At any rate, it appears that I'll be typing random thoughts, random events in no particular order. Where do I start?
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Last night, an elated son, my son, texted me thus: "Pauwi na kami, we're at libis, we won buzzer beater. We qualify for finals:)". What was he referring to?
Months back when Joey was around, he, my son and a number of freshmen formed the ABN Team (to signify their having come from sections A, B and N of batch 2007) to compete in the ABL League. They were excited, but never practiced as an entire team. Yet somehow they gel. Then the accident happened and snuffed the life of one and sidelined three others, leaving a lean team that is never complete come game time. Last night, the semi-finals, there were just 5 of them. Earlier my son and I were arguing about his attending the game. Friday night he slept past midnight, ergo he slept Saturday morning. By 7 a.m., he was off to manage a competition for public school students, came back at 3 past and had to go to McDo to meet up with his teammates for the game by 4. I said, "Can't you be absent?" He said, "No because if I am we lose by default." I argued, "Why can your teammates be absent and you not?" He countered, "because we'll lose by default if I'm absent." I again said, "So it's ok for them to be absent but not for you because you'll lose by default?" He then said, "I want to play." I said, "Now that's the answer I want to hear." If it were a matter of the others being absent and it was okay, then why not for him to be absent? With just 5 of them playing the entire game, they won, with a lot of help from their angels, I'm sure and possibly, Joey, from up high. Finals will be this Saturday but my son will miss that as he'll have his PE final exam in guess what? Tap dance. How's that for variety...
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This a.m., we commissioned the Wheelmobile to take us to mass. Sure we could have heard mass in the parish and saved on pesos, but Hangad was singing in the church in Mira Nila, at the Our Lady of Consolation Parish. So we rode the Wheelmobile to the church which luckily had a driveway and just one step to negotiate. We were early.
As the church slowly filled up, we saw Aniano Desierto and family (wife, son and daughter?), plus two bodyguards. Burly men who were constantly looking everywhere for snipers. Just kidding, but really they were looking around a lot. Then shortly before the offertory procession, saw Noli and Arlene de Castro walking to the back of the church, again with two bodyguards. I thought they were leaving until I saw them walk to the table with the things to be offered (water and wine, etc). No, the bodyguards didn't join the offertory procession. Noli was clad in an aqua T-shirt with a collar, his wife was in a shirt and skirt. Nothing ostentatious there, thank God. We also saw a couple who were friends from college. They live in the area which explained their presence. We'll see them again on the 15th as Hangad will have a concert at the church then.
Hangad's presence at the mass this morning was to draw people to watch their concert mid-month. My son said we were invited to lunch at a member's house after the mass, but we opted to go, as scheduled, to Bellini's in Cubao. Last week, husband brought home a magazine of Manila Bulletin and the restaurant was mentioned. I have been mentioning the same to him for years, NR (no response/no reaction). This time, as it was he who saw the article, action agad. Haha. I called to reserve a table yesterday but I needn't have. The place was not even half-filled
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Bellini's is in the Marikina Shoe Expo area in Cubao. Marikina in Cubao which looks like it did in the seventies. Correction, it looked better in the seventies when it was new. It now has the run-down feel. I remember going to the area with Mama, buying shoes, Le Chic slippers. The stores now are different, a number of them selling ukay-ukay stuff. But before going into that, let's go back to Bellini's. I'll put in some pictures here.
Bellini's has two entrances. The one we took led to an area without customers and the waiter insisted we stay in it. He turned on the aircon. No, I said, we go to the place where there were people. Why?
He had just turned on the aircon, ergo, the area was hot. Second, it had a musty smell. My son had another term for it: stuffy. I still maintain, musty. So we moved to the populated area where I hoped it would be cooler and not musty. I was wrong. Oh yes, a little cooler, but not that much cooler. But the waiters were cordial and I was hoping the smell would disappear even as my nose began to itch. It does when I don't like the smell-- cigarettes, dust(does dust smell?), etc.
The menu was a clear book with a faux leather cover. The sheets in it were printouts on bond paper with some colored pictures. No attempts to look classy whatsoever. But not long after we were at the table, a glass containing bread sticks that looked like wooden canes was put before us. At least service was quick.
We ordered a lot of stuff, I guess because we were really hungry: it was 1 pm past. Our orders included: fried mushrooms, a pizza, osso bucco with risotto, a pasta dish wrapped in foil, bruschetta, a platter of cold cuts and cheese, soft drinks.
The platter of cold cuts and cheese had several cold cuts, maybe five kinds. But the portions of cheese, parmesan we were told and my gourmand son agreed, but queso de bola, my husband and I thought, were not nicely cut. They looked like I sliced them, which means uneven. But the elements in that platter were good, the cheese included.
Then came the mushrooms. I was told they'd be fried, but foolish me imagined they'd be served like gambas, that is, floating in olive oil. But the waiter who suggested the entree was not lying, so they came fried, indeed. Fried in batter. Or rather dipped in batter and then fried. These were dried shitake mushrooms. Tasty except they weren't served with sauce.
Next came the osso bucco with risotto. wow, this was yummy. The risotto reeked of butter/margarine. It was very tasty and was served as a ring around the tender veal that swam in tomato sauce. Except that I thought there was too little of the veal, unlike in Amici. But the dish was truly good.
The bruschetta came. Four slices topped with mushroom, basil, etc. Very good.
Next the pizza came. It was huge. I didn't try it but my son said it was ordinary. The crust was white and limp, the cheese didn't stretch. Not mozzarella, apparently. My son, as a result, said, "they didn't use imported ingredients for this pizza, unlike in Terry's." My husband added, "they just bought the stuff in Farmers?" Later in the house, I took a small bite, it was ok, but not great.
The pasta in a foil was cooked in olive oil and had sea food in it: clams and mussels. It tasted fishy, like it came from the sea. That sounds so lame but I wasn't impressed by it.
When we finished the meal, we ordered dessert. My son asked for tiramisu, the waiter suggested we try the orange cake. I didn't bother to try the tiramisu because it was merely ice cream of two flavors, I think. At least it looked really frozen. But the orange cake was wow. It was heated in the oven and had sweetened orange rind and bits on top, really good.
Finally, when we were done with what we ordered, the waiter came with three tiny berr (look at that: i don't drink beer and I can't even spell it right!) mugs in a saucer: sweet dessert wine, he said. True to form, I didn't bother to taste it so I cannot provide any feedback on that freebie.
Will we go back to the restaurant? I don't know if we will. But finally, at least, my curiosity has been satisfied.
As my son pulled down my wheelchair to the road, the waiter asked if I were Visayan. I said yes and he said he was too, from Cadiz. When I said I was from Talisay, he said he bought a piece of land there, in Carmela, at first he said, then he corrected himself, in Menlo. He gave us calling cards advising us to call for reservations if we came back on a Friday or Saturday night. Then the place was usually full, he said.
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From Bellini we proceeded to the shoe stores because my son wanted to buy a cheap pair of leather shoes with leather soles for his tap dancing finals. The whole sem, he had been using an old pair of his Dad's and it was only last week that he said they were so loose, he could get a better grade if he had better-fitting shoes. I bought him insoles but when he saw the stores in Marikina Shoe Expo, he perceived shoes there wouldn't be too expensive so we looked.
We went to Mark R that had the name Bandolino on the occasional shelves. Never heard of Mark R before, Bandolino yes. They had sizes as big as 13, my son wears 12. The shoe he chose was selling at P2,200 from P2795, we were told. Their size 12 was loose for him, so after some time, a pair of size 11s was brought him. The sales clerk again asked, "ilonggo ka?" My son smiled knowingly, saying "nahalata ka nanaman." The sales clerk was from Romblon.
From Mark R, my son asked to go inside another shop which had racks of clothing. I said I'd stay outside but my husband insisted we go in as it was aircon inside -- it was sweltering hot outside. But I had a funny feeling I wouldn't enjoy the mustiness of the store. Still I conceded and when the door opened, I smelled naphthalene balls. My son was expecting he'd see stuff like we'd buy in the export overruns shops in Camp John Hay, but the clothes in Cubao looked that they had been used by someone or other. Ukay-ukay stuff. Were they filched from someone's yard/clothes lines? I wondered. I couldn't wait to go out and luckily my husband and son had the same idea.
Across we saw a Valentino shoe store, a Rusty Lopez shoe store which said SALE -- but I wasn't enticed. It was so hot really. As we circled the place from the other end, I saw a lotto stall. I had had these 3 tickets since I couldn't remember when so I had them checked. The guy was taking so long I thought I had won. Instead, he said the numbers were no longer clear. When I checked they were fathomable, but I guess he was strict. Ticket dates said October 2007. Oh well, so much for winning funds for a house of my own. hahaha. Dreaming big.
As we went back to the Wheelmobile, Arnel, the driver, told my husband he had bought a pair of shoes from Rusty Lopez's store for P1495. So ended our adventure for today.
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Tonight I read Chelo Banal-Formoso's farewell essay thanking people she had worked with as Lifestyle editor of the Inquirer. She also wrote of encounters/misencounters in line with her work. Her recounting a comment from someone, "You still eat meat?" upon seeing her bite into a kebab reminded me of my experience last Friday. Before writing about that, let me add that Chelo went on to say that Crickette Tantoco told her, "why didn't you say `go ahead and eat Nemo while I eat my meat." or something to that effect to your friend". Now I know what to say when similar remarks are directed my way.
What do I mean? It has been a long-running tradition of these two friends of mine from college to come celebrate my birthday with me, be it on the day itself, before or after, by bringing food to the house. They rib me a lot (pun unintended) because while they are into salads and fish, I'm a carnivore. This time around, though, we ate out at Cyma. I hired the Wheelmobile and along with a maid went to Shangrila. I was early so I bought some gift wrappers and ribbons from Wrap Shop before proceeding to the restaurant. I was still too early but decided to just sit by the table lest I lose it to other diners because CYma is always "waiting". But I was getting so annoyed with this mestizo pony-tailed waiter who kept egging me, "o-order na kayo?" that finally, I did, although my friends hadn't yet arrived.
I ordered mussels -- a bowl it would be, the menu said, and what a big bowl that was. Funny thing is that my non-carnivoric friends, that is, one of them isn't into mussels because she's scared to develop a bum stomach. So it was just my other friend and I who gorged on it while the non-mussel friend got the garlic bread that came along with the mussels. I let them choose the other entrees because it was their treat and I said I wanted to try stuff different from what my equally carnivorous husband and son, and I usually order.
So what did they order? Lamb chops cooked medium well -- these were tender and tasty, even my husband will enjoy it. I'm not sure about my son.It came with rice stuffed in a red bell pepper and two slices of potatoes swimming in olive oil. The other order was seared tuna salad. For a while there, I thought the tuna slices were meat because they were sliced like tenderloin and looked as reddish-brown. Very filling. I can't recall now if we ordered anything else, but we must have. Why can't I remember? Oh well...
After lunch they wanted to take coffee, and non-mussel eating friend said, "Sugar House" but lo and behold, it was no more. Figaro? Dome? We opted for Dome. One friend had coffee and the three of us shared a chocolate cake in caramel sauce. That was yummy.
After a while, I texted my maid to come and get me and she said aloud when she saw my friends, "Hello". Wow, she's less shy than me. I usually just smile quietly. Besides, what happened to "Good afternoon"? But never mind, she's too old to be chided and besides, I had told my two friends earlier that she's different from my other yaya whom they knew from way back to be quiet and polite. So they smiled and looked at me as soon as my maid said, "hello." They understood where I was coming from when I had told them what I did minutes earlier...
At any rate, I rest my case. Duhhhhhhhhh.
Now what else did they order at Cyma?????????????????
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