A Simple Prayer for Christmas Dinner
Dear God, we give thanks for this time when we can all be together. We give thanks for this food which is bountiful and delicious. We give thanks for this joyful holiday when we can celebrate our Savior and his love for us. With joy we pray, Amen
Our favourite- a seafood boil
Not supermarket bought- ordered from an artisan company in Christchurch that does only Christmas cakes
Bust all your vegan myths; this vegan Tiramisu cake is the most decadent thing we’ve ever tasted
The tricky thing about Christmas in New Zealand is that because the season falls on a southern hemisphere summer, it’s like being in the Philippines- though more than ever, tropical typhoon season has crept closer and closer, and for some like the people in the Visayas and Mindanao, it’s celebrating the season in the destructive and tragic wake of a typhoon.
I wish I could stay longer, but the kids are all grown up; they don’t really need anyone. And Chini- the baby who made the last six Christmases joyous and happy is no longer a child. So I’m left to my own devices which suits me just fine- no chores to do, could finally relax a bit, caught up with a bunch of shows.
And the meals- they do bring you home. All those lazy afternoons with a feast of grilled pork and fish, a seaweed salad with green mango and tomatoes or sauteed mung beans thick with fat slices of ampalaya and malunggay…
mmmmmmm..
Had lunch in the city- yum char- and the 1st time since lockdown started in August. It was a quick, I’ll pick you-up on a day of light traffic and whizzing through 12 little courses, then goodby, happy holidays, I’ll drop you off thing. It’s good to reconnect (I stopped myself from talking about work which is what we always do these days) with people you actually trust, yet are not in your personal life.
They trust that you bring the same kind of efficiency and skill that you have at work to your personal life, and I’m glad to say that they’re at least 90% correct. And i’m always working on the remaining 10%.
A friend dropped us a goodie box of various succulents. She said they’d be fine in the box until we find the time to plant them. But 24 hours later, they don’t seem to look so good- not so succulent looking. So we took matters in our own hands, cleared up a patch of soil at the back and stuck all the succulents in.
And apparently, that’s all it takes for them to take root and grow. It’s a pity you can’t eat them.
The daily commute (Uber mostly), the question of what to have for lunch, machine-made lattes…then 5 minutes later, it may be back to lockdown again because of Omicron..
Where did the time go?
First time I saw the Auckland CBD, I thought, is this it?
At about 4+ km2, Makati City in comparison is nearly 8x bigger. Funny how you equate size with greatness which is kinda true if all you think that makes a city great is what you can buy, see and eat in it.
And there’s not much of that to be honest. But after 13 years living just 21kms outside the city (the funny thing is how Kiwis think of that commute as torturous when they haven’t experienced EDSA) I’ve learned that quality is really better than quantity- part of that is the fact that as you grow older, less is better for your health and survival and yes, happiness.
You get to adapt to a way of life where you get to compare and assess your needs and wants, and realise that not being able to find a good French restaurant is NOT a fucking big deal. Or that you can’t find the jeans you want at the mall.
Living in Auckland is all about managing your expectations, which is a great thing to learn if you find yourself living elsewhere (I don’t think I will).
The city was almost empty today when I went to pick up these shoes I bought; but then it’s never always full even on a work-day, pre-Covid. The density is such that you don’t get to literally rub shoulders with crowds on the streets (which is why our Covid rates are low) which now- Covid era- is gross.
I could have stopped for coffee, but Starbucks wasn’t on my way, and I’m still trying to be careful- the city may be empty, but not all of its occupants are necessarily visible…
Of course I’d resign from work if I won the lottery. But not right away because not only would that be rude, but I’m not that sort of person.
But I would definitely fly home to the Philippines and to hell with MIQ. Maybe I could fly to Australia and find a yacht to hire and cross the Tasman, as some have done it that way. Imagine quarantining in the ocean, eating lobster and drinking champagne for breakfast.
But I do need to go home. Mom had a small accident recently doing something she could have done at another time and I’m beginning to see myself in the same situations- loving independence, proud of my efficiency and checking off chores as if my life depended on it. Like my mom, I hate relaxing and my idea of it, is having finished a million things and to be finally in bed watching something or reading.
But she needs to slow down. I need to slow down.
With a couple of extra million, money you don’t really need, maybe it would buy some time to put the manic work and life ethic away for a year or two.
I could:
1. Revisit drawing and painting
2. Write that novel and not worry that it turns out to be shit (I’m pretty sure it won’t be).
3. Build a body good enough to grace an ‘influencer’ Instagram account
4. Visit old relatives in the US (though still wary of Covid).
5. Rebuild the old house in Pangasinan
6. Rebuild my dad’s ancestral home
Christmas for me is like going to another country- the getting there is the more exciting part.
I think because in my head, I have all these images and expectations of what the day is going to be like, and they rarely ever match-up with reality. But the getting there- the tomorrow and the next days that you never quite plan for- offer the most surprises. And yet, we never try to relinquish control to the fates.
But yes- everything is ready. The menu for the next two weeks has been planned; special food is on its way; all gifts wrapped and accounted for; special personal items bought (yup, bought the jacket and the shoes); work is sorted; even tried to whiten my teeth again- and yes, root canal schedule for January has been set.
What else?
The answer is yes.
If you don’t prick puff pastry, it doesn’t puff up. But you get this crunchy, cookie-like texture which isn’t bad.
I’ll scream come Monday when it turns out I couldn’t get these after all
Calorie for calorie, it still adds up. But it starts with accepting that you can’t go on blithely having sugar all the time. For Noche Buena, it’s out with The Cheesecake Shop and in with Little Bird Organics with this $75 vegan Christmas Tiramisu
I have no kids, no dependents. I save more than 10% of my income. I’ve been working way too hard- and I haven’t bought much non-essential stuff really. I just realised, what am I giving myself this Christmas??
Vertuo Next Deluxe Dark Chrome & Aeroccino3; this is the one with the weird looking pods, $419
Technically the Shelby Destroyer foam disc blaster would be considered a toy — but the Destroyer's performance is anything but toy-like. Designed, engineered, and assembled in the US, the Destroyer aims to solve the problems of those "other" foam guns; $349
MA-1 Slim Fit Flight Jacket, $349
Cole-Haan’s ZERØGRAND Chelsea Boot, $349
Found a new dental practice- young, enthusiastic and thorough. And most importantly, got actual dates to fix this fucking tooth.
Time to get a taste of some holiday food that I’ve been missing; deluxe, gourmet fruit-cake, caviar on toast, pork lechon (hopefully), truffled cheese, chicken-skin..
What to watch??? Dune, Spiderman, James Bond and the Eternals all showing at the same time..
Haven’t been exercising as much because of the heat and I think I’m plateauing.
Still on the hunt for little gifts
I remember a couple of years back how much of a big deal we always made it out to be.
We made at least five dishes, half of which we didn't even like- it just looked amazing on Facebook (!). I shopped like crazy and came into the New Year with my cards nearly maxed out and guiltily hearing my mom’s oft-repeated admonishment, ‘don’t be a one-day millionaire!’.
Now, we just make sure the main dish is something we love- pork, pork, pork! - with a much simpler menu.
I don’t have Facebook anymore. I only have one credit card (my trusted American Express) and just save up when I want to buy something. And I’m still NOT a millionaire and never will be.
But I’m happier. And exhausted- this fucking heat, the work (which I have to admit I love).
But the holidays are less of a hassle when you put aside your expectations - ever diminishing every year until finally, they’re at a level where they’re supposed to be which is where you are at the moment - and not be burdened by them or by sentiment.
And accepting the fact, that Christmas will never again, be how you used to have it.
We’re not a sentimental family. If I was caught out of the borders, I wouldn’t be one of those sob losers (much as I sympathise with their plight) blaming the government for choices I’ve made.
But it’s more than great to see everyone again.
It’s so hot that my armpits feel as if something sticky is plastered on them (the anti-perspirant which does nothing anyway). For the longest time, I used this anti-perspirant called Old Spice Endurance. It was so industrial strength that not even soap could wash it off. I would use it everyday without realising that I was creating this layer of product that eventually transferred onto the armpits of my clothes, staining them white and ruining the; and my shirts aren’t necessarily cheap so..
I switched to a spray one that promises no staining but now I’ve learned to live with sweaty pits; I just need to remind myself not to raise my arms in public to stretch and displaying wet pits but who the fuck cares.
The more you worry about it I realised, the more you actually sweat.
Anyhow, it’s only 22 degrees in Auckland- but feels twice that and I’m thinking, I won’t be able to live in the Philippines anymore unless I confine myself in an air-conditioned prison. But no I don’t want to anymore to be honest.
Anyhow, welcome to the last 28 days or so for the shit-show that is 2021 (the world that is, and not my life).
It’s been so hot, Lily has taken to hanging out back where the sun never shines and sleeps on the cool concrete
Pies are ridiculously easy to make, I mean if you have store-bought pastry you can literally turn anything into a pie. A pie is essentially just two things- the pastry case and the filling.
Don’t bother making your own though the only argument for that is if you’re doing large rounds and the square-shaped sheets just don’t cut it (you can roll them out again though).
And you can have literally any filling though make sure you have a binding sauce like cheese or maybe even a roux. I got one of the last two packets of chicken breast and minced them with onions, seasoning and oregano. Cooked it with a can of Campbell’s mushroom soup and two fistfuls of frozen spinach.
Put in the oven at 180 for about 40 minutes.
Just finished Dune, and while I was tempted to continue through to the next books, I thought that the Atreides saga was a bit heavy on my mind as well as evoking too close to current events. For those of you who haven’t read it, the gist of it is this- be careful of believing in leaders who promise you everything. Some nations make this mistake far too often, and we know who these are.
The difference however with Dune’s protagonist-hero Paul Atreides and real-life leaders is that he’s truly fair and moral because of course, it’s fiction. In real life, you get GARBAGE like Trump, Putin, Bolsonaro and Duterte. Well, the people who vote for them can certainly lie in the beds they’ve made and I hope they rot in them. So leaving the planet Arrakis for now..
And because real life in 2021 is still shit, I’m still doing fantasy. I’m sure I’ve read Raymond Feist before, but I’m not sure, so I’ll take a trilogy please..
It’s normal the doctor said, and R remembered a time when he would have argued with him.
So I take a 20 minute bus ride, fall asleep and relive dreams so vivid that I can literally feel the time I spent in that dream; and they were weeks, months even. And then just like that, I wake up at the beep of the bus telling me that I’ve reached my stop. And the beep is no louder than a phone notification.
There was nothing normal about this.
But then he was 167 years old, ‘frozen’ at 52 and looked no younger than 35, so he didn’t argue.
He went home and realised when he was on the bus, that he was supposed to drop by the supermarket for some stuff. Some time ago, he would take this as a sign that something was remiss. He likened it to snow loosening, slowly but surely gaining momentum and mass until it became an avalanche, a total collapse of his senses and his mind, but beyond that, he couldn’t really imagine what came next. Would it be total oblivion, a comforting blackness like dreamless sleep? Or would it be an endless dream that flowed from one scene to the next, again also comforting like being afloat on a calm ocean with your eyes closed?
But he would look at his face in the mirror- bright eyes, bright unlined, dewy skin- and know that nothing was really wrong. That he was only half-hoping, half-fearing and these two feelings never really met half-way, and after a while- fifty years to be exact- he stopped looking for signs.
Under New Zealand’s traffic-light system, the country (Auckland) will be opening hand in hand with Covid, in the 1st week of December.
I can finally visit Doyet and the family; think of eating in a restaurant; last minute shopping (?); Physio-massage (carpal tunnel ugh); teeth (root-canal ugh) and glasses! Need an eye-check and possibly a new pair.
Here is the short-list:
I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I’m always hungry- craving for flavour.
Restaurants are opening soon and I’m thinking, Filipino- pork sisig, crispy pata and pork barbecue. This photo was taken exactly a year ago when we had dinner at a Filipino restaurant called Kalye Manila.
I’m also craving for something sweet like cheesecake; peanut butter cheesecake.
