressing. Wiped clean in 8 minutes flat.

2000h Main course. Kitchen is hazy because of the broiling. But the chops were perfect. Sides were equally decadent.

2030h Dessert. With a cup of coffee and a shot of Sambucca. Anybody else coming? I ask. No? Good. I hand Eddie the invoice.

Eddie gives me a check. Check? Dated to be encashed 4 days from now? Eddie, this is not the arrangement.

E: I know. Sorry. Couldn't pull out some cash today

PC: Ok. As long as this is good.

E: It is.

Monday

Woke up at 630h. Had a glance at the check hanging on the fridge. Through my groggy eyes, I spy this check is based in Cebu, with a wierd looking account number. That doesn't look right.

900h with the bank. Check is not good. I send a text message to Eddie 'Banks says your check is not good. Please make payment via deposit to my bank account today'. Eddie: 'k'.

Wednesday

Through text messages 'Eddie, no bank deposit. What happened?' 'Sorry, chef. Company accountant ran off with my money. Will deposit this afternoon'

Friday

Over the Phone

PC: You deposited only half?!

E: I will get you the money this afternoon.

PC: I used my own money for your dinner.

E: Really sorry, chef. Promise. Will settle today.

Thursday

Eddie not answering my calls. Text messages not acknowledged.

Friday

Lawyer friend threatens Eddie. Expose him as a fraud to his company. Turns out company is bogus too. Lawyer threatens police. (Of course I know his address. I cooked him dinner, didn't I?)

The following month

Eddie finally settles the last few thousands. After countless threats and visitation from the local police.

 

This schmuck  is who I will call Mel, as in Mal Carne.

Thursday, Via email

Mel: Hello, chef. Can you do a private cooking class for me and my girlfriend? I came by your ad the other day. Would like to avail of your services. These are the dishes we would like to learn. (lists a few selections, high end in fact, taken from the menu on my facebook site)

PC: Would love to. Here is what it's going to cost. I will send you the invoice shortly.

Mel: Can we pay you when you get here? (Why do these people think this is ok when booking for services???)

PC: Sorry. Burned before with practices like that. I hope you understand.

Mel: I know how you feel. had that experience as well. Wil make the payment this afternoon.

PC: Ok. Will send you the invoice with payment instructions.

Friday, Via email.

PC: Hello, Mel. Checked that you haven't made payment yet. Saturday is booked for you.

Mel: Sorry, chef. Got the flu. Can't make the booking.

PC: But I bumped off another booking for you.

Mel: Can't stop the flu chef.

PC: You do understand you cost me lost income on a weekend.

Mel: Sorry, chef. Not my problem.

 

For other personal chefs and caterers who want these two characters on their blacklist, just email me. I will gladly send you their contact details.

The Personal Chef on a Manila Broadsheet

 This is the first time that I got some attention to what I am doing. Manila Bulletin, one of the premier newspapers in the Philippines, has one its more prolific writers, Anna Unson-Price, write about me. ME! and what I do! Nervous as I am, now treading in unfamiliar waters, I am grateful that I got featured. You can read the article here. Hope it will give you an idea on what I do for a living. Not going to use the word 'passion'. Nope. I will not.

And get this. GMA7, one of the major TV netowrks, wants to do a feature. Whoa!

The sorry state in hunger

We are not really one of the 1st world countries. Our services in general are not the best in the world. But we try our best. At least some of us do. What gets me is the state of our population when it comes to food. Though we have an agricultural society and we are 7,100 islands surrounded by seas full with bounty, we are still in a state wherein malnutrition and poverty not only go hand in hand, but are married and sharing the same bedspace. According to recent studies, 32%of preschool children are underweight, with a serious Vitamin A deficiency. Iron deficiency affects 57% of all infants, 51% pregnant women and 46% of lactating women. This has been caused primarily due to poverty, a factor of which is the unequal distribution of food. 44% of the total population lived on a meager USD2.00 a day. It is estimated that 30 million Filipinos are unable to buy food to meet basic daily nutritional requirements. The realities of this can be found in several articles, one of which  can be found here. The author, Clarence Anderson, goes on to say

 

"...there is a fundamental disconnect between Filipino élites and the poor. The political leadership in the Philippines has always been drawn from those élites, and those politicians have traditionally played the role of patrons and benefactors, relying on the pork barrel and personal/family funds (often acquired through corruption) to essentially buy votes. The core principle of democracy - that representatives should be drawn from those they represent and advocate for the true interests of their constituents - has not been operative."

 

So far there has been the Republic Act 8976 - Philippine Food Fortification Act of 2000, and it has been approved in 2007. But what can be said about it? We are more concerned about Sex Video Scandals and considering reelecting a convicted felon inito the highest seat in the country. It is a sorry state that our political leaders are observed to be obtuse when it comes to poverty. To wit

 

"...and the politically-driven nature of Philippine government sector programs almost ensures that the emphasis will continue to be on quick fixes or interventions that provide high visibility and political payoffs.'

 

This drives the point home that we have to take it upon ourselves to alleviate poverty, and in turn improve the general nutritional level of the very constituents that vote these people into power and into the coffers that are funded by our own taxes. Pork barrels are used primarily for the development of their areas, but how much of it actually goes into the development and progress? Rolling stores as devised by PGMA has been installed to alleviate hunger, but it rarely reaches rural areas where most of the individuals under the poverty line reside. Some private companies have partnered with the government to help in the fight. The Department of Agriculture recently partnered with AgriNurture to provide PhP10 Viands. but only in Metro Manila. What the...???

 

Some of the budget has been allocated into several programs and legislations. However, we have yet to see any significant progress. And there is a deficit on how the coffers are handled by the palace. According to one publication

 

"Dr. Rosario Manasan of the Philippine Institute for Development Studies estimated a funding gap of around P90 billion that makes the attainment of the Millennium Development Goals (MDGs) for poverty reduction highly unlikely by the target year of 2015. "

With inflation and umployment rising, the gap seems to be getting wider and wider. Case in point, one travel site has advised expats that for food and groceries

 

"...you should budget between P25,000 to P40,000 per month. " People here barely make one fourth of that in take home pay. It goes on saying "...yes the cost of living in the Philippines is cheap but if you run out of money, the Philippines is not where you want to be."

 

As election year approaches, the politicos are running around keeping up appearances, pledging allegience to different parties. Yet they travel aroound the Archipelago in SUVs and hundreds of body goards through rural towns. They fly to different countries partaking in USD20,000.00 dinners, sponsored or not. How much money was contributed to alleviate the nutritional problems in their home country?

Or better yet, what are we doing ourselves? We pass by the railroad tracks everyday watching street urchins watch in hunger the day pass by. Or the bloated children begging underneath MRT stations. Some would feel sorry for the future generation. The more callous would dismiss them as simply being lazy. In either case, we go through Metro Manila thinking this is ok. It is not ok. What if they were your children?

 

With this line of thinking, what can we do? Since we could not rely on the beaurocratic red tape, we have to take the matter into our own hands. Sure, if whatever we do as the private sector succeeds, the government will definitely try to get a piece of the pie. If they don't get anything out of it, our elected officials and appointees will try everything to get it stopped. So here are a few suggestions:

 

Put up a real soup kitchen - privately funded, this would help the impoverished. Give them food, enough energy to have a better life. Contribute. Volunteer to dish out much needed nourishment at local schools, hospitals and charity organizations

Buy locally - this would put money into the farmers. They toil under the hot sun year in year out to feed the rest of us. And our soil is fertile and the climiate is perfect for crop production. If left to its own devices, the country is self sustainable. Why the hell then are we importing such staples as rice and sugar from other countries???

Devise a canned goods drive - donate canned goods and centrally locate the distribution. Give it to a reputable charity organization. Or better yet, deliver the goods yourself to an impoverished area. Give it to the church.

Redirect your resources - instead of the daily java fix at Starbucks, use the PhP500 to buy canned goods and donate it to one poor family. That could probably last them 2 weeks.

Visit the websites of hunger-relief organizations to learn what they do and how you can help.

Ask your favorite restaurant to donate non-perishable food

Donate your Grocery Frequent Shopper Points for the feeding of the hungry

Host a food drive with your favorite chefs and foodies

You can help feed the hungry by sending a letter to your Congressional representative and asking him or her to honor their commitment.

Join your neighbors, your co-workers, your faith community, your friends, and your family members to raise food and funds for those who desperately need them 

Teach people how to fish - help impoverished areas grow their own community vegetable gardens. teach them how to to care and grow these gardens. Teach them the kind of cooking that can be done. So they would not have to subsist on mediocre food. They will appreciate thet fact that what they feed on is what they grew themselves.

Manila has got talent - and put it too good use! Stage a talent show. Raise funds to feed the hungry. Charge tickets a minimal amount. Proceeds can then be used to purchase much needed food supplies.

Businesses and individuals can raise awareness about the problem of Philippine hunger through campaigns, events, advertising, public relations 

Sponsor a Walk-A-Thon against hunger.

Compile a newsletter, book, or brochure of healthy recipes using reasonably priced, easilyobtained food items. Publish and distribute these to other schools, community organizations, community services agencies and charity organizations to reach those who receive community food support.

Become a well-informed hunger advocate using information on hunger, poverty, and food insecurity in the newspaper, on the Internet, and in books, to then help inform others about the issues

Educate yourself about political candidates’ positions on hunger and poverty.

Plant a garden at home, in your community or at your school and share your produce with the needy in your area.

Create a video about hunger in our community and post it on YouTube

Encourage corporate environments to offer "dress down" opportunites in exchange for donated canned goods that would add to the food drive

Do not vote for corrupt politicians. What happens to a country where taxes that were intended to improve the lives of the people go to the pockets of the government officials instead? Corrupt politicians would spend their pork barrel funds in jewelries and luxurious travel instead of providing scholarship to deserving students or support projects that will boost livelihood among unemployed individuals.

Open up a business - this would open up employment opportunities that would otherwise not be found.
Sell unneeded items on eBay or Craigslist and donate the proceeds to battle poverty

Become a mentor to a disadvantaged young person in your community.

 

What else can be done to fight poverty and hunger in the Philippines? What can you contribute? Do you have another suggestion? Please leave a comment if you have a great idea, a violent reaction, a constructive criticism. At least let people know that you are not merely standing on the sidlines being complacent.

10 ways to spot a Pretentious Foodie

It is enlightening that you come across people from all walks of life. And since I work in the industry where most everything is related with food, I tend to sort out the different personalities according to their characteristics and how they impact my future. Some are great people, and some are not so great. And there are those that are just different and has no bearing on what their reason is for being. One of these types are the pretentious. And specifically the Foodie Pretentious.
The following points are what I feel help me and others spot a Pretentious Foodie from several tables away.
1. Market savvy, or the lack of it - he has not stepped foot in a public market, thereby depriving him of the valuable knowledge of raw materials and their origins. How it is prepared and the varieties of ingredients escapes him, leaving his foodie know-how limited to that taken from textbooks.
2. Can fry and egg, and that's just about it - you can tell he can not cook to save his life. Yet he spouts complex dishes like he was a gourmet chef. But when asked how it was prepared, he is flummoxed, changes the subject, and moves on.
3. Foreign language influence - given that some dishes are hard to pronounce, the Pretentious Foodie loves to show off by waxing poetic about French Dishes, being snobbish enough to say that no other cuisine is good enough. Salad Nikoys anyone? How about some Foy Grass?
4. Sticks to the menu - without knowing the ingredients or how they are prepared, they just go to the usual restaurants, those in the mainstream, in publications and where everybody else goes. They seldom order off-menu.
5. Intrepid followers - going with the flow, the Pretentious Foodie stays within the confines of what other people have discovered, usually one that is followed by the majority. Stays on the popular restaurant bandwagon until the whole contingent moves on to the next bandwagon. Never ventures to discover the rare gem of a restaurant, cook or cafe.
6. Limelight hog - emphasizes his close relationships to chefs to anyone that would pay attention, yet never follows the chefs career or his developments. With the celebrity chef glamorized nowadays, there are a lot of these people who elbow their way into press photos, then go home for their daily fix of chicken nuggets.
7. Equipment - the Pretentious Foodie has an arsenal of culinary equipment that rivals any chef in the industry, but rarely uses it. Huge investments on Wusthof knives line the kitchen wall on magnetic strips gathering dust to make it look 'used'. Cork screws in a myriad of designs, all expensive, but never useful.
8. The use of 'Resto' - come on people. What usually offers a comfortable haven from the world of chaos, and with blood and sweat and tears, should never be labeled with something that sounds like a truckers' motel.
9. Textbook Knowledge - on a date or in a party, the Pretentious Foodie will orate on the characteristics of the perfectly seared 'Foy Grass', imbibing on California reds like it was water. They usually raise up a fuss in restaurants, just to let other diners glean from the interaction that he is in the know.
10. Freeloader - on the food, on the limelight, on the drinks. But never finds ways to enjoy food on his own.

What do you call that place between the waking world and dreamland?

Early this morning, groggy with sleep, I had the greatest idea on what to post on this blog for this week. It was one of those moments of unique inspiration that grips you with such voracity that even the great Shakespeare would be put to shame. Ideas flowed through my head, tugging at my brain here and there, screaming for me not to visit the sandman. Great recipes that would have made the banquets of royalty have been spelled out right before me, in it’s neatest format, ready to be written down. An involvement of vegan dishes and what role they played in society. As for that, veganism and vegetarianism is a preference, like we prefer dark meat over white meat. To each his own. Cauliflower as if by some ethereal imagery danced before me before being plunged into of olive oil with slivers of garlic and chili pepper and chopped up broccoli sprouts. Then stuffed into cannelloni tubes  and laid out over fresh tomato sauce and lemon juice. Stage left and copious amounts of creme fraiche are poured over the pasta, with parmiggiano falling so delicately on the top, like fresh snow in November covering the undulating hills of your favorite sledding playground. Distant smells triggered the images to be place in the oven until golden brown, my eyes all this time struggling to close, only to be yanked open to feast on the al forno that could be. Sleep. Come to me.

Before I could partake in the luxury of blissful dozing, after having struggled in the limbo between dreams and wakefulness, my half dilated vision caught sight of the myriad of cooking books that I have yet to lay my pen to, the images of great dishes that should be immortalized and shared with the rest of the world. Contents of the books that would grip the culinary world by its cholesterol choked heart strings, shake the very foundation of conventional thinking, redefining glorious moments in culinary history. A tome on the benefits of the humble bitter gourd, despite popular evasion. The durian and its place in the annals of flavors that is yet to be tapped and exploited to such common  mediocrity eliminating its uniqueness in the first place. How cooking is bastardized at the local McDonald’s, and the eventual revolt against their philosophy of food and imagery of inherent ineptitude of what sustenance should be. Thousands of solutions to what a turkey should be basted when roasting, then dissolving into where I should plot a vegetable garden, what should go in it, where the hell will I get the seedlings for those purple potatoes. Fresh ripe tomatoes that could be culled and served with really nice fresh lemon fruit. How call center agents live through their day feasting on instant noodles and blood pressure inducing amounts of cheap coffee. Why would they subject themselves to nasty food and meager sustenance in the middle of the night with the rest of the world slumbering and dreaming of what the morn brings. Then a  scribble, a passage in a book that presented a haiku in a ten-syllable-too-much form that really explained where I am now:

“I have always Known

that at last I Would

TaKe this road. But yesterDaY

I did not KnoW that it WoulD be today”

It is that last thought that remains in my memory of this morning, before falling into the abyss of what would promise to be the prelude to what a great life should be. Those ideas are now eluding me, disappearing into white puffs of oblivion. I reach out to them, only to evaporate and flow as mercurial wisps through my gnarled fingers.  Forgive my prose, but it would give you insight on what I believe how great thinkers in our time would experience epiphany in sleep or just waking moments from sleep. Unfortunately, that title has yet to be bestowed upon me by the greatest chefs. Words fail me.