Spaghetti in Sol's Midnight Marinara Sauce

I found myself pretty hungry at around half past one AM. When I couldn't convince Junior to fix me anything to eat, I resignedly went downstairs to cook.

I didn't grow up in a family that expected me to learn how to cook. My mom didn't really cook a whole lot, but she has a number of "signature" dishes, cakes and pies. My dad, according to family legend, has some sort of onion and tomato thing; but that may have all been just hearsay. I have three sisters and May, the second, is a really good cook (but she's also always been the "girly" one anyway). Gay, the eldest, can bake great blueberry cheesecake. Anna, the youngest, who lives on coffee and cigarettes, at most knows how to boil water by microwave (or at least I hope she does).

My first kitchen foray happened one summer when I was about eight or so (my most vivid childhood memories seem to begin at eight). Gay and May had this idea for us to cook an elaborate lunch for ourselves, complete with a fancy menu for dishes like "sautéed zygotes" i.e. fried egg. I contributed the beverages for the meal: "nestea con hielo con sprite".

Take the tallest glass in the kitchen. Fill three quarters with sprite or a similar colorless soda. Add two teaspoons of lemon-flavored instant iced tea powder. Witness the Rootbeer Float Effect: the powder causes the soda to fizz and a light brown froth bubbles to the surface. Take a long and slim teaspoon and stir gently, taking care that the froth doesn't diminish too much. Add a few cubes of ice.

I tried baking in high school and I wasn't too bad at it. Partly because they taught it in "home economics" (I also had a "practical arts" class with the boys, where I welded a swan-shaped ashtray for my class project). And partly because I had, for a long time, secretly wanted to grow up to be just like my best friend Lille's mom (who was a cool, single mother with her own company; and she gave away baskets of homemade pastries at Christmas).

I never cooked even when I lived on campus throughout college. I only tried my hand at cooking again years and years later when I started living with Junior. As a grad student, I had a pretty free schedule. But I eventually learned to hate sharing a kitchen with him--he was really merciless when it came to my dubious culinary eptitude. He made fun of my lack of common sense (with cooking and life in general--but hey, who cares about details when you're a genius, right?) and rolled his eyes at my reliance on recipes. When he petulantly complained that I had made spaghetti marinara one time too many, I literally threw the towel in (and at him).

But then Gabby came into the picture. Finally! A captive audience! An uncomplaining customer... at least before he could talk; and it is pure coincidence that his first word after mama and papa was "no"! Anyway, on Sundays (the nanny's day off), I started to cook for him. An improvisational spirit that I had sort of learned from Junior emerged. I got on a diet earlier this year and started cooking for myself, too.

Which brings me to tonight. The height of my haught cuisine. After two years of experimentation, I've come to the conclusion that I have a specific talent for combining a few specific ingredients into lush, flavorful food nouveau: tomatoes in any form (fresh, peeled, puréed, sauced), shrimp, olive oil, pasta, and oregano. And I've written my own rule of cooking: you can never have too much garlic--just be prepared to keep your trap shut for the rest of the evening!

And tonight's dish was a product of imagination.

Cook wholewheat pasta in boiling water and drain; place in a bowl. At the same time, heat a sauce pan, add a dollop of olive oil; fry a little minced fresh garlic and a few fresh large peeled shrimp or prawns. Don't be shy about leaving in all the weird orange gunk from the shrimp heads for flavor. Add some chili flakes. Add a couple of heaping spoonfuls of taba ng talangka or crab fat (available from Filipino stores at Lucky Plaza). Set aside. In the saucepan, leave in the sea-foody residue and add midnight spaghetti herbs (available at Carrefour; they come in little flat bags with brown paper labels) with just enough water to submerge the herbs. Wait until the herbs/spices are fully re-hydrated, then sauté with a little olive oil. Add chili flakes and tomato pesto. Stir into pasta. Top with shrimps and "marinara" sauce. If I'd had any fresh orgegano leaves, I'd have used them as a garnish. Cooking & preparation time: 20-25 minutes


Junior offered me fifty bucks to whip up another bowl, haha!