What home tastes like...

So here I am, Monday morning at work, sitting idly at my desk. I am pretty sure some of you are asking yourselves, "What the hell is Josh doing at work?” I have taken the liberty of making a picture (Pie Charts = Win) of what I have planned for today's agenda. As you can see, I am very busy and have very little time to blog.

Anyhow, coming up with a topic to write about can be objectively difficult, but luckily Kim sent out an email about the upcoming Iron Chef challenge. As a result, I thought I would make an overly dramatic statement about the food exercise that Irene had us write about in class.

It is another dewy winter weekend with cold winds entangling the atmosphere. Every inhalation and breathe is accentuated with a fine white cloud that pierces the immediate surroundings. As the sun begins to fade into the horizon, the lights within the household turn on instantaneously. Sensing it is nearly dinner time, my mother glides down the freshly lacquered oak floors to exquisitely question my siblings and I what they want for dinner. One by one she asks us,”What do you want to eat?” My siblings, exhausted from their drive from Vegas respond with a conventional, “I don’t know.” Abruptly, my mother’s temper begins to flare and she glares at me the when she asks the same question. Unprepared to answer, I respond with the same response as my siblings. In an act of desperation, my mother begins to blurt out dishes: Kare Kare, dinuguan, bangos, sinagang, adobo. In an attempt, to prevent her from going into a furor, I simply reply the last item she mentioned, chicken adobo.

One by one, she pulls out the ingredients for tonight’s dinner from the freshly installed cabinets and the hulking sub-zero freezer. Scattered throughout the counter are the vinegar, garlic, bay leaves, soy sauce, pepper corns, and other assorted seasonings. After, she proceeds to defrost the adamantine chicken in the microwave. She enters 10:00 onto the chrome input key and LED counter begins to drop. 10, 9, 8, …, 4, 3, 2, 1, beep. Within minutes, the chicken has been sliced, diced, and been thrown into a pot filled with a mixture of seasonings. As the dish nears completion, the pungent vapors of the vinegar become distinct, traveling to all corners of the kitchen and living room. To me and my siblings, it is obvious that it is nearly dinner time. We are in the living room, talking vigorously and boisterously while holding our whiskey glass generously filled with Seagrams and 7-up, while our father remains in his customary post-work slumber. Without any further warning, my mom inhales deeply and exclaims, “Chow time!!!”

*My siblings live go to school in Nevada and I live in the city so family meetings happen rarely.

**I chose adobo because it is what I had for lunch today =)

It tastes a lot better than it looks.

*Nom nom nom nom* ( "'\( ^_^)/"' )

Ooohhhh.....there's a Bay leaf at the top =D