Radioactive Chili Project

I am convinced. Chili will never come out appetizing in photos. The other day, I made chili for the very first time and with my hi-tech 5 mega pixel camera (I'm trying to be sarcastic here because clearly, my camera stinks), I took a shot.

I have no idea why this photo is sideways, but it's not my fault. Wake up Blogger.com. Going back to the chili, I call it my "Radioactive Chili Project." My greatest fan, my 12-year old son Zach absolutely loved it. He loved it so much that he wanted to swim in it. But of course, with the small bowl, that's not possible -- and I'm being silly.

It was actually pretty easy making the chili. I have like a secret ingredient that I won't divulge, just because I'm a selfish, self-centered cook, but if you have ground beef, onions, fresh tomatoes, tomato paste, garlic, cumin, paprika, chili powder, fresh chili (whatever you have in the house), beef stock, salt and pepper to taste, and gorgeous red beans -- you're good to go. All you have to do is cook the beans first, bring to boil, maybe 1 1/2 hours of cooking will do until tender. Saute the ground beef with the onions, garlic, and spices and add to the cooked beans. Add the tomato paste, stock, a bit of water, and season. Voila, radioactive chili is ready to serve.

I don't know about you folks, but cooking for me is not really all about the measurements and how anal you are about how much of this and that you have to put in the dish you're cooking. Aside from the basic techniques that you should master as a cook, it's also about your taste buds telling you that you either suck or rock. I've been cooking for a few years now and the first years were the most challenging. Now, I'm pretty comfortable in the kitchen and can whip up dishes in a jiffy based on what's in the ref or my cupboard.

Now, here's my question: can you call yourself a chef or, say, put up a culinary business just because you claim to have studied in some obscure culinary school after being "inspired" by cooking shows on TV?

Are cooks or chefs made (overnight after an epiphany while watching Mr. Ramsay say, "This looks like what's in my grandpa's colostomy bag!") or are they born with that innate talent to cook? Of course, when I say "born with it," I don't mean that you should come out of your mom's stomach with a spatula and a toque. What I mean is, you don't have to have a fancy degree in culinary arts. You should, however, maybe from a young age, have that genuine interest in cooking (I made my first muffin at the age of 8) along with that effortless something that allows you to create delicious dishes. "Effortless" being the operative word.

Some cook from the heart, and to me, they're the ones who really succeed in the culinary industry. In the same way that writers, to me, are born, not made. Case closed.

tours and detours

Rhondda Valley, South Wales

The tricky streets of London

Biking is better than smoking pot in Amsterdam

My Parisian ride

So much has happened these past years. After I plunged into oblivion in 2009 and allowed this blog to slowly decompose in www's purgatory, I have somehow managed to put up a business, closed a business, and opened another one. In the later part of 2010, I lived in Wales, UK for a month (this story will be retold here soon), got lost in Paris, attempted to smoke pot in Amsterdam (and this one too), and almost got hit by a car in London. This year, I published my own magazine, a major achievement and a lifelong dream that I've managed to pull off with a little help from an old friend.

Every six months, my life changes. If I had a reality TV show, I'd put the Kardashians out of work. There's always something exciting happening. I've moved a total of 3 times since 2009; renovated part of my husband's house, and gained an infuriating cat for a pet.

What remains constant? Why, motherhood of course! I am still a hands-on Mom. I cook dinner for my family. I help with my kids' homework and I still remind them to cut their nails. My son is now taller than me. I can no longer buy his shoes using my own feet as a guide and my daughter, who turned six a few months ago, now have the power to decide on what outfit to wear every time we leave the house.

Soon, it'll be 2012. What's in store for me then? Someone said that the best way to predict the future is to invent it. So I might do just that.

You can't call yourself a Pinoy if...

... you haven't made a "parol" or Christmas lantern in your life. I had to pop my hypertensive meds soon after I glued the last bit of paper on the darn thing, which just goes to show that one parol could, quite possibly, kill you.

My son Zach had to submit his parol project for school and being the good mother that I am, I helped him out not knowing the stress involved in making that teeny tiny harmless looking project.

If you want to try making one, make your life easier by buying a pre-fab frame. Zach and I wanted a Green lantern. So we cut up some pages from old magazines. For added pizzazz, we added silver tinsel boas (or whatever you call them). You can recycle your Christmas decors from previous years and stick 'em on your lantern if you want to be environment-friendly.

To share my stress, here's a video on how to make a Christmas lantern.

Good luck. Keep your Catapres on hand. Have a Merry Christmas!!

WTF?

I tried to change how this blog looks like and attempted to add more widgets like the FB like button, google+, and Twitter icon. I guess I failed. For a moment I thought I was successful only to realize that I should leave the programming to programmers. I also managed to change the whole look of the blog but somehow the new face came out... er, kinda lame. Good thing I was able to revert back to the original... I think. Well, we'll see after I "view blog" -- and here goes.

Bluejay Coffee's cheese roll, possibly the best cheese roll in Iloilo. Cheesy, sweet, soft. Heat it in the microwave for a few seconds and enjoy. And my camera is possibly, the worst digital camera ever. I need to upgrade. Fast.

Girl Action

I Spit On Your Grave is for us women who can handle a pair of garden scissors, fish hooks, and a shotgun without batting an eyelash. "Hell has no fury like a women scorned" is pretty much the idiom of choice in this movie and the many definitions of "revenge" can be seen here in graphic detail.

The movie, a re-release of Day of the Woman (a 1978 controversial rape revenge film) have been condemned by film critics for its graphic violence and lengthy depictions of gang rape. The film was named in 2010 one of TIME's Top 10 Ridiculously Violent Movies.

Go ahead, watch this for kicks. For the male viewers, I suggest that you hold on to your nether regions while watching.

Revival 2011

It's official. I am reviving this blog. Never mind that I am only being read by 3 people. Never mind that most of the time, I don't have any earth-shattering, world-changing news or views to write about. Facebook and Twitter might have killed this blog, but I am rising from the dead and Mark Zuckerberg can go to blogosphere's hell for all I care.