T is for...
February 4, 2007 | 12:00am
Tis for Thelma, the relatively new cook (she came in just last year). T is also for tenacious hopefulness (mine, if you must know) that her arrival would also bring new dishes, or at the very least a fresh (read: unfamiliar to our kitchen) approach to the usual everyday fare. Positive but not knowing quite what to expect, I stocked up on Spam and Century Tuna, Picadeli Mega tapa, and Pampanga’s Best tocino just the same. Just in case.
No clouds of mystery shrouded her arrival; instead it was ushered in by very high recommendations from my very efficient driver. She is, after all, from the same village he hails from, is a personal friend of his wife, and was once upon a time a cook in a restaurant – I would later find out it was actually a school canteen – where she was the main boss in the kitchen. And she was supposedly trustworthy and hardworking. We took her in without much ado.
Truth be told, long before her actual arrival, I was already dreaming of all the delicious kitchen tricks from her previous employment that she carried in her pocket which we would now naturally get to enjoy – maybe new ways of serving the omnipresent adobo (there are at least a dozen different versions that vary from province to province and they all taste great!), Pinoy stews from authentic Pinoy recipes of old, the many sauces she would pour over fried fish, or the unique concoctions and combinations that she would mix and match to breathe delicious new life into the toyo-suka-calamansi-patis sawsawan tandem. I could hardly wait. The cook she was replacing, who in turn replaced the one who stayed for over four years, although pleasant, had dismal cooking skills. She had a tendency to make everything saucy, and she always served everything with giniling. She had to leave to take care of her baby. It was time for Thelma, The New Cook.
The first order of the day was to ask for a list of the dishes she knew how to cook with eyes closed. The list was handed to me after a short while, quite long and scribbled neatly on yellow pad paper. It (seriously) read: Spaghetti. Pansit Canton. Seafood Pansit Canton. Hotdog. Fried Pork Chop. Fried Pork Chop with Egg. Fried Chicken. Chicken Drumstick. Fried Fish. Daing na Fish. Scrambled Egg. Sunny Side Up and Hard-Boiled Egg… There were about 20 other entries but it was all along that line. Fried Something. And for variety, that same Fried Something but with fried vegetables or egg on the side. You get the picture.
Now, for a non-cook like me, Fried Pork Chop (with or without any other Fried Something on the side) is a meal. Just give me rice and pinakurat vinegar with it and I’m happy. On days when I would not care for some Fried Pork Chop or Fried Fish, well then, hello, Spam and Century Tuna. I can still be happy.
But because there is a constant flow of people in the house, usually hungry big men who happen to be real foodies at that, I knew something had to be done. Fast. So I scoured our bookshelves and, at random, picked out one. A Little Taste of China by Murdoch Books. I bought it on a whim one summer night years ago at Fully Booked at The Promenade, first, because the cover picture made me hungry even if it was only some shiny and leafy green vegetable in a white Chinese bowl; and second, because I still harbor the not-so-secret hope of one day really learning how to cook very well.
There are recipe books that inspire you to try out a new recipe; yes, they turn out good, but not unforgettably good enough for you to remember it for tomorrow or next week’s meal. This book is definitely not one of those. As I desperately tagged the recipes I wanted her to try, 16 of them initially, I hoped with a hope that leaks from a housewife’s heart that really good food would start flowing from our kitchen sooner than I could say "Surprise!"
To cut the story short, the results were very happy ones, let me tell you that much. The tofu she made was excellent, as were the spicy spareribs on page 30, and the crispy noodles with beef, the stir-fried scallops, and stir-fried squid on pages 81, 104, 106, respectively. Sumptuous too were the beef dishes – beef with oyster sauce and stir-fried beef with spring onions, and the clams in yellow sauce. So far, only the sweet and sour pork requires a little bit of adjustment. I find the sauce a tad too sweet.
Although it is apparent that the recipes are very good, I credit Thelma’s inherent feel for all things culinary. She really has what it takes to be an excellent cook, experience in the canteen notwithstanding, and that is something not everyone can claim to have at the onset. It is nothing short of a feat, the way the kitchen still looks relatively neat even after a journey of five different dishes; how she does not move awkwardly, the way her hair is always away from her face in a neat bun (even without my asking her to); the way she stirs a stew, or fries chunks of meat or fish, with her back rod straight. I have never seen her sighing in trapped wistfulness or with a defeated hunched posture. She seems so… focused. And I think she probably daydreams only while slicing vegetables, if at all. She is an old soul in a modern kitchen, totally comfortable with pots and pans as though they were the toys she grew up with.
With every dish she makes well, we profusely shower her with praise, and with each brownie point earned, her confidence grows. As of late, she not only cooks wonderfully, she also takes it upon herself to present the food well. She is far from carving carrots and turnips that mimic exotic tropical flowers (although I would not totally put that past her in the future) but she is well along her way in the taste department. Now the chicken never just squats on a shiny white plate. It sits solemnly on a green bed of salad leaves or a mat of perfectly roasted baby potatoes, tasting the way chicken should and boasting colors that speak of round appetites and growing culinary skills. The meat is always tender but cooked well through, the skin is crispy when it should be, and the batter is spot on. Pasta and shrimps are never overcooked, and Richard has already taught her the ABC’s of grilling steaks according to personal preference. She is the only cook we’ve ever had who gently insists that food is always best served hot, from pot to plate, so to speak.
Inspired by all the new good things happening in the kitchen (we actually find ourselves looking forward to meals at home now) I enrolled Thelma in Sylvia Reynoso-Gala’s cooking classes. (Call 671-4498, 671-4472 and 671-4489.) I highly recommend it to housewives like me who love to eat but cannot cook to save the day. Send your housegirl(s). It empowers them, and mealtime is all the better for it. So far, she has taken two courses – Popular Japanese Dishes II and the Easy Hong Kong Restaurant course – and we are enjoying the fruits of those two courses immensely. The udon noodles and the assorted crispy tempura are especially wonderful. I plan to make her take more courses, perhaps a baking module next time around, but for now, we shall enjoy bowls of noodles and plates of delicious meat, heaping second even third servings to warm the belly and make the appetite happy. We are truly blessed to have her.
Once upon a time, Thelma arrived on a very ordinary day and cooked in a very ordinary way. But now when I tell her I’m in the mood for some tofu, she throws back confidently at me, "Ma’am, ma po tofu or Northern-style bean curd?" To that, my gay friends would say, "Sosi!"
Erratum: In last week’s column, the name of the award-giving body that awarded Ginny Figueroa Dizon of Jul B. Dizon Jewelry Salon should read Guild of Philippine Jewelers and not Designer’s Guild of the Philippines as mentioned. Mea culpa!
No clouds of mystery shrouded her arrival; instead it was ushered in by very high recommendations from my very efficient driver. She is, after all, from the same village he hails from, is a personal friend of his wife, and was once upon a time a cook in a restaurant – I would later find out it was actually a school canteen – where she was the main boss in the kitchen. And she was supposedly trustworthy and hardworking. We took her in without much ado.
Truth be told, long before her actual arrival, I was already dreaming of all the delicious kitchen tricks from her previous employment that she carried in her pocket which we would now naturally get to enjoy – maybe new ways of serving the omnipresent adobo (there are at least a dozen different versions that vary from province to province and they all taste great!), Pinoy stews from authentic Pinoy recipes of old, the many sauces she would pour over fried fish, or the unique concoctions and combinations that she would mix and match to breathe delicious new life into the toyo-suka-calamansi-patis sawsawan tandem. I could hardly wait. The cook she was replacing, who in turn replaced the one who stayed for over four years, although pleasant, had dismal cooking skills. She had a tendency to make everything saucy, and she always served everything with giniling. She had to leave to take care of her baby. It was time for Thelma, The New Cook.
The first order of the day was to ask for a list of the dishes she knew how to cook with eyes closed. The list was handed to me after a short while, quite long and scribbled neatly on yellow pad paper. It (seriously) read: Spaghetti. Pansit Canton. Seafood Pansit Canton. Hotdog. Fried Pork Chop. Fried Pork Chop with Egg. Fried Chicken. Chicken Drumstick. Fried Fish. Daing na Fish. Scrambled Egg. Sunny Side Up and Hard-Boiled Egg… There were about 20 other entries but it was all along that line. Fried Something. And for variety, that same Fried Something but with fried vegetables or egg on the side. You get the picture.
Now, for a non-cook like me, Fried Pork Chop (with or without any other Fried Something on the side) is a meal. Just give me rice and pinakurat vinegar with it and I’m happy. On days when I would not care for some Fried Pork Chop or Fried Fish, well then, hello, Spam and Century Tuna. I can still be happy.
But because there is a constant flow of people in the house, usually hungry big men who happen to be real foodies at that, I knew something had to be done. Fast. So I scoured our bookshelves and, at random, picked out one. A Little Taste of China by Murdoch Books. I bought it on a whim one summer night years ago at Fully Booked at The Promenade, first, because the cover picture made me hungry even if it was only some shiny and leafy green vegetable in a white Chinese bowl; and second, because I still harbor the not-so-secret hope of one day really learning how to cook very well.
There are recipe books that inspire you to try out a new recipe; yes, they turn out good, but not unforgettably good enough for you to remember it for tomorrow or next week’s meal. This book is definitely not one of those. As I desperately tagged the recipes I wanted her to try, 16 of them initially, I hoped with a hope that leaks from a housewife’s heart that really good food would start flowing from our kitchen sooner than I could say "Surprise!"
To cut the story short, the results were very happy ones, let me tell you that much. The tofu she made was excellent, as were the spicy spareribs on page 30, and the crispy noodles with beef, the stir-fried scallops, and stir-fried squid on pages 81, 104, 106, respectively. Sumptuous too were the beef dishes – beef with oyster sauce and stir-fried beef with spring onions, and the clams in yellow sauce. So far, only the sweet and sour pork requires a little bit of adjustment. I find the sauce a tad too sweet.
Although it is apparent that the recipes are very good, I credit Thelma’s inherent feel for all things culinary. She really has what it takes to be an excellent cook, experience in the canteen notwithstanding, and that is something not everyone can claim to have at the onset. It is nothing short of a feat, the way the kitchen still looks relatively neat even after a journey of five different dishes; how she does not move awkwardly, the way her hair is always away from her face in a neat bun (even without my asking her to); the way she stirs a stew, or fries chunks of meat or fish, with her back rod straight. I have never seen her sighing in trapped wistfulness or with a defeated hunched posture. She seems so… focused. And I think she probably daydreams only while slicing vegetables, if at all. She is an old soul in a modern kitchen, totally comfortable with pots and pans as though they were the toys she grew up with.
With every dish she makes well, we profusely shower her with praise, and with each brownie point earned, her confidence grows. As of late, she not only cooks wonderfully, she also takes it upon herself to present the food well. She is far from carving carrots and turnips that mimic exotic tropical flowers (although I would not totally put that past her in the future) but she is well along her way in the taste department. Now the chicken never just squats on a shiny white plate. It sits solemnly on a green bed of salad leaves or a mat of perfectly roasted baby potatoes, tasting the way chicken should and boasting colors that speak of round appetites and growing culinary skills. The meat is always tender but cooked well through, the skin is crispy when it should be, and the batter is spot on. Pasta and shrimps are never overcooked, and Richard has already taught her the ABC’s of grilling steaks according to personal preference. She is the only cook we’ve ever had who gently insists that food is always best served hot, from pot to plate, so to speak.
Inspired by all the new good things happening in the kitchen (we actually find ourselves looking forward to meals at home now) I enrolled Thelma in Sylvia Reynoso-Gala’s cooking classes. (Call 671-4498, 671-4472 and 671-4489.) I highly recommend it to housewives like me who love to eat but cannot cook to save the day. Send your housegirl(s). It empowers them, and mealtime is all the better for it. So far, she has taken two courses – Popular Japanese Dishes II and the Easy Hong Kong Restaurant course – and we are enjoying the fruits of those two courses immensely. The udon noodles and the assorted crispy tempura are especially wonderful. I plan to make her take more courses, perhaps a baking module next time around, but for now, we shall enjoy bowls of noodles and plates of delicious meat, heaping second even third servings to warm the belly and make the appetite happy. We are truly blessed to have her.
Once upon a time, Thelma arrived on a very ordinary day and cooked in a very ordinary way. But now when I tell her I’m in the mood for some tofu, she throws back confidently at me, "Ma’am, ma po tofu or Northern-style bean curd?" To that, my gay friends would say, "Sosi!"
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