Regret

Other people can move on from it easily.  Others cannot.  It's like a ghost that's constantly haunting you.

Most people who know me may see me as someone who can easily move on from regret.  Yeah, I think I'm one person who knows how to move on from it but not too easily.  In my solitude, my regrets bite me.  They make me stop awhile and then, as I try to go past it, I then temporarily recover from that ugly feeling and just assure myself that it's all gone now and I don't have anything to be bothered about.  I'm one you might call, a Semi-regretter.

Regrets can come from a lot of things.  Regret for a decision, regret for an action, regret for a missed opportunity, regret for a person, regret for a group of persons.

Why regret?  Why wallow on such a bad feeling?  Sometimes it's just the question of the unknown.  Of what could have been if you didn't make an ass of yourself.  That you could have hurt someone, or changed the course of things not for the good but for the worse.  It's the feeling that you did not do good for others or for yourself.  And sometimes, you can be hard on yourself with that.  I am hard on myself with that.  It makes your heart beat a little faster and sweat up a little somewhere in the forehead.

What comes together with regret is guilt.  They're the best of friends.  Regret can't live without guilt.  They were born to be together.

Guilt, I think, is a worse feeling than regret.  While regret takes its toll for a moment, guilt brings its wrath for a long time.  And when these two attack you, the defense mechanisms that are triggered are sometimes much uglier.  I find justifications for my actions, I put blame on everything else around me or sometimes, for lack of anyone to dump it to, I just become apathetic.  The hell I care.

For a moment, for a few days, I then forget about it again.  But, like a tattoo that permanently scars your skin, Mr. Regret and Mrs. Guilt are just there waiting for the next time they can come up again and remind you of what you've done, bug you at how bad a person you once were.  Then the ugly feeling is back again with the hope that it won't stay longer this time.  It's Groundhog Day without the comedy.

How do you get rid of it?  You can't.  It's just there.  You just cope with it and wish that, in your private moment of self-introspection, when your alone in the dead of night, it does not crop up and sting you, again.

I'm Totally Wired With "The Wire".

They have been sitting in my dvd shelf for a few years now.  All four seasons of it.  Ever since "The Sopranos" ended, I couldn't find another show that can hook me as much as this one.

Sure I finished "Hung" and "The Good Wife", all them seasons.  "Law And Order" from UK to LA.  But nothing really like how "The Wire" from HBO got me fuckin' addicted.

It's just so well written.  The characters are fully fleshed out.  No pretty faces, no named actors.

Baltimore City is like Manila.  Nothing happens to solving the crime because the government is so fucked up that nothing is really getting done.

Just like "The Sopranos", this show is a slow burn.  No cheap tricks, no plot manipulations and no cliffhangers(at least, not that I'm aware of).  Just total trust on the story and you just ride with it to the end.

Not too many shows are like this anymore.  Some rely on quick jokes, others on sex, some, too, on its fantasy elements or it's computer graphics.  This one is just about people trying to get things done.  And what a wonderful bunch of interesting characters there are.

I am ending my third season.  And I am about to start the fourth one.  I already got the last season.  Even as early as now, like a little boy doing small bites of his favorite chocolate just to prolong having it, I am taking the watching bit by bit because I hate the thought that I am about to finish such a good show and will again start hunting for a new one.  And it's just hard to look for a new tv show to like these days.  Like what happened to me and House.  The first three seasons were great.  I love his cynical, jaded, bitter and arrogant quips.  But as the seasons progressed, he has become too funny and quirky.  He started to lose his angst and his bite.  He has become this cute puppy suddenly.

My favorite characters are McNulty, Omar, Stringer, Prez and the new councilman Carcetti.

I don't really care for Avon Barksdale.  I'm beginning to like Bodie, the street corner punk running at Barksdale's camp.

Seasons 1 and 2 are great!  The 3rd season is like an intro to a big story.  The way it's going now is that they're wrapping up the drug/street angle and is slowly moving into the higher government plot lines.  And anything about government corruption could only be better for any show.

Except for Flor De Luna and Calvento Files, I can't think of any local tv series that had me on a can't-miss mode.  Nothing to drool over.

I remember ABS-CBN doing a lame courtroom drama that has no drama whatsoever.  I think it's called Ipaglaban Mo, way back in the 90's.

All our shows are not into characters and stories.  They're into plot gimmickries like seeing a 2 headed freak in a circus.  No solid story.  They are all scared to invest on a good story.  And they don't want to wait too.  They just want to pile up conflict after conflict hoping their viewers don't switch channels.  You can feel that they don't really care about their stories.  They just care about instant plot twists and turns trying to get ahead of their viewers thinking that's how to get them glued to their sets.

How many times have we seen the plot of the adopted sister who has rich birth parents but ended up in a poor couple's house?  How many times did we see a twin Judy Ann Santos torn apart when they were still babies?  How many big wedding scenes ending in an explosion do we need to see?  How many more newly bought ethnic costume dramas do we need to endure?  How many mansions and scarred faces (using crumpled tissue papers) do we need to see in order to get an honest-to-goodness tv series that is worth spending millions of money to tell a great story that brings out the true Filipino psyche?

I guess not soon.

With the entry of ABC 5 as a major network, I thought that it was going to be a game changer.  I thought that they will be different.  That they'll be the alternative.  Because they can afford to be different because they have good financial backing.  But no.  With the way their shows are going, it seems like they're hitting their competition following the same game plan their competition laid out for them.  The same old soap operas with the same kind of over-the-top plot points and melodramatic tearjerkers that's meant for the dumb and the dumber.

I hate to finish "The Wire".  I hate to be looking for another sensible tv show out there.  "The Good Wife" is just about to start its 3rd season.  Maybe if I watch the remaining episodes of "The Wire" in snail's pace, I can have "The Good Wife" just in time.

If not, I guess I'll be in the cooking channels again.

The Egg

There's no other like it.  


Anthony Bourdain would always ask chefs what their last supper would be. Let's just say I'm one of them and if Tony took the time to ask me the same question as well, my answer would be, somewhere in the clutter of must-eats-before-I-die, egg.  The egg!


Cook it mushy, scrambly wet, sunny side up, over easy, hard boiled, soft boiled.


I remember when I went to Amsterdam somewhere between 1994 and 1995 to subtitle a movie, I stayed in some hostel and their breakfast, as in most parts of Europe, consists mainly of just bread, cold cuts, cheese, orange juice and egg.  Hard boiled egg with a soft center.  I probably embarrassed myself because I'd always eat 3 or 4 of those soft centered shit each time I had breakfast.  And this was way before news of its cholesterol content ruined my little egg's rep.


And even when news came out of some health scientists findings that a chicken egg has so much cholesterol especially the yolk(why is it that all the best part of food is always the most unhealthy?), I can still eat 2 or 3 eggs a day and I wouldn't feel an ounce of guilt whatsoever.


On breakfast buffets, even if there are loads of other stuff I haven't yet tasted, I'd really fill up my plate with either an omelette or those runny scrambled eggs.  That's first things first.  For omelette, I love those mushroom and cheese combos.  The cheese that's either gruyere or emmental, nutty and slightly bitter.  I could just eat that for breakfast.  No meats, no fancy jams or healthy yoghurts.  Just plain eggs and bread.
And lots of butter, of course.  And with a dose of heavy caffeine to go with it.


I can't have just one egg.  I grew up with two eggs on my plate each time.  My family always have two eggs on their plates, too.  Sunny side up mostly.  


When my dad gets his eggs, he uses his spoon and fork to slice the egg to pieces using it like a knife constantly crisscrossing the spoon and fork until it's cut into little bits and the yolk and the whites are mixed evenly.  On a busy morning, the neighbors could hear this cacophony of percussive spoons and forks slicing the eggs on the plate with me and my siblings going at the cutting with intent to kill.  Actually, it was only when I moved to Manila that I've found out that such a routine of slicing the eggs without any care for the world is rude to other people.  But for me and my sibs, that's music to our ears.


Sometimes, one would think that they have tasted every way there is to cook an egg.  But there is one way to cook an egg in Thailand that got me looking for it when I got back to Manila.  They cook the scrambled egg on high heat and come up with a sort of dried out, overcooked plain omelette and then they serve it with their classic Thai condiment of lime, nam pla and chopped chilis.  Shit, it was so good!  I was eating the egg with rice with no other dishes with it.  Just egg and rice with that sauce.  Fuck!  Of course, I tried it at home and I didn't get it.  Sorry me!  Now, I just daydream once in awhile about  it, doing a bit of Lee Strasberg Method sense memory thingy just to scramble through my memory bank and get back the exact taste of that heavenly egg dish!  And memories can fade...sob, sob, sob.


But, like all success stories, when you're down and crawling on the pavement trying to get back the glory days of that one Thai egg dish you tasted, here comes along another egg dish that erases all desperate wanting you have for that spicy Bangkok egg.  This time, it's a Chinese concoction!


In front of Rockwell, in a small street in a plush Makati village, there is a house that serves home-cooked Chinese dishes.  I know what you guys are thinking, it's not that over-rated Som's, sorry.  Hell, I don't even know the name of this restaurant/carinderia.  Anyway, they serve this scrambled egg dish with spring onions.  That's it!  Eggs...and spring onions!  Puta!  The best!  Of course, maybe there's a dash of glutamate umami thing there somewhere but who cares!  I like vetsin!  It tastes so good!  Again, have it with just rice!  Piping hot rice!


Now, for the sophisticated in the palate who wants their egg dish a bit expensive, there is this beautiful, comforting egg dish at Lusso in Greenbelt 5.  It's the egg en cocotte.  Simply, a baked egg with a soft center with some surprise at the bottom when you dig your spoon deep into the baking dish.  I only tried the one with foie gras and I keep coming back to have it each time.     


I have a secret to tell you that I would not dare say if I wasn't proven right.  I love my eggs served as the main ingredient.  An egg dish with just butter and toast.  But the secret cooking for my perfect egg is really a sunny side up with the whites burned on the edges but the yolk is still wet and medium rare.  


All these years, I thought that I am enjoying my sunny side up eggs but cooking it wrong and I don't dare tell anyone about it..  I thought that if the chefs of the world that I respect and worship eat breakfast at my table and I cook the same egg, they'd sneer at my preparation and tell me that for someone who claims to adore eggs, I don't really know how to cook one.  


But no, I was wrong...er, right.  Until recently, browsing through the upcoming books at Amazon, I chanced upon the latest cookbook from the best chef of the world, Ferran Adria.  Flipping through the 3-page preview of his latest book, The Family Meal: Home Cooking with Ferran Adria, I saw his sunny side up recipe for the glorious egg.  And, he too, just like me, prepares his egg with the overcooked crispy edges and the soft yolk center.  God damn!  That's Ferran, man!  And we cook our eggs the same way!  No, shit!


I love eggs!  I love everything about it.  Seeing it makes my day bright and sunny, pardon the pun.  Fluffy whites with that ultra-dainty yellow center looking right back at you almost like greeting you a good morning.  Too bad that it has suffered the wrath of those stupid food scientists over the years and I sure hope that my beloved egg recovers from it.  


Oh, egg!  I know that the white hates to be separated from its yolk.  Each time an omelette is made using only the whites of the egg, somewhere there in the dark recesses of the kitchen in some dunk bin there is a yolk weeping at being left out and unwanted.  Don't worry, my darling.  So long as you're in my household, in the egg tray of my cold ref, whether you're organic or not, you will always have a place in my dining table.  You are family.  And even as I grow old, alone, diabetic or arthritic and all, I will be with you 'til the day I die.  You will be at my last supper, remember? 

My 5 Favorite Comfort Restaurants

Nanbantei.  I could eat here everyday.  No frills Japanese grill house at the 3rd level of Greenbelt 3 Makati.  

     Favorite items:

•  shake onigiri (rice with salmon)
•  best seller platter- a combination of chicken and pork grilled meats.  Chicken wings  and any  of the grilled pork are great.
•  tori platter- everything chicken.  Chicken ass is the best.  And the skin too!
•  vegetable appetizer with the tangy-smoky Japanese sauce.  Jikama, carrots and cucumber         
•  grilled shitake mushrooms

Luk Foo Shabu-Shabu Restaurant.  Eat here when you don't have anything scheduled after.  Why?  Because you'll smell of food when you get out of the place.  This is located anywhere where there is Pure Gold supermarkets.

     Favorite Items:

• all kinds of balls in the shabu-shabu + fresh leafy greens
• crispy beancurd skin (dunk it in the broth and it's unforgettable)
• prawns sauteed in salted eggs

Gustavus Steakhouse.  Simple, clean, fresh tasting food.  F and M Lopez Building, Carlos Palanca St.  The best steak in Manila!  

     Favorite Items:

• ceasar salad (their lettuce is grilled.  Nice smoky veggie)
• fresh oysters mixed with casino oysters
• steak, of course

Abe.  I'm not the pinoy-food kinda guy but Abe, I'll go to anytime.  You just need to be with a big group each time you eat here because the servings are a lot and also, so you can order more than two dishes for sharing.

     Favorite items:

• kilawin tanguigue (make sure that it's prepared fresh).  I returned my other orders on this because the fish has been prepared in advance and the vinegar already cooked the fish.
• bicol express.  All veggies with only shrimp.  No pork.  Shit, I can eat two orders of this!
• bamboo rice.  I hate fancy rice but this one works with the viands.
• chicharon bulaklak.  How could you go wrong!

Shang Palace Makati.  Eat-all-you-can dimsum lunch time.  Weekdays.  I simply love dimsum!  The Chinese version of a Spanish Tapas bar.  From 11:30 to 2:30.

     Favorite items:

• taro puff
• all kinds siomai
• congee

Day 2/15. B & B. Batali. Buon Appetito.

Day 2
April 10.  Sunday.

The NAB show was opening the next day so we had the whole of Sunday to catch up on sleep and get to my first restaurant that I booked.

Flashback.  Approximately a month before the trip, I started browsing the net, particularly Opentable.com, for restaurants I can book in our Vegas, SF and LA trip.  Top of my list was to book at an Eric Ripert restaurant (if there was anything on the West Coast, which there was none), Molto Mario Batali (if he had any on the West Coast, which he had), Thomas Keller (other than French Laundry.  He had Ad Hoc, which I missed out and could have booked.  GRRRRR!).  

I woke up at 2pm.  I thought everyone had already left me at the hotel only to find out that the rest of my colleagues also overslept.

We decided to have lunch at a mall so we can get some US pre-paid sim cards that we can use during our stay.  My partner at Revolver Studios, AF, brought us to Fashion Mall at the Strip.  Hungry and all, we picked the first restaurant that we laid our eyes on.  El Segundo something was the name.  With the name, it suggests Mexican food and we thought it was a good balance for what awaits us that night at Batali's.

I hate it when I don't seriously think about the restaurant I'll be eating at.  El Segundo pointed that out to me again.  Hopefully, this time around, I learned my lesson.

El Segundo wasn't awful food.  But it was forgettable.  A kind of Hard Rock Cafe/ Applebee's/ Chili's kind of restaurant that serves decent food but nothing that could really make you want to come back for anything.  That's why they were in a mall, I guess.  Serving food for people who just want to get by their hunger while shopping.

Worse, their al fresco dining is a No Smoking area.  My first taste of American political correctness.  Better to turn off a smoker than tarnish the "family-friendly" atmosphere of the now clean, kid-friendly Las Vegas(remember Ace Rothstein of "Casino" and how the mob built Vegas?  Bodies left to rot in the desert?).

Anyway, enough El Segundo.  After eating, we had to rush on the sim card buying so that we can fetch Lyle, a fellow director, at the airport.

Together with Dondon and Ross, AF (our designated driver for Vegas) rushed to the airport using our GPS tracker.  I would love to drive myself but I don't have any license so I'm just the eternal backseat driver from Vegas to SF to LA.  Oh shucks!! I hate it!  Really!  I do!  FUCK!)

Relaxing at the backseat playing Bejewelled Blitz, we were going around Vegas in circles with the airport in plain sight but never getting really near it.  Our GPS is screwing up just like Kubrick's HAL-9000 going nuts in outer space.

We ended up fetching Lyle quite late.  And just like the scene in "Home Alone" where the family of Macaulay Culkin is rushing to get to their flight at the airport, we rushed our way to our booking at Batali's resto.  From the airport we rushed to check-in Lyle's bags.  We also picked up another colleague at the hotel, our partner in Postmanila, Dave (who has just arrived as well) and then rushed to Venetian for the B & B Ristorante of Batali and Bastianich.

I am not famous for being on time.  In fact, some friends I work with would always call me "The Late Erik Matti".  But for Batali, I was never going to come in late.  I didn't want my booking cancelled and I don't know how reservations in the US deal with late comers so I want to play it safe.

Picture this out:  I am 40 years old with a big tummy and all, rushing and weaving through the casino floors of Venetian.  Behind me is Dondon Monteverde and Ross Misa, both more than 40 years old (actually Ross, I think, is Sir Ross, so he might be reaching 50-ishy, but I can keep him to the 40 something in this account.).  Both of them are also rushing to get there.  I've built up Batali so much to them that, they too, didn't want to miss the booking.

Behind Don and Ross, trying to play it cool, are the younger AF and Lyle(younger but with big, if not bigger tummies, as well).  Both are trying to rush gracefully so that they don't look like some freakin' restaurant is forcing them to lose composure but they are also at a pace to make sure that when the gates at the resto close, they won't be left outside while we're inside huffing and puffing enjoying our first order of Italian red wine.

We got there.  ON TIME.  I was in anticipation looking at the bustling crowd inside.  Picture taking galore!  Picture here, picture there.  Solo, group, trio, no flash, with flash, stronger flash, smiling, pa-cool, shooting up, with and without double-chin.

Even while waiting to be seated, we already ordered a container of house wine.  I was sweating, with leather jacket and all but I had a plastered smile.  Like a kid meeting the Jollibee mascot for the first time or a woman entering the Sephora store for the first time or even seeing Asaytono play basketball live, it was a moment to remember, to relish.  Something that you want to memorize so that in your deathbed you can upload every pixel of it and say, "I've tasted Batali!"

As we sat down, I was tasked by the group to make the orders.  I immediately browsed for the signature Batali dishes at their menu (which I've already seen on the web).

We ordered for sharing given that the food at Batali's costs $$$$.

Just as a backgrounder, B & B Ristorante is unlike Batali's other restos like Babbo, Lupas or Del Posto where he was on top of its menus.  With B & B, he shares the menu with Joe Bastianich, son of the Italian food icon Lidia Bastianich.  Although Mario and Joe are partners in several restaurants, it is here in B & B that they introduced their own individual dishes.  In fact, there is a tasting menu for Batali alone and another tasting menu for Bastianich alone.

With the help of a really good server who guided us through the menu in terms of complimentary dishes that go well together and also quantity that will be enough for all of us, we more or less ordered, 3 to 4 dishes on each course from appetizer to pasta to the main course up to desert.

APPETIZERS.

A tasting of Italian cold cuts.  I don't know each of their names and which part of Italy they're made but the variety is just perfect.  It's like a tasting for cheese.  Some meaty and hard, others really delicate and fatty.  It was a perfect start.  Together with it we ordered a bottle of Bastianich wine which was bold and strong fit for all the meats on our plates.                                                                                                                                     

I've always been curious about burrata.  It's a mozzarella, but like its mother.  When you break its center, the soft cheese oozes out like soft boiled egg and it's creamy as hell.  Seeing that on the menu, plus ramps(a kind of leek), a favorite of Batali's in Iron Chef dishes, I immediately ordered it knowing that it is definitely, even if I was uninformed, a Batali signature dish.  And with the small bite I tasted from it, it was worth it.

Most of the chefs love to use the unpopular parts of the meat for their dishes.  I dream of going to Fergus Henderson's St. John, pig's head to tail restaurant (recently awarded, again, one of the 50 best restaurants of the world) that serves dishes that make use of parts of meat that are cheap and normally would be thrown aside in favor of the loins and the ribs, the "supposed" best parts I mean.  This next appetizer has two of my favorite ingredients.  The chewy tongue of a lamb and the soft, mushy 3-minute egg.  Plus a third favorite, mushrooms.  Chanterelles, in particular (first time I've tasted it).  What flavors!  We all know that tongue is more about texture than flavor but this one packs a lot of flavor.  I can't describe it but it was beautiful!

Seppi.  Squid.  Lukos. Pusit.  Again, another ingredient that's more about texture.  But Batali once again has extracted enough squidy flavor that it just left me constantly describing it as, "Hmmm..."  and the other one on the table would answer a louder, "Hmmmmm...".  Someone else answered differently though, "Aaah..." and "Puchaaaa..."  It's your classic calamari but the sauce is to die for.  It packs all the flavors of the sea in there and I don't know what it has.  I know it has a lot of butter though.  Ross' favorite.

PASTA.

The classic clams pasta.  Again, it's about simple flavors mainly capturing the taste of the clams coupled with white wine, parsley and chili flakes with a hint of garlic ( I think).  That's what I am starting to appreciate and understand with top chefs.  They are not concerned with too many flavors.  They go for simple tastes that highlight the main ingredient's flavor.  In this case, the clams.

Goat cheese ravioli.  I've tried cooking this from Batali's cookbook and I sort of got the taste.  Except that I didn't get the right texture for the pasta.  Must be the US water compared to ours.  Or the eggs.  Or maybe, he's just Batali, plain and simple.

Here's another Batali classic from his other restos.  Beef cheek ravioli.  Beefy goodness, is all I can say!   AF's favorite!

MAIN COURSE.

Not just a pork chop.  It's Kurobuta Pork Chops.  Known as the black pig from Japan. Tender, juicy and with a lot of marbling on the meat.  It's the Kobe beef of pigs.  With rhubarb.  Another thing I constantly hear from Western chefs and I'm tasting it for the first time.

Fish.  I don't know about this.  I don't have any opinion on this.  I love fish.  But this is the typical clean, subtle fish dish that's just not Batali.  I was expecting something over the top like all the others but I just didn't get it.  Of course, the fish was well cooked.  The risotto was nice but it was not memorable.  It's like looking at the file videos of pretty Brazilian models.  In the end, you only remember that they were Brazilians and no one really stood out individually.

The last and final main course.  Something I always wanted to try.  Another offal favorite of chefs.  The Sweetbreads!  It was just coated with polenta and it was so good.  Sweetbreads, as per my googling, is part of the larynx or the pancreas.  Small globules that are like a bit gummy in texture.  The texture is something I can't describe except that it's close to an overcooked ox brain.  I can eat a bucket of sweetbreads while watching a movie.  Waaaah!

After two bottles of wine and some dessert, I was a fulfilled bloke.

THE END of DAY 2...

Literally, A Food Trip. A 15-day Account Of My Food Binge In The West Coast

I recently went on a West Coast trip in the US.  First stop was Las Vegas.  Then San Francisco and then went on a road trip to the lousy LA and then back to San Fo (as what Pinoys would call it like in Bora and Mega and Galle) for the trip back home.

My primary purpose for the trip is to attend the NAB conference in Vegas.  It's kind of a work trip.  Although the main hidden agenda, after "work", is to go around the West Coast trying out as many restaurants that I can possibly get my stomache on.

Call it bragging but literally, it may be the food trip of a lifetime.  And it will be the first in a series of culinary trips of a lifetime that I intend to fulfill before I turn to dust.

THE PLAN

1)Book affordable dream restaurants by famous chefs.
2)Try different cuisines that are highly rated in food blogs.

There are just too many restaurants in the US that are must eats.  And sifting through that long, long list is just both tidious and fucking depressing.  There is just so much meals I can pack in a day.  Breakfast is one meal I keep missing since I really am not a morning person.  So that practically leaves me with brunch or lunch and dinner to schedule in a day.  Two meals to assign hundreds if not, thousands of high rated restaurants in the US in two weeks time is not enough.

Top of my list to book on is French Laundry by Thomas Keller.  Named the best American Restaurant several times, it would be the meal to die for...if I can book a table.  Of course I wasn't able to book one.

Hmmm, doesn't seem like a good start for what I claim to be the food experience to die for.

Some people go out of their way to get an autograph of Sarah Geronimo.  Some would die to watch Asaytono play basketball live.  Me?  Well, I almost wet my pants standing in front of James Gandolfini once but aside from that and sex, a Third World brown monkey like me find it at times better than sex to be sitting in a table getting ready for the memorable meal of a lifetime.

Well, everyone, brace yourselves for the barrage of food spots that me and my friends booked ourselves into.  You be the judge if indeed it is worthy to be jealous for.  WARNING:  THE FOLLOWING ENTRY IS FOR FOODIES ONLY.  READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.  FASHIONISTAS AND DIETERS ARE NOT WELCOME.  Everyday I will post a blow by blow, bite by bite account of one food day we spent there.


LAS VEGAS


1st NIGHT. APRIL 9, 2011


We arrived in Vegas after a gruelling 20 or so hours of plane ride from Manila to Hongkong, Hongkong to LA and LA to Vegas.  We were dead tired after checking into our hotel.  But we are hungry as hell too.  I didn't book any restaurant on our first night because we were not really sure what time we'll get to Vegas.  But when we were still on board the plane from LA, we were already unanimous in the decision that we were going to eat dinner after we check into our hotel.  And we decided, as Bourdain would describe it, "no other food is so American that embodies the beautiful and the bad", on THE PRIME RIB.  Not steak, but PRIME RIB (spoken in modulated voice like that of God talking to the puny, weak humans)

At 10 pm in Vegas, where can we get a PRIME RIB(modulated voice again)?

Lo and behold, like in an Elizabeth Gilbert novel, where the world conspired to give you what you want(that's Paulo Cuelho too), directly in front of our hotel (cue angels singing and with heavenly rays coming out from behind the restaurant), the famous LAWRY'S PRIME RIB(this time, in Peter Rabbit arrogant ABS CBN announcer tone).  Highly rated with $$$$ dollar sign to describe to probable customers to order with caution.  It is as Americana as you can go.  Cigar room, oakwood bar, American colonial pillars, dimly lit where you think some Redneck Congressman in some dark corner is planning a conspiracy to bring down Obama, all American clientelle na kulang na lang naka-argylle socks and naka-piloka with the checkered vest, loafers and bow tie.

What an intro to an American trip.  A restaurant more American than America!

Now, on to THE PRIME RIB!  What is, THE PRIME RIB?  In Manila, only Gulliver's offers this and no one else.  In a steakhouse, they broil or grill slabs of beef and serve it to you.  In a Prime Rib resto, they wheel around this Terry Gilliam-esque looking broiler and they have in there whole slabs of beef that they cut for you.  They slap it on your plate, plus mashed potatoes and your choice of creamed corn or spinach as sides and then pour a generous helping of beef au jus plus some horse raddish sauce on the side.

Enough english, Puuuuuttta!  Never eaten beef this good!  Normally, I can't finish a whole slab of those 1/2 inch steaks that I order.  But this one, with an inch and 1/2 or 2 thick cut and the size of my thigh, I practically devoured it.  Nilamon baga!  Puta!  And the cliche, "melts in your mouth" is never more apt in this.  Nice bloody meat, just enough fat to call it beef, perfect sauce!

If a vegetarian dies without tasting this?  I'm sorry but I don't think they've lived THE  life at all even if they died at 124 years old healthy and all!

The Best Feelings

What are the best feelings?

The taste of something that you grew up with.  Corn on a cob with melted butter.  Simple but you just can't stop munching on those.  Mushy and creamy scrambled eggs, too.

Your first unloading of shit after a good night sleep.  With cigarette on hand and after a strong, hot brewed coffee, I can't think of anything gross that's as satisfying as this few moments in the toilet.

A long and undisturbed sleep on a Sunday waking up to Iron Chef America (preferably) or Papparazzi (pwede na, if they really have some juicy news without their uninteresting guests or lost children public service to fill-in the rest of their 2-hour show)

When you're right about something.  Whatever it may be.  May that be for an opinion, an advice or a maneuver of a game plan.  It's nice to feel, uhm, right.  And proven right.

After a release of great anger.  Letting it out is not a good feeling.  It leaves you shaken, stressed and sometimes numb on different parts of your body.  But after letting it out, phew, it just feels great.  You feel brand new, tuned up and reborn ready for the next burst of anger.

When the length and volume of the fart equals the earlier feeling of wanting to let it out.  Heaven!  Better if you held on to it for quite awhile when there was a crowd around you and then, boom, let it out as soon the last person in the room turns away to leave.

Sleeping at the sound of a tv on Discovery or Nat Geo channel.  With the monotonous voice of a British guy all trying to sound like David Attenborough lulling you to sleep.  Fuck!  It's close to hearing the angels sing.

The softness of familiar lips as it plants small kisses on your mouth.  Self-explanatory.

A long, airy, loud burp after emptying a bottle of Coke.  It's hurray in gibberish!

Hearing a song that you know the lyrics to.

Finishing something, anything that you have procrastinated on for quite awhile.  Whether it turned out good or bad, the mere fact that you got it done is enough.

When you find out that there are more miserable people than you.  When Erap was on impeachment trial years ago, and I didn't have any work, I watched every coverage of it in the afternoons.  And I felt so blessed.

When you stand up for what you believe in, for a principle.  It's nice to feel that you have integrity, honor, pride, all the big words.  Even if standing up for it in this day and age would mean going against practically most who's working around you.  Others mistake it as arrogance.  There is a thin line that separates it though.  Either way, arrogant or steadfast, it just feels admirable.  You deserve to pat yourself on that.

When you've helped someone, genuinely helped someone.  Okay, this sounds too Oprah-esque, but it works.

When you snuggle with another person that just fits perfectly.  Legs around legs, arms around waist, face against neck, toes against calf, crotch against butt.  Self-explanatory