Moutabal (Baba Ganoush)

Beef Tenderloin Kebab(Takka)

Sauteed Ox Brain

Bone-in Chicken BBQ

Of all the Disney Princesses, my favvorite has always been Princess Jasmine of Aladdin fame.  (Aw c'mon, you know you have your fave too!)  The reasons behind my choice are too numerous to mention but one of the main ones is that I always imagined, she ate better than the average Princess... Cinderella only had pumpkins and cinders, Snow White had to deal with really small portions, Mulan was too busy cross-dressing, Ariel was limited to raw seafood, Belle had decent French fare but had to contend with talking cutlery and well, you know what pursuit Sleeping Beauty was preoccupied with, instead of eating.  

And when it comes to Jasmine's Persian food, Behrouz is my hands-down favorite.  It's unassuming, almost tacky exterior (complete with backlit plexi signage) leads you to an equally cheesy circa 70's psychedelic/persian nightmare interior in neon orange, pink and green. But the garish color scheme and requisite arabian nights tchotchkes only serves to create that dramatic foil in which to showcase the utter simplicity and natural flavor of the food to come.  

M and I settled into the leatherette and formica covered booths and ordered our usuals.  First to arrive, as always, was the moutabal.  It was utterly delicious, the grilled eggplant pureed in olive oil and garlic and redolent with smokiness and spice.  Most diners enjoy this dish as a dip or spread partnered with freshly baked pita.  I, however, use it as a dressing/ sauce to moisten Behrouz's skewered delights.  

And of these delights there are aplenty.  Last night, we decided upon beef tenderloin and bone-in chicken kebabs.  Oh, they were lovely to look at and even lovelier to bite into together with buttered white, fluffy Basmati rice.  Each nugget of meat was tender, succulent, smoky, spicy and simply flavorful.  The fire-grilling gave the food a light, savory, toasted crust that gave way to the juicy flesh of beef or chicken that hinted of citrus, soumac and pepper.  Yummy!

Then the piece de resistance arrived sans flourish.  It was a tiny plateful of sauteed ox brain.  With a squeeze of clamansi to add zest, i eagerly dug into some dead cow's grey matter.  To those who have never had it, ox brain has a velvety custard-like texture reminiscent of the yolk of balut but a lot more sumptuous.  The flavor is at once rich and luscious yet subtle and evocative at the same time.  In the grand scheme of things, the ox brains made a small dish but it was big in impact on the whole meal and my dining repertoire.  You could say, the people at Behrouz really know how to use their brains. 

In all, the offerings at Behrouz will whisk you away, like Aladdin's magic carpet, to worlds heretofore unknown.  And it will be shining, shimmering, splendid.  Do you trust me?

Behrouz Persian Restaurant has branches in Metrowalk (Pasig), Wilson St. (Greenhills), Off Timog (Quezon City) and Baguio.

 





 

Osonho"s Peri-peri Chicken

Espetada


Portugese Dry Paella

I've accepted the fact that in my M's list of loves, I come next in line to his computers, his plasma TV and...chicken.  I can't claim, however, that I didn't have full disclosure because our first dates were always at places where chicken reigned supreme -- Max's, KFC and Pollo Loco.  Growing up, my exposure to the chicken world was limited at best since my Dad and sister didn't eat it at all (Remind me to tell you about the "Silence of the Chickens" episode of our childhood someday).  But it didn't take me long to fall in love with chicken as hopelessly as I fell for M.  Pretty soon, we had sampled the chickens of the world from chicken inasal, parmigiana, iberia and hainanese to chicken kebab, schnitzel and southern fried.  I thought we had scoured all the chicken experiences life had to offer until one day when my M came home from a trip to the UK speaking with sparkling eyes and watering mouth of  the  Peri-Peri chicken he had tried from a Portugese chain called Nando's.  My heart sank but I tried not to betray any of the emotions that were churning inside of me.  My Baby was in love, and it wasn't with me.

As time passed M would often describe the Peri-peri chicken he was so enamored and references to it would pepper his conversations as I tried to picture my paltry poultry rival for his affections.  How could anything possibly taste as good as all that, I sour-graped to myself.  He must be exaggerating.  It wasn't until years later that we stumbled upon a Nando's outlet in the most unexpected of places, KL, Malaysia.

And as my M initiated me into the pleasures of Peri-Peri flesh I finally realized what the fuss was all about.  This was indeed, the coop de grace (pun intended) when it came to chicken.  We had it at least every day we were in KL and grieved like we were banished from the Garden of Eden when we had to leave.  Surely it would be years before we could taste it again.  We consoled ourselves with the thought that at least, there were 2 of us now in love with Peri-peri chicken.

In the local arena, there were some attempts at Peri-peri chicken that we eagerly flocked to the restaurants to try.  They were nothing but pale, faint attempts that fell sadly short of the real thing.  We forlornly thought we were never going to have a satisfying local Peri-peri representation.  That is, until O'sonho came along.

When you get to O'sonho, the 45 minute wait for the Peri-peri chicken only serves to whet your appetite for the pleasures to come.  You can't go wrong by ordering the Portugese version of tapas such as gambas and chorizo.  The espetada of ground beef, shellfish, steak and veggies has a subtle mediterranean spice coupled with grilled, smoky flavor  that is delicious.   The dry paella is a wonderful surprise, simple but flavorful and the ideal backdrop for the chicken that is about to be served so don't make the mistake of filling yourself up too soon.  

O'sonho's piece de resistance is undoubtedly the Peri-peri chicken. Even as it approaches your table, it's aroma is so enticing it's all you can do to not tear at it with your fingers, caveman-style.   I'm afraid I don't have a wide enough vocabulary to describe just how wonderful this chicken is.  "The words "moist', "tender", "succulent" and "juicy" immediately spring to mind but the chicken is much more than all that.  It is not disguised by any sort of coating or breading but you can tell it took a lot of time to prepare because the citrusy/spicy flavor sunk its claws deep into the bird and brought out the essence of it's chicken-ness and elevated it to the nth degree. The skin was paper-thin, delicate, crispy and just all-around dreamy.  Topped with some homemade peri-peri sauce just sends the whole dish over the edge and into the realm of the surreally spectacular.  You just have to taste it to believe how simple yet stupendous this Peri-peri chicken is.  Forgive me for saying this, but it's really veri-veri good!  And I can't help but cluck about it.  

O'sonho Portugese Restaurant is on Jupiter St. Makati





 

Whenever I see Tawilis in the grocery, I do a little dance of joy.  These bite-sized fishies make a great Breakfast (or lunch or dinner) simply dredged in seasoned flour and deep fried until golden and crisp.  Served with a vinegar, patis and sili dipping sauce and garlic fried rice, it makes a peasant meal that would please the Prada-est of palates.  But fresh Tawilis is getting harder and harder to come by these days and I wondered why. 

So i did my research and found out that these lovely li'l fishies are the world's only freshwater sardines and can be found exclusively in Taal Lake.  Apparently,  Taal Lake was once part of the sea via Balayan Bay.  One major eruption of Taal Volcano created Taal Lake and also locked it away from it's saline source and thru the years became a fresh water lake.   Thus these smart sardines that were once the usual saltwater variety had to adapt and evolve into the Tawilis as we know and love them today, small, delicious and endangered because of over fishing and pollution.  

Come to think of it, isn't the Tawilis an apt metaphor for us Filipinos?  We're also physically more petite (ok, ok, maybe not me but most Pinoys), wily, distinctive and so happily able to adapt to our surroundings.  Put a Filipino in any country in the world and he is able to assimilate so seamlessly and completely.  Sometimes this is a good thing but a in the long run it can be major blow to our establishment of a national identity.  Such is the usual fate of small fish in a big pond, specially if they can get along swimmingly and effortlessly with all the other fishies, big or small.  But can you imagine if we all got together and flipped our fins in the same direction?  We'd definitely make waves and be a force to reckon with.  Go fish!
 

I saw this Popcorn Cart in the most unexpected place -- it was in the midst of a massive construction site, the only shot of color dwarfed by the glum, gargantuan gray-ness of progress.  And I couldn't help but let out a squeal of joy at the sight.  This was the kind of street food I was never allowed to eat when I was a child because God knows they contained all kinds of cooties, flesh-eating bacteria or other hideous parasites that would live forever in the warm and welcoming confines of my stomach and grow out of my orifices. 

The list of forbidden foods was long and included the unknown delights of sa-malamig (and the whole line of iced drinks), fishballs, "dirty " ice cream, cotton candy, shelled peanuts and all manner of street snacks-on-sticks.  However, the parental desist order only served to fan the flames of desire on my part.  Unbeknownst to any adults, I had already ascribed all sorts of imaginary magical properties to these verbotten victuals. 

In fact, I had so built up my expectations of the confetti-colored popcorn that, today, perhaps 35 years or so later, I still haven't tried it.  I know deep inside, that disappointment is the only possible outcome of sampling it for the first time at this ripe old age.  I just know It can't be as good as I imagined it and honestly, that confirmation I can live without.  So I'll just go on my merry way and continue to live my life in blissful ignorance of the real taste and true Hollywood story behind the colored Popcorn of my childhood.  So please don't pop my bubble, ok?

A few weeks ago, I discovered the most awesome frozen concoction ever-- Sans Rival Gelato by Amici.  Imagine the blissful marriage of melt-in-your-mouth merengue bits, buttercream icing nuggets and luscious vanilla cream that was filled with the inimitable sans rival-ly deliciousness .  It's unrivalled indeed in taste and satisfaction being subtly sweet without the cloying unctiousness of many ice creams.  Previous to this Amici has been nothing more than a convenient source of end-of-the-meal sweetness as well as my friendly nieghborhood pizza place.  As soon as I had sampled this particular flavor though, all bets were off.  The heavens opened up, the angels started to sing and Amici became, well, my palate's best friend.  Since then I "discovered" other yummy offerings at Amici such as their Lasagna, Canneloni and Spaghetti Carbonara that my niece Andie adores. 

But back to Ice Cream. I am proud to say that I have perhaps enjoyed the world's best, from sampling genuine Italian Gelati by the Fountain of Trevi, to sharing a chocolate parfait with my sister at Cafe de la Paix just off the Rue Fouborg de Saint Honore' in Paris to licking a giant waffle cone of tart-terrific Rasperry Ice Cream while being whipped by freezing winds at Pier 39 in Fisherman's Wharf,  to devouring a small tub of bite-sized pastilles of chocolate covered ice cream balls with Mom in the basement of Seibu in HongKong.  I can even still clearly see my M's face the first time I made him try Haagen Dazs Strawberry ice cream, he struggles to remember his own name as his eyes read "Wow!" .  Each one of those is a wonderful memory frozen in my mind, as misty as if I had just opened the freezer door to retrieve it.  Funny how ice cream can do that.



 

In these days of the horrendous heat and humidity, the search is on for any sort of relief, respite or refreshment for our poor, parched carcasses.  To a lot of people, a drink of ice cold water will do the trick.  But for me of the demanding tastebuds, bland, tasteless, flavorless H20 just doesn't hit the spot.  As Manny Pacquiao so eloquently put it, "You know, water is good.  But for me, there's something better, you know?!". 

Whether you call it Dalandan, Dalanghita or Singkong (which is what my favorite Grandmother called it when she would buy me kilos of it in the Summers of my youth), it's juice makes the earth's most thirst-quenching, cooling beverage!  Perhaps the gretest thing about it is that it;s never face-puckeringly tart and there's always a faint suggestion of sweetness that a few spoonsfull of honey or sugar will only serve to enhance.  Serve with a tinkling of ice, Dalandan Juice always seems to bring with it a gentle breeze and whispers of a cooler, calmer time when the heat was never this, well, hot and the humidity was never this heavy.  A glassful of this sunshiny essence can seemingly embrace you with freshness as no other beverage I know.  
 
This week, I am so grateful to realize, has given me other moments of refreshment that are more surprising but no less dramatic.  Last Tuesday, I had lunch with an old friend I hadn't seen in a while.  G has Stage 4 cancer of the pancreas and is in the midst of a rather aggressive round of chemo which has had a major effect on her strength and appetite.  So it was so thrilling for me to see her appreciate the subtle spiciness of the Shantung Chicken (Good Earth's delicious take on General Tso) and the sweet/sour sumptuousness of the Chili Garlic Crab Claws, while we soberly and realistically discussed her prospects.  I drank in everything G said and even more so the many things she didn't have to put into words.  Before long, I looked over to her plate and realized that she had demolished half a cup of rice (a major echievement in her book) and some of the Icy Hot Banana dessert.   And although I also appreciated the delightful food, I appreciated so much more the time she spent with me, the wisdom of her words and her unrelenting belief that all was as it should be.  It was perhaps, the most fulfilling meal I've ever had.  It was certainly the most refreshing in terms of my faith, you know?! 

Easter is here and with it comes the predictable plethora of fluffy bunnies, chirping chicks and, of course... brightly colored Easter eggs!  But Easter or not, and colored or not, eggs have always been a thing of beauty to me.  I always marveled at the egg's stark simplicity, its graceful shape, its delicacy and its strength. (Have you ever tried to break an egg using just one hand and not hitting it against anything?  Impossible.) 

 I have fond memories of childhood summers spent collecting still-warm, freshly laid eggs from my Grandmother's chicken coops.  I would carefully place a chalk mark on the outside of the coop that I gathered the egg from (to keep track of the most productive layers) before depositing my prize on the communal egg carton.  As far as I am concerned, the eggshell is the world's best packaging, in both design, execution and utilization... the ultimate example of the "Less is More" School of Art. 

We all have our personal preferences when it comes to... "How would you like your eggs?"  But it doesn't end at  scrambled, over easy, sunny side up, poached, soft or hard bolied.  Oh no!  As soon as you crack an egg open, you literally open up a world of possibilities.  There is no end to the things one egg can do, no end to the roles one egg can take... one single solitary egg can be a a staple, a healthy starter, a solid foundation, a binder, a  protector, an enricher.  The egg can uplift just as well as it can give body and substance or simply just make things shine.  Is it any wonder then that the egg is a symbol of  Life and Womanhood as well?!  

And now that my eggs are dwindling down to a precious few,  I realize that you can't reach any significant point in your life without laying a few and breaking a lot.  What you're gonna make of these is all up to you.  Just don't crack up or you'll just end up with egg on your face.  Happy Easter Everyone!