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Wednesday, March 31, 2010

Tara's Tinik-less Fish

To Private Tara Lynn Gonzales and to all the arm forces officers who risk their lives to protect the Land of the Free. Thank you!


Back in October of last year, my friend Tara came back home from Iraq. Tara is, definitely, one of those special people to me. Tara is my sister’s, Celeste, best-friend and the younger sister of Ransel, my friend. Celeste and Tara were in the same grade and Ransel and I were in the same grade and that is how we lived happily ever after. Seeing we were the only Asian minorities in our graduating class of 30 kids, we bonded over a commonality – a nice heaping bowl of rice! Well, not all rice, ulam too! As we grew closer, our parents did too. The four of us seen each other through graduations, heartaches, getting our first cars, first car accidents, high school and college; then in our early twenties, we would all pile up in their parent’s mini-van (yes, you read it correctly mini-van) to go to the “disco-disco.”


The “Si-Stars”, the group we called ourselves, had a weekly ritual. Ransel, the biggest club-head from the four of us, was knighted as “Professor Clubhead”, Celeste was “Teacher’s Assistant”, whilst me, Tara, and everyone else were called the students. There were more names that were made up later, but this name stuck. Our weekly rituals started from Wednesday night from getting a quick dinner, getting ready and going to the club from Wednesday night to Sunday morning. However, there were a few Wednesdays where the four of us did not want to go out to the city and rather stayed at Club 801 (my house) or Club Kevin Dr. (Tara’s and Ransel’s house). Those rare Wednesday night were scheduled to be a cooking lesson night for Tara.






While growing up, I have always known Tara having this Carpe Diem – seize the moment- attitude. Never letting an opportunity, good or bad, go by is one of the reasons why she joined the Marines. However, before she became Private Tara Lynn, she was just - Tara. Eager to learn, charismatic, a go-getter girl, Tara had asked me to teach her how to cook. At first, I was reluctant; not that I did not have faith in Tara’s cooking, I was a student myself and I was doubting my abilities. Instead of saying “no” I had said “yes,” and I do not regret it! Tara and I would be in the kitchen cooking, while Celeste and Ransel were in the kitchen making fun of EVERYTHING. Let me put it this way, you don’t need a television or a Wii or a radio or movies when you are with Celeste and Ransel; they are a reality TV show/comedy central/HBO/Desperate Housewives/General Hospital/TLC themselves. But they are a whole different novel themselves. (Not just a story. Novel!)


I do not recall the first dish I had taught Tara, however, Rellenong Bangus (rel-yen-ong bung-oos: fish stuff with its own meat and mixed with peas, carrots, potatoes, and the optional raisins) was the dish that always reminds me of her. It is one of the most tedious Filipino dishes to make, but so worth making. It starts off by getting a whole Milk fish (or bangus: bung-oos) scrapping its meat of its skin, cooking the meat, then letting it cool so one has to take out the little tinik (ti-nick: fish bones) still in the meat. When all the bones have been picked out, one has to sauté the fish meat with garlic, onion, tomatoes, and the vegetables. When all the sautéing is finish, the fish meat needs to be stuffed back into the carcass of fish. But wait! It’s not finish – then after the carcass has been stuffed, one has to deep fry it. Since there is this ongoing joke of Filipinos and their health problems, I opted for a better solution than to deep fry. I broil the fish in the oven, adding hot oil on the skin to make it crispy, but not soaking in fat. That’s all!


During one of those rare Wednesday nights, our hands soaking in fish meat and trying to get the small bones out of the meat and making them into flakes, the Si-Stars were gathered in Club 801’s kitchen and telling stories of last week’s club excoriation. When it comes to the four of us and the club – it was a really good night, when Ransel takes a lot of pictures and is dancing with everyone she knows and more than buzzed, Celeste’s head is on her arm “holding up the bar” – or rather, the bar is holding Celeste up, Tara is social butterfly saying hi to everyone and the occasional rifts with people who has issues with her, and I am in the dance floor with god only knows who. That particular night when Tara’s hands were covered in fish meat, she reenacted how our dancing moves were; unfortunately, I can not describe it to you, because it’s one of those you have be there to see it kinda things. Nonetheless, it was politically correct! Even though, clubbing days were a few years back and we all have moved on to more a quieter night-life, a good reminiscing here and there is always enjoyable. ~C








Ingredients:



1 medium size Milkfish


1 medium onion


3 -4 cloves of garlic


1 medium tomato


3 tbsp. of fish sauce


Frozen or fresh peas


2 large eggs


2 tablespoon of flour


Salt and pepper


oil


1 snack box of raisins (optional)






1. degut the fish and scale the fish


2. with a spoon get the fish meat out of the fish's body and detach the spine


3. once all the meat of the fish out of the body, you should be left with only the fish's head and skin


4. in a skillet add the raw meat and cook until opaque


5. set the cooked fish meat aside and one its cooled seperate the fish bones.


6. preheat the same skillette and add oil when hot


7. add the chopped onions and mince garlic until onions are transparent and garlic is a nice golden brown


8. add the tomatoes and let them sweat


9. add fish sauce, fish meat, and frozen peas


10. scramble the eggs and flour to bind after peas have thawed out add salt and pepper for taste


11. preheat oven to high broil and add enough oil to coat the bottom of the pan


12. stuff the cooked meat back into the raw skin of the fish and put the fish into the oven.


13. flip the fish to make sure all sides are cooked. Cooking time 30 minutes in the oven.




Yes I know there are a lot of steps... but it's to challenge the inner cook in all of us!

(picture taken by J.K.)

Monday, March 15, 2010

There's always a beginning to everything....

My name is Christianne; but most people call me Chris or Deng (a nickname given to me by my nephew. I was born in the Philippines and immigrated to Chicago at the age of 4 years-old. It has been 23 years since I last step foot in the Philippines and been desperately wanting to go back. I love to experiment, no matter how good- or bad - the experiments come out, it's all about strategy! Since, I was born in the Philippines and live in a Philippines house hold, I tend to cook - Filipino food. However, living in a “melting pot” nation, it would be ignorant if one has not at least tried the diverse entrees waiting to be eaten.

A little background on me; I never liked cooking until just a few years ago. It is to the point where I would rather eat hard boiled eggs all day long than to cook a proper meal (side note: I just learned how to properly cook a hard-boil egg a few years ago). Yes! Sad, I know. So this blog is dedicated to the inner-cook in all of us!
I was only 19 years-old, it had only been a few months since my mom passed away; my dad was disgusted on how disconnected I have became from my heritage, the first thing he thought was to teach me how to cook Filipino dishes, or ulum (oo-lum). I have always thought that it was a lot easier to hop in my car, drive to the local fast food joints, order, pay, retrieve my order, and leave. Simple. Fast. Convenient. Easy clean up and with one easy payment of less than ten dollars! Yea – no! It most definitely did not fly with my dad.

Being 19 years-old and your opportunities endless, the last thing you want to do is cook. I have always imagine at the age of 25 years-old, I would be living in Napa Valley, owning my own business, living in a white pristine mansion, and having a maid and a cook to cook all my meals. Ah! Such foolish dreams I had. Back to reality! Exhausted from early morning classes, then going to my full-time job at a doctor’s office, dealing with over-exaggerated patient symptoms and over-bearing doctors, I did not even work for, the last thing I (or anyone, for that matter) wanted to do is cook a meal; let alone, the teacher was my father. My dad called me at work to go straight home and he will be giving me my first cooking lesson. Trust me; I prayed all day for him to suddenly have amnesia; forgetting, or even recollecting, the conversation and the subject of me cooking, period; needless to say, I was in no hurry to go home that day.

So when I got home that evening, from a very looonngg day, I crept into the front door, snuck into my bedroom, closed the door with a whisper thud, and called it safe. Ha! Not even thirty seconds later, I heard my dad’s booming accent from behind the door, “Chris! When you put your stuff down, go into the kitchen and I’ll teach you how to cook.”
“Damn! Why me? I don’t want to learn how to cook.” I thought.
So thus, when it all began.