Banamana

RD and I were in the kitchen when I saw a super brown banana peel in the bin.





I said, “Thank goodness Dad ate the dying banana... unless you did.”





“I did,” he said, then confessed, “but it wasn’t very good.”





“Oh, thanks for that but you do know that you could have put it in the fridge or the freezer so that it could become...”





I paused and as if on cue he broke out in song to the tune of Mahna Mahna and went,

"Banana bread, do do do do do"

“And maybe...” I said, to which he continued singing,

"Banana muffin, do do do do"

He was on a roll, so I prompted him with, “And finally...”

"Banana shake  do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do"

Needless to say, we had a lot of laughs.

The Birds and the Bees

RD and I have been trying to get some exercise into our lives so we would typically wake up early and jog around a nearby park.  This morning, it was quite warm and RD was feeling a bit tired, so we decided to walk instead.  Walking enabled us to talk.  

RD has been known to ask question related to the birds and the bees, but this morning, his question was even more intriguing.  "Mom, why do they even call it 'the birds and the bees'?"

I suddenly realised that I have used that term so many times without really knowing where it came from or why it was called such.  RD said the flowers and the bees might have been more appropriate.  After some thought I remembered that "the birds and the bees" came from a song.  I promised RD I'd look it up so that we could get to the bottom of this mystery.

So let me tell you about the birds and the bees...


The Birds and the Bees ... and the Spiders -- 22 August 2008

RD posed an interesting question last night. He asked, "Mom, can a spider give birth on its own?"

I paused to think of the right answer to that question then said, "Of course, sweetheart.  A spider can give birth on its own.  A spider doesn't need a doctor to have a baby, not like people."

"No, Mom,"  he shook his head and started over.  "What I meant was -- can a spider give birth on its own or does it need two spiders to have a baby spider?"

(Ahh ... the plot thickens.)

"Why do you ask?"

"Because yesterday there was only one spider over the sink.  And now, there are two."

"Oh, RD"  I said, "I think that other spider was already there before but you just didn't see it.  You need two spiders to make a baby spider."

You'd think that was the end of that ... but NOOOOO. 

This evening, he comes up to me and reports, "Mom, I think those two spiders are mad and don't want to talk to each other.  It's either that or they are sleeping."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because Mom, they are far away from each other and they are not moving."

(This is what I get for allowing spiders to spin their webs over the sink -- a 10-year old relational psychoanalyst for arachnids.)

(Too Early for Comfort) Birds and Bees Conversation – 17 December 2006

RD came up with a question the other morning that threw me off a bit.  He asked, “Mom, is it possible for a baby to come if the mom is not married?”

Hard question.

As always, I answered truthfully. I replied, “Yes, sweetheart.  It’s possible for a baby to come if the mom is not married.” 

“How does it happen, Mom?  Magic?”

I had to smile.  Of course there is magic when a child is born, but I don’t think that is what RD REALLY meant.

I cautiously answered, “For a baby to come, the mom doesn’t HAVE to be married.  But of course it’s better if the mom is married so that she and the dad can take care of the baby.  What is needed, RD is the mom and the dad.”

If I thought everything would end there, I would have been dreaming, right?

True enough, RD asked the hard follow up question.  He asked, “Why?”

“Well … “ I started, “that’s the …”

I got off the hook easy this time because RD ventured to complete my sentence.  He said, “… that’s the proper procedure?”

“Yes, sweetheart, you’re right.  That’s the proper procedure.”

[End of discussion.]

THE BIRDS AND THE BEES 

Let me tell you about the birds, and the bees the flowers and the trees
The moon up above and a thing called love

When I look into your big brown eyes it's very plain to see
That it's time you learned about the facts of life startin' from A to Z 

Let me tell you about the birds, and the bees the flowers and the trees
The moon up above, and a thing called love 

Let me tell you about the birds, and the bees the flowers, and the trees The stars in the sky a girl, and a guy 

The birds, and the bees the flowers, and the treesThe stars in the sky

a girl and a guy ....the birds, and the bees ...

Your Days are Numbered, Buddy

While GI and I were seated at the Emergency Room, waiting for him to be seen, I glanced at the paperwork they had given me and was impressed at how efficient they are here.  On the paper was a printed gummed label with his name, address, date of birth, age, contact number, etc.

I said, "GI, you're already 22 years and 5 months.  Wow!"

He replied, "Yeah, I know.  I'm so old.  I'm as old as Manong was when we were still kids back home in Manila."  (Manong is his oldest first cousin, ten years his senior.)

He followed this up with. "Did you know that for babies, one day is such a long time, while for people like me, one day can go by so fast?  It's true, Mom.  One month for a baby is like a long, long time, but for me it just passes by so fast. Imagine how it is for older people.  People who are ...."

He paused because he saw me glaring at him.

I prodded him to finish his sentence, "Yes, GI?  What were you going to say?"

He slowly and sheepishly replied, "... forty?"

I gave him the death stare and reminded him, "You do know that I'm turning 50 this year, right?"

"Ummm... ahhhh....." was all he could say.

I was still staring at him, feigning hurt.

"But it's true, Mom.  Time is different for babies."

(He just didn't know when to quit.)

"GI, that's not helping."

"I love you, Mom," he said, and reached over to give me a kiss.

"I know, sweetheart,"  I replied and smiled.

But the 'time is relative' thing must still have been on his mind because he followed this up with a story about how there was a test where older people were blindfolded and asked to indicate when they felt a minute was up.  Most of the older people allowed almost two minutes to pass before saying that a minute was up.

I frowned then flashed a teasing 'if looks could kill' face at him.

He straightened up then repeated, "I love you, Mom,"  then started making waving motions with his left hand.

I laughed when I understood that he was "waving a white flag."

"You should add this," I said and started making "digging your own grave" motion.

A couple of nights later, during our dinner conversation, RD said, "Have you seen Will Smith?   He so fit but he's so old!  He's in his 50's!"

I interrupted RD and said, "What are you saying, RD?"

RD was focused on how fit Will Smith looked that it didn't register to him that he had just equated 50's to 'so old.'

"Turning fifty."  I said flatly as I tapped myself on the chest.

The implication of his words suddenly dawned on him.

"Oh!" RD cried and immediately started making waving motions with his right hand.

I called out to GI who was at his desk at the time, and relayed what had just happened.  GI laughed and motioned back to RD for him to start digging, too.

Yesterday, I was on Skype with Sunshine Girl.  GI and RD were with me while she was with her eight-year old son Ronald.  The connection wasn't the best so I told them I would be switching devices.  I closed the Skype session from the iPad and reconnected on my laptop.  When we rang back, it was only Ronald on the other side of the call.  We chatted with him and out of the blue, RD said, "Ronald, if anyone asks you how old your mom is, say she's 18.  Trust me, it will save you a lot of trouble."

I found it amusing so I typed RD's expert advice on the chat window for Sunshine Girl to read.  When Sunshine Girl returned, she noticed the message and read it out.  After reading it, she turned to her son and asked, "Ronald, how old am I?"

Without any hesitation, truthful young Ronald replied, "Forty-six."

We burst out in laughter.

RD called out to Ronald, "Ronald, Ronald, I'll teach you something else," and he promptly showed his cousin how to "wave the white flag."

Then GI joined in and taught him the motions of "digging your own grave."

A Loaf of Bread, A Container of Milk and a Stick of Butter

I caught Slash-M on Skype today. He was busy working on something.

It seemed as if he was making a ransom note or something.

He explained that they were refrigerator magnets for their grocery list.

There were Swedish words on the magnets and he was sorting them.

I could not help but laugh.  Is this fridge magnet grocery list a GUY THING?

Check out our grocery list care of MacGyver. 

He printed out the grocery list and glued them on refrgerator magnets

which he later cut up to size.

The theory is stick the grocery items we need onto the blank GROCERY LIST

when supplies run low and move them back to the side once they have been purchased.

And as you can see, GI had his own idea of what should be in the grocery list.  

He has added PIZZA into the grocery list (permanently).

It Was Different

Fridays of Lent pose a challenge in terms of meals.  We try to observe the prescribed abstinence from meat so we have to be creative in terms of what we serve.

If we served oatmeal, muesli or cereals for breakfast, we might have a mutiny in our hands or very hungry children at the end of a schoolday.  So crabsticks replaced hotdogs / sausage in Chinese fried rice for breakfast one morning.   Tuna or egg sandwiches are acceptable lunch for the two young ones who normally bring burger or chicken sandwiches to school.  Dinner would likely be a toss up between fish fingers and tuna bake.

MacGyver had just arrived from the night shift last Friday making me in charge of the food for the kids.  Mushroom and cheese omelet found its way to the breakfast table even if there was some homemade breakfast sausage or skinless longganisa in the fridge.   For lunch, I asked what kind of sandwich they wanted -- tuna or egg.  Normally RD just brings a single sandwich to school but he was gearing up for a long day so he replied 'Both.' MyGirl replied with an enthusiastic, "Egg for me."  (I almost forgot, she LOVES egg sandwiches.)

RD went up to change his clothes while MyGirl finished her breakfast.  I pulled out the pre-mixed tuna with mayonnaise ready for sandwiches from the fridge as well as two boiled eggs.  I finished packing RD's tuna sandwich and started on the egg sandwiches.  After I had made one of the egg sandwiches, I had a bright idea -- add smoked paprika to the egg sandwich.  (Genius!)

"Do you want paprika on your egg sandwich, MyGirl?"  

"No, Mom.  Just put cheese."

"Should we put some on the one for RD?  Do you think he'll notice?"

She thought about it for a while then replied, "He'll notice that it's different, Mom.  Please don't put too much." (The loving sister speaks.)

I sprinkled some paprika on the second sandwich just as RD was coming down the stairs. If RD had been looking my way, he would have seen the mischief in my eyes.

As I cleared the dishes, I tasted the egg bits from the bowl.   My thoughts?  Oh dear, I might have added too much salt in that brew. 

That evening, I asked MyGirl if her egg sandwich was too salty.  She replied that it was fine.  So I moved on to RD, concerned over salt AND paprika.

"RD, how was your egg sandwich?"

He took a while to reply then finally said, "Ummm ... it was different."

MyGirl and I burst into laughter.

"What it different OK or different not OK, RD?"

"It tasted good, Mom, but it was just different."

I confessed that I had done a test on his sandwich and had added smoked paprika.  

Although he was happy with the egg sandwich, he was not pleased with the fact that I had experimented  on a day that he needed two sandwiches.  

"MOM!  Please don't experiment with my sandwiches on a Friday."

In hind sight, Fridays are the best day to experiment with his sandwiches because at least he could still fall back on the other sandwich in case my experiment was a failure.  

Don't you agree, RD?

P.S.  I love you.

Super Frog

I saw this poster at QVB and I just had to take a picture.

It reminded me of a GI kidbit.

The year was probably 1996 or 1997.  GI was about 3 or 4.  I had to bring him to the office. MacGyver set him up with some games in the laptop to keep him busy.  One of my teammates came over to keep him company at some point during the day.

"Hi GI.  What are you playing?"

"Superfwog,"  GI said.

"Oh, Superfwog,"  my friend said, repeating what GI had said.

GI was not pleased at being misunderstood so he patiently corrected my friend.

He said, "Not Superfwog.  SuperFWOG!"

Bread Company

Remember my last post where I had a recipe for No Knead Bread which I wanted to try?

Well here is the bread, complete with rosemary (from the "garden")!

We baked it yesterday.

Since it needed 4 1/2 cup of flour,

the loaf yield was quite decent.

I sliced the loaf and announced, "Bread!"

GI came over and got a slice.  He topped it with some sliced ham and placed it inside the oven toaster. (The sliced ham is something that GI had purchased from the grocery for his sandwiches. The rest of the family knows it belongs to him.)

I decided to toast a slice for myself so I nudged his slice of bread to the left and placed mine beside his.  When the oven toaster timer rang, GI came over to pick up his bread.

"Oh!  My bread has company!"  he exclaimed as he saw my slice of bread in the toaster.

"It was lonely,"  I explained.   

GI laughed.

Then I added, "My bread is lonely too. It's missing sliced ham."

(GI did not find that funny.)

Toast to Toast

I grew up in a country where there was a bakery within walking distance of practically every household and sliced bread was called 'Tasty'.  (Can someone please tell me why.  Is that a brand from the 1950's?)   Anyway, we made sandwiches with these slices of bread; and if we toasted the bread, we called it toast.   Imagine my surprise when I went to the grocery's bread section here in Australia and discovered that there is WHITE SANDWICH bread and WHITE TOAST bread.  In other words, in the Land Down Under, all toast is bread but not all bread is toast.   

(Toast bread slices are slightly thicker than ordinary sandwich bread slices.   If you think about it, it is perfectly logical because you would typically put butter and jam on ONE slice of toast but you will need TWO slices of bread to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.)

Back home, one of the more common wedding gift items would be a toaster oven commonly known as a "toaster".  Almost every household would have one to toast their bread  (and heat other snacks or even cook hotdogs or sausages).  These toasters would come in a range of sizes from small ones that could fit two slices of bread side by side, all the way to big ones that could bake a whole cake.    Fast forward to Australia where most households have 'real' toasters, the kinds where the bread slices go in vertically rather than horizontally.  Toaster ovens are not too common. 

But old habits die hard.  In our household, bread is bread and you can make sandwich or toast with either kind of bread.  And though someone handed down a toaster for us to use, there was that nagging feeling of a missing appliance called the toaster oven.   

One day, I was surprised to come home to a "new" toaster oven!  

Hurrah!   MacGyver had found a second hand one being sold on Gumtree. Just like that, we now had an appliance to heat our muffins or pizza slices, to make grilled cheese and cinnamon toast, etc.  What a joy!

The kids are pretty creative and self-sufficient when it comes to finding and making their own snacks.  Prior to the arrival of this toaster oven, they would microwave some cheese on top of crackers.  Now, they are able to make cinnamon toast and the like.

Last Saturday, I decided to make try a new cinnamon rolls recipe.  There was some cinnamon sugar left so MyGirl decided to make some cinnamon toast.  I heard the toaster oven timer go off and watched MyGirl retrieve her cinnamon toast.  I took one look at the bread on her plate and asked, "Are you sure those are done?"   (When you have toasted as many slices of bread with butter and sugar as I have, you can tell if the toaster has done its job or not.  Done properly, the butter melts into the sugar and there is a nice crusty top.)   

She took a bite and concluded that something WAS wrong. Her toast was cold. Eventually she figured out that the outlet was switched off.  In her defense, she said he had set it for five minutes and had heard the timer ring.  She promptly flipped the switch on and proceeded to redo her cinnamon toast.  

The next day, we picked GI up from work.  He had brought home several slices of pizza from work and wanted to heat them.  Although the microwave would heat the pizza slices faster, the toaster would give the crispy texture. He placed his pizza in the toaster then set the timer for five minutes. He quickly headed for the outlet and flipped the switch on and announced, "I almost forgot."

RD was on the couch and witnessed the unfolding events.  When he saw GI flip the outlet switch on, he exclaimed, "Oh that's why my cinnamon toast didn't quite taste right!"

I couldn't resist teasing him, I just found it so funny that he would realise several hours after he had eaten, that he didn't actually have had cinnamon toast; what he had was cinnamon "toast".

"How many pieces did you have?"  (Two.)  "Didn't you notice that your bread was cold? (sheepish smile)   

He said he had wondered whether five minutes was not enough time to toast the bread properly and that in hindsight, no wonder the tray was cold.

Dinner Poll Result : Pizza

This was the conversation we had the other week.

"What's for dinner, Mom?"

"Pizza."

"Really?  Why?" 

Can you sense the surprise?  And did you see that follow up question?

Yes, that is a good question, 'WHY?'  

Well, if you ask me why I decided to make pizza for dinner that night, I would have to answer 'because that is what the boys requested.' (It is true.  I had asked the kids at lunchtime what they wanted for dinner and both boys replied, "Pizza.")

If you were to ask the kids why they wanted pizza for dinner,  they would probably look at you as if I were asking them if they wanted to breathe and say something like, 'Do you need to ask WHY we want to have pizza for dinner.  Don't you know?  You don't NEED a reason to have pizza for dinner!' (And that would seem the perfectly logical answer as far as they were concerned.)

In fairness to them, they were surprised because I actually MADE pizza.   I honestly can't count the number of times I have asked them what they wanted to have for a meal and they have answered 'pizza.'  

I suppose they figure that I would eventually get the message and realise that given a choice, they would always go for pizza.  (I now realise the question should be 'why do I even ask?')

Just this afternoon, RD was on the keyboards when I went downstairs.  I asked him what he wanted for lunch and without missing a beat he replied, "Pizza."  

I had to quickly rephrase my question to include the parameters.   "What do you want for lunch that is in the refrigerator?"

Below is another pizza dough recipe I use.   Although it is easy enough to buy pizza bases or even Lebanese bread in the grocery to make pizza, there is a certain satisfaction to making it from scratch.  You just knead it.  

Pizza Dough  
Makes 2 medium pizzas

2 t  dry yeast
1 t  sugar

¾ c warm water

½ teaspoon of salt
2 cups flour
2 T oil

1.  Mix the warm water, yeast and sugar. (I usually do this in the glass measuring cup where I heated the water.) Stir well with a fork.  Set aside for about 5 minutes, until mixture starts to bubble.   

2.  Sift flour into a bowl. Add salt and stir together to combine.

3.   Make a well in the flour and pour in yeast mixture.  Add oil.  Draw in flour with a fork and and mix well to form a ball of dough. Knead the dough on a floured surface for 7 – 10 minutes until 

4.  Place the ball of dough into an oiled bowl (I normally just oil the same bowl). Cover with plastic wrap or a tea towel. Put the bowl in a warm place and leave for 30 minutes until double in size.

5.  Punch down the dough and knead on a lightly floured surface.

6.  Halve the ball of dough, and roll out to make 2 pizza bases.

To use:  Spread tomato paste and toppings.  Bake in pre-heated oven for 10-15 minutes at  200°C. 

March of the Penguins

This was on display in one of the bookstores along George Street.  It reminded me of a movie we'd seen several years back and a kidbit I had written about it.   

Movie Preview : March of the Penguins -- 01 October 2005

I got to watch March of the Penguins last night. It was a beautiful movie about the mating rituals of the emperor penguin. The cast had no stars except for the penguins. Morgan Freeman's was the only voice. The scenery was almost purely that of snow and ice. But I really enjoyed watching it. Half the fun of watching this movie was seeing it with RD.

When RD joined me, he saw penguins marching in single file across the vast expanse of ice. There were no people on screen, there seemed to be no dialogue and there was no action. He sat himself beside me, put his hand under his chin and said, "Boy, this is a BORING movie!"

After a while, maybe to make up for the lack of conversation in the movie, he engaged in small talk. "Mom? Where do you think this was taken? The North Pole? Oh, no, not the North Pole, because Santa Claus is there. In the South Pole. It must be in the South Pole.

As the movie relayed, the penguins mate and the mother lays an egg. This takes two months. When RD heard this, he looked at me and said, "For people it takes nine months, right? Does this mean that nine months before, the mom and dad know that they'll have a baby?"

After the mother lays her egg, the egg is passed on to the father, who stays and protects the egg. The mother goes back to the sea to eat because thus far she would have lost 1/3 of her weight. By the time she returns, the egg will have hatched. The baby penguin will transfer from father to mother. The mother will care for the baby penguin as the father journeys to the sea to take his turn for food. Morgan Freeman relayed time frames for these various phases. Somewhere during this part of the movie, RD did some mental calculations and informed me, "For people, if they start in January, by September, they'll be done already."

Finally, the movie showed the harsh realities of survival of the fittest. They showed scenes where the eggs froze, where a seal ate the mother penguin, baby penguins almost eaten by predator birds, and worst, baby penguins that died of the cold. RD told me repeatedly, "I don't think (Grand)Mother would like to watch this movie. It's too sad for her."

By and large, RD enjoyed the movie. It wasn't as boring as he had originally thought. He found it interesting and amazing, but most of all, sad.

The display also reminded me of Mindy.  Why?  Perhaps it was because she was fond of another familiar penguin.

Orange You Glad I Have a Sense of Humour?

I have been wanting to check out the Victoria's Basement outlet about 2 km away from our place. They are having a "Countdown to Stocktake Clearance Sale" and of course I wouldn't want to miss that. (Victoria's Basement sells an assortment of cookware, bakeware, glassware, electrical appliances, and more.)

We had planned on going last weekend but something came up. So early yesterday morning, I asked MacGyver if he would drive me over to check out the sale. When he agreed, I mentioned this to MyGirl. She was excited to join us. (As you may know, she is my partner in crime when it comes to baking.)

In the afternoon, as we were about to leave, RD said he wanted to come as well. So all four of us piled into the car and went to Victoria's Basement.

Two minutes into the store and I knew I should have left RD at home. He was hovering like a shadow as I walked down the aisle. How can anyone stop and browse if one is being trailed at such proximity? He was acting like a prison guard walking a prisoner through the yard. It was as if I was not allowed to stop.

When I stopped to look at kitchen gadgets, I could sense that he couldn't understand why I was stopping. I am sure there were many instances when he wished he could just drag me towards the exit.

We weren't in the store for five minutes and already he was asking what time we were going home.

Arrggghhh!!

Thankfully, after a while, he let me and MyGirl walk at our own pace as he and MacGyver wandered around.

After about an hour, I guess the boys figured they had given the girls sufficient time, they walked along with us. Seeing that we hadn't really picked up anything much to buy, RD mentioned that the last time we were there (when Z had visited), I was looking for something and the lady had said it was in this particular section. He asked if I wanted to check that section out before we left.

As we were going through the items on the racks, RD spotted something and picked it up.

"Mom, I don't know what THIS is meant to be."

"It's an orange juicer," I said.

He gave me a look and replied, "That's not what it looks like to me."

I laughed as I understood exactly what he meant.

I couldn't resist taking this picture of him with the more-than-meets-the-eye orange juicer.

(Perhaps RD thought he'd found Victoria's Secret!)

Time and Time Again

It is 03 April 2011. We gain an hour today as Daylight Savings Time ends for New South Wales and some other states in Australia. Officially, the clock turns back at 3 AM. This means we will revert to being just 2 hours ahead of Manila.

Spring forward, fall back.

We lost an hour last Spring and are gaining an hour this Fall.

Winter will be upon us soon.

This was the topic of our conversation in the car last night on our way to dinner.

I asked, "Are the days longer or shorter in winter?"

GI couldn't resist teasing me. He replied sarcastically, 'The same, Mom. There will still be 24 hours."

If RD wasn't between us, I would have given my firstborn a bop on the head.

(In the end we figured out that days are shorter in the winter.)

Slicing Mamon

A couple of weeks ago, my half-Filipina boss brought some Filipino goodies (c/o her parents that visited from Manila) which included Choc-Nut, peanut brittle, dried mangoes, barquillos and mamon.

There was only one piece of mamon which she divided into four. (There are actually five of us in the team but one of our team members arrived late that morning so he didn't even get to taste the mamon. Too bad for him.)

When we were in Manila, getting mamon was a simple matter of driving to one of the Red Ribbon or Goldilocks branches. Here in Australia, although there are a lot of popular pastries and goodies, they don't have anything similar to mamon.

When I got my mamon quarter, my taste buds sent signals to my brain (and my tummy) reminding me how good mamon could be. At that moment, I knew that one of my next baking experiments had to be mamon.

Over the next few days, I surfed the net for recipes and eventually I noted down a couple for mamon and taisan. (I don't have mamon molds here so I figured taisan in a loaf pan would be simpler.)

MyGirl and I decided to make our taisan last Sunday. It seems that there is no such thing as cake flour here in Australia so I used all purpose flour instead. The two loaves turned out beautifully (biased opinion, of course).

When I called the rest of the family to taste the taisan, I asked my standard question, "Shall I divide it into ten?"

(My rationale : with ten slices, we could each have two slices -- one for now and another one for later.)

It seems that RD had a different idea. You see as soon my question came out, he quickly responded, "No, FIVE!"

The others expressed their concurrence and I was obviously outvoted.

Needless to say, the taisan was gone in a flash.

(Should I have taken a picture of an empty chopping board and added the captions BEFORE and AFTER? Well, this was a pretty short-lived state for the taisan BEFORE we sliced it into five.)

Yes indeed, I had 1/5 of a loaf of taisan. And it was good!

I seriously believe we could have finished off the two loaves in one evening if I let them slice the second one. (We had the second one the day after.)

What a big difference from the time I sliced off one SINGLE mamon (yes, one piece of mamon, not one taisan loaf) into nine, or possibly 12, pieces to make little squares and wedges. We were having a batch meeting and people were supposed to bring some snacks to share. There was a lot of different goodies and I wanted people to have the option to take some mamon yet have enough space to have other things as well.

All I managed to do was to shock everyone in the room not only because I sliced up the mamon into tiny pieces but because I didn't even open the packaging and had used a ruler to do the slicing.

Belgian Waffle Iron

Yes, my quest for the perfect waffles is not yet over.

I still dream of owning a Belgian waffle iron in the hopes that it will one day yield me waffles the way I like them. I like my waffles crispy on the outside and light on the inside.

My future Belgian waffle iron need not be as high-tech as the one artist Chris Dimini made, which sports a QWERTY design.

I had made waffles for MyGirl's birthday the previous day and waffles were still fresh in my mind. I didn't use my usual Betty Crocker recipe because I wanted to experiment on other recipes to see if other recipes work better. The waffles hadn't come out the way I like my waffles although the recipe I tried was warmly accepted by the family.

WAFFLES (makes 11.5 waffles)

3 c self-raising flour

1/2 c sugar

1/8 t salt

2 eggs, separated

2 c milk

1/2 c water

1/2 c melted butter

Beat egg whites with half the sugar until stiff peaks. Set aside.

Beat egg yolks with rest of the sugar until creamy.

Add milk and water into egg yolks and beat well.

Add sifted dry ingredients and mix to combine.

Add butter. Mix well.

Fold in egg whites.

Cook waffles.

Belgian waffle irons are expensive here (as are other things). We were at a Blacktown mall when I mentioned this to RD. He asked me how much they cost and when I said they cost about a hundred dollars, without hesitation he replied, "Get it, Mom. You can get $100 from my $700."

I was deeply touched.

"I can't do that, sweetheart. I have $100 but there are other more important things to spend that money on," I explained.

Even after we'd gone around the mall a bit more, the waffle iron was still on his mind. He offered me other options, "We'll get it for your birthday, Mom. Everyone can give $25, or else!"

I smiled. He is really such a sweet and thoughtful boy.

The thought of giving his own money or taking up a collection to come up with the funds to make one of my dreams come true is enough to make me go off and buy the thing myself so that I can make the Belgian waffles for him. (Come to think of it, RD makes my stay in the kitchen worth my while. He always appreciates my experiments and encourages me by saying, "I'm sure they taste great. They're mom-made.")

That night, I googled Belgian Waffle Iron and found a recipe I wanted to try. I thought MAYBE, just maybe, even if I didn't own a Belgian waffle iron, I could get the crispy outside and soft fluffy inside kind of waffles I desire.

The next morning, while the family slept, I started on my waffles.

BELGIAN WAFFLES (makes 14 using a regular waffle iron)

1/4 + 2 3/4 c milk

2 1/4 t yeast

3 eggs, separated

1/4 + 1/4 c sugar

1 1/2 t vanilla

3/4 c butter, melted

4 c flour, sifted

3/4 t salt

Warm 1/4 c milk

Add yeast to warmed milk and let stand for 5 mins

Beat egg whites to soft peaks

Add 1/4 c sugar slowly and beat until stiff peaks

Set aside

In separate bowl, beat egg yolks and rest of sugar until light and creamy

In measuring cup, combine rest of milk and vanilla

Alternately combine dry ingredients (flour and salt) with wet ingredients (milk and vanilla) into egg yolk mixture starting and ending with the flour.

Add melted butter and mix to combine.

Fold in egg whites and let rest for 45 mins.

Pour about 1/2 c per waffle on iron and cook.

Remember to (a) heat the waffle iron before starting, (b) grease the waffle iron before pouring the batter and (c) keep waffles cooking until the steam stops.

Before the time the 45 minutes cut-off, Z and MyGirl were up. I sent them off to buy some cream and strawberry jam for our waffles. As the waffles were cooking, RD and MacGyver got up. By the time GI woke up, everyone else had eaten breakfast.

The waffles were good on their own. They still didn't have the texture I wanted but the base recipe was great and it yielded a decent number of waffles to make everyone happy.

Till the next waffle experiment or the Belgian waffle iron acquisition, whichever comes first.

For Whom the Bell Tolls

When we were young, carefree and unattached (as Mother likes to put it, describing the time when we were all unmarried and living together under one roof), we would ring the bell which hung on my study room table.

The bell itself was essentially just a bell. OK, there was some slight sentimental value to the bell because it was the giveaway at our JS Prom when I was a junior. But that was many, many years and one boyfriend ago.

Going back to ringing the bell. The bell would be rung to gather family members around the altar located in the study room, above Mindy's table, so that we could pray the family rosary together.

As the years passed, sadly this tradition ceased to continue. Father and Mother continue to pray their rosary at night but possibly because Cebu Avenue is practically an empty nest, ringing the bell is no longer part of the routine. People are welcome to join the rosary if they are around but there is no audible call to the occasion.

At our place in Makati, we used to have a bell, too. However, the purpose of the bell was different and it almost always got its job done. The bell was used to get people, mainly the children, to come downstairs for meals or for vitamins. We figured it was better than shouting each child's name to call for eating time.

I liked that bell. I wish I had packed it in our shipping box. It definitely knew how to serve its purpose. Of course any old bell would do if you really thought about it and were not very picky. (And yes, the old fashioned way of going up the stairs and calling the person would also work.) But I suppose I like to keep little bits and pieces of our past life alive. So when I saw a small bell on sale, I picked it up and bought it.

It isn't as fancy as our old 'eating time' bell and cannot be hung like my HS memento. In fact it is just one of those bells that look like something you'd find in school or something the ice cream man (mamang sorbetero) would be using. But I'm pleased with it because it has a nice ring to it and it gets the job done.

The other day, as the rice got cooked and the food was being placed on the table, I told RD to ring the bell.

"Why, Mom," he asked, "we're all here."

"It's to let people know that they should go to the dinner table already. You know how SOME people are," I said purposely, looking at GI as I said it.

RD dutifully rang the bell and it took GI ages to leave his computer and join the rest at table.

See what I mean?

So Full, Eh?

I thought that souffles were difficult to make but apparently they are not THAT hard to do. Since I was home for the day to make up for the half-day I spent at work last 02 August, I decided to try one of the recipes I had copied from a magazine.

When I mentioned at the dinner table that the souffle baking time was only 15-20 minutes, RD said, "That's not too bad. We can even make it on a weekday. Hey, it IS a weekday!"

I can't help but smile when I remember RD saying, "I don't think I can finish all this!" (only to show me his empty ramekin).

I do realize that I should be making savory, rather than sweet, souffles so these could be dinner rather than dessert. Maybe next time.

Hot Chocolate Souffle

(serves 6)

60 g butter

1/2 c (75 g) plain flour

300 ml milk

150 g dark chocolate melted

4 eggs, separated

2 t vanilla extract

1/2 c (110g) caster sugar

icing sugar, to dust

thickened cream, to serve

Preheat oven to 200ºC

Grease six 1-cup ramekins

Place on baking tray

Melt butter in saucepan on low heat

Stir in flour and cook 1 minute

Remove from heat and mix in milk

Return to medium heat, stir until sauce boils

Stir in chocolate and vanilla

Remove from heat

Cool slightly

Beat in egg yolks one at a time

Transfer to large bowl

Set aside to cool

Beat egg whites in large bowl until soft peaks

Gradually beat in sugar until stiff peaks form

Fold into chocolate mixture

(I ended up folding the chocolate into the beaten eggwhites)

Spoon into ramekins.

Bake 15 - 20 minutes until souffles rise

Dust with icing sugar

Serve with cream

Can you tell how happy MyGirl is with our souffle?

Unfortunately you can't appreciate what the souffle looks like

with all the whipped cream we put on top of it.