The Big Pause

Looking at my blog, I've been having that "baker's block" that results in a pregnant pause in spewing out debris from my brain as well as my kitchen. It's not that I've run out of recipes to test but I've been slacking lately- both with the baking and the blogging part. I still collect recipes to try and I've resolved to doing my kitchen experiments during the weekend (when there is no work for me) but I'm having a difficult time to "jump start" things lately. My Black Sambo recipe inspired by my cousin, Elena, has been sitting on my desk for almost two weeks now untouched.

As I undergo the roller coaster of emotions of my daily grind, I find myself more motivated when experiencing extreme emotions: anger, depression, being happy and stressed. It seems weird because the food that comes out of the kitchen tastes a whole lot better than when I bake in a neutral mood. Are my taste buds on hyperdrive too with extremes of emotions or is it because I am more focused when in that state? I have no scientific answer to my observation but I get compliments and that would suffice for the rationale.

As I start a new journey in the middle of the year, I start this blog with my humble discoveries in the kitchen (thanks to those whose recipes I copy and those who share their recipes) with the goal of self-instrospection and growth. I am currently undergoing an interesting trial in my life that has put the other aspects of my life on hold (for the meantime), I look and create my blogs to vent, to escape, to cope and to handle whatever life thows at me. This is "my time". Maybe when I have more recipes and cooking/baking experience under my sleeve can I say this is my "zen". Until then, I continue to discover new recipes, reminisce memories and get to know myself better.

To my Superman who believes in my non-existent culinary ability and my strength to overcome the fight, I thank you for all the support. I'm no Wonder Woman in real life but I do feel like one when I'm with you.

Pan de Sal ni Bubwit

Pan de sal - the ultimate bread for any Filipino especially me. "Bread of salt" is the best type of bread for my taste buds because it is bland enough for one to put filling in it or to be eaten alone. I've tried to make this bread twice (from different recipes) and this is the nearest one that I have done that mimics the one we have back home. The first recipe I tried - the bread was sweeter but it was so dense that if I were to make a business out of it, I'll be closed in a few months. This second recipe came out just "perfect".

As I sink my teeth into the pan de sal, it brings me back memories of Mama Luz. "Mama", as my siblings and I fondly call her, was our dearest mother surrogate. She took care of us as we grew up and as my parents were working. To others she was a nanny but to me, she is "Mama" who taught me how to read, to write, to count, to declaim, to dance, to play, and to dunk the pan de sal in steaming coffee with milk at breakfast. I sleep with her at night and in the morning, when we both woke up early we would stroll down the local bakery and buy pan de sal. When we got home, we'd open the bag of freshly baked pan de sal and dunk it in coffee that she made before we left. I was four or five years old then so my coffee consisted more of milk with a teaspoon or two of coffee. I'd sit in the kitchen having my own feast while she cooks the real breakfast that everybody would partake. Then one by one my siblings as well as my parents would come down and have breakfast. And just like Mama and me, they would dunk the pan de sal into their coffee and eat it. My Dad even had this habit of putting "mantequila" or butter in the pan de sal and dunk it in his coffee.

Most of the time, the breakfast pan de sal had leftovers. Since school started after lunch for me, I'd have the pleasure of having my own pan de sal sandwich with butter and sugar as filling. Nope, I didn't bring coffee to school but water was good enough to wash the treat down my throat. To me, bread meant "pan de sal" and "tinapay" meant "Tasty" - the white bread used for sandwiches.

How I wish Mama was here to taste my own pan de sal and I'd be delighted to see her dunk it in coffee. It may not taste or look the same as the pan de sal we bought from the local bakery back then but it tastes just as good or even better (I hope!).

Angel Food Cake: A Homecoming

It's been months that I've been reading the recipe of the Angel Food Cake. Just like the chocolate cake, I believed that making the Angel Food Cake was a challenge because this is the cake that brings back childhood memories in Iloilo.

I got acquainted with the cake when I was spending one of my many summer vacations with Lola and Naytons in Lapaz. When the panaderia goodies are gone and batchoy with pan de sal was too hot for the summer weather, Lola would send a helper to the Burgos bakery to buy Angel Food Cake for merienda. Unwillingly, the helper would need to bring me with her because I made sure Lola would hand me the money so I can go to the bakery - it was my insurance that they would let me go with them. Of course, the trip to the bakery was a dream for me because other than the cake, I would be sent home with other goodies- a piece of bread to nibble on until I reach home. (The Burgos bakery owners are our relatives which is why I have free goodies and it also helped that I looked like my Mom. When I reach home and give Lola the cake and her money change, she would set it down on the table and start slicing the cake. I would look at it with amazement because the cake looked so fluffy and soft. As my teeth sink into the cake, it felt like I was eating something as soft as cotton candy yet as filling as bread. To top the whole experience, Lola would hand me a glass full of ice and softdrink. Yes, a beautiful merienda experience I wanted to relive.

I read different recipes for the cake and I finally decided on one. As I pored through the text, I realized it called for 12 egg whites! I was ambivalent in making the recipe because I did not want 12 egg yolks to go to waste but I was steadfast in making the cake. In short, I did break and separated a dozen egg whites from the dozen egg yolks (which I kept for later use). Finally, I found myself focused and intent on the mixer as it whips the egg whites into white, fluffy, soft-peaked mixture of goodies. My brain was going on hyperdrive saying, "Do not overbeat!". Everything seemed okay until I had to transfer it to the pan. (Finding and deciding on the pan is another story!) The recipe called for it to be spooned to the pan. And since I was too tired to find the baking definition of spooning to the pan (because it was almost midnight by then), I took it literally to the letter. Thus the picture (still uncooked).

The success of the whole endeavor did show the sweet, fluffy fruit of my labor. The cake rose as it should and was cooled down as instructed in the book. The only instruction that I did not follow was to eat the cake a day after it was baked. I took a slice immediately as it cooled down and decided that it was salty. After a goodnight's sleep, I awoke seeing my unwilling experiement subject (named Raniel) having a slice of the cake and telling me how good it tasted. I was curious as to what happened to the salty taste I had last night, I took a bite of the cake and it made me travel back in time to when I was a child buying this treat from the local bakery. Now if only I can click the heels of my "tsinelas" (ala Dorothy in Wizard of Oz)...

Merienda Special: Mamon

Mamon is the Filipino version of a yellow sponge cake. For me, it brings me back to Merville where I would buy one-peso mamon from the local bakery. The mamon from the local bakery would have the sides a little toasted and the center raised. Crumbly and tasty with flour, I enjoyed this treat immensely in the afternoon for merienda but enjoyed it even more after it gets refrigerated and served the day after. Another version of the mamon is the softer, buttery cake- the kind that is more expensive and is the "pasalubong" from relatives going to Iloilo. (It becomes the "pasalubong" because the airport has a kiosk of a local, famous bakery chain that serves mamon as one if its signature cakes.)

Mamon is all about eggs, milk and sugar. It is soft and spongy, and the original mould is a fluted pan but since all I have is a muffin pan, hence the shape. Raniel (my unsuspecting research subject) enjoys partaking this with coffee while I enjoy it with an ice-cold cola drink.

My thoughts do not just stop at the finished product. Inspired by the ice-cold cola drink, I am thinking of ways to toast the mamon and re-create the toasted mamon- another merienda staple served by a local bakery. I always remember Mommy and Lola Bedad buying the toasted mamon and dip one in the ice-cold cola during the summer months. As the mamon becomes soft from the liquid, they take that one perfect bite and the taste of the cola and the mamon sizzles in your mouth enough to quench your thirst. (By the way, this also reminds me of the hojaldres that we also dunk into cola to have the same effect!)

To infinity and beyond- my next adventure would be the toasted mamon.

The Ultimate: Chocolate Cake

Why is it that when my nose catches a whiff or my eyes catch a glimpse of chocolate I stop dead at my tracks and time seems to freeze? Is it because my chocolate-gene (if ever there is one) is on hyperdrive and replicates itself at warp speed? I've always thought that it's just me but after a chat with my siblings, they are also ga-ga over chocolate. Is it genetic? I have no idea but one thing is for sure: chocolate and me are a perfect match.

It has always been my ultimate dream to bake a chocolate cake because to me, it's like my own personal Mount Everest. If memory serves me right, almost all of my birthday cakes then were always made of chocolate cake with chocolate icing. It may be the birthday cake with candles on top or the roll or the slice, just seeing the cake seemed to cast my worries aside and live dangerously on the edge for just a moment.

I just started baking again. I learned the basics in High school but since that was eons ago, I re-learned the whole thing thru books and the Internet. My thanks to Ate Tina and Ate Cece, they have inspired me to bake (and cook) and that making mistakes is part of the process. And so, armed with my cocoa powder, flour, eggs, recipe list and tons of pure 100% guts, I decided to bake a chocolate cake. I felt so elated mixing the ingredients together and when I mixed the cocoa powder to the batter, I saw it turn a familiar color-chocolate brown. Yes, I'm half-way to the ultimate. To me, this is my point-of-no-return because somehow it has given me the confidence to venture to the unknown. As I pour the batter into the cake pan, I say a silent prayer hoping everything is okay. I put the pan in the oven and wait an excruciating 30-minutes to see the fruit of my labor.

A chocolate cake is never complete without the icing. I wish I know how to make a ganache but that is pushing my luck too far. Let me content myself first with the good, old chocolate frosting and maybe when I make it successfully, I can move on to the more sophisticated - ganache. As the mixer whirs into a silent hum and as I see peaks forming, I am transported back into Lola Bedad's kitchen at Christmas morning. I remember how everybody was busy preparing food for Lola's birthday lunch and my role was to either stay out of the kitchen or to lick the spoons and spatulas clean. Of course, my expert opinion for the taste was very much considered too (They really had no choice but to listen to me because I made sure they knew my side- and most of the time everything tasted good). Actually, my role was to be the kitchen's general help but I excelled more in being the general pest so the older ones would shove me into the dining room and assign me the inane task of folding napkins or setting up the table.

I think that the chocolate cake is just more than a dessert for me. It is a "bond" that I have with my siblings who, just like me, stops in their tracks with the sight of a chocolate cake, candy or anything covered in chocolate. I remember attending a Manikan family get-together and Tito Spanky whose blood sugar was being monitored closely was having a heartache because he could not partake the chocolate roll my sister brought as our contribution for the lunch. Tita Nining consoled him by saying, "Don't worry when I go to Hongkong next week I promise to bring you sugar-free chocolates that don't taste sugar-free." A faint smile crosses his lips yet his eyes are dead-locked to the chocolate roll. It was a very simple, very small chocolate roll (finances were pretty tight) and when it was placed on the dessert table beside the towering cakes with intricate designs and icing, my sister Bing told Toto, "Doesn't the roll look pitiful?" My brother then tells her, "It's okay. What is important is that we brought something." Five minutes into the luncheon, Toto comes back and tells us, "If you plan to eat the chocolate roll, you'd better get some now because there are only three slices left." As I scan the room, everybody seemed to have a slice of the chocolate roll. Everybody that is related to me- my uncles, my aunts, my cousins, my nephews and nieces, my siblings. I look at the dessert table and the beautiful towering cakes were still standing in all its glory- untouched. Beside it is the simple, plain chocolate roll whose underplate is now showing because there is only two slices left. No, it did not look pitiful because ten minutes into the luncheon- everything was gone. This chocolate madness may be genetic- at least I know that the Manikans go gaga over anything with chocolate. Who knows? Maybe I might discover the roots of the chocolate mystery.

As I look at my finished product, I realize the beauty of the chocolate cake. It's simplicity and harmony of flavors incite the all the senses- it smells divine, it tastes divine, it looks divine. What more is there to say?!