A Verb Made Me Hungry, And The Funny Names Of Dishes
Last night, I ate out with my wife, her sisters, and their husbands. The eldest sister had a sudden craving for seafood, and invited us all to come along.
"Sige," my wife said. "Kung libre ba ninyo. Kung hindi, huwag na."
All of us arrived at the restaurant fairly early, so none of us were particularly hungry and spent some time chatting. After a few minutes, I spied this quote from Jeff Smith, The Frugal Gourmet, on the upper-right-hand corner of the paper placemat:
"Don't overcook. Most seafoods should be simply threatened with heat and celebrated with joy."
And with that clever use of the verb "threaten", I suddenly became famished. I imagined shrimp, prawn, and especially crab, turning from gray to orange in a matter of seconds, like stop-motion animation, while being marinated in an olive-oiled sizzling skillet. The next image made my stomach protest even more: all this food on a large plate, still drenched and dripping with said olive-oil, and drowned in spoonfuls of garlic shreds. (Trivia: I learned from another of my wife's sisters last night that a spoonful of olive oil is 120 calories. It takes 30 minutes of brisk walking to burn 100 calories. Just thought you'd like to know).
"Order na tayo," I said.
"Maaga pa. Appetizer muna."
"Gutom na ako."
They laughed at me, but indulged me, and I was happy; we went and ordered that dish that had invaded my mind (it's called Crab Maritess, perhaps named after the person who created the recipe, or perhaps it's the first crab to be cooked this way, a pet named Maritess).
While crunching through the food after it was served, someone brought up the subject of that expensive Chinese soup, Buddha Jumps Over The Fence (or Wall, in some cases). Though readily available, I had tasted it only once in my life because it costs so much. My bilas said that it's usually served only with lauriat tables that cost at least P20,000.00, though he knew of restaurants that can serve it by itself, without the accompanying dishes; it would still cost in the range of P5,000.00. The story goes that Buddha caught the aroma of this soup wafting over from a neighbor's house and was so taken by the smell that he jumped the fence to ask his friend if he could have a serving; hence, the dish's name.
"Masarap nga," I said, remembering how it tasted. "That soup is a real threat...to the wallet."
"Eh, yung Soup No. 5?" someone else remarked. "Better than Viagra! Strength of a bull!"
Soup No. 5 is a Filipino dish made from bull's testicles and is believed to have aphrodisiac properties. No one admitted ever having tried it. I know I haven't. Honest. (I have a feeling Hong Kong gangs would like to serve their own version of Soup No. 5, Edison Chen style. Hehehe).
After we were done, Atsi was still in an eating mood. One of the other sisters suggested a crepe place, so that's where we ended up. But by then the "threat" was over for me, and I was content with just a few bites from my wife's plate. She, however, enjoyed her order, a crepe called The Fantastic Pinay: simple mango crepe with ice cream and whipped cream on top, fresh off the hot plate, and doused in chocolate syrup. Eviiill!
"Sated" is a good way to describe all our states when we drove home.
In any case, the use of the right verb last night jump-started my imagination, my salivary glands, and my stomach-acids. Consider this while reading or writing: how the use of the most appropriate verb--like the nifty "threaten" when related to heat and seafood--can enhance a sentence by leaps and bounds, and bring out a desired reaction.
And all these dishes' names! They're like characters in stories themselves!
"I am the most expensive and exquisite of you all!" said Buddha Jumps Over The Fence, nose up.
"You want to say that again?" said Crab Maritess, claws clacking. (Oh! And threatening).
"But none of you are 'Fantastic', haay!" said The Fantastic Pinay.
"Laban nalang!" said Soup No. 5. "Let's fight! Um...foursome wrestling?"
"Sige," my wife said. "Kung libre ba ninyo. Kung hindi, huwag na."
All of us arrived at the restaurant fairly early, so none of us were particularly hungry and spent some time chatting. After a few minutes, I spied this quote from Jeff Smith, The Frugal Gourmet, on the upper-right-hand corner of the paper placemat:
"Don't overcook. Most seafoods should be simply threatened with heat and celebrated with joy."
And with that clever use of the verb "threaten", I suddenly became famished. I imagined shrimp, prawn, and especially crab, turning from gray to orange in a matter of seconds, like stop-motion animation, while being marinated in an olive-oiled sizzling skillet. The next image made my stomach protest even more: all this food on a large plate, still drenched and dripping with said olive-oil, and drowned in spoonfuls of garlic shreds. (Trivia: I learned from another of my wife's sisters last night that a spoonful of olive oil is 120 calories. It takes 30 minutes of brisk walking to burn 100 calories. Just thought you'd like to know).
"Order na tayo," I said.
"Maaga pa. Appetizer muna."
"Gutom na ako."
They laughed at me, but indulged me, and I was happy; we went and ordered that dish that had invaded my mind (it's called Crab Maritess, perhaps named after the person who created the recipe, or perhaps it's the first crab to be cooked this way, a pet named Maritess).
While crunching through the food after it was served, someone brought up the subject of that expensive Chinese soup, Buddha Jumps Over The Fence (or Wall, in some cases). Though readily available, I had tasted it only once in my life because it costs so much. My bilas said that it's usually served only with lauriat tables that cost at least P20,000.00, though he knew of restaurants that can serve it by itself, without the accompanying dishes; it would still cost in the range of P5,000.00. The story goes that Buddha caught the aroma of this soup wafting over from a neighbor's house and was so taken by the smell that he jumped the fence to ask his friend if he could have a serving; hence, the dish's name.
"Masarap nga," I said, remembering how it tasted. "That soup is a real threat...to the wallet."
"Eh, yung Soup No. 5?" someone else remarked. "Better than Viagra! Strength of a bull!"
Soup No. 5 is a Filipino dish made from bull's testicles and is believed to have aphrodisiac properties. No one admitted ever having tried it. I know I haven't. Honest. (I have a feeling Hong Kong gangs would like to serve their own version of Soup No. 5, Edison Chen style. Hehehe).
After we were done, Atsi was still in an eating mood. One of the other sisters suggested a crepe place, so that's where we ended up. But by then the "threat" was over for me, and I was content with just a few bites from my wife's plate. She, however, enjoyed her order, a crepe called The Fantastic Pinay: simple mango crepe with ice cream and whipped cream on top, fresh off the hot plate, and doused in chocolate syrup. Eviiill!
"Sated" is a good way to describe all our states when we drove home.
In any case, the use of the right verb last night jump-started my imagination, my salivary glands, and my stomach-acids. Consider this while reading or writing: how the use of the most appropriate verb--like the nifty "threaten" when related to heat and seafood--can enhance a sentence by leaps and bounds, and bring out a desired reaction.
And all these dishes' names! They're like characters in stories themselves!
"I am the most expensive and exquisite of you all!" said Buddha Jumps Over The Fence, nose up.
"You want to say that again?" said Crab Maritess, claws clacking. (Oh! And threatening).
"But none of you are 'Fantastic', haay!" said The Fantastic Pinay.
"Laban nalang!" said Soup No. 5. "Let's fight! Um...foursome wrestling?"
posted by pgenrestories at 6:26 AM
2 Comments:
YUP! Crab Maritess forever! But that Buddha thing frightens me...especially my pocket. I'll just go for real Chinese soup, just add 1 egg.
Hi anonymous! I agree with you that the crab tasted great. And I wholeheartedly agree with you that the Buddha soup is scary-expensive! :)
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