I need my spaghetti fix. Unfortunately, I can’t prepare my own. It’s not that my culinary aptitude is so close to nonexistent that I do not know how to cook noodles in boiling water for five minutes and to heat a pack of Hunts sauce. It’s just that someone I live with doesn’t seem to like my spaghetti.
I tried serving my kind of spaghetti on several occasions and on every one of those times, my father-in-law, who is a true cook extraordinaire and whose word is law in the kitchen, glared at my pots of sauce. Each time the itch got the better of him, out came the hotdogs and free flowing ketchup from the fridge and into my sauce. Twice I insisted on MY sauce. He didn’t say anything but the ever so slightly perceptible depression at the sides of his mouth and the way he kept his bottle of ketchup beside him like a six shooter made me feel like my spaghetti had suddenly grown an aquiline nose, brown hair, a foreign accent and an unpatriotic air.
If there is such a thing as American pizza, then there is nothing wrong with having Filipino spaghetti but there is nothing wrong with me either. My spaghetti is just the way I like it. It’s just the way Pugad Baboy’s Dagul likes it. It’s just the way a weird Filipina lost in her own country likes it. I suspect though that to avoid further tension in the kitchen and the inconvenience of preparing two platters of differently flavored spaghetti, I shall have to go to that restaurant that smacks of stiff aquiline noses where the pasta I like will cost me a day’s wages. Huhuhu.
probably somebody like you in Italy has the same say on her/his Italian Adobo.hahaha. ok ra na uy
hahaha. ok ka talaga totomel. ang talas mo talaga mag-isip. hahaha
If you were to cook for me, I would never complain! Till you stop that is… hehehe… Cook for me!
so ur cadet wong now huh? hehe. reminds me of my fave sci-fi but i wonder if cadets there eat spaghetti.
hey, what’s with the new name?
My ROTC officer not knowing my name 🙂 hehe
I honor the mistake