is it only Monday? (and, reminiscing a family lunch in the Philippines)

First working day of the week, and I'm already tired. Is that what happens when you approach your mid-thirties?

I shudder just saying that. Mid-thirties.

I could use some of this in my life right now:

chocolate souffle | Antonio's, Tagaytay, Philippines

And this:

Chocolate and coffee should give me more energy, right? Right. Of course.  ;-)

Looking at these photos, I'm remembering the lovely lunch I had with my family back home. It was in this place called Antonio's, and it is a beautiful, old (but maintained/restored) Spanish-Filipino style house with a lush tropical garden.

My brother and sister-in-law had their wedding reception here - I still regret not being able to go home for that milestone of an event - I didn't have my green card yet at the time, and my family told me not to leave the US and risk not being able to re-enter. So I was happy to be able to finally see the place.

More details...

 I loved being able to see everything so GREEN in December.

And then I remembered, that's what I grew up with 23 years of my life. Funny how being away changes one's perspective so much. I saw these sun-dappled patches with new eyes.

 Glorious sunlight. Yes, this is what December looks like in the Philippines.

More details...

She-and-He labels for restrooms

And A. having a moment with my niece P.

And let's not forget the food...interestingly, this was one of the few non-Filipino meals I had during our trip.

I don't eat a ton of cheese on a regular basis, so the raclette was a treat. The pickled vegetables cut through the richness of the cheese, which was a nice contrast. Of course, you can't go wrong with buttered and toasted baguette. I'm also not a huge fan of kohlrabi, but the soup was quite good.

L: raclette; R: cream of kohlrabi soup

Salads, below. I made it a point to eat kesong puti (this amazing creamy local cheese) every chance I got. I kind of met my cheese quota at this point already with the raclette I had prior, but what the heck...

L: baked kesong puti with arugula; R: mesclun with gorgonzola

And the rest of our meal... between courses, we had a pineapple sorbet, followed by the main course, which A. and I shared. And yes, I ate chicken. I believe it was a local chicken. Don't worry, I didn't go all Portlandia on the server (and if you haven't seen that video, it is hilarious). That said, in the interest of full disclosure, I did eat chicken during this trip - there were some traditional dishes that you just can't get anywhere else. This one was quite good (but not quiiiite the best) - crispy outside and juicy inside... accompanied by a romesco sauce and the creamiest, most indulgent risotto. Yum.

Quite obviously, there was no shortage of chocolate.

Clockwise from left: chocolate souffle with cardamom creme anglaise, muscovado sugar, coffee from local beans, a trio of panna cotta - chocolate, hazelnut, and vanilla, and another chocolate dessert with pistachios

And on that note... I need to prepare dinner now. Except it's our usual bean-and-vegetable dinner (tonight it's a Greek lima bean stew and caramelized brussels sprouts), and nothing like this decadence... and just a quiet table for two at home, not a long table for 8-10 like the many family meals shared during our trip.

In the meantime, I am wishing for this right now:

(See the word I'm thinking of?)

those darn codes

So I changed my comment settings recently and added the captcha code requirement.

I read somewhere that those pesky codes discourage people from commenting; and since I love hearing from you and enjoy reading your (real) comments, I decided not to require the captcha code. But hundreds of spam comments later -- I decided, captcha code it is. I figured, it doesn't discourage me from commenting on my friends' blogs or other blogs I enjoy; and I'd like to think that those of you who do respond here want to do so regardless. So I hope I don't echo here in cyberspace, and that you continue to comment and have conversations here.

That said, I also hope those letters and numbers don't drive you crazy. It's for the good of the order. ;-)

Thanks all!

grapefruit yogurt cake

Grapefruit must be one of my favorite things about winter.

And I'm not a winter person. But there's always something to appreciate every season. For me, winter = citrus. Perhaps there's a reason nature intended it to be this way - so that we get a healthy dose of vitamin C at the time of year when we're always cooped up indoors and susceptible to catching a cold or flu.

I just realized that there's been a grapefruit theme all over our home lately. I've been loving grapefruit hand soap, dish soap, dishwasher detergent (all from Method - and no, I'm not getting paid to write this), and most recently - a grapefruit scented candle.

Caldrea citron ginger (grapefruit, ginger and basil), purchased at clearance price. Target does it again...

But back to the real grapefruit.

There's something about the refreshing scent of the fruit as you slice it open...the beauty of the jewel-like pink segments with teardrop-shaped pulp that just burst with juice and flavor in your mouth.

Whether I eat it as a snack by itself, juice it for a "mocktail" (homemade grapefruit IZZE!), add segments to a shaved fennel salad - somehow it makes me feel all virtuous despite the chocolate/ice cream/Cape Cod salt + vinegar chips I had not long before.

The other way I enjoy it, is in cake.

I started stress-cooking last night; you'll see why here. Then I decided, after making 2 batches of soup -- split pea and pumpkin coconut curry (don't ask) -- that cake was in order. 

This cake is adapted from the Barefoot Contessa's (my imaginary BFF) lemon yogurt cake. It's one of the easiest cakes ever -  you don't even need an electric mixer. I've professed my love for olive oil-based cakes before, such as this tangerine olive oil pound cake. Citrus and olive oil together are just a match made in heaven. Those Mediterranean folks were definitely on to something.

Along with the olive oil, the yogurt adds moisture - as well as tang - to the cake. I actually had Greek yogurt on hand, but I only had 3/4 cup remaining, and the recipe calls for a full cup. But, since Greek yogurt is generally yogurt that is drained of whey, I decided to just add enough water to make it a full cup, and it worked out just fine. But whatever you do, please do not use nonfat yogurt. For that matter, let me go on a soapbox for a little bit: please don't use nonfat anything unless nature intended it to be nonfat. Consider this my public service announcement.

When zesting the grapefruit - or any citrus fruit for that matter, make sure you just use the outer layer, not all the way into the white bitter pith. I love the Microplane for this task - it makes really fine zest; it's so sharp that you only need a gentle hand, so there's less risk of going into the bitter pith.


Grapefruit Yogurt Cake

• 1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
• 2 teaspoons baking powder
• 1/2 teaspoon sea salt
• 1 cup sugar
• zest of one grapefruit (a little over 2 teaspoons)
• 3 large eggs
• 1 cup plain whole milk yogurt
• 1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
• 1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil

Grapefruit simple syrup

• 1/3 cup sugar
• 1/3 cup freshly squeezed grapefruit juice (I got about 1/2 cup from my grapefruit)

1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Lightly grease a loaf pan (I used 8x5x3) and line the bottom with parchment paper. I use a long narrow strip of parchment so that the paper goes up the sides of the pan for easy removal later. No one likes cake stuck to the pan, right? (Then again, I have eaten cake straight out of the pan before...) For good measure, grease and flour the pan.

2. Sift together the flour, baking powder, and salt into one bowl. Whisk it together so that the baking powder and salt gets incorporated into the flour.

3. In another bowl, add 1 cup of the sugar and the zest. Mix them together with your fingers, rubbing the zest and the sugar together so that the oils from the zest perfume the sugar. The original recipe didn't call for this step, but I like doing it to make sure that a) the grapefruit flavor permeates throughout and b) there are no lumps of zest sticking together. I actually enjoy doing this - I tend to use a lot of citrus for cooking, and the zest is just great for flavoring a lot of things. I do the same with lemon zest and salt - rubbing them together to make a citrus salt, which you can then add to salads or other dishes that need an extra boost of flavor.

4. Crack the eggs into a large bowl and lightly beat them to break the yolk, then whisk in the yogurt and vanilla. Add the sugar and zest mixture and whisk everything together to make sure there are no lumps of sugar throughout. Every time I bake, I make sure that I mix the wet ingredients really well, so that once I add it to the dry ingredients, I don't overmix the batter.

5. Slowly whisk the dry ingredients into the wet ingredients. With a rubber spatula, fold the olive oil into the batter until it's incorporated but not over-mixed. Pour the batter into the pan. Bake for about 50 minutes, or until a cake tester/toothpick/knife inserted into the center of the loaf comes out clean.

6. Allow the cake to cool in the pan for 10 minutes, on a cake rack.

7. Meanwhile, cook the 1/3 cup grapefruit juice and remaining 1/3 cup sugar in a small pan until the sugar dissolves. Set aside.

8. Place the cake rack over a sheet pan. Loosen the cake from the pan, and lift it out of the pan (the excess length of parchment paper up the sides of the pan helps with this!) and place it on the cake rack. While the cake is still warm, pour the grapefruit simple syrup over the cake and allow it to soak in.
 
You can use as little or as much of the syrup as you want, but I probably only used half of it as I didn't want the cake to be too sweet. I figured I can use the syrup for a mocktail later, with sparkling water and perhaps some fresh thyme or rosemary, either of which pairs very well with grapefruit.

I actually debated whether to add herbs to the syrup for the cake -but I decided against it for now, so I can just have one main flavor in the cake for this first try. I might give it a try the next time. If you do, let me know how it turns out!

Barefoot Contessa's cake also calls for a glaze, which is 2 tablespoons of lemon juice (or grapefruit, for this cake) and a cup of confectioner's sugar, mixed together and poured over the cake. I'm not a huge fan of glaze, and didn't feel like I had to add even more sugar to the cake - but if you like glaze, go for it!

And on that note, I am off to have a slice of cake. Grapefruit and yogurt - that counts as breakfast, right?

ebb and flow

When it rains (snows)... it pours.

I have 4 big projects with deadlines that somehow all seemed to merge into the same week. Next week, to be exact.

I've come to realize that there is an ebb and flow to everything. Like last week, I think I posted 3 times on this blog. This week, zero, until today. Since this blog is more for a creative outlet and space for random musings, I don't hold myself to any particular number as far as frequency of writing here.

Or one week, I might walk some, practice yoga, try an online barre3 video. On another week, I may not have the energy for anything else but yoga.

Or, I might spend a whole afternoon cooking and baking up a storm (I like how Faith calls it a "kitchen rampage"). Then a week later, I just want takeout, when the only effort I can muster goes into opening the bag of food.

It's true with work as well. Some weeks are better than others. Some weeks, I feel like I have it all together and other weeks, I ask myself, "what the heck am I doing???"

I've come to realize that the balance also comes from being ok with this ebb and flow. Accepting what is.

Because it's all a matter of perspective. Or so I remind myself, when the anxiety hits. Life is never perfect. We'll never "reach" that so-called perfectly balanced state. I don't think it's a balanced state as much as it is a balanced perspective.

It's balancing the expectation of the task with my knowledge of myself. Not this lopsided view of overestimating the task and underestimating my abilities, as I tend to do.

Boracay, Philippines | December 2012

As I sit here watching the infamous "lake effect" snow fall outside my window, I am reminded of my time at the beach in the Philippines this past December and January. The ebb and flow of the tide, and how soothing it was in its rhythm.

I remember inhaling and exhaling with this ebb and flow, feeling this sense of calm just wash over me with every gentle wave that laps at the shore. Aaaahhh. The magic of the ocean.

But without this beloved tropical beach outside my door, I rely on my breathing once more. I visualize the steadiness of the tide.

And slowly, with the ebb and flow of my own breathing, I notice my heartbeat is no longer racing. My jaws loosen. My shoulders start to relax away from my ears, bit by bit.

Somehow, my breathing also silences the inner critic, and I find hidden underneath the anxiety is a source of energy and wisdom. 

And that was my short-but-sweet five-minute yoga practice. 

bits and pieces of home

I'm not a good storyteller.

I don't remember details of what was said by whom and how it was said and when.... much to my mother's chagrin when she wants to hear juicy stories of moments like when A. proposed and what-not. My mom, on the other hand, remembers everything, from the exact words to the speaker's intonation. In contrast, I might remember a few quick conversational exchanges at the most, but that's about it. I do have a really good memory for strange purposes/things like restaurant menus. Don't judge.

All that said, I don't have a long story of my trip to India and the Philippines. My amazing, month-long, 12-airports-in-30-days trip.

What I do remember, are images. Moments captured either on camera, but mostly those that are in a freeze-frame in my mind. And I remember, with clarity, what I felt at the time.

So my stories might come in short bursts here in there. Not necessarily in chronological order.

Even this post took me several "installments" to write, because the stories come back when I least expect it, and not in any linear fashion. So I write in bits and pieces, what I remember and when I remember it. And I write, so that I can remember.

(And also, I had to hit the ground running as the semester started a couple of days after I arrived back here... hence having to write in small chunks of time here and there.)

I surprised myself by not taking as many pictures as I thought I would on this trip, especially in the Philippines. Under other circumstances, photography helps me appreciate the moment and pay attention to details. But a big part of me wanted to just soak it all in, and not behind a camera. With the thinking that the several seconds or that minute I spend getting the settings on my camera just right for each shot adds up, over the course of a month and hundreds of pictures, to potentially hours spent not being fully present with my family. 

~

I remember this tug at my heartstrings watching my sweet niece P. Thinking about how fast she's growing, and how she sometimes talks like an adult even at age 4. How she asked me to read the book I gave her, The Princess and the Pizza (in which the heroine has the same name as she! And as a side note, I love the feminist perspective of the story), again and again during a road trip. And how affectionate she is to everyone, randomly giving hugs, kisses, and I-love-yous to any member of the family, including A.

my niece's naturally wavy ponytail

Oh, and I do remember this one brief exchange as retold by my brother (her dad).

One morning, while we were vacationing in Cebu (a city south of the capital, Manila), P wakes up, and with her eyes half-closed she stretches in bed, and sleepily says: "I love Tito A." (as in my husband A.). Mind you., A. wasn't even with us at the time, because he had to fly home to Cleveland sooner. And then, almost like she suddenly remembered, her eyes open fully and she sees my brother standing in front of her. Then quickly, she says:

"Oh, I love you too, Dad."

Nice save, P. :)

And it made me reminisce with my parents, those days when my nephews (now pre-teens... how did that happen?) were babies. And my other 4-year-old niece's voice mail saying, "Hi Tita Mia, I'm big now, I'm going to school."

~

I remember both the warmth that accompanies that trip-down-memory-lane, as well as the slight ache in my belly (that is where I feel things, you know. Again... don't judge) as I pored over old photos of my late grandparents, framed and preserved in my parents' home. The home I grew up in.

Like this one. My grandfather, the perfect example of "chivalry is not dead" -- even as they were approaching 90 (!) -- asked my mom to set up a candelit dinner for two in our gazebo for their 60+ wedding anniversary.

One of my parents snapped this picture then, and while I did not witness this moment in person, it made me remember all his other romantic gestures toward my grandma. Like quoting Shakespeare to her, out of the blue, as they sat in our lanai overlooking the garden, resting after a long afternoon of tending to their flowers and plants.

~

I remember, with the same clarity as the turquoise waters of Boracay, a shift in perspective.

Under other circumstances, work fills my mind majority of the time. And yes, you'll probably hate me for this but I did work a bit while I was away - I had to finish grading in India because we flew out the very next day after my last day of teaching. Then twice I had to wake up for 2 am conference calls for my new consulting job, to speak to people who did not know I was away and in a completely opposite time zone. But I did not work much else aside from that. It was refreshing to not have work occupy so much space in my brain, and instead linger at the breakfast table.

Work is a means to an end, not an end in itself.

I know, it's nothing groundbreaking. And while I always knew that, I felt it even more strongly with the limited time I had with my family. And what a blessing that was. Yes, working is what pays the bills and helps us travel, and we are absolutely thankful for that. But the bigger picture, really, is family...and old friends who are practically family. Nurturing those relationships that enrich our lives like nothing else does.

Not all my projects, each at a different stage toward completion. Not the fact that I need to get my manuscript published. They always say in the world of academia, "publish or perish". But in the bigger picture, it's really not the end of the world.

But my niece will only be 4 years old once. And I will only stand at this exact spot at this exact time on this exact date once in my life.

Boracay, Philippines

It is a gift.

~

*For a detailed review of the foodie experience in the Philippines, from the unique perspective of an Indian national-US citizen-current resident of Germany-honorary Filipina (whew!), visit my friend's blog post here.

*I also have India on my mind. But those stories will come in bits and pieces as well. More on that later.

*Tito = Uncle, Tita = Aunt

more on hope and humanity... and why we say "namaste"

Namaste.

The light in me honors the light in you.

Generally we place our palms together in front of the chest and bow our heads. The gesture is an acknowledgment of the soul in one by the soul in another. Nama means bow, as means I, and te means you. Therefore, namaste literally means "I bow to you." 

Why do we say this at the end of a yoga practice? 

Is it to make yoga sound "exotic" or "religious" or "hipster"?
 

On one hand it is a nod to yoga's roots, but personally I just love what it means. Yes, it does have a spiritual significance of honoring the divine in another person.

Having visited India twice, I love the fact that people there greet each other this way. With the gesture of palms together in front of the chest and a slight bow of the head. 

I love how the word sounds, how this one word captures all that it means. I bow to you. The light in me honors the light in you.

And I don't think it's limited to a yoga practice, but rather all-encompassing of human interactions in general.

Perhaps I'm being an optimist, because it's also true that there are many, many violent human interactions in this world. But being an optimist is not a bad thing to be. The thought of "namaste" reminds me to practice this respectful approach to life, to myself, and to others. Or at least I try.

~

And I'm still thinking about the words from yesterday's inauguration.

MLK Jr's I Had A Dream echoes loud and clear today:

"Hear: the doors open
for each other all day, saying: hello, shalom,
buon giorno, howdy, namaste, or buenos dias
in the language my mother taught me--in every language
spoken into one wind carrying our lives
without prejudice, as these words break from my lips."

"One Today"
--Richard Blanco, Poet, 2013 Presidential Inauguration

image source

hope and (in?) humanity

Why do Obama's speeches make me teary-eyed?

He had me at "For we remember the lessons of our past, when twilight years were spent in poverty, and parents of a child with a disability had nowhere to turn. We do not believe that in this country, freedom is reserved for the lucky, or happiness for the few."

And then this...

"For our journey is not complete until our wives, our mothers, and daughters can earn a living equal to their efforts. Our journey is not complete until our gay brothers and sisters are treated like anyone else under the law – for if we are truly created equal, then surely the love we commit to one another must be equal as well. Our journey is not complete until no citizen is forced to wait for hours to exercise the right to vote. Our journey is not complete until we find a better way to welcome the striving, hopeful immigrants who still see America as a land of opportunity; until bright young students and engineers are enlisted in our workforce rather than expelled from our country. Our journey is not complete until all our children, from the streets of Detroit to the hills of Appalachia to the quiet lanes of Newtown, know that they are cared for, and cherished, and always safe from harm."

I don't write about politics much, but I don't think this has to do with politics as much as it has to do with hope and humanity.

Even Beyonce's rendition of Star-Spangled Banner gave me a goosebumps. And I'm not even a US citizen (...yet! Four more years till I can vote!)

Read more here.

A random find:

from cloudandcover on Etsy