It’s flattering when my girls ask me to cook dishes that they consider my “specialty.” It’s like saying, you know, it’s something I do well and they love it. But, sometimes, they carry things to extreme lengths. Like “ordering” waffles for breakfast and posting the “order” on the bedroom door like one does in a hotel.
That’s Sam’s “order” on her bedroom door. As you can guess from the stain on one corner, it’s been there for a long time — like a standing order. Well, we can have waffles for breakfast on some days but NOT everyday.
And because she feels “deprived” because she lives on what she calls “condo food” five days out of each week (take note that she brings home cooked ulam to the condo every week), she wants a FEAST every time she’s home. She wants lengua every Friday evening when she arrives home for the weekend (no way, lengua is too expensive to be a weekly staple) and she expects a freshly baked cake too. My, my, demanding, isn’t she?
And she always has this drama about eating crap during schooldays. Like… like, just recently, she told us how, for a week, she ate her ulam (brought from home) with corn flakes because there was no rice in the condo. No rice? Yes, well, there’s a rice cooker but she forgot to bring the rice that we bought. And instead of buying cooked rice from the oh, so many eateries in the area, she ate her ulam with corn flakes. And she was acting like she was oh, poor Sam.
Of course, it’s just drama (insert: oh, she’s gonna get at me for using the word drama so, okay, food around her school sucks — happy, Sam?). What she really means is feed me because I miss home cooked meals and eating with the family. I understand.
But not every wish can be granted. Because some are just too darn capricious. There have been times when Sam wants one thing for dinner and Alex wants another. And they squabble over whose “order” gets granted. And I’m like, hey, I’m not running a restaurant here. No kitchen staff, no waiters. I cook one dish per meal and that’s that.
And just what does their father say when demands are flying all over the house? Oh, he gives his own preference. You know, like when Sam wants pasta with white sauce and Alex wants pasta with red sauce, Speedy asks for something else. One time, I gave him a dagger look and he laughed and said it was a joke. Hell, it better be because the Speedy I married eats anything except okra and pancit lomi.
So, if you’re wondering where the heck I get all the materials for the food blog, well… I just try to keep up with what my family wants to eat.