Going Bananas

“On a traffic light green means go and yellow means yield, but on a banana it’s just the opposite. Green means hold on, yellow means go ahead, and red means where the hell did you get that banana at … ” – Mitch Hedberg

I started this blog six months ago with the intention of re-posting all of my recipes from my Yahoo360 Blog.

Easy enough.  The plan was for me to post a recipe once a week.

That I have done.  I have been posting every Thursday.  Except in April and May when I was too busy shuttling between four cities and two states.

My problem started when I decided to write more.  And with me writing more – about my past and experiences, I feel that this blog is taking a different turn. It’s no longer just about food.  This past few months, I have been doing a lot of soul searching and have been writing quite a lot about myself and where I come from.  In fact, I think I have been a little too honest.  Which I sometimes couldn’t believe what I have been posting and it makes me cringe.  I must admit that in most of my previous posts, it took a bit of courage to put my life story for public viewing.  And to think that I’m only scratching the surface.  There’s a lot more to be told which I may never have the courage to do so.  I shall see.

So what’s the point in all this?

I feel my blog is losing direction.  And it’s all over the place.

I think the name – AmerAsian Home Cooking fall short of describing what this blog is really all about.  It doesn’t represent wholly the contents of this blog.  And over the past few weeks, I have been thinking about changing it.  I just haven’t come up with the perfect name yet.  I’ll have to keep thinking.

So for now, I am simply putting my thoughts out here and let everyone know what to expect in the near future.

All previous posts will remain untouched.  And I will keep posting stories and recipes every Thursday.

My goal is simple:  To have a cohesive blog – with short stories and recipes at the end of each blog.   And a blog name that would entirely describe its contents.

~~~

I made these pancakes last week when I had way too many bananas and they were starting to get over ripe, and I don’t like eating over ripened bananas.  So I decided to make pancakes since I love pancakes anyway.

Very easy and delicious.  And I especially love 100% maple syrup drizzled over them.  Next time… I think I am going to spread creamy peanut butter and then drizzle them with maple syrup.

Anyway…

Here’s the recipe.

Dairy Free Banana Pancakes

1 cup all purpose unbleached flour

1 TBSP. granulated sugar

2 tsps. baking powder

¼ tsp. salt

1 large egg – beaten

¾ cup almond or rice milk – of course you can use regular milk

1 TBSP. coconut oil or extra light olive oil + more for brushing the pan

1 TBSP. apple sauce

2 large ripe bananas – mashed

½ tsp. pure vanilla extract

Sift flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt into a medium size mixing bowl.  Set aside.

In another mixing bowl, beat egg and then whisk in milk, coconut oil, and apple sauce.  Add mashed bananas and vanilla extract.  Whisk until mixture is combined.  Pour this mixture over the flour mixture.  Again, whisk until flour is well incorporated and moistened.  Batter will be slightly lumpy because of the bananas.

Heat a non-stick skillet over medium heat and lightly brush with coconut oil.  (Do this as necessary or for each new batch of pancakes.   Scope about ½ cup of the batter into the skillet or griddle for each pancake.

Cook one side for 4 – 5 minutes.  Flip and cook the other side for 2 – 3 minutes.  (On your second or third batch, pancakes will cook even much faster then.  So carefully watch them.)

Serve hot with maple syrup or with your favorite pancake syrup.

NOTE:  You could use melted butter in place of coconut oil.

The lumps that you see on the batter are small pieces of bananas.

Tess’ Kitchen Secrets:

#1 – I use a non-stick skillet with cover.  The pancakes cooks faster this way.

#2 – I place the bananas in quart size ziploc bag and mash the bananas by squeezing them inside the bag.  Cut a hole on the bag and squeeze onto the pancake mixture.

Enjoy and Happy Cooking!

Tess Harris

Deep In A Dream

“What I fear most, I think, is the death of the imagination… if I sit still and don’t do anything, the world goes on beating like a slack drum, without meaning.  We must be moving, working, making dreams to run toward; the poverty of life without dreams is too horrible to imagine.”

Sylvia Plath

If you could choose your dream, what would it be…?

There were two dreams I constantly dreamed of every night:  flying and visiting a well lighted town – a beautiful, utopian town out of this world.

I must have been four or five years old when, every night, I dreamed I can fly.  Flying, not with a broom unlike a witch, nor like a bird with wings, but with just my whole body floating up in the air – in space, just below the clouds.

Every night, when I went to bed, I looked forward to my dream.  My dream of just floating, light as a feather, looking down at everyone going about their business… looking down at green grassy fields and rows and rows of lush green trees.  And at the nipa huts below, sparsely scattered.  In my dream, it was always a nice day, with clear blue sky and a very light breeze; soothing and relaxing… Moments before I’d wake up from my dream… I slowly lower myself down to the ground and slip back into our nipa hut with no one noticing my absence.

When I was a little girl, we lived in a small nipa hut about 200 yards from the river.  And along this river – were rows of tall, green leafy trees, all about the same height – 20 feet and the same size.  I was told by my father, who, at that time believed in supernatural beings to include paranormal and fairies, that these rows of trees could be a fairy town inhabited by people we can’t see.  It had to be.  They were beautifully lined along the river, like a well architectured buildings of the same colors and sizes.

During harvest season… he would go down the river and place an offering of cooked chicken, rice and a glass of Pepsi – placed on the flattest part of the trunk of the tree.  This was his was of saying: thanks to the supernatural beings – people he couldn’t see, who he believed have made it possible for him to harvest his rice field.

And one day, he told me a secret…

“If you ever see a man or a woman.  But it’s usually going to be a woman – a beautiful woman, with high pointed nose, pale skin and long black hair.  Pay attention to her.  Look at her closely.  The way to tell if she is among us or if she is among the fairies… look at her upper lip.  If she doesn’t have a philtrum – it’s the hollow space between the upper lip and the nose.  If that area is flat… then you’ll know that she is a fairy.  The only catch is that… if you befriended her and she invited you to her world, you will never be allowed to come back to us.  And if you are… you will see us, but we will never see you…”

I loved the idea of going to the world of fairies…

So… in addition to my dream of flying every night.  I started imagining vividly that, that those rows of trees along the river, were in fact a beautiful town, with beautiful houses, with glittering lights, and beautiful people living in it.  But this town… no one else could see, but me.  I imagined that one day I will make friends with one of the those people and eventually stay with them, in their beautiful homes.  I’d imagine this every night before I went to bed in our hard bamboo floor, with only old clothes rolled up to cushion our heads.  Each night as I closed my eyes… I have a faint smile on my face for one day what I have been imagining will ultimately come true.  And that night, I will dream again of flying…floating up in the air, in a clear blue sky…

Every day… I had dreamed this same dream up until I was a freshman in college.  And then one day it just stopped. IT STOPPED!

My dream of flying was replaced by a dream of falling off a deep narrow valley.  And I always woke up screaming.  I dreamed like this for years…  And it was only a few years ago that it stopped.  I am thankful that it stopped.  For every night that I dreamed of falling, I wake up panting.  My heart beat as loud as a thunder with a speed of galloping wild horses.

But… how I wish I could dream of flying again… soaring up in the clear blue sky…

~~~

Burgers are easy and simple to make.   And with just a few touch up, you can make them gourmet.  These burgers are slightly different than your normal burgers.  They are more flavorful and yet still easy to make.  My son loves the bacon wrapping around the burgers and the cheese filling inside.

These burgers are seasoned with simple seasonings which you are most likely have in your pantry.

Bacon Wrapped Burgers

1½ pounds ground beef – 93 – 96% lean

¼ medium onion – finely diced

6 garlic cloves – smashed, peeled and finely chopped

2 tsps. kosher salt

2 tsps. lemon – pepper seasoning

1 tsp. freshly ground black pepper

3 sprigs of Italian parsley – chopped

6 bacon slices

5 slices extra sharp cheddar cheese

Other Ingredients and Condiments:

5 Burger buns

Tomato slices

Shredded lettuce

Avocado slices (optional)

Mayonnaise or mustard

Extra Crispy French Fries – Restaurant Style

In a large mixing bowl, combine ground beef, onion, garlic, salt, lemon pepper seasoning, black pepper, and parsley.  Divide into 10 equal portions.

Form burger portions into 10 patties.  Place 1 square of cheddar cheese over each patty, and top with another patty.  Press around the edges to seal the cheese.  Wrap each patty with one bacon slice.

Heat a skillet and cook the burger patties over medium heat, until bacon is crispy and burgers are cooked.  About 4 – 5 minutes on each side.

Smear the buns with mayonnaise or mustard.  Or both.  Line the buns with shredded lettuce, and sliced tomatoes.  Place the burger on top and cover with the top bun.

Serve burgers warm with French fries.

Tess’ Kitchen Secret:

#1 – I buy the Ore Ida Extra Crispy French Fries – Restaurant Style.  My son loves this stuff.  Definitely not your regular fries.  I’d have this cooking in the oven while I cook the  burgers.

#2 – I warm the buns in a preheated oven at 350°F for 5 – 6 minutes, by placing the buns directly on the oven rack.  Using tong to remove buns onto a large baking sheet.

#3 – I use ground sirloin beef.

Enjoy and Happy Cooking!

Tess Harris

Would You Ever Live and Work in Sin City?

Before Las Vegas declared a 14% unemployment… we always considered Las Vegas as a place we could move back to if everything turns to shit and we have nowhere else to go.  But now, with a very high unemployment rate, we’re not so sure anymore.  A lot of people lost their jobs, both in the casino industry and in the construction industry.  And in other industries that support the casinos.

Ten years ago, before the recession hit, Las Vegas was one of the fastest growing cities in the United States.  There were about 5,000 people moving to Vegas each month, and about half of that moving out.  People came from all around the country looking for the good life in Vegas.  Californians sold their overpriced homes and moved to Vegas.  People were moving to Vegas in droves looking for that Vegas gold.

I visited Las Vegas for the very first time on December 1999.  Of course Willie has been there many times before.  We were living in Colorado Springs then… and since my half-sister lived in Vegas and my husband’s best friend also lived there…we decided to visit.

Our first visit was really kind of a survey to see if we like the place… at that time, Willie was only months away from military retirement.  And we need to decide where we were going to move…

As with anyone who’s never been to Vegas.  I was mesmerized by all the glitz and glamor of the city.  The beautiful hotels and casinos, the restaurant scene, the bright lights at night, the 24 hour city life and its possibilities.  The idea of moving to Vegas was exciting…

We decided that it would be better if I moved to Vegas first.  It was March and Ramon was still in school.  So Ramon will stay with Willie until the end of May when school ends.  I could stay with my half-sister, while I look for a job.  So that when August comes… and Willie is able to join us, we’ll have our own place to stay.  I was supposed to stay with my sister until around July so we could save money.  But I couldn’t do it.  Once I started working… I was ready to have our own place.  I have this thing about living with relatives… I don’t like it!  Simply because it reminds me of when I was a little girl when we lived with relatives until my dad got off his ass so we could live on our own.  Living with relatives is never a good thing.  Everyone is excited and happy with the arrangement at the beginning, but after a few months of living in an over crowded house, egos start colliding, insults are hurled to each other, and by the time we moved out… no more niceties left.  Even though my sister and brother-in-law were nice and gracious, and didn’t minded me and Ramon occupying one of their rooms, I couldn’t wait to get our own place.  There’s no place like my own…

Looking for a job in Las Vegas…

Willie’s friend, Jimmy, was supposed to help me look for a job in Vegas, since he supposedly had connections.  That turned out to be a bust.  He didn’t have connections and really couldn’t help.  The best he could do was dropped me off at the Luxor’s employment center and pointed me to the receptionist.

“Hi… I would like to fill out an application…?”

The receptionist didn’t even bother to ask what job was I applying for.  She pointed me to an unoccupied desk with a built-in computer…

“You can go ahead and fill out your application there.  Just follow instructions.”

“Oh… OK. Thanks.”

So I began filling out a form.  Little did I know that the whole process was going to take me three hours!  This place wanted my whole life.  They want to know everything about me and information of everyone who are related to me.  Every one who knew me – my parents, my grand parents, my uncles, cousins… all my friends and exact addresses of places I’ve lived in the last 10 years.  And I think they also wanted to know if had any visible birth marks, the color of my eyes, and my blood type.  Holy shit!  I just wanted a job.  A job in the marketing or human resources department.  They haven’t even hired me and they already wanted all these information?  Answering all those questions felt like I was getting ready to be locked up in a cell.

I wanted to quit half way through.  But my stubbornness got the better of me.  I wanted to finish what I started.  What difference does it makes anyway?  I already gave them my whole life story and more!

When I finished after three hours, I was dazed.  Shocked.  I couldn’t believe all the information that I had just provided them.  All for a lousy job.

“Miss… I am done.”

“OK.   We’ll call you if you’re qualified for the job you applied for.”

Guess what… I did not get a call from this place.  I didn’t think I would.  The whole thing was a total waste of my time.  And the worst is that, they now know all my information.  I felt violated.  I felt like I was just doped.  But the truth is, I can’t blame anyone.  I did it to myself.  I didn’t have to answer all those questions.  I could simply have just walked out.  What have I gotten into?

This was the very first casino I had applied for a job.  I asked myself why did I do it? I did it because I wanted to get a feel on how their application process worked.  Though the other places I’ve applied… they did not asked as many questions as the Luxor has.

Most casinos in Las Vegas have JOB Hotlines where prospective employees can call to access job vacancies.  Now, with the internet, you can access job vacancies online.  I had my time structured.  I would call job hotlines in the mornings and or looked through the job classifieds.  Went to fill out job applications in the afternoons and turn in my resumes.  And in the evenings, I’d write thank you letters to send to people who have interviewed me, and or send follow up letters to check on status of my application.

I’ve always read in books that “looking for a job is a full-time job in itself.”  Those authors were not kidding.  Indeed it was.  Everyday, everything I did had something to do with looking for a job.  I only gave myself a break on the weekends.

Of all the places I had applied… there really only one place I had fixed my eyes on… And that was the Venetian Hotel & Casino.  One of the casinos we went to see when I first visited Vegas.  At that time, Venetian was only a few years old and to me, the most beautiful casino on the Las Vegas strip.  As we finished walking through the lobby, seeing the beautiful murals on the ceiling, and all the beautiful pieces of artwork and decorations… I told myself… I am going to work here.

And so when I finally moved to Vegas, I applied for a Marketing position at the Venetian.  In the casinos, and really, anywhere else for that matter, if you don’t know anyone who would take you in through the “back door,” applying for a job is a long, tedious process.  The Venetian Hotel and Casino had an employment center where people with no connections – “people off the street” fill out job applications.  The application process was like going through a cattle call in production line…

I lined up with dozens of people.  It took me close to two hours to fill out their applications forms.  When I finished, a lady at the front reviewed my application and sent me through for the first screening, where I was given an initial interview by another lady.  When I passed the first interview, I was told to wait for another hour so I could participate in a group interview.  The group interview consisted of other applicants, applying for the same position.  There were 10 of us and two interviewers.  We were all asked the same questions and the interviewers observed how we reacted to each other, and how well we answered each question… After an hour of group interview… I was told I could go home and wait for their call.  The next day I had a call in which they told me I made the cut from the group interview and that they would like to send me for another interview.  This time the interview is going to be with the person responsible for hiring…

Talk about keeping you out, and keeping the rip-rap out!  Holy cow!  I just wanted a job in their marketing department.  A Marketing Coordinator job is just a foot in door, but they certainly screened people for that job as if they were recruiting for a highly guarded, top secret position.  I was drilled as if I was getting recruited by the FBI or the CIA!  Other casinos adapted other techniques too.  I was told by many people that for anyone to get a job at the MGM Grand, you have to sing or dance at the interview… Sing or dance!?

I had also applied at a local casino. A six year old property off Boulder Highway.  A medium size casino whose revenues are millions of dollars a week.  On a busy day, this casino rakes in as much as $8 million dollars…  This is where I ended up working.  They offered me more money than the Venetian.  And you know… money talks, bullshit walks.  I could have gotten paid more.  But I was just too excited to get offered more money than the Venetian.  I have never made that much money before.  All my common sense went out the window. I got stupid.  I shorted myself which I will forever regret while working at this place.

There’s one thing I learned from all these years and all the times I had to look for a job.  Always go for the highest salary, especially if you’re in mid management.  I found this out the hard way.  Once your in… I’d be almost impossible to get a raise, and they will work you like a horse, 10 – 12 hour days.  And on some days, 14 – 16 hours with no overtime… So when it came down to the hard numbers… compared with all the hours I worked.  I was being paid cheap.  Many times I wanted to cry.

Working in the casino, I discovered and witnessed with my own two eyes, how low and appalling humans can become.  They will look you straight in the eye and lie.  They’d cheat  if they could get away with it.  Beg and cry to get what they want.  I’ve seen the desperation in people.  I’ve seen people lost their entire paycheck and couldn’t pay their mortgage or rent, or their car note…  Gambling can turn someone into a zombie.  Empty and hollow inside.  Gamblers always think… today might be the day I could win big!

I was once asked…

“How do you feel being part of a team that conjures up all sorts of “tricks and traps” – promotions, special events, and giveaways to lure the gambling addicts into the casino?”

My answer…

“I felt bad.  My heart goes out to the people who would often gambled their whole paycheck and can’t pay their rent.  I felt bad because some people cannot control their gambling habits.   But after a while, I learned to set aside my emotions.  We were doing what we’re paid to do… and that is to bring people into the casino.  Entice them with gifts and prizes; parties and special events; VIP treatment, and most of all – the possibility of winning big…

… And if you do this long enough, you become numb… and you lost respect for humanity.  And the irony is that… most people who work in the casinos, they also have gambling problems… they become victims themselves… or should I say… they victimize themselves…”

~~~

This Triple Berry Bar is as colorful as the life in Vegas… only uncomplicated and easy to make.  The berries are loaded with fibers and vitamin c… good for your stamina.

Triple Berry Bars

Crust:

1½ cups unbleached flour

4 TBSPs. refined sugar

Zest of 1 small lemon

½ tsp. salt

½ cup unsalted butter – cut into small pieces

1 large egg  - lightly beaten

1 tsp. vanilla extract

Preheat oven to 400°F

Lightly grease a 9” x 13” baking pan with butter.

Combine flour, sugar, and salt in a large mixing bowl.  Whisk to combine.  Add lemon zest and whisk again.  Add the butter.  Using a pastry blender, blend the flour mixture until the consistency become coarse like sand.  (You can also use your finger tips or fork if you don’t have a pastry blender.

Beat the egg with the vanilla extract.

Drizzle egg mixture all over the blended flour.   Again, with a pastry blender or fork, lightly blend the flour mixture until it clings away from the bowl and you are able to form the whole mixture into a ball.  You should have a smooth and soft mixture.

Press mixture into the bottom of a greased 9 x 13 baking pan.

Bake the crust for 5 – 7 minutes.  Remove from the oven and let it cool while you prepare the filling.

Filling:

½ cup + 2 TBSPs. sugar

3 TBSPs. unbleached flour

¼ tsp. grated nutmeg

2 cups frozen triple berries (blueberries, raspberries and blackberries)

In a mixing bowl… combine sugar, flour and nutmeg.  Add the frozen berries.  Using a large spoon, gently stir to mix.

Spread this mixture… evenly over the cooled crust.  Set aside while you make the topping.

Topping:

¼ cup butter – cut into small pieces

½ cup brown sugar

½ cup old fashioned Quaker Oats

½ cup all purpose flour

Combine all ingredients in a mixing bowl.  Using the pastry blender or your fingertips, work the pieces of butter into the sugar, oatmeal and flour.  You should have coarse crumbs.

Sprinkle the topping evenly on top of the filling, pressing it lightly.

Bake for 15 minutes at 400°F.

After 15 minutes… reduce the oven to 350°F and bake for additional 25 minutes or until the edges are light brown.

Cool bars completely, about 3 hours, before cutting.

Serve at room temperature.

Pastry Crust

Pastry crust spread on the bottom of the baking pan…

The Filling – triple berries, sugar, flour and nutmeg.

The Topping…

Baked and cooling…

Cooled and Ready…

Tess’ Kitchen Secret:

#1 – When I have extra time… I grind the oatmeal in the food processor for a smoother texture topping.

#2 – The recipe for the bar crust is also excellent for pies – bottom and top crust.  Just double the recipe… and form into two balls…

Enjoy and Happy Cooking!

Tess

Mrs. Terror – Teacher from Hell

Last night I was reading a book about an animal scientist – a woman who thinks in pictures.  She was born autistic and did not speak even at age two.  She credits her family, teachers and mentors for “surviving in the social jungle.”

As I was reading the first few pages of her book, I was suddenly transported back to my fourth grade class with our teacher from hell.  I don’t know why… but somehow the word teacher triggered my memory about Mrs. Terror.  I do not remember her name, that’s why I am simply going to call her Mrs. Terror.  However, I can vividly remember her frame.  She was built square and heavy, with curly, graying hair.  Hers wasn’t a typical Filipino features.  It was apparent that she had plenty of Spanish blood in her genes, with dark brown eyes and thick lashes to boot.  And so we attributed her meanness and being a terror to her Spanish heritage.  She was very mean and abusive to one particular boy in our class who gets very nervous each time he is called to solve a basic math problem on the black board.

“Reynaldo!”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“On the board… write the problem and solve it.”

Reynaldo slowly got up from his chair and started walking to the front of the class – to the black board.  He picked a white chalk and proceeded to write the problem:

5/__ + 1/9 = 2/3

And then he just stood there.  His eyes fixed on the black board.

“Reynaldo.  What are you doing? You wrote the problem.  Now solve it!”

“Fill in the blank!.”

Reynaldo glanced at Mrs. Terror and shifted his gaze on what he had written and just stood there – frozen.

Whoooossssh – Ugk – Powww!

Mrs. Terror hurled a heavy, hard covered, textbook across the room to Reynaldo.

It whacked him on the head.

Reynaldo kept rubbing his head, with tears in his eyes… the book that hit his head is on the floor, next to his left foot…

“Teresita! On the board!”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Help Reynaldo and solve that problem!”

I must have flew to the front of the class, to the black board, I walked so fast.  A little shaken after witnessing what had just happened.  I prayed that she won’t throw a book at me too… and hit me in the head.

Reynaldo’s head tilted to his right, looking down on the floor… not saying anything.  Just standing there.   His face ashen white.  He must have felt totally humiliated getting hit in the head with big, thick book in front of the class just because he couldn’t solve a basic math problem.

I reached for the white chalk and wrote 9 on the dotted line…

“Very good.”

“Now… you see that Reynaldo! The answer is 9.  The fraction is 5/9.”

“Ye – Ye- Ye- Yess, Ma’am.” Finally looking up.

“Now both of you, take your seats!”

This was one of many occurrences during the whole year in fourth grade.
The whole class was in fear.  We were all afraid to have the thick text book land on our head at a high rate of speed.  Though, I do not recall seeing other kids having a book hurled at them.  I only remembered Reynaldo.  For reasons I didn’t know and still do not know, Mrs. Terror always picked me to help him out! And this kid always froze up each time he was called to solve a problem on the black board.  Now…  I wasn’t sure if he stood frozen because he was terrified, or he simply didn’t know the answer to the problem.  I’m thinking he was overwhelmed with fear and it was simply too much that he froze…

In fourth grade I excelled in Math.  The only time I ever excelled in Math.  I was awarded “Best in Mathematics.” This was because I was so afraid of Mrs. Terror.  I was afraid of not knowing the answer to a math problem if she calls me to the front of the class.  So… every night I stayed up, until my eyes were tired and droopy.  I studied the math book inside the mosquito net with a kerosene lamp, with the mosquito net catching on fire at times which explained the holes in several places.  I wanted to make sure I was prepared when it was my turn to solve the problem on the black board.

In her class we did other things too that weren’t part of the curriculum, like watering her plants inside the classroom; pulling and weeding the tall cogon grass in the back of our building; and every Friday, the whole class went to her house.

Mrs. Terror shared a large house made of bricks and stones, with steel roofing, with her husband who was also a teacher.  A high school teacher in the same school.  She didn’t have a housemaid, though she could have easily afforded one.  And that’s why she brought us to her house every Friday afternoon to do all her house cleaning.  The jobs were divided among the girls and the boys.

“Alright girls… here are some rags.  Here!  Take one for each of you.  Some of you can dust the furniture and cabinets.  The others can wash dishes in the kitchen, and sweep the floor.”

We obediently followed her orders.  We all scattered and do our assigned task while she instructed the boys on what they need to do…

“Boys… you take turns scrubbing the floor.  Here…” She began handing out several coconut husks – mature, whole coconuts with the shell and husk split in halves.  Coconut meat and at least ½ inch of the shell removed from the cut part, exposing more husk.  These were cut and made especially for scrubbing wooden floors.

“Some of you boys can cut the grass…  And be sure to sweep the grounds after you finished…”

We spent our Friday afternoons cleaning Mrs. Terror’s house before she let us go home for the weekend…

Comes Monday… and the week started all over again…

Reynaldo still hasn’t overcome his fear of solving a problem on the black board.  Each week he gets hit in the head with thick and heavy, hard covered text book because he couldn’t solve a problem… and the whole class still went to Mrs. Terror’s house on Friday afternoons… This was what happened in fourth grade each week  until the school year was over… And Mrs. Terror finds her new victims…  The incoming students knew what to expect from Mrs. Terror so they are all terrified.  But there’s no escaping fourth grade…

~~~

This cake is one of the easiest cakes I’ve ever baked.  The recipe for this cake was given to me by our neighbor in Okinawa, Japan.  Her name is Janine.  She was a grade school teacher.  Janine was so unlike Mrs. Terror.  She was kind, generous and a great cook.

We have been living next door to each other for six months before Willie met her…

He was coming home for lunch after a bad morning at work. When he pulled up to our assigned parking, he saw a very pregnant woman holding a little boy with her left arm and struggling to untie a mattress off her Jeep with her right.  My husband briefly looked at the woman and proceeded to the elevator… He was tired and wanted to enjoy his hour lunch break.  He planned to take a quick restful nap.  But as he was ascending to the 8th floor, he had a flash back of how it was… when Ramon was very young and how difficult and troublesome it was for me to do anything with a little boy in tow, especially when he wasn’t around.  He felt so bad that when the elevator door opened on the eight floor, he pushed the button to go back down…  He went back out and saw that Janine was still struggling to get the mattress off her vehicle.

“Hi.  Let me help you with that…”

“Oh thank you.  Thank you very much!”

“I’m Janine and we live on the 8th floor, Apt. 8C.”

“I’m Willie.  I think we live next door to you!”

It took Willie almost 10 minutes to untie the mattress.  He took it up into Janine’s apartment and helped her get her old mattress down; tied it on top of her jeep and drove with her to drop it off… By the time Willie got back to our apartment, his lunch break was over… and so he just hopped into his car and went back to work… He did not get to eat lunch that day… and missed the nap he wanted so badly…

The next day, Janine knocked on our door.

“Hi, my name is Janine.  I met your husband, Willie yesterday.  Actually… he helped me get a mattress up here… “

“I brought you guys a chocolate cake… I want to say thank you.  And I hope you all enjoy it …”

“Wow! Thank you very much…”

“Please tell Willie, THANKS…!”

“No problem.  I’m sure he’s glad to help…”

I liked the cake so much that I asked Janine for the recipe.   And now I’d like to share it with you.  I hope you enjoy it…

Death by Chocolate

Ingredients:

2 cups all purpose flour
1 Tbsp. baking powder
½ tsp. baking soda
2 cups sugar
2 large eggs
1 stick or ½ cup butter
1 cup sour cream
½ cup water
2 tsp. vanilla extract
½ cup plus 2 Tbsp. cocoa powder
1 (12 ounces) pkg. semi-sweet chocolate chips
Powdered sugar

Sift flour, baking powder, and baking soda twice.  Place in a small bowl.

Beat the sugar and eggs in large mixing bowl until sugar is dissolved.  Add butter and mix into egg mixture thoroughly.

Add sour cream, water, vanilla extract and beat.

Slowly add flour mixture and cocoa powder and beat slowly just until the flour is absorbed.  Do not over beat.  Fold in chocolate chips,

Pour into buttered bundt pan.  Bake at 350F for 50 – 60 minutes.  When cool sift powdered sugar on top.

Serve with French Vanilla ice cream and chocolate syrup drizzled on top.

the batter and before baking

fresh from the oven

moist and chocolaty. you can see the chocolate chips buried and  melted throughout.

Tess’ Kitchen Secrets

#1 – When using a dark coated bundt pan, the cake will bake faster.  Here, this cake was done in 50 minutes. I use a bamboo skewer to test the doneness by inserting it into the cake.  It should come out with cake crumbs not wet batter.

#2 – When sifting flour, I simply use a medium size fine strainer.  I get the same result.

Enjoy and Happy Cooking!

Tess

You’re A Bastard!

Me and My Dad… I was 13 in this picture, a few days before i left home to live with my half-sister…

“You’re A Bastard!”

“No I’m not!”

“Yes you are!”

“Why would say that?”

“Are your mom and dad married?”

“Yeah.  They called themselves husband and wife.  So yeah, they’re married!  My mom was called Mrs. all the time… and my dad Mr.”

“Me and my brothers and sisters, have been baptized in a Catholic church and on the birth certificates Felix M. was listed as our father.  So there.  I am not a bastard!?”

“But you are.  Just say – you are a bastard.”

“You know… if you don’t leave me alone… I’m going kick your fuckin’ ass!”

Of course I’m in no position to kick anyone’s ass.  I might get my ass kicked instead.  But hey… at least I can bluff!  But this is how cruel our jokes can become at times…

OK… One fact did exist.  “No Eday (baby)… your dad and I were never married in church.  He loved me and I loved him.  So… we just started living together.  And then I got pregnant with you.  And then your two brothers came… four more children after that.”

They lived together and they had us!  I have never ever heard of the word bastard.  Nobody called anybody a bastard and I am sure most of the people we knew their parents did not marry in church either.  Getting married in church wasn’t an issue with my parents.  I don’t ever remember them discussing it.  They were too busy trying to figure out how they were going to feed their babies.  Babies they were cranking out as fast as a factory in China cranks out Ipads.

In my heart and soul… I am a legitimate daughter of Vicenta and Felix and so as my brothers and sisters. Them not being married in church really has nothing to do with us.  We’ve arrived into this world and can’t say a damn thing about it.

Was I bothered about it?  Yes… maybe a little.  I never hated my dad.  But there is one thing that I hold against him ‘till he died… The fact that after he left my mom, after 13 years of being together, and seven children later, though their second to the youngest died when she was only two… my dad had the audacity to marry another woman in a civil ceremony!  I had already left home at that time.  I was 13 years old when I found out.  I felt sorry for my mom… because she was left to support herself and two young daughters and a son – ages seven, five and three.  My younger brothers, who were 11 and 9 years old went to live with him… Well, really, my mom sent them to live with our dad because she cannot afford to feed them.  But I think the worst part about what he did was that the woman she left my mother for, was a widow with five children of her own.  What the fuck!  What was he thinking?  Of course at that time I was only 13… I was hurt by what he did but did not express my feelings to him.  Part of me blamed my mom… with her snide remarks and constant nagging.

In the Philippines… when poor men or husbands leave their wives and children for another woman… there’s no collecting child support or alimony.  The wife is basically left with nothing and must shoulder the responsibility of feeding and clothing the children.  She doesn’t get help from the ex-husband.  She has to endure the pain all on her own…

Recently though… I decided to read up the on the family code of the Philippines.  Here’s what I found out…

“Art. 34 of the family code states: No license shall be necessary for the marriage of a man and a woman who have lived together as husband and wife for at least five years and without any legal impediment to marry each other. The contracting parties shall state the foregoing facts in an affidavit before any person authorized by law to administer oaths. The solemnizing officer shall also state under oath that he ascertained the qualifications of the contracting parties are found no legal impediment to the marriage. (76a)”

But how would this code be interpreted then, when my dad married another woman, in a civil ceremony after he left my mom…?

But does it really matter?  Yeah.  Maybe.

I wanted to win this argument!

I guess… I have to keep reading the family code…

On a second thought…

Maybe… maybe I’ll dig my dad from his grave……

~~~

The orange juice glazed on the pork chops is what makes the pork chops tender… and all the herbs and seasonings… make it spicy.  Of course…. If you don’t like it spicy… you can always cut back on the cayenne pepper.

This is fairly easy to make… I think.  I have served this dish with potato pancakes, roasted potatoes, corn bread and rice.

Herbed and Spiced Pork Chops with Glazed Carrots

Ingredients:

• 4 thick pork chops (center or ribs chops)
• Cajun spice mix – see recipe below
• 6 TBSPs. extra light olive oil or vegetable oil divided
• Glazed carrots – see recipe below
• 1½ freshly squeezed orange juice – about 3 large oranges (seeds strained and discarded)
• Glazed Carrots:
• 3 carrots – peeled and julienned
• 1 tsp. dried thyme
• 2 TBSPs.  olive oil
• 1 tsp. kosher salt
• ¼ tsp. freshly ground black pepper

In a large bowl, combine carrots, thyme, olive oil, salt and black pepper.  Set aside.

Cajun Spice Mix

• ¼ cup kosher salt
• 2 TBSPs. cayenne pepper (reduce according to your heat tolerance)
• 2 TBSPs. paprika
• ¼ cup granulated garlic
• 2 TBSPs. black pepper
• 2 TBSPs onion powder
• 2 TBSPs dried oregano

In a medium size bowl or plastic container, combine all the ingredients listed for Cajun Spice Mix.  Set aside.

Preheat the oven at 425°F.

Wash pork chops.  Wipe excess water with paper towels.

Measure 8 TBSPs. of the cajun spice mix into a deep dish or baking pan.   Store the remaining spice mix in a glass container, tightly covered.

Dredge each pork chop with the spice mix.

Heat a frying pan and add 3 tablespoons olive oil.  Sear pork chops, two at a time, until golden brown, about 3 minutes on each side.

After searing first batch, you may have to scrape the spices that got stuck in the pan and reserve this in a small bowl.  Wipe the pan with paper towel.  Add the remaining olive oil and continue searing the rest of the pork chops.

Transfer the pork chops into a large baking pan.  (I use a Pyrex glass rectangular pan.)

Pour the freshly squeezed orange juice into the pan, add back the bits and pieces of herbs reserved in a bowl.  Bring this mixture to a boil over medium heat. And then pour the boiling mixture over the pork chops.

Bake pork chops for 15 – 20 minutes or until the orange juice thicken a bit.

After 15 – 20 minutes of baking… spread the glazed carrots on top of the pork chops and bake for another 10 minutes.

Serve hot with potato pancakes, roasted potatoes, corn bread or rice.

Pork chops after searing in the hot pan.

Freshly squeezed orange juice.  Just need to strain and discard the seeds.

Julienned carrots with olive oil, herbs and spices.

Tess’ Kitchen Secrets:

#1 – freshly squeezed orange juice.  the acid from the orange juice makes the pork chops tender and juicy.

#2 – by cleaning and wiping the frying pan, the pork chops brown easily

Enjoy and Happy Cooking!

Tess