25 truths about marrying a 'kabalen' and fellow foodie

In many societies of the world, pre-arranged marriage is still being practiced. The union is generally believed to have a higher percentage of success, considering the couple will come from the same background, economic status and religion, making a seemingly seamless transition from singlehood to married bliss. Or so everybody thinks.

At the risk of being accused of washing our dirty dishes in public, here is some food for thought for the kids out there contemplating the big plunge. After all, the truth sometimes hurts. When dating, be careful with whom you eat and be vigilant about what your date is eating. Imagine, one day you might just wake up to find your spouse filing for divorce — all due to gastronomic incompatibility! Bon appetit!

1. I say balo-balo, she says burong asan. That pretty much sums up our food preferences (or differences), my wife Mary Ann and I. And I thought I had it all figured out marrying a kabalen, a province mate. Little did I know I was in for some serious trouble — at the dining table, that is. After all, I’m from Angeles City and she’s from Mabalacat. Only a mere 10 kilometers away, you say, but it could very well be the distance between Mars and Venus. Both balo-balo and burong asan are the quintessential Pampango sawsawan made with fermented rice and shrimp (the former), and fish (the latter). Balo-balo is mild (much like cheddar cheese) and rather bland, while burong asan has a biting taste (cat’s vomit, I say; Stilton, she says) and a strong, pungent smell (stench, I say; aroma, she says) that can be traced a mile away. 

2. When she was still living and working in Hong Kong, her colleagues in Cathay Pacific often blind-dated her with gweilos (foreign devils, a.k.a. Caucasians). “Sige na,” they prodded her, “para makatikim ka naman ng steak. Puro adobo na lang ba?” “Ayoko nga,” she rebutted, “gusto ko talangka.” Little did she know she got her wish years later, getting hooked not only to a “talangka” but a fat talangka at that (moi, wink, wink!). 

3. This whole thing started when she refused to eat paksiw na bangus for lunch, both our favorite, thank God. I could not take it because she said since she was a child paksiw is eaten only for breakfast or dinner, but never for lunch. With exasperation, I barked, “Okay, what else can you not eat for lunch?!” She said adobo, kilain and tapa. This freaked me out of my wits.  

4. I say medium rare, she says well done. She likes her grilled meats and fish well done. But her degree of “doneness” borders on being burnt, or, in forensic parlance, charred beyond recognition.

5. Chicken or pork barbecue should be grilled dry, and not dripping with sauce when served. Otherwise, it’s back to the kitchen again! She shudders at the thought of Texas-style barbecue ribs oozing with a syrupy sauce. Yummy, I say!

6. I say Chicken Joy, she says Max’s. She squirms at the thought of anything breaded. And only white meat for her, please. No catsup, either. Well, maybe just a little, but only with French fries. 

7. Lucky me, she also likes her rice cooked loose and al dente (buhaghag). 

8. I say bangus belly, and thank God she only eats the white meat. No contest here. 

9. While I have my solo papaya for breakfast every day, she has only coffee, coffee and more coffee to start her day. In fact, her addiction to this brew has led to her collection of six coffee machines in the house, and growing. And she wonders why my toilet habits are regular and easy, and hers the opposite. 

10. Speaking of toilet training, there’s this perennial issue on lifting the seat for the male to urinate, while the female wants the seat constantly resting on the bowl. “Why can’t you bring it back down when you’re done?” she nags. To resolve the issue, I keep the seat resting all right, while I urinate sitting down. “He’s really a quick learner, that husband of mine,” she says (wink, wink).

11. If most men collect cars and other “toys for the big boys,” my passion has led me to having four kitchens in our house. One is solely for my exclusive use. 

12. A kusinero can be particular and territorial. There are two fridges at home. She keeps dozens of jams, jars of different peanut butter, bagoong and buro in the fridge, and the space had to be negotiated. I say buy a bigger ref; she says simply buy less food. Well, let’s start spring-cleaning with your jars, I say.  

13. In my private kingdom, half the wall is my cupboard with sliding doors that cannot close fully because of the over-stacked Pettyjon stoneware collection. Just last week, I had to commandeer her small cabinet (for our cleaning implements) for more stoneware I recently acquired. “Hay, my ever shopaholic hubby,” she says. I find so much joy in the buying, she says. She nevertheless enjoys the food on the stoneware, I counter.

14. We are still arguing (short of fighting) over whether to tear down a hardly-used powder room to have more cupboard space. I see the space while she sees the unnecessary expense. “To give you back the space for your cleaning implements,” I say. Wink, wink.

15. She would clean the car and garage anytime rather than clean the fridge and kitchen. She says I have so many ingredients and implements in my kitchen, mocking my variety of salts. “Isn’t all salt, salt?” she says. I say: You’re adding salt to an injured ego. 

16. She says I’d buy a new cooking range just because it is a nicer model. I say it’s because it has more safety features for non-cooks. 

17. While she says he who holds the knife rules, I say food is cooked best when the kusinero is happy. So better be nice to me and never argue with the chef.

18. Contrary to what many think, we often have no food for lunch because in our household of three, my brood can’t decide early enough what to have. Para akong a la carte menu sa restaurant, ha?” Now you know why our freezer is overstocked with all sorts of food items. 

19. Many times we end up eating from the bottle or can due to lack of time or inspiration. It’s Montaño sardines in olive oil for me, sardines in spicy tomato sauce for her, and crisp fried Spam for our son. I say, even house help have days off. 

20. One of my favorite meats is duck breast (after suckling pig, of course). She says I’m obsessed with duck breast and whenever we’re in Hong Kong, I order duck at practically every meal. I say, aren’t you lucky I only have eyes for “duck” breasts? Wink, wink.

21. Regarding our relatives in America who open their doors wider to us because I enjoy cooking and they enjoy the end results, I say, yeah, I am on vacation and they make me cook. It’s the same as having Shawie as a house guest and make her sing a number or two. As they say, there’s no such thing as a free lunch. 

22. Knowing how she loves the bilo-bilo (glutinous balls) in ginataang halo-halo, it was in one of those inspired moments I surprised her with a steaming bowl of nothing but. One bite and she asked, quite disappointingly: “What happened to the bilo-bilo”? I made the little balls stuffed with pastillas de leche, which she found too cloyingly rich. She says all she wanted was the old simple gummy balls. Oh, well, can’t please them all.  

23. Our suitcases always reek of food and she had to give one away because of the ginamos (Iloilo bagoong) smell? Well, I bought the ginamos for her in the first place.

24. After a recent trip to Spain, I brought home chorizos, quesos and the best olive oil I have ever tasted, which she loved and appreciated. But one night, she talked in her sleep, praying that they would turn into leather shoes and a bag. I say, Oh, I thought you never liked being “shopped” for. 

25. Often, I get hunger pangs in the middle of the night and I get up and cook something. She gets up to keep me company and will dutifully clean my mess. Cooking alone, I say, is fine, but eating alone is sad.  

She declares: Okay, you old fart, what do you prefer, a hot soup or a warm bed? I rest my case.