Why Sinigang Can’t Ever Be Healthy

I made my first sinigang, ever. I woke up one morning with an intolerable craving for sinigang na manok, and the second I arrived at galleria, I scoured the food court for the sour soup I would pour all over my rice, with chicken pieces I’d dip into patis and calamansi. Wala. I thought to call my mom for a batch of her killer sinigang, but then I knew I’d hear words like ‘yan kasi, matuto, and magluto. So, after work, I went to the supermarket, picked up some sitaw, okra, chicken, and a packet of sinigang mix, then rushed home to cook.

Now, the sinigang packet said, boil meat in water until tender, then add sinigang mix and vegetables. Easy enough! Being a woman of the 21st century in her own kitchen, I thought to make my sinigang healthy. I trimmed the fat off the chicken, I skipped the starchy rice water, I dropped in the vegetables only at the last minute to retain their nutrients.

“It doesn’t look right,” said my husband, glasses fogging as he leaned in to smell the soup. “It’s not…gray. It’s supposed to be gray,” he claimed. He was right. My sinigang, however, was clear and dull, not the cloudy gray broth with shimmering discs of fat.

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Medical Musings

I have a love/hate relationship with St. Luke’s hospital. Love, because there my dad’s life was saved from a life-threatening heart attack and stroke; and I’m sure every person’s loved one, at least in Manila, has benefited from the center’s medical expertise: from oncology, physical therapy, obstetrics, orthopedics, and so on.

Hate, because despite the well-stocked cafeteria filled with a variety of magazines (mostly foreign editions), a huge assortment of beverages (Lemonada, regular and diet soda, purified water, distilled water, mineral water), and scrumptious dessert options (as of yesterday: Sans Rival, Triple Chocolate, Nestle’s Crunch, Toblerone, and Kahlua Mousse cakes, on top of the mainstay Oatmeal Chocolate Chip and Revel bars), each trip still signals fear and anxiety—of losing a loved one, worrying about another person’s health and well being, or both.

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First (Gym) Day Jitters

I finally worked out at the gym yesterday morning—after an eight-month respite, haha! It’s been a while since I’ve worked up a good, endorphin-inducing sweat; for a time there, I’ve given up on myself and my love affair with the gym. But, I felt that I needed some form of exercise to lessen the stress at work, and of course, hopefully shave off excess inches.

Sunday night, I was besieged with praning thoughts: Would I be able to last on the elliptical machine? Would I feel out of place in the gym? Would I be able to fit in my gym clothes? Would my body be traumatized by the sudden activity? Babaw, I know, but I got worried, just the same.

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Sweet Nothings

Summiteers have one thing in common: We all smell like the foodcourt.

This was particularly pointed out to me by my former boss, Seventeen EIC Mia Fausto, when, one night after dinner, her husband mentioned this sneaky little tidbit. Apparently we’ve all been in the dark prior to this revelation. Surely from time to time we’d come in and find the office a little bit too foggy; or notice a strange cloud looming above our heads. (After all, it’s quite normal on any given day to see bolts of pseudo-lightning coming from someone shooting last-minute products/gizmos/accessories at a nearby desk).

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SexyBack

Despite the endless teasing, I’ve had a crush on Justin Timberlake ever since his *Nsync days. So when my sister Margaux (who’s studying fashion in New York) told me that he was having a concert in New Jersey, I was giddy with excitement and decided to take off for a few weeks and catch it.

After 20 hours on the plane, we drove straight from the airport to the concert venue. Once we got there, we had to wait another three hours in line in the freezing rain, but at least we got to see Cameron Diaz and Justin’s mom at the back entrance while they were smoking a ciggy.

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