2023 left as swiftly and promptly as it arrived. Sometimes I wished time would slow down a bit so I could catch up. But then there were those days when I couldn’t wait for it to be over so I could get a fresh start the next day.

Like any other year before it, except for those two years during the pandemic, time in 2023 was busy, a bit of a roller coaster, and brief. It was a year of routines with a few new add-ons, comebacks, and some bright spots. I spent time with family as much as I could. There were visits with friends that reconnected me with my past and plans set to continue the ties in the future. My little family and I had countless lazy weekends dedicated to simple activities, quality naps, and anything that made us happy. There was nothing to complain about, really. And when I put things in perspective, 2023 bestowed upon me tremendous growth as a professional, a leader, and a human being. It was a year of good, ordinary things, growing, and learning how to make good choices.

In addition to the usual pleasure life had to offer, new and rediscovered pluses graced my life last year.

FOOD

Dining out is an unspoken mission of being a professional chef. It is a means to get inspired and learn the latest goings-on in the culinary scene. It is also a way to support the people in the industry…my people. However, my dining goals and expectations have evolved over the last several years as my life’s priorities have changed. Since a large part of my earnings is now dedicated to a mortgage payment and saving for my son’s college fund, choosing a restaurant to spend hundreds of dollars on a meal has become a thoughtful process. It is not only about trying a new place anymore. I must consider what my want is from the experience. I don’t like being disappointed, and, sadly, it happens quite often in restaurants. Eventually, my dining goals became a routine as well…choosing to spend my hard-earned dollar at places that have given me consistent good quality, joy, and inspiration on every visit.

I entered Saffy’s door for the first time in early 2023. Saffy’s is a Middle Eastern restaurant in East Hollywood from the owners of Bestia and Bavel. It’s on the east side of Fountain Avenue, beautifully nestled in the tight and busy neighborhood of old and weather-beaten Hollywood bungalows, Latino markets, swap meats, and small, family-owned restaurants. It was, at first, hard to find until one discovers that the restaurant sits on the same block as the enormous Scientology building, with its bright lights partially spotlighting the side of the eating establishment.

Saffy’s had me at hello from my first visit and continues to wow every time. I liked Bestia a lot. I loved Bavel. But Saffy’s is quite special. It seems they have it all figured out. The feeling of being in the right place and being with the right people at the right time all comes full force as soon as I enter. No matter how I was feeling before I get to Saffy’s, I always leave full (physically and emotionally), satisfied, and inspired, and with my faith in humanity (temporarily) restored.

As I walked in, there was an ambience that was hard to ignore. The energy is buzzing, with the music ranging from feel-good retro tunes to the current favorites. It is just loud enough to enjoy it but not too loud that you can’t have a good conversation. The sound from the diners’ talks mixed with the composed and measured clatter from the kitchen and service staff is almost melodious…giving off a vibe of positivity and the impression that everyone in it is in for one reason only…to have a good time and to enjoy life.

The service is casual, but impeccable. The staff have smiles on their faces, starting from the valet attendants to the host at the almost-on-the- sidewalk check in podium, all the way to the bussers. They make me feel like they are genuinely happy to see me!

The restaurant’s interior is beautiful and modern but also comfortable. The elegant bar is perfect for deuces and solo diners, offering the full dinner menu and handcrafted cocktails with hints of flavors we don’t usually find in beverages, like cardamom, cinnamon, fennel, borage, carraway, urfa chilies, lemon, and rose. The food is simply divine. Everything is well-seasoned and cooked just right. I had the silkiest hummus, the sweetest tomatoes, the most tender meats, and the freshest laffa bread. The shawarma plate, hummus tahini, pork shishlik, and turmeric mussels are just a few of the must-haves for me. Nothing on the menu is subpar. Everything on the menu is a star.

As I recall every visit at Saffy’s last year, whether it was with my family or with friends, what stood out about every visit was consistency. They have mastered the art of providing the same excellent products, techniques, and service every single time. It is almost like finding the right therapy. A therapy session for the palate and the soul. The visit is all about you. They know exactly what you want, and they anticipate the type of care you need. Their goal is to make it the right experience for you. And so, you feel good and healed after the session, but you also know you will want to go back. Saffy’s is cheaper than therapy, plus, it cures hunger! I am lifted after every meal.

As a chef, everything about Saffy’s inspires me to dream. They inspire me to be better at my craft. The operators of Saffy’s know what they are doing, and they are doing it right. This is the kind of place I want to have. Visit www.saffysla.com.

TELEVISION

To continue the route to positivity, hope, growth, and believing, the third season of Ted Lasso came in the right time-the time when I needed a boost in putting things in perspective. The first two seasons were right up my alley. They gave me joy and inspired me to be better. I often would consider what Ted or Rebecca would do when I was faced with some tough situations. When season three came out, I decided to rewatch the entire show, starting with season one in the spring of 2023 and finishing season three just as summer started. I would watch an episode each night. I purposely didn’t binge for the intention of making it last. Ted Lasso is one of those shows I never wanted to end…ever. On those days when I was feeling low, watching a 40-minute episode of Ted Lasso before bed was just the remedy and drug I needed. Its positive message gave me the high I craved. I wanted to feel good. I needed to believe.

Is there really anyone out there as nice, forgiving, and kind as Ted? Is it possible to not judge? Is it possible to be that optimistic? Are we all capable of being curious? Maybe…at least I can try. We can all try.

There are so many lessons to take away from watching the show. Every character is a representation of what we all go through in life. Many characters epitomize what we all aspire to be. And that we all need community. We all need a team of people who will support us, understand us, root for us, push us to be better, accept us for who we are, love us, and forgive us. We all make mistakes, but accountability is what makes us redeemable. We are all capable of change. And things can only affect us if we let it. So be a goldfish…that’s the secret to being happy. “BELIEVE.”

BOOKS

In 2023, I reread three books from my collections.

The Great Gatsby is one of those books that I retreat to often. I just love F. Scott Fitzgerald’s way with words. The Great Gatsby is a romantic and tragic novel and a perfect escape that transports me to an unfamiliar world. If I were to choose the quotes I like most in the book, it would be the beginning and the end. My takeaway this time around is the opening sentence. He wrote through the voice of Nick Carraway, “In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I’ve been turning over in my mind ever since. Whenever you feel like criticizing anyone, he told me, just remember that all the people in this world haven’t had the advantages that you’ve had.”

I also read The Ride of a Lifetime by Robert A. Iger for the second time last year. As I was finding my pathway to be mentally and emotionally ready to lead and make decisions in 2023, I felt the need to re-read the lines and pages I marked in the book previously. There are many valuable lessons from this memoir. What resonated to me the most this time was: “The first rule is not to fake anything. You have to be humble, and you can’t pretend to be someone you’re not or to know something you don’t. You have to ask the questions you need to ask, admit without apology what you don’t understand, and do the work to learn what you need to learn as quickly as you can.” 

All The Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr is one of my favorite books of all time. It is a story of courage, optimism, compassion, and hope. From this book, I wrote down in my journal this quote: “Every outcome has its cause, and every predicament has its solution. Every lock its key.”

In my moments in darkness in 2023, when I questioned my choices and decisions and when my decisions and choices were questioned, I continued to look for the light. I needed to reassess. Throughout my journey of self-evaluation, I was reminded that life is a series of choices. And that the alignment of my stars is actually up to me. From the moment I wake up until I turn off the lights at night, I am presented with choices. Every move, every word, every thought, every reaction was of my choosing. It is always my move. Even during those moments with feelings of defeat, the ball was in my court.

So, I shaped up. I controlled the chaos in my head, and I exercised my freedom to choose. I cooked when I could, I went to Saffy’s when my bank account allowed it, I watched Ted Lasso, I read good books, I hung out with good company, I spent time with family, I appreciated solitude.

Knowing that I have the power to choose, I felt freer. On those days that I didn’t make the right choice, I held myself accountable. I learned from it, but I chose not to beat myself up too much for it. And so, for a good part of 2023, I chose to be positive. I chose to face all situations with an open mind, and an understanding that I can only control what I can control. I chose to see the best in people even when they were unkind. I chose to ignore the unnecessary noise and to value the truth. I chose to see your point of view. I chose to smile when you didn’t smile back. I chose to not hate. I chose to put your feelings before mine. I chose to be kind and thoughtful. And I chose to love every chance I got.

We are three months in the new year. Just like 2023, 2024 seems to be in a hurry. Gosh, I just don’t want to miss anything this time around. I choose to be present and enjoy the moment. I choose to participate. I choose to see and hear as much as I can. I will be productive. I will commit to improve every day. I will value my time better. I will challenge myself. I will say yes. I will continue to appreciate the slow mornings, boring weekends, and easy workdays. I will nap whenever possible. I will choose and decide how my day will be. And no matter what kind of day it turns out to be, I will acknowledge that it is a gift, and I will be grateful for it.

I do hope 2024 brings many bright spots and many opportunities to explore new things.

Last week was a hectic week at work and at home, but I chose to add on a little creative action in my day for an extra lift. I made ricotta cheese, and I poached some pears in prosecco and honey. These two are on the top of my favorite combination of flavors of all time. The sweetness of the pears goes so well with the lemony and slight saltiness of the ricotta. My husband and I enjoyed them for dessert one night last week. On Saturday morning, I made ricotta and blueberry pancakes. I caramelized the poached pears in some butter and served them with the pancakes. It was a perfect treat on a slow lazy weekend morning.

I am sharing these recipes with you today. I hope you get to make these recipes with the people who always give you a boost of confidence and positivity. I hope you always remember that you get to choose who you want to be every day. I hope you always BELIEVE.

Bon Appetit!

Homemade Lemon Ricotta

Makes 3 cups

Ingredients

1 qt gallon of whole milk

1 qt heavy cream

1/3 cup lemon juice

1 teaspoon salt

Instruction

Pour the milk and heavy cream into a 4-quart pot and set it over medium heat. Let it warm gradually to 200°F, monitoring the temperature with an instant read thermometer. The milk will get foamy and start to steam; remove it from heat if it starts to boil.

Remove the milk from heat. Pour in the lemon juice and the salt.

Let the pot of milk sit undisturbed for 15 minutes. The milk should have separated into clumps of milky white curds and thin, watery, yellow-colored whey. Add another tablespoon of lemon juice if it looks like there are still milk that hasn’t separated.

Set a fine strainer lined with cheesecloth over a bowl and pour the curds through the strainer. Let the curds drain about 20 to 40 minutes depending on how wet or dry you prefer your ricotta. You have now made ricotta cheese!

Prosecco and Honey Poached Pears

Serves 5

1 bottle of prosecco

4 oz. of honey

1-cup orange juice

5 cloves

1 cinnamon stick

½ of vanilla bean, scraped

Five bosc pears, washed, peeled, cut in half, pit removed.

Combine prosecco, honey, orange juice, cloves, cinnamon stick, and vanilla bean in a pot over medium heat. Bring the liquid to a boil then bring down to a simmer. Gently add the pears, cover with a lid. Simmer the pears in the liquid for about 30 minutes, until the pears are tender but not falling apart. Turn off heat. Let the pears cool in the liquid. Remove the peaches from the liquid using a slotted spoon.

Reduce the poaching liquid over low heat until it has a syrup consistency. This could take 45 minutes.

Blueberry Ricotta Pancakes

-recipe by Chef Neal Fraser

• 1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
• 1 teaspoon baking powder
• 1 1/2 teaspoons kosher salt
• 3 large eggs, separated
• 1 3/4 cups plus 2 tablespoons milk
• 6 ounces ricotta cheese (1/2 cup plus 2 tablespoons)
• 1/4 cup sugar
• 1 tablespoon pure vanilla extract
• Unsalted butter, for the griddle
• 1 pint fresh blueberries or 2 cups frozen blueberries, thawed
• Pure maple syrup, for serving

In a small bowl, whisk the flour, baking powder and salt. In a large bowl, whisk the egg yolks with the milk, ricotta, sugar, and vanilla. Add the dry ingredients and whisk until the batter is smooth.

In a large bowl, using an electric mixer, beat the egg whites at medium speed until frothy. Beat at high speed until soft peaks form. Fold the egg whites into the batter until no streaks remain.

Heat a griddle, then lightly butter it. For each pancake, ladle a scant 1/4 cup of the batter onto the griddle; be sure to leave enough space between the pancakes. Cook over moderately low heat until the bottoms are golden and the pancakes are just beginning to set, 1 to 2 minutes. Sprinkle each pancake with a few blueberries and press lightly. Flip the pancakes and cook until golden on the bottom and cooked through, about 1 minute longer. Transfer the pancakes to plates and keep them warm in the oven while you make the rest. Serve the pancakes with maple syrup.

-In my version of the recipe, I used the homemade lemon ricotta for the pancakes, and I mixed in the blueberries with the batter. I topped the pancakes with more ricotta.

I was a late bloomer when it came to figuring out what I wanted to do professionally. Unlike some friends I had in high school who knew that they wanted to be doctors, nurses, engineers, and businesspeople at 17, I entered college without a major. Even when I finally decided to study English Literature, I still didn’t know what that would mean for me and my way of making a living. I just wanted to read. I didn’t have a plan, and often took the long way home. I didn’t always listen to my mother. I ignored opportunities. I didn’t take care of myself. I didn’t put enough value on friendships; I neglected my relationship with my sisters. I wasn’t a screw up; I just didn’t prioritize well, and I was selfish. I swayed with the wind. I enjoyed my freedom and not having responsibility. I suppose that in my youth, time was the least of my worries. But as carefree as I lived, I held many jobs successfully as I trekked through my twenties. Retail, restaurants, customer service, and banking. It turns out I could be good at many things when I applied myself. My bosses liked me and most saw growth potential in me. Still, no matter what job I held, it didn’t feel like enough. 

It was the winter of 1998 when I knew that it was time to make a change. I had been living in Juneau, Alaska for about five years. I had a decent job. I was with my family. I had friends. I wasn’t unhappy. I wasn’t lost. Life was fine. I didn’t even know anything was missing, until the very thing I was missing was in front of me. As most life’s revelations, this one came unexpectedly. 

I was working in the loans department of Alaska Federal Bank for a couple of years. I liked it enough, and it paid for what I needed at the time. I collaborated with good people. My boss, Tammi, decided she wanted to invest in me. She sent me to a one-week training for Fanny Mae in Los Angeles. I had never been, and naturally, I was excited to go. While I was here, I explored the city every night after the day’s work. A week is too short to see Los Angeles, but I saw enough to know that it was the place I needed to be. The moment of my decision was profound. I remember standing on the patio of the Woodland Hills Marriot on my last night, with a Tanqueray on the rocks in one hand and a lit Marlboro Light in the other, looking up the starless sky and saying aloud, “I must move here, and I will be a chef.” I returned to Juneau after the training with transformed energy. I heard my calling, and I felt compelled to pursue it. I immediately told my mother that I would be moving to Los Angeles within a year. 

That was almost 24 years ago. So many things have happened in my life since then. The move to L.A. and pursuing the culinary profession was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made in my life. It was the right move. A life’s realignment that I didn’t even know I needed. It was a shift that positioned me where I needed to be. And yes, the first few years were tough and lonely, but for the first time in my adult life, there was a clear path in front of me. For the first time in my life, I knew exactly what I wanted to do. 

Culinary school taught me the foundation of cooking. But the real education came from being in the kitchen, understanding and recognizing the brigade and all it represents. Respect for the craft lead to the creamiest mashed potatoes, the perfect poached egg, stable hollandaise, rich stocks, refined plating, kitchen harmony, flawless service, and good leadership. The kitchen, with all its hazards, physical demands, emotional toll, and harshness, taught me discipline, resilience, humility, patience, organization, fluidity, teamwork, and perseverance. The true revelation was that hard work (lots and lots of hard work) could make me into a great chef. But it also showed me friendship, compassion, and kindness. And it gave me joy. The kitchen took me in and kept me safe. The kitchen provided little pilots of light during my darkest of days. It healed me when I was hurting. It fed me when I was hungry. The kitchen kept me busy and focused when I was homesick for family. I was home. I belonged.

My journey as a chef has taken me down many paths I could never have imagined when I was living in Alaska. I had two amazing mentors from my early years as a young chef. They were tough, honest, and kind. They pushed me hard and prepared me for many things, including a future too distant for my inexperienced eyes to see. Last year, I was presented with the opportunity to lead the entire food service team at the studio, in the role of Resident District Manager, overseeing all the aspects of the operation. FOH (“front of house”), BOH (“back of house”), financial performance, and client and employee relations. It was an intimidating undertaking. I knew it would be hard. I knew that if I wanted to do the job right, I would have so much to learn. But I also knew that I would be committed to learn it, and, with any luck, I would be good at it! 

The job is different than my life as a Chef. There are more challenges, and those challenges are of larger scale. Many days I am succeeding. Some days I feel defeated. There are days when I must remind myself that no matter how prepared I am, I can’t control everything. I never know how my day is going to go. The day’s outcomes aren’t guaranteed. My promise is that I will always give my best, and I will have faith in the process. Each day presents an opportunity to be better. Just like in the kitchen, every day is a new day, and I get to decide how to face the joys and trials coming my way. 

I finally hung up my chef’s coat…a decision that took months to do. For the first time in 23 years, the one big tangible representation of my dream was no longer part of my being. I still miss it and will for a long while. I will always be a chef, only now I am disguised in civilian clothes, overseeing a much larger community of food professionals. The utilitarian superhero coat will retire for a bit, as I embark on my new adventure. But I haven’t lost my superpower: I still cook, and I am still very good at it!

Whether I am in white chef’s coat or casual business attire, and no matter what the day brings, I am ready. Ready to continue the dream…the dream I never even knew I had. And as I go on with my day, there is a familiar feeling inside me; a feeling that makes me not want to give up. A feeling that keeps me motivated. A feeling that makes me smile, and one that reminds me that I am exactly where I need to be. I know this feeling…it is called privilege. I recognize that it is an honor to be trusted with such responsibility. It is great privilege to be standing where I am. It is great privilege to lead this team. It is a true treasure to have a fulfilled dream.

When I left Alaska with a new hope, I had no idea that one bold, risky decision would take me to where I am right now. When I look around me and evaluate my life, I can’t help but feel grateful. My 28-year-old self would be shocked to see how far I’ve come, but I also think that she would be proud. I ended up exactly where I belong, doing the things I am meant to do. It feels good to be here, and it feels even better knowing what it is I want to do next.

Maybe because my days at work are mostly spent on operations, I find myself wanting to cook more at home. I make dinners every night and on weekends, my son and I have been cooking or baking together. Recently, when I wanted to be creative, I hosted an elaborate dinner party at home! Feeding 20 hungry friends reminded me the reason I wanted to cook to begin with: sharing your food is sharing yourself.

Today, I am sharing a recipe from my most recent dinner party. It was a five-course all-Italian menu. The third course was eggplant caponata over creamy polenta. I added my Filipino touch on this Sicilian classic dish…slow braised pork belly in balsamic vinegar, soy sauce, garlic, and onions. After braising the pork belly, I crisp them up on a skillet and topped the caponata with these rich crispy bits. The complete dish was perfect in every way, and it paired quite well with Chianti.

I hope you get a chance to make this dish and share it with someone special. I hope you are living your best life and are surrounded by people who support your dreams. I hope you remember that it is never too late to start anything that makes you happy. Now is the right time to find your place. Be bold!

Happy eating and happy dreaming!

Easy Eggplant Caponata

Serves 6

½ cup olive oil, divided

2 medium sized Italian eggplant, cut into ½ inch dice

Salt

1 cup chopped celery

1 cup chopped onion

2 cloves of garlic, minced

2 cups chopped San Marzano tomatoes

¼ cup coarsely chopped Castelvetrano olives (regular green olives is fine too)

2 tablespoons capers, drained

2 tablespoons tomato paste

2 tablespoons aged balsamic vinegar

1 teaspoon sugar

Salt and pepper to taste

1 tablespoon chopped fresh oregano

1 tablespoon chopped fresh parsley

Heat ¼ cup of olive oil in a large skillet. 

Sautee eggplant in olive oil until cooked until lightly browned. Season with salt. Remove from the skillet and set aside. 

Add the remaining oil in the skillet. Add the celery and cook for about 3 minutes, stirring frequently. Add the onions and garlic and cook until the onion is soft, and the garlic is fragrant. Stir in the tomatoes, olives, capers, and tomato paste. Bring to a boil and simmer uncovered. The mixture will thicken. 

Add the balsamic vinegar, sugar, salt, and pepper. Finish with fresh oregano and parsley.

Serve the caponata on crostini or over pasta or polenta. It is a delicious vegan dish. 

Optional add on:

Balsamic and Soy Sauce Braised Pork Belly (Adobo)

2 lbs. pork belly, cut into 1-inch cubes

5 cloves garlic, peeled and minced

½ yellow onion, chopped

2 tablespoons sugar

1 cup aged balsamic vinegar

½ cup soy sauce

1 tablespoon canola oil

Salt and pepper

In a medium Dutch oven or braising pot, combine pork, garlic, onion, sugar, vinegar, and soy sauce. Bring the mixture to a boil, then simmer covered until pork is tender, about 30 minutes. Remove the pork belly from the braising liquid and pat dry. 

In a large skillet over medium heat add the canola oil. Fry the pork belly on both sides until crispy. Fold in the crispy pork belly with the caponata. 

When I was about 13 years old, my Uncle Ric gave me my first cooking task. It was an unexpected moment. Not a surprise…more a shock. I had never shown any interest in cooking. He’d never even seen me fry an egg. I was just a kid, and in no way responsible enough to cook for anyone. Sure, I had learned how to roll lumpia at eight years old and helped my grandma in the kitchen a bit, but that wasn’t really cooking. That was just an excuse to spend time with my grandmother. I had never been in charge of anything before (let alone feeding people), and I was nervous. Those nerves turned to terror when I looked at the bag of stuff my uncle handed to me: two and a half kilos of squid! Dozens of tiny little cephalopods, eyes, tentacles, and all! I thought I was going to die when he told me that I would be cooking to feed the family AND the tailors we employ at our little family business. If I remember correctly, I had to make lunch for a dozen people. I just couldn’t comprehend why he would trust me this much. 

My Uncle Ric has always been the best cook in the family. His kare-kare and pancit canton were the best I have ever had. I have childhood memories of watching him cook, using a big wok on a wood fire stove in my grandma’s kitchen. I was always so amazed at the flavors and consistency of his pancit canton. The seafood, meats, and vegetables were cooked perfectly, and the noodles never broke apart. I later learned that he was using a technique called “velveting” with the seafood and meats. Velveting is a classic technique which consists of coating the meats and seafood with cornstarch, then quick frying in an oil bath to get that silky, tender, and smooth texture. The cornstarch coating also provides an additional level of consistency that we often find in stir-fries. I use this technique when cooking Chinese-style stir-fries at home and at work. His kare-kare (Oxtail and Tripe in a Peanut Sauce) was out of this world. There were no shortcuts with this dish. It was full of the freshest vegetables…still al dente when it hit my bowl. The oxtail and tripe were always tender. The peanut sauce was creamy…just the right mix of sweet and salty. I remember it to be simply divine, and when I am missing the Philippines, this dish always comes to mind. I have cooked these two dishes many times since I’ve been a chef, and I have never come close to my Uncle Ric’s spot-on flavor and texture.  

So, on this day, when he handed me this huge bag of squid, my mind was racing at a panic speed. What am I going to do with this? I knew I couldn’t say “no,” because he was SCARY. As much as I knew he loved me, I was also scared of him…everybody was. No one ever really had the guts to say “no” to him. No one wanted to find out what happened when anyone said “no” to Uncle Ric. I obediently took the bag of squid and went to the kitchen. I solicited help from my cousin Larry. He and I decided to make squid adobo and serve it over rice. That seemed easy enough. We’ve eaten squid adobo so many times, how hard could it be to make it? Soy sauce, vinegar, onions, garlic, tomatoes. Easy. Knowing how delicate they were, we were careful not to overcook the squid. Once finished, we tasted it and thought it tasted surprisingly good, but chewing it was immediately an issue. I spat it out and realized that I was chewing on the clear cartilage known as the cuttlebone. We hadn’t removed it because we didn’t know it was there! I was consumed with panic once again. It was a disaster, and I knew my uncle was going to be upset. I had to think fast. My cousin Larry and I decided that we would carefully go through each squid and remove the cuttlebones, one at a time, hoping he didn’t come through the dining room anytime soon. Luck was on our side; we finished the task and had enough time to also set the table. My Uncle and the rest of the group served themselves and ate the squid adobo. Everybody finished their plates and seemed satisfied. There were no notes from my uncle, which, from him, was just as good as a compliment.  

In the last couple of years, I’ve thought about this moment in my childhood often. I thought about how this experience made an impact on me as an adult. He gave me a task, and I am certain he had no idea that I was scared about not knowing what to do, or how to even get it started. He believed (or knew?) I could do it or he believed, somehow, I would figure it out. He believed in me before I knew how to believe in myself. He trusted me to get the job done. I was also thankful that I had a cousin to help me out. I don’t think I could have done it without my Sous Chef, cousin Larry.  

Accepting challenges, figuring things out, and solving problems have been part of my life since age 13. At age 51, I still doubt myself every now and then. I still worry at times that I am not good enough. I often have self-doubt. But I have also accepted all challenges that I believe are worth accepting with a positive outlook and an open mind, whilst managing the fear of failing. 

It is just part of being human.  

As a chef, I often give tasks to my team. A couple of months ago, I asked one of our sous chefs to prepare a Filipino dish called Lechon. It is traditionally a whole roasted pig on a spit. The most common way to do this at home is using pork belly, rolled with lemongrass and spices inside and roasted until the skin is crispy and the meat is tender. It is more complicated than it sounds, and it takes skills, time, and patience. Chef Ezekiel of Grand Central Café made this dish so perfectly that I have requested that he repeat it several times. I know that I couldn’t do it the way he did it. It was simply perfect. He accepted this challenge like a boss. He had never done it before, but just like the 13-year-old me, Chef Ezekiel took on a challenge and prepared a beautiful dish for someone scary!  

We are faced with challenges all the time. Some are small, and some are life-changing. Some challenges may seem impossible to accomplish. It’s okay to be afraid at times. It’s okay to worry. It’s okay not to know what to do. Oftentimes, we succeed just by trying. Sometimes we achieve greatness, and sometimes we are defeated. But soon enough, another challenge comes up, and frequently, without us even noticing it, that last battle we fought has helped us win this one. The second time around, we have a bit more experience to help handle the stress and fears. With every challenge, we better recognize triumphs, and we learn to be a little gentler on ourselves when we fail.   

Whether we’re 13, 30, or 51, life throws curveballs at us. We can choose to catch them, avoid them, or let them hit us. What’s important is making sure you’re on the field…you don’t want to miss out on the game! 

I hope you get to share special meals with the humans in your life who are always there to troubleshoot problems big and small with you. I hope you continue to believe that you are capable and that you are special. 

I would like to share with you two recipes from the past and the present…my version of Squid Adobo (stuffed with chorizo) and Chef Ezekiel’s Pork Belly Cebuchon. These recipes came into my life 38 years apart, but they provide inspiration to me on many levels. I hope you step up to the plate and take a shot at preparing these dishes (or ones that remind you of a “challenge accepted”) for you, for the people who have believed in you since you were 13, and the people that believe in you now.  

Bon Appetit! 

Chorizo-Stuffed Squid Adobo

Servings:  6 to 8

Ingredients 

2 lbs. medium-sized squid or cuttlefish, cleaned, cuttlebone removed 

1 lb. Mexican style chorizo, bulk (optional)

1 tablespoon canola oil 

1 medium onion, diced 

5 cloves of garlic, minced 

2 Roma tomatoes, diced large 

1/2 cup soy sauce 

1/2 cup vinegar 

1/2 cup water 

4 oz of squid ink 

1 teaspoon sugar 

Salt and pepper to taste 

Instructions 

• Stuff each squid with about 1 oz of ground chorizo. Secure the end of the squid with a toothpick, so the filling doesn’t come out when cooking. Do not overstuff.  

• Heat oil in a pan, sear each stuffed squid until brown on both sides, about 30 seconds on each side. 
• Remove the seared squid from the pan and set aside. 
• Add the onions and garlic on the pan and sauté for about 1 minute, until the garlic is fragrant, and the onions are soft. 
• Add the tomatoes and cook for about 1 minute.  
• Pour in the soy sauce, vinegar, water, ink, and sugar. Simmer for about 3 minutes until the sauce is slightly thickened. 

• Add the squid back in the pan and cook for 3 minutes.  
• Transfer to a serving bowl then serve. 
• Eat with steam jasmine rice. 

Chef tip: 

• Clean the squid properly before cooking. Make sure to remove the innards and the cuttlebone on its back. Cut the tentacles just below the eyes and remove the beak from the tentacles. The beak is the hard cartilage at the base of the tentacles. Rinse the squid in cold water after removing the inedible parts.  
• If you want to make this recipe without the chorizo, skip the first 3 steps.  
• Small drizzle of fish sauce gives this dish that additional umami flavor. I recommend it! 

Cebuchon

Ingredients 

5 to 6 lbs. skin-on, boneless, pork belly 

2 each lemongrass stalks 

¼ cup minced garlic 

2 tbsp. fresh cracked black pepper 

2 tbsp. Kosher or Hawaiian sse salt 

4 each stalk of scallions, whole, washed 

Equipment: 

Kitchen shears/knife 

Butcher’s twine 

Procedure: 

1. Cut the root of the lemon grass and scallions. Then pound lemongrass using the back of the knife, just enough to release the aroma. 

2. Place pork belly in a cutting board, skin side down, or meat facing up. 

3. Pat the belly dry with paper towels and make sure that any bones are not still attached to the meat. 

4. Sprinkle the salt all over the meat side of the belly. (Hawaiian sea salt would be the better choice, kosher will work as well) 

5. At the same time sprinkle pepper meat side up as well. (course size would be preferred) 

6. Place both lemongrass and scallions in the belly. (orient the pork belly with the longest side nearest to the edge of the table, and shortest  on the left and right) 

7. With the scissors or a knife, cut about a 12 in. length of butcher’s twine. Then slide that under the pork belly around the middle area. Tie the butchers knot twice, closing the middle of the pork belly. (this is the easiest way to start the roll, you can also roll the pork belly first then make the middle knot.) 

8. Repeat this tying process for 4 to 5 more times, spreading the whole length of the pork belly, eventually closing the belly in on itself leaving you with a flat bottom and skin around  the log.  

9. Place in an anti-cross contamination pan or dish where the pork can air dry inside the refrigerator for 24 hours. Keep the pork open and place in the bottom of the fridge. (this will help with the crisp of the skin) 

10.  Pre- heat the oven at 370 degrees F. while that is going, take the pork out of the fridge and let it come to close to room temp.  

11. Place the pork belly on a oven rack and sheet tray, sheet pan. (a turkey pan would work too) place in the oven to cook for 3-4 hours. Check the skin every 2 hours. 

12. On the last hour or when the skin is golden brown, raise the temperature to 390 F to finish cooking. (be sure to rotate if your oven does not have a balanced temperature. 

13. Take the pork belly out and let it rest for 30 min. to 1 hour. This will help the skin to get even crispier with the help of the air. 

14. Cut into slices using the twine as the portions or remove the twine and chop into 1 in chunks. 

15. Serve with steamed white rice and a half vinegar, half soy sauce dipping sauce. 

Tonight, I cried at work. I was in my office, and I finally let it go when I was sure no one could see me. I haven’t done that in a long time. My feelings were hurt, and I felt unappreciated. These are feelings I’m usually able brush off. One, because I know better, and two, because they simply aren’t worth crying about.

But tonight, it got to me. And sadly, it got the best of me for a moment. Even with my superhero strength, I am sometimes reminded that I am only human.  

It was a situation that I wish had been handled better. I should have been assured all will be fine. I should have been told, “it’s ok, we can fix it,” or, “no worries, I will help you with this,” or “it’s ok, you didn’t know,” or, “I should have heard what you were saying, thank you.” But I didn’t hear anything.

“This is not me at all,” I thought.

I am not a needy person. I know I’m tougher than this, but I think my recent (insane) workload had finally gotten to me. (It could have also been hunger pangs affecting my emotions. It was 6 p.m. and all I’d had was a cup of coffee and a fig bar!) It could also be the hormones…I heard that along with an uncontrollable attraction to gin martinis, one of the several side effects of turning fifty is sensitivity. Work is nothing personal, and it should be simple: Get it done. Get paid. Go home.

But there I was, sitting in my office, crying.

I finally packed up my things at 8:30 p.m. and drove home. As I hit the freeway and had a moment to revive my crushed soul, I had a revelation! Life has its unique way of giving me lessons. That awful five minutes that deflated my heart was a message telling me to stay grounded. It was a reminder of what NOT to be. A reminder to not be the person who crushes other people’s spirits or is quick to judge. To not be the person who doesn’t recognize value or doesn’t appreciate effort. To not be the person without empathy. It gave me the hope to improve. To be the person who takes a different path. To teach. To be the person who supports and understands. To be…BETTER.

The lesson was profound.

I don’t want anyone to feel the way I was feeling. I am analyzing my moves and will tweak the way I approach situations. I will be mindful. I will be present. I will be more understanding. I will be kinder. I will read between the lines. I will be attentive. I will be a good listener. I will be generous with my time. I will pause before I speak. I will be more respectful. I will always give the benefit of the doubt. I will always put myself in other people’s shoes. I will remember my humble beginnings in the industry. I will support. I will speak with truth and honesty. I will lead. I will guide. Most of all, I will be grateful.

Someone said to me the other day that human perfection does not exist. I was aware of this truth but hearing it from someone else made me stop and think. I will always give my best. Some days I will succeed, and some days I will learn. Some days I will need to remember to give myself a break.

When life is hectic and noisy, inspiration is hard to see. It’s difficult to find peace when silence is so distant. It’s challenging to notice the beauty around us when our vision is blurred by overwhelming realities. It’s hard to be inspired when we are sad. It’s tough to inspire someone when we feel defeated. But what I realized is that inspirations don’t always have to be grand. Anything and anyone can spark inspiration. It can happen anytime. There are many “motivation moments” happening around us every minute, no matter how bleak the day may seem. Just this week, I was inspired as I watched a team member teach their group about a project. I was motivated by another manager’s positivity and fighting spirit during a week that was full of challenges. I was inspired by a chef’s determination to do their job despite the challenges they were facing. I was inspired by a cook’s passion for the food they were proudly presenting to a customer. I was inspired by our clients’ understanding and support. I was inspired by a Sous Chef’s ability to adapt at a moment’s request.

I was even inspired by “Black Panther: Wakanda Forever.” Not only because it was exciting and empowering, but because it gave me two and a half hours of time where I wasn’t thinking about anything but the film, its story, and its characters. For 161 minutes, I was “in the moment.”

I was lifted. I was moved.

As much as I disliked how I felt during that undesirable five-minute interaction, it gave me clarity and the motivation to write. It cured (or at least wiggled) the writer’s block I had been battling for weeks. It prompted me to look around and put things in perspective. It made me realize how lucky I am to have been able to learn from it. It reminded me to be mindful. It motivated me to continue to take care of the people who support me every day, and to always remember all the things in my life that are truly of value.

During uninspiring times, what would you like someone to do for you? Whatever that may be, do it for someone. Inspire them. Lift them up. Be hope. Be the sun. Be the change. Be the force. Be Yoda. This world could use more Yodas! Maybe, just maybe…the recipient of that good gesture pays it forward, and someone else will get inspired!

This Thanksgiving, I am thankful for inspirations big and small, and grateful to belong to a community that promotes kindness and understanding. I embrace mistakes that help me grow as a chef, a boss, a wife and mother, and as Mayet.

Apropos of the current seasonal mood, I thought it fitting to feature one of our chef’s recipes for an amazing Thanksgiving dessert course.

We are all familiar with the traditional Autumn desserts: pumpkin, apple, and pecan pies. The classics are classics for a reason! But this year, we changed it up a little on the lot with some “soon-to-be” classics: Pumpkin Basque Cheesecake, Apple Crumble Pie, and Chocolate Chess Pie.

Chef Charmaine Macrohon’s recipe for Pumpkin Basque Cheesecake is superb. I love the perfect sweetness, the heavenly texture, and the lingering spice finish. Chef Charmaine is one of the several team members who joined us in the Disney kitchens this year. Just like me (and many others on the team), Chef Charmaine is in a role new to her. On this team, we learn together, we grow together, we support each other, and we give thanks. I am proud of the community we are perpetually building.

I hope you get to make this recipe with someone who supports and inspires you. I hope that your community sees you and appreciate you for all that you are. Because you are perfect just the way you are, Yoda.

Happy Thanksgiving and Bon Appetit!

Chef Charmaine’s Pumpkin Basque Cheesecake, Yield: 1, 9” cheesecake

Equipment Needed—

Digital scale

Stand mixer or hand mixer

Rubber spatula

Spring form pan, 9”

Parchment paper

Mixing Bowl

Ingredients—

Cream cheese, room temperature – 680 grams

Sugar – 270 grams

Eggs – 200 grams

Pumpkin puree – 425 grams

Heavy cream – 154 grams

Vanilla extract – 11 grams

Cinnamon, ground – 4 grams

Ginger, ground – 2 grams

Cardamom, ground – 1 gram

Kosher salt – 6 grams

Gluten Free Flour/All Purpose Flour – 46 grams

Directions:

1. Pre-heat oven to 400 degrees.
2. Line spring form pan with parchment.
3. Sift all the dry ingredients together and set aside.
4. Combine cream, vanilla, and pumpkin puree and set aside.
5. Crack eggs in separate container and set aside.
6. In a stand mixer with a paddle attachment or in a mixing bowl with hand mixer, beat cream cheese and sugar on medium speed until smooth.
7. Add in eggs until fully incorporated.
8. Turn off mixer, scrape down the sides of the bowl.
9. Add in cream, pumpkin, and vanilla mixture until combined and turn off mixer and scrape the sides of the bowl.
10. Lastly, mix in sifted dry ingredients until fully incorporated, and scrape the sides of the bowl after mixing.
11. Pour cheesecake mixture in prepared pan.
12. Bake cheese in preheated oven for about 45-50 minutes until the top of the cheesecake is deeply bronzed.
13. Cool cheesecake overnight and enjoy!

Chef Tip:

…but wait! You want to be fancy?

Add a whipped cream garnish with orange zest

Equipment Needed—

Digital scale

Stand mixer or hand mixer

Citrus Zester

Spatula

Ingredients—

Whipping Cream – 200 grams

Powdered Sugar – 25 grams

Orange – 1 each

1. In a stand mixer with a whisk attachment or in a mixing bowl with hand mixer whip cream and powdered sugar until medium stiff peaks.
2. With a spatula, spread whipped cream evenly in the top center of the cheesecake.
3. With citrus zester, grate orange zest on top of the whipped cream.
4. Serve and enjoy!

Early this year I turned 50. It’s not a unique case; many people have turned 50 before me, and I knew it was going to happen…I just didn’t expect it to come so soon. Sometimes, when I look at my reflection in the mirror, I don’t recognize myself. I am showing some wrinkles now, my face is more rounded, my hair is partially gray, my dress size has doubled in digits, my hands show traces of toil, the strength of my knees has become fickle, and my eyes look experienced. Still, sometimes, I get a glimpse of my youth; when I had more pronounced cheekbones, when I didn’t care to be careless, and where the naïve smiles used to be the norm. I have been lucky, though. I have a good life, even with a reckless dawn in my adulthood. My teen years were a bit troubled, laced with an identity crisis. My priority was fitting in, and loyalty still hadn’t graced my being. I was easily swayed to deny my beginnings and betray the people who loved me. My twenties were worse. I made many poor decisions. It’s a wonder that I didn’t go to jail or get killed during that decade. As hasty as I was in my twenties, I also learned more about myself. I learned that I had the ability to change, IF I wanted to do it. I learned that I could be brave. I learned that I could walk away from things and people who weren’t good for me. So, it happened that my thirties was a decade of starting over and getting my life together. I relocated. I learned a new trade. I met and married a man who is the right one for me. I became a mother. I started to love myself. In my 40’s, I continued to grow as a human being with some small setbacks here and there. I strived to work on improving my mental state and nurture the love for who I am as a person. Motherhood made me less selfish and changed my perspective in life. Things that I thought were important are no longer a priority. I am more patient and less vain. It also made me realize that I have so much love to give. In my 40’s, I realized that I am decent at my trade. I accepted recognition without accepting an equal amount of guilt, and started to feel that I deserved the good cards I was being dealt. I let things go more easily. Very few things bothered me. I think I was finally growing up. 

And now, at 50, and far from perfect, my life is full and the one I want and need. I accept and forgive myself of my tumultuous past and senseless self. I am gentler and kinder to myself and others. I am more honest. Life and experiences have humbled me. I see more clearly, hear with understanding, and act with thoughtfulness. I am still a work in progress, and I am ok with that. 

To mark this momentous event of my half-century birthday and continuous rebirth, my husband planned a weeklong vacation for us in Florence, Italy. I have always wanted to go, and, at 48, I told him that I have to visit Florence for my 50^th birthday. Because he is a wonderful husband and loves me, he booked the trip for the two of us. Just weeks before the trip, he realized that his passport will expire within three months of the trip, in violation of Italy’s travel policies. Even paying an expedited fee, the new passport didn’t arrive in time. We decided that I would go on the trip without him.  

I was nervous but also excited. This could just be what I needed! Time alone is one thing I’ve always wished for. And now I would have time alone in beautiful Firenze. Most of my first day was spent sleeping and getting some rest. I booked a few museum tours and city tours. Some days I toured the city on my own…all on foot. I ate when I got hungry, I had cappuccino every day, I rested in the beautiful apartment when I got tired, and then went out again in the evening to explore the city at night. There was so much beauty and culture to take in. It overwhelmed me at times. I was humbled by Michelangelo’s David in its grandeur, beauty, and power. I felt my eyes and soul undeserving of the Doumo di Firenze’s magnificence and Basilica di San Lorenzo’s rich history. How lucky am I to sit by the piazza, savoring an aperol spritz and a just-right focaccia sandwich, immersed in the moment? How lucky was I to be able to walk around the palaces and to admire brilliant works by Rafaelo, Davinci, and Botticelli? Quite lucky, indeed. 

I ate many things in Florence. Gelato everyday was my goal. Pappa pomodoro, steak tartare, beef tagliata, cacio e peppe, pizza, arancini, lampredotto, fried seafood at the fishing lab, truffled tagliatelle are some of the many bites that graced my palate. I went to San Lorenzo market to shop for leather goods and taste some local fare at the food hall. All meals were accompanied, of course, by a glass or two of prosecco or pinot grigio.  

As I strolled the cobblestone streets of Florence, admiring the beautiful architecture, historic Ponte Vecchio, and the magnificent plazas, savoring my fifth flavor of gelato for the week, I felt thankful. I was thankful for my husband who loves me very much. I was thankful of the life we have which afforded me to be away on vacation in such a lovely place for a week. I was thankful for all the beauty around me. I was thankful for the peace I felt in the midst of the hustle and bustle of the city. I was thankful for the gelato every day. But most of all, I was thankful for my mother. Had my mother not made a decision to uproot us and start a new life in America 35 years ago, I wouldn’t have the life that I have now. And I probably wouldn’t be in Florence reveling in my life’s many gifts. I am grateful that she had the courage and the fighting spirit. I am grateful that she is smart and resilient. I am grateful that she raised me to be brave and independent. As I watched the beautiful sunset at Arno River, I was overwhelmed with gratitude for the beauty the world has to offer and for the life I was given.  

I just looked in the mirror again, and I see a different person…but someone I recognize and proud of…someone I like very much. If anyone told me at 25 that my life would be this at 50, I wouldn’t believe it. I never dreamed it would be like this. The lines around my eyes show maturity and experience. The grays in my hair blend in naturally with the many dark hair that will still see many opportunities for growth. My round face shows joy and love for good food and good life. My smiles show understanding and appreciation. My bony hands are strong and my knees…well, my knees are still a bit of trouble. 

Coming back from Europe this time, I didn’t sneak foods in my suitcase to bring back to the U.S.A. I felt I’d had my share of Italian grub for seven days, and didn’t want to risk getting in trouble at the U.S. customs. I limited my contraband to some beautiful chocolates and dried pasta. 

For this post, I would like to share two recipes. An easy weeknight meal of baked ziti to commemorate my trip, and a no-fuss Filipino-style BBQ chicken to honor my Filipino heritage. Both dishes are simple, delicious, and favorites in our house.  

I hope that you see a person you like the next time you look in the mirror. You deserve to be here, and this life is yours. You set your own timeline, you go as fast or as slow as you please. I hope you enjoy the ride. Eat, see, do.  

Buon Apettito! 

Baked Ziti 

Serves 8 

*my recipe for this easy baked ziti is made with store-bought tomato sauce. I like to use Trader Joe’s Tomato Basil Marinara or RAO’s tomato basil sauce. I just add minced garlic, onions, and ground beef and Italian sausage or pancetta. 

1 lb ziti pasta 

Salt 

1 lb lean ground beef  

½ lb mid or spicy Italian sausage bulk 

1 tablespoon minced garlic 

½ cup minced onions 

1 jar Trader Joe’s brand tomato basil marinara sauce 

1 cup ricotta cheese 

1 cup shredded mozzarella 

½ cup shredded parmesan cheese 

1 teaspoon chile flakes 

Pre-heat oven to 400-degree F.  

Cook pasta in salted boiling water until soft but still al dente. Stir the pasta frequently to prevent from clumping or sticking to the bottom of the pan. Drain pasta. 

In a sauce pot over medium heat, add the olive oil and brown the ground beef and sausage. Add the minced garlic and onions. Once the onions are cooked, add the marinara sauce and simmer for 10 minutes. Remove from heat and cool down to room temperature. 

In a large bowl, mix together the cooked pasta and sauce, fold in the cheeses and mix well using a plastic or wooden spatula. Add the chile flakes. 

Lightly brush a baking dish with olive oil. Transfer the pasta mix to the baking pan. Sprinkle the top of pasta with more mozzarella. Cover the dish tightly with plastic wrap and then foil. Bake the pasta for 30 to 45 minutes. Remove the plastic and foil from the baking dish and bake for another 10 minutes to brown the top. Serve while hot. 

Filipino BBQ Chicken 

Serves 4 

1 lb skinless and boneless chicken thighs 

Salt 

Pepper 

1/2 cup soy sauce 

1/4 cup calamansi or lemon juice 

¼ cup Sprite 

1/2 cup brown sugar 

1 head garlic. peeled and minced 

1 tbsp canola or grapeseed oil 

Remove excess fat from chicken thighs. Season the chicken thighs with salt and pepper, set aside. 

In a large bowl, combine the soy sauce, juice, sprite, brown sugar, and garlic. Add the chicken thighs to the marinade and marinate in refrigeration for at least two hours. 

Drain the chicken from marinade. Lightly toss the chicken in oil. 

Heat a frying pan over medium heat. Cook the chicken for about 5 minutes on each side or until the internal temperature reaches 165-degree F.  

Grilling method: drain and reserve marinade. Place the marinate in a pot over medium heat and reduce to half. Grill the chicken for about 5 to 8 minutes on each side, basting regularly with the reduced marinade. 

Serve the BBQ chicken over steamed rice or eat as is. 

I took a day off from work today. I had planned to do chores and run errands I would otherwise do on a weekend. I have a long list of to-do including finishing this blog entry for Thanksgiving. As I finished my second cup of coffee, listening to a Patsy Cline record, I thought, “How lucky am I?” How lucky that I get to have a day like this? A day when I can appreciate moments of silence buried in my thoughts, drinking good coffee, and listening to music as loads of laundry go through their wash cycles. My days are busy…even during this time of pandemic. My days and weeks go by so fast, that sometimes it is difficult to remember what happened just yesterday. For this blog post, I wanted to remind myself of how lucky I truly am. I am grateful for the little things that make my life grand.

1. A six-mile commute to work (that actually takes 10 minutes) is as good as it gets, if you are an Angeleno. My previous job was a nine-mile commute that took 45 to 60 minutes, each way. I might just be forever scarred from those times when I sat in traffic on Sunset Boulevard, full of worry that I would not be able to pick up my son from school in time.
2. Having a great team who shows up to work with me as early as 3 a.m. in the morning, full of energy and positivity, is an exceptional piece of good fortune.
3. A workplace that prioritizes on keeping my co-workers and me safe every day.
4. I am grateful for being able to afford to stock our kitchen with bacon, eggs, cheese, and pasta. This allows me to create simple and delicious family meals quickly.
5. Salt.
6. I am thankful for rest breaks, no matter how brief, when I can gather my thoughts, write, listen to music, read a few pages of a book, online shop, crush candies, check on people’s lives on social media or simply do nothing.
7. In the last year and a half, my work shifts usually start before dawn. Getting my mind and body conditioned to sleep at 7:30 p.m. and wake up at 3 a.m. was not an easy feat. I am ALMOST used to it now. However, I am thankful for quick afternoon naps that help recharge my brain and body.
8. Coffee.
9. I am thankful for the early morning text exchanges with my family. The heart emojis, “xoxo’s,” and positive wishes help fuel my day.
10. I am grateful for the mornings I get to take Max to school, and for the afternoons when I pick him up. The 10-minute morning commute gives us time to share with each other what we are looking forward to in our day, while the afternoon drive home is usually full of conversation about how our day actually went. Some days are better than other days, but all are improved when I get this “car time” with my son.
11. I am thankful for the free after school program provided by LAUSD. Without it, our day-to-day schedule would be very challenging, if not impossible.
12. I am grateful for having choices on almost everything I do daily. What to eat, what to say, how to act, how to spend my day, when to take it easy on myself and other people, how to manage stress, how to be. Whether I choose correctly or not…it is my choice.

I could go on and on, but the point is this: with all the chaos, noises, ups-and-downs, busy days, lazy days, bad days, unpredictable situations, and even the days when my best is only OK, my life is good. It is a beautiful world.

On this day off, I decided to make myself a breakfast reminiscent of my childhood with my grandmother. I made Filipino-style eggplant omelet. It looked delicious, and tasted better. I ate it with gratitude, savoring each bite as it satisfied my cravings of family, childhood memories, and flavors of the country of my birth. I am grateful for this moment and all the moments that make my life.

Happy Thanksgiving. I hope you celebrate the little things that make your life terrific!

Eggplant Omelet (Tortang Talong)

Serves 2 to 4

Ingredients:

2 Japanese or Chinese eggplant

Salt and pepper

1 tbsp of canola oil

4 eggs, beaten

1.5 cups of picadillo, cooled (recipe below)

Preparation:

Pre-heat oven to 450 degrees F. Place eggplant directly on the middle oven rack and roast for about 15 minutes. The skin will be lightly crisp and will start to detach from the eggplant meat. Take out the eggplant from the oven and place on a plate. Let the eggplant cool completely. Carefully remove the skin from the eggplant, keeping the eggplant whole. Discard the skin. Flatten the eggplant using a fork, fanning the meat. Season the eggplant with salt and pepper.

Beat two eggs in a bowl. Place the eggplant in the beaten egg and let soak for about 2 minutes. Beat the other two eggs in a separate bowl. Add two cups of picadillo mix in the bowl of beaten eggs.

Heat a non-stick sauté pan over medium heat. Add two tbsp. of canola oil in the pan. Place the eggplant in the sauté pan and top with half of picadillo-egg mixture. Cook the omelet for about three minutes then flip over and cook for another two minutes. Remove the eggplant omelet from the pan and place on a plate. Repeat the process with the remaining eggplant.

I eat this omelet drizzled with lime juice and fish sauce over hot steamed rice.

For the Picadillo

1/2 pound ground turkey

1 tablespoon grape seed or canola oil

1 cup finely diced potatoes

½ cup finely diced yellow onions

2 cloves of garlic, minced

½ cup finely diced red bell peppers

½ cup finely diced green bell peppers

Salt and pepper to taste In a large skillet over medium heat, cook the ground turkey. Once the turkey is completely cooked, remove from heat and drain the excess liquid. Place the skillet back on the stove over medium heat and add the oil. Add the potatoes in the skillet and cook until tender and lightly browned. Add the onions and garlic in the skillet and cook until tender and fragrant. Add the bell peppers and cook for about 4 minutes until tender. Add the ground turkey and sauté for 3 minutes. Season the mixture with salt and pepper.

Pasta Carbonara

Serves 4-6

Ingredients:

Salt

2 large eggs and 2 large yolks

½ cup grated pecorino Romano or parmesan, plus additional for serving

Coarsely ground black pepper

1 tablespoon olive oil

4 ounces of pancetta or bacon, cut 1/4 inch cube

2 oz maitake mushroom, chopped coarsely

12 ounces spaghetti

Preparation:

Bring a large pot of water to a boil over high heat. Season with about 1 tbsp of salt.

In a mixing bowl, whisk together the eggs, yolks and cheese. Season with a pinch of salt and 2 tsp of freshly cracked black pepper.

Heat oil in a large skillet over medium heat, add the pork, and cook until the fat is rendered. Remove the pork from the pan. Using the same pan over medium heat, lightly sauté mushrooms for 1 minute the edge of crispness but not hard. Remove from heat and set aside.

Add pasta to the water and cook until a slightly firmer than al dente. Reserve 2 cups of pasta water, then drain pasta and add to the skillet over low heat. Stir for a minute. Add 1 cup of reserved pasta water to the skillet and continue to cook the pasta until al dente and most of the water have evaporated, about two minutes. Add the cooked pork and mushroom to the pasta. Stir for a minute. Turn off heat.

Add 1 tbsp of hot pasta water to the egg-cheese mixture. Whisk to combine. Stir in the egg-cheese mixture to the pasta. Add some more of the reserved pasta water if needed for creaminess.

Serve immediately, top with additional grated cheese and black pepper.

The first time I ever had a peach was during our first family road trip in the U.S.A. It was about eight months after we set foot on the land of the free, and we were going to meet our step-grandparents for the first time. That year was definitely full of many firsts for my sisters and me. The trip was a 350-mile drive from South Carolina to Anniston, Alabama. My mom, stepdad, my two sisters, and I settled on our seats in a 1980 silver Chrysler Cordoba my stepdad owned at that time. My stepdad drove while my mom held the map in the front passenger seat trying to navigate our way through I-85S. My youngest sister nestled between my older sister and me in the backseat. The southern heat and humidity during that long drive was almost unbearable, even for us…and we grew up in the tropics! It felt like the longest six hours of my teenage life. The drive took longer than it should have because of my stepdad’s penchant for road trips. He never rushed to get to a destination. He enjoyed the scenic routes as he listened to Pete Fountain play his clarinet on the cassette player. I was grateful to have brought my Walkman.

One of our stops was at a roadside peach stand, conveniently located next to a CITGO filling station in Jefferson, Georgia. While filling up the land boat with petrol, my stepdad insisted we should get some peaches since we were in the Peach State. According to him, Georgia peaches are the best. I didn’t even really know what peaches were at that time. I grew up in a world of mangoes, papayas, pineapple, coconuts, jackfruit, guava, passion fruit, watermelon and a long list of other tropical fruit that only existed in Southeast Asia. Besides, I couldn’t have cared less, and just wanted to get to wherever we were going. But because he insisted (and because there was nothing else to do), I allowed myself to try a peach.

Boy, was I glad I did!

At that exact moment, my eternal love for the stone fruit was born. At first, I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to peel the fuzzy skin, but quickly realized that it was part of the charm. My first bite was perfect. It had the unexpected crisp texture once my teeth sank into it, then the soft and juicy flesh followed. It was sweet and a little tart at the same time. That moment transported me to a new world inside my already new world. I knew then that I would forever miss my birth country, but I also knew that my new home would bring with it many new things. If this first taste of the US was this good, then the possibilities were endless!

Since then, during summertime, I do my best to eat as many peaches as I possibly can. Peaches are at their best for only a short stint every year, and that is really the only time for me to really enjoy it. I like peaches in pies and cobblers, salads, salsas, or sauces. I love it simply as-is, eaten on its own, or with fresh cheese like burrata or ripe brie. Any way you do it, when they are in season, peaches never disappoint.

Three weeks ago, when my husband and I decided to host a small gathering for friends, we created a simple menu of our favorite summer eats.  Hamachi crudo, tomato salad, my grandma’s corn soup, and chilled noodles were among the offerings. My favorite was the dessert made of peaches poached in prosecco and honey. Lightly sugared on top, torched to get a caramelized top, then served with whipped cream, crushed candied walnuts, blueberries, and reduced poaching liquid. It was a simple dessert but it was also grand in its own way.

The entire evening was magic. The joy of seeing old friends, meeting new ones, breaking bread, and consuming a nearly unimaginable amount of sauvignon blanc with other people after many months of not being able to do so, was overwhelming. Everyone was sharing stories, expressing dreams, confiding in friends and strangers, laughing, hugging, and of course, eating. The dinner was also a chance to remember the past. My grandma’s corn soup always gives me warmth, and talking about her keeps her close to me. I was happy to share her gift with my friends. The memory of my stepdad and his old car was unexpected, though. It took this dinner party to remind me how much I appreciated that first road trip and that old boat of an automobile, which I ended up driving when I went to college. I am grateful for my first peach, and grateful for the hundreds thereafter. I am thankful for the many firsts in my life, of which many led to seconds, thirds, fourths and so on.

I am fortunate to know that life can be a peach in any place in any season.

To celebrate the last days of summer, I would like to share with you the recipe for our peach dessert. I hope you get to enjoy more sunny days and share something sweet with someone who you think is a peach.

Bon Appetit!

Prosecco-Poached Peaches with Honey

Serves 5

1 bottle of prosecco, 750 ml

4 oz. of honey

1-cup orange juice

5 cloves

1 cinnamon stick

½ of vanilla bean, scraped

Five peaches, washed, cut in half, pit removed (peaches must be firm but ripe)

Whipped cream

Blackberries (optional garnish)

Candied walnuts (optional garnish)

Combine prosecco, honey, orange juice, cloves, cinnamon stick, and vanilla bean in a pot over medium heat. Bring the liquid to a boil then bring down to a simmer. Gently add the peaches, cover with a lid. Simmer the peaches in the liquid for about 12 minutes, until the peaches are tender but not falling apart. Turn off heat. Let the peaches cool in the liquid. Remove the peaches from the liquid using a slotted spoon and gently peel off skin.

Reduce the poaching liquid over low heat until it has a syrup consistency. This could take 45 minutes. The poaching liquid is good served warm or room temperature.

To serve:

Place one or two halves of the peach in a bowl. Drizzle a tablespoon of the reduced poaching liquid. Top the peaches with whipped cream. Garnish the peach with blackberries and chopped candied walnuts if desired.

If inspired to torch: sprinkle raw sugar on the cut side of the peach half, then immediately torch the sugar using a kitchen butane blow torch until the sugar gets slightly burnt.

On my recent trip to Trader Joe’s, I picked out a card for my mom that read, “Life doesn’t come with a manual, it comes with a mother.” I thought it was cute. It was the perfect amount of funny, and just the right sentiment. It is true that life does not come with instructions, but I have come to learn that motherhood doesn’t either. Moms figure it out on the fly. We give it our best, knowing that our best has highs and lows, and we hope that we don’t screw up too much. We create rules and standards that change as the kids grow and as we grow. I want to believe that moms have a universal goal to raise their kids to be decent human beings, for them to feel loved, and that all we really, really want is for them to be happy. It sounds simple enough. The truth is that I do not always know if I am doing the right thing or if I am doing the right thing right. Do I hug my son too much, or not enough? Am I too protective? Do I spend enough quality time with him? Do I show enough interest on the things he loves? Is it ok to tell him I love him all the time? Am I a good role model? Am I pushing him too much or not enough? Does he feel trusted? Does he feel loved?

As much as I want to say that I am an expert about being a mother, the truth is that motherhood taught me many things about myself. I found out that I could put another person’s needs before mine. I learned that I could live on five hours of sleep. I realized that my dreams are now dreams for two. I no longer have privacy and I am okay with it. I found out that I could be so strong and still worry all the time. I learned that I could share everything that I have and want. Motherhood has sharpened my instincts. I find very few things to be gross. I clean up poop and vomit without hesitation. I sometimes sleep on a foot-and-a-half width of space on my king size bed. I can tolerate non-stop talk about video games, the newest YouTuber, and memes. I make great Halloween costumes. I am good at finding things. I can heal pain. Vick’s vapor rub can “cure” most of my son’s ailments. My math knowledge caps at 4^th grade level. I don’t have to know everything. A child’s honesty is humbling. I learned that I could learn valuable lessons from a kid.

Last week, I asked my teammates if they could write down three things they learned from their mom. I was lucky enough to get two responses out of the 11 people I asked. Both Chef Marco and Chef Eduardo wrote that their mothers taught them hard work, honesty, punctuality, and to never give up on their dreams. I took a few minutes to reflect on what Chef Eduardo and Chef Marco wrote about their moms, and how that may have influenced the men they have become. They are both hardworking and dedicated chefs, and take pride in what they do. Both chefs have been instrumental in the overall success of our team. It is obvious that they have had good foundation. The lessons from their moms stuck with them through adulthood and I have no doubt that they have taught these same lessons to their kids. I wonder what Max will say in the future when asked about what he learned from me.

Just like Chef Marco and Chef Eduardo, I also learned many things from my mom throughout my childhood and adulthood. Even now, my mom’s advice and opinions hold a lot of weight. I value what she has to say. At nearly 50 years of age, I still aim to make her proud. 

I hope my son picks up mostly the good traits from my husband and me. I hope that he always remembers that he is loved, especially during the troubled times that we all experience as we grow up. I hope he continues to be brave and resilient. I hope he never ceases to be kind. I hope he finds love. I hope he pursues all his dreams.

It does not escape me that motherhood is a privilege and a gift. I am aware that being a mom doesn’t make me special, but I am special to an 11-year old boy and for that, I am thankful. I will proudly hold the title, “Max’s Mom,” for as long as I am on this earth.

I am also grateful that I no longer work those busy Mother’s Day brunches at the restaurant. I do not miss the many Eggs Benedicts or the seemingly endless tossing of Cobb salads. Nor do I miss the fear of running out of crab cakes and lobster rolls before the end of service. Serving 500 meals in 3.5 hours might have been thrilling to me at one point in my life, but I now prefer an easy Sunday morning with my only agenda item being a good cup of coffee and breakfast with my boys. I am thankful that I get to do as I wish on MY Mother’s Day.

To remember those many years fondly, I have to share with you my recipes for Lobster Roll and Bloody Mary with Bacon Salt. I hope your Sunday is spent remembering all the great lessons from your mom or someone who was your moral compass and gave you unconditional love. 

Happy Mother’s Day and happy cooking!

Mayet’s Lobster Roll

Serves 4

• 1 lb. cooked lobster meat, chopped into ½” pieces
• 1/3 cup Japanese mayonnaise
• 2 tsp Dijon mustard
• 1 celery stalk, chopped finely
• 1 tbsp. chopped chives
• 1 tbsp. chopped parsley
• 3 scallions, chopped
• Juice of ½ lemon
• Salt and pepper to taste

-soft hotdog buns

-bread and butter pickles

*Mix all the ingredients in a bowl and season with salt and pepper. Serve on soft hotdog buns. I like to top mine with bread and butter pickles. You can eat this gluten free by replacing the buns with lettuce leaves or rolling it into softened rice paper rolls.

Cooking live lobsters:

-bring a large pot of salted water into a boil. Add the live lobsters and cover. Cook the lobsters for about 8 minutes until the shells turn bright red. Transfer the lobster to a sheet pan and let cool before cracking the shells.

Mother’s Day Bloody Mary

Make 4 servings

Bloody Mary Mix

• 24 ounce canned tomato juice 
• 2 tablespoons prepared horseradish
• 2 tablespoons Worcestershire sauce
• 1 1/4 teaspoons celery salt
• 1 tsp smoked paprika
• Tabasco sauce
• Freshly ground black pepper
• Good vodka

 Bacon salt

• ½ cup sea salt
• 1 tbsp. brown sugar
• 1 tsp cumin
• 3 pieces crispy bacon, pulsed finely and dried with paper towels

• Mix the tomato juice, horseradish, Worcestershire sauce, celery salt, smoked paprika, and black pepper in a large pitcher. Season with 10 dashes of Tabasco sauce or more or less as your desired spiciness. Refrigerate until ready to serve. This mixture will keep in your refrigerator for 1 week.
• Make the bacon salt by mixing all the ingredients together in a bowl.
• To assemble drinks, place the bacon salt on a small plate. Dip the rim of your glass in a some water, and then dip into the salt mix and twist. Fill your glass to the top with ice. Add 2 ounces of your favorite vodka then top with bloody Mary mix.
• Garnish with lemon wedge, celery ribs, and stuffed olives. Other garnishes that would go great with this bloody Mary are bacon strips, carrot sticks, cooked shrimp, pickles, pepperoncini, blue cheese, and anything you desire.

My great grandmother, Pascuala Cristobal, known by all as Nana Cuala, and called by her grandkids as Inang Cuala, was a matriarch and a grandmother of the best kind. She was no taller than five feet and was slender all her life. She walked fast with a purpose in her beautiful mule slides. She dressed in bright tailored a-line dresses and exquisitely wore her hair in a low bun tucked with pins. She always carried a frame handbag. And many times during the early seventies as the frame handbag is casually held by her left arm, her right hand would be holding mine as she brought and picked me up from pre-school or as I tagged along on one of her daily errands. She played cards and chewed on betel nut. Even with her small frame, people in town knew that she was a force to be reckoned with. People respected her for her smarts, guts, grit, generosity, and independence. I only knew her for the first five years of my life, but they were five years nurtured with so much love and kindness. My mom said that when I was born, before we even left the hospital, my great grandma told my parents that she would help raise me so my mother could continue to finish college. Hence, it happened that from infancy, my great grandma and grandparents cared for me until my mother completed her education. One of my foggy and yet unforgettable memories was when Inang Cuala and I would make a pit stop at this restaurant called D’ Marcus after she picked me up from school. I remember sitting at the bar with her, both of us sipping on a tall glass of something cold.

She raised my grandfather to become the mighty, confident, and intelligent man that he was all on her own. My great grandfather went overseas to look for a better future for his growing family. My grandfather was just an infant at that time.  My great grandpa made it to America but then WW1 happened. My great grandpa thought my great grandma had died during the war because the letters he sent were unanswered. She didn’t receive them because their house had been bombed and was forced to move. My great grandma thought my great grandpa died from the war or decided to abandon them because she didn’t hear from him at all. It would take decades and many serendipitous events until my great grandpa would discover that my great grandma and his son survived the war. By the time my great grandparents met again, my grandpa was already in his forties, a successful politician, married, and had four children (one of them being my mother who was about nine years old at that time). My great grandmother was also living her life as a happy, single, and successful woman. By then, my great grandpa also had his own family in America. As it always does, life went on in both ends of their worlds.  I can only imagine all the emotions felt during this meeting. Relief, regret, anger, love, hope. It must have been a huge comfort and reassurance for my grandpa to know that his dad thought of him all his life and that he was always hopeful that they would meet one day. It must have been reassuring to know that all parties turned out good and well in the end. It must be a great release for them to finally have answers. My great grandfather died of cancer shortly after that reunion. It seemed that finding my grandpa was my great grandpa’s ongoing and last quest in life. 

My great grandma and my grandpa continued to play the cards they were dealt. They took care of each other and many people around them. My great grandma owned almost all the land in their small town and they lived off the land during her lifetime, selling a small piece at a time when they needed the money. She also gave some land to relatives who needed a place to live. It must have been a sizeable amount of property because my mom and her siblings still inherited a good sum of this land when my grandfather passed away 27 years ago. 

Inang Cuala was perhaps the most loving and caring person we knew. My mom said that she was the epitome of a grandmother…spoiling all of them with whatever would make them happy and giving them anything that would heal their pain or gratify their desires. She would bring my mom homemade lunch at her store at the market daily. She would get something else for lunch or dinner if my uncle Ric didn’t like what was on the table. She would buy my uncle August whatever he fancied as a teenager. She loved and protected my uncle Junior unconditionally and was always prepared to maim anyone who dared to hurt him. She would bring freshly brewed coffee and food to my uncle Julian’s house every morning. I was a part of that spoiling, too. I remember getting snacks of salted quail eggs, popped rice balls, and small bags of boiled peanuts at the bus station when I went on errands with her. At a very young age, I knew what love was because of her. My first heartbreak was when she died in 1977. I remember breaking down and falling on my knees with my uncle August when we heard the news. We were both sobbing uncontrollably, afraid to face the reality that life will never be the same without her.

My great grandmother’s strength, tenacity, determination, sense of independence, and courage fueled and sustained the Cristobal family from my grandpa’s childhood until now. Along with the hectares of land, she also handed down her warrior/captain-like spirit to many generations in our family. I see it with my mom and with my sisters, and me. I see in my cousins. I see it in my nieces. And if we’re lucky, we’ll see it in future generations of women in our family. I feel fortunate for knowing her love. I am grateful that I came from that bloodline. 

I don’t know my great grandma’s favorite dish, but I know that she liked to snack. It was also a known fact in the family that she would eat anything with rice. Rice and coffee, rice and banana, rice and bread, rice and peanuts…the list is long as it is strange. She lived through WW1 and WW2, so what probably drove the choice of food was whatever was available to eat during her youth.

To honor my great grandmother and because it is Women’s History Month, I would like to share with you a childhood favorite of mine and a dish I know she might have liked…because it has rice as the main ingredient. Champorado is a glutinous rice porridge with chocolate. I like it with a drizzle of condensed milk but many Filipinos like to eat this sweet porridge with salted dried fish on top. This is a delicious breakfast staple, and especially good on rainy days. To me, Champorado has the flavor of childhood and warm hugs. Whenever I ate it as a child, I always felt loved.

I hope you get to share this dish with a woman or women in your life who has shown you love and generosity. I hope you get to cook this dish for a female hero in your life who inspired you to build and captain your own ship, showed you how to fight battles with fierce determination, encouraged you to get up from defeat without hesitation, dreamt big dreams with you, and taught you to always have hope.

My version of the champorado is topped with caramelized bananas, toasted almonds, a drizzle of cream or half-and-half, and a tiny pinch of smoked sea salt.

Bon Appetit!

Champorado

Serves 6 to 10

Ingredients

1.5 cups glutinous rice

8 cups of water

1 tsp salt

½  cup of brown sugar

½ cup cocoa powder

8 oz of dark chocolate 

Instructions:

• Place the rice, salt, and water in a medium sized pot and bring to a boil. Turn down the heat to low and continue to cook the rice for 15 to 20 until the rice is fully cooked. Make sure to stir the rice every couple of minutes to prevent the bottom from burning or sticking.
• Once the rice is cooked, add the brown sugar, cocoa powder and chocolate to the rice. Mix it well until the sugar and chocolate have dissolved.
• Transfer in a serving bowl top with your favorite toppings. Serve while hot.

Optional toppings: caramelized bananas, toasted almonds or peanuts, toasted coconut, heavy cream or half-and-half, strawberries and if you’re brave enough, salted dried fish.