peri-peri good

What is a Peri-Peri Chicken?

That was the question on my mind as I walked into the restaurant. I initially suspected it was just chicken inasal with a gimmick, since peri-peri sounded like an Ilonggo word. Or maybe inihaw na manok that was trying to be more wordly, hence the interiors that somehow reminded me of Brazil Brazil.

Obviously, I'm not very cultured.

After perusing the menu and not finding anything to explain what a peri-peri chicken was (except for the phrase "spit-fire grilled chicken", which didn't help much since I had no idea what a spit-fire was), I decided to let my stomach do the thinking.

The menu centers on the chicken, which comes in Lemon Garlic, Peri Mild, and Peri Hot flavors. There's an array of side dishes to complement your chicken (tortilla chips, java garlic rice, tortillas, corn kernels, macaroni & cheese, potato salad, and coleslaw), other chicken dishes like chicken wraps and chicken strips, and some other ulams for those who don't like poultry. Prices are reasonable, ranging from PhP100-300.

I'm starving from all that mental effort by this time, so I decide to load up on the carbs and order the the lemon garlic chicken, the potato salad, and the java garlic rice. Service is quick and friendly; the meal comes in no time at all, and with it... peri-peri heaven. The chicken is perfectly moist and juicy, and comes with a special dipping sauce which seems to be made out of oil, but who cares? It's tasty! If you want to up the heat factor, douse your chicken with the bottles of Peri Mild and Peri Hot sauce on the table.

Thirty minutes later I am leaning back on my chair, rubbing my stomach. I still had no idea what a peri-peri chicken was -- it's not chicken inasal, nor is it inihaw na manok, but it definitely was peri-peri good.

*After doing my homework, I discovered that peri-peri is actually the name used for the African Bird's Eye chili in Portuguese and some African languages. It is often used in Portuguese cuisine to prepare sauces and marinades for roasted and grilled dishes... and so, peri-peri chicken!

*Peri Peri Chicken is located at the Promenade, Greenhills.

the cream puffs that went through a snowstorm

The golden brown, crusty shells caught my eye before I even noticed the sign above it.

Beard Papa's Fresh 'n Natural Cream Puffs.

I thought it was a rather odd name for a shop. Beard Papa? And weren't all cream puffs fresh and natural anyway? I chalked it up to Engrish -- something must have gotten lost in translation. Besides, the sight of those cream puffs were too tantalizing to ignore. I had a temporary moment of paralysis as I imagined sinking my teeth into that crusty, flaky pastry as the cream oozed out of the shell.

I ♥ cream puffs.

So I begrudgingly shelled over fifty pesos for one, even if I thought it was a bit outrageous for a single cream puff. I figured, there must be something special about those cream puffs if that's the only thing they sold.

The Taste Test? I was disappointed. I found the cream filling rather bland; and it lacked that caramelized sugar on top that made cream puffs so deliciously gooey. Maybe I was just expecting the Filipino version of the cream puff (think Puffs & Stuff along Commonwealth), because apparently Beard Papa's is setting off cream puff crazes everywhere.

Anyway, I was a bit miffed at having had to shell out fifty pesos for a cream puff, so I decided to make my own. And voila...

Sheila's Papa's Fresh n' Natural and Cheap Cream Puffs! ;)

*Beard Papa's Fresh 'n Natural Cream Puffs are available at Food Choices Glorietta, SM Megamall Building A, and at the Greenhills Promenade.

the outsider

sometimes, the world can make you feel like an outsider.
and sometimes, the outside isn't so bad after all.

[museum cafe, greenbelt 4]

out on the town

the city against the stillness of manila bay
[taken from the harbour square complex, ccp, manila]


ice cream & candlelight
[at the manila peninsula. brownout kaya may candle. ;)]

do one thing everyday that scares you

"...the blues are because you're getting fat or maybe it's been raining too long.
You're sad, that's all. But the mean reds are horrible. You're afraid and you

sweat like hell, but you don't know what you're afraid of..."
--"Breakfast at Tiffany's", Truman Capote

It's been three weeks since I got back, and I'm still lost in the madness of getting my life back to normal. Wake. Eat. Work. Sleep. Wake. Eat. Work. Sleep. The routine is madness; yet I find myself thrown into it by forces of expectation & feigned responsibility. This is normal because this is what everybody expects of me. This is normal because this is what a mature, responsible adult would do.

I swallow this like a bitter pill.

It rained miserably the first week; the dark clouds settled over Manila the way they had over me. In the midst of warm hellos and welcome backs, my smile quivered at the edges. It terrified me. Here I was with the people I called my life, yet the thing I wanted to do most was to bolt and run away.

I was home, but this was no longer home. Nor is Toronto, nor New York, nor anywhere else in the world.

I no longer had a home.

*****

But I am okay.

It's nice to say that, even if only to myself. I am okay. It hasn't been stellar, but life goes on. There are still days when I wake up and feel that emptiness; where that part of me I lost when I left used to be. But if people can survive wars and deaths and nature's catastrophes, surely I am strong enough to survive this.

Toronto. That life seems so far away now, I wonder if it had only been a dream. Sometimes, in the middle of my daily rush, I catch myself standing, transfixed, before the poster of Toronto on my closet door. It's an aerial shot of the city, something I had tacked there years back not knowing how much the city would mean to me one day. My finger traces the outlines of the buildings, until I end up on Queen Street West. And, for a moment, I almost see myself walking down the street again.

I remember what it was like to be happy.

*****

Do one thing everyday that scares you.

I am scared as hell, but I promise to go on, because I know it will be worth it.

Life doesn't have to be this way.

the wanderer

Five months.

That's how long I've been gone.

It could have been a lifetime.

I've spent the last 24 hours in airports and airplanes, drifting in and out of a restless sleep. It's all a blur now, like some drug-induced haze, except the only thing I am on is pain. I've had to say goodbye so many times in the past few weeks that I am no longer capable of feeling anything except for that dull ache of a broken heart.

What bothered me most was I didn't know if I was going home, or leaving home.

In my brief states of consciousness, I could not even concentrate long enough to finish a page of the novel I had brought, or listen to the inflight radio before the music turned to garish noises pounding in my head. I could only stare out the windows, watching clouds roll by and icecaps floating on a boundless sea.

Then I saw myself, slipping away.

the day is breaking and time is taking
the love we're making away
this life can only leave us lonely
there's no tommorow,
just another little hole in her heart
- another little hole, aqualung

this is the only hiking i do

I climb... erm... rocks in Central Park. Teehee.

career options

which way?

it's not ice cream...

gone are the days when i thought coney island was an ice cream brand...
on another note, this was the first time i saw the atlantic ocean! cool!

art and pop art

admiring the guggenheim's architecture is fun...


but watching this real-life version of scooby doo & scrappy doo is much more fun!


[pictures taken at the solomon r. guggenheim museum, fifth ave., new york]

sister, sister

my sister and i on the banks of the east river

when dusk falls

top: sailing into the sunset [liberty island, as seen from the staten island ferry]
bottom: manhattan & the brooklyn bridge [taken from the subway as it crossed manhattan bridge]

the city that never sleeps

riding on the Q train

on the Q subway line

[somewhere between canal st. & 14th st-union square stations]

an insane quest for sunlight

I headed over to Central Park today to watch Jose Gonzalez (he sang the song from this awesome Sony Bravia commercial) perform at the annual Central Park SummerStage.

So did a thousand other people.

I must say, New York summers are insane. All patches of grass around the city, from the rolling greens of Central Park to pseudo-parks like Union Square, are packed with people trying to bake themselves in the sun. Some people were even decked in complete beach attire, beach balls included.

Bikinis. In the middle of the screeching sounds of New York taxis a few feet away. With no body of water in sight. This isn't even gentle sun -- this is hot, humid, Manila-like sun.

Yep, this is seriously insane. When I get home, I am going to get a proper sunburn near the beach, like someone from a tropical country should.

So, you see, there are still some things Filipinos have better.

Yun lang.