Hypothetical February 14 Playlist

Let it be known that next week I will be holding a record 39 years (yes sir, straight, uninterrupted, successive years) of being immune to the February 14 consumer hype of receiving (even buying) chocolates, flowers and that close to extinction things called Hallmark cards...or dinner by candlelight with a significant other and the rest of the city's (whichever city of the moment I happen to be in) hundreds of couples celebrating Valentines' Day. This statement is not laden with misery or even laced with a hint of bitterness..in fact, this occasion gives me the chance to remember that I am actually in a happy place right now (really) because I am comfortable with the thought that with or without a man in the equation - the sum total of who I am remains the same: whole. Not a half yearning for whoever it is who could make the equation complete. A lot of well meaning people in my life would be more than delighted to go out of their way to argue with my line of thinking so I would like to assure them as early as this paragraph that this post is not going to be a defensive argument on my part on the merits of being single. I promise it's about something else..still February 14 related but not quite about men or the lack thereof in my life.

Anyway, a few days back I have been telling some friends (or the thousand  or so of them in Facebook - - it's all about me remember?) that I was in this obsessive compulsive phase of trying to get my music playlist organized. So I have my new age/meditation music labelled as "Sleep". I have my 70s- early '80s essential playlist. There's my all female playlist called "Diva". I have my 90s and up playlist. I have my soft, light and easy, my folk, country and rock, my pure country. Well, you get the picture. And I don't really want to discuss or describe my playlists in detail, otherwise I would get some sound advice to get my head examined. So last night I was adding some more songs in my motown playlist (all R&B, African-American singers playlist) and some of the songs got me thinking that I might have found one minor downside of being single - - and that being the apparent absence of a..can I say this without gagging..."special someone" I can share these songs with and even to slow dance with for a bit..though heaven knows I can't dance to save my life..there's something about the rhythm of these songs that makes me believe that I can actually manage to do a slow dance. So I made this hypothetical playlist in my mind..one that I would have in a parallel universe where I am not spending February 14 alone. 

1. At Last by Etta James - I don't even need to explain. Anybody who's heard this song or even watched Mr & Mrs Obama during the Inaugural would understand why. If by crazy chance when I am in my, let's say 50s and marching down the aisle to this song I am sure more than one member of my family or circle of friends would heave a sigh of relief (even disbelief) and say the same thing - at last! I love, love this song even if my love wouldn't come along!.

2. Let's Get It On by Marvin Gaye - this song spells sexy from beginning to end. There's so much soul in this piece of music that it seems to be coming from somewhere even deeper than sensual - you just don't listen to the song, you experience it! And let's face it, when it comes to make out music, nobody does it like Marvin Gaye!

3. I Can't Get Enough of Your Love Babe by Barry White - aside from his deep baritone that makes any woman tingle all over..I love how the song builds momentum on the refrain - everytime you're near, I feel the change, something moves, I scream your name... love it! I know it's R&B with a little bit of disco but still a great song to (not so) slow dance to.

4. Living for the Love of You by Issley Brothers - I've loved this song for a long time but only got to hear it again when I was watching Alfie last night on cable..and it was during the scene where Jude Law as Alfie was playing pool with his best friend's girlfriend and this song started playing on the Jukebox and the girl started grooving to the song. Before the scene ended I managed to download the song from i-tunes and added it to my motown playlist. I love instant gratification!

5. Reasons by Earth, Wind and Fire - one of the few songs that make me sway on reflex. Like a hammer and knee jerk thing. Temperature's rising!

6. Sweet Baby by Stanley Clark - if I have a..ok here we go again, gag alert..special someone..I would want to play this song with him on a nice, quiet, lazy afternoon. 

7. Sweet Love by Anita Baker - one of my videoke guilty pleasure slash secret weapon..I know this song by heart..start to finish..just a little tone deaf to hit the right notes though. If I so much as sing it, fictional hubby would use it as grounds for divorce. But still one of those songs I wish I don't have to enjoy alone.

8. Fancy Pants by Max Bennett - least romantic title with lyrics that don't really make sense but the song's rhythm and Max Bennett's voice can really make you groove to the song even if there's no poetry there about somebody singing - "and she looks so cool wearing those fancy pants, she wears fancy pants for me". 

9. Lost Without You by Robin Thicke - I think this is the most contemporary item on my list. Very sultry and seductive. One of the few songs that made me lament for the longest 0.005 seconds why oh why am I still single?? Possible answer: Robin Thicke's taken.

10. Smile Again by Manhattan Transfer - there's the 0.1% optimist in me who believes I could actually play this song someday to a non fictional flesh and blood person but since I don't see that happening..not even next year when I celebrate 40 years of immunity to VD (not the disease with the same abbreviation but it goes without saying I am immune to that as well)..that doesn't stop me from loving this song and wanting to share it albeit hypothetically to a fictional object of affection.

11. I've Got You Babe by Cher and Sonny Bono - although I can very well make a playlist called Fiction and this song will be on top of the list. But based on the technical criteria I've set about listing songs I would have loved to share with a certain "you" if the "you" exists then this song made it just outside of top 10..I love it enough not to hide it in the etc etc that follows this paragraph. My only concern is that while I was maniacally organizing my music library I realized I have quite a selection of songs by Cher, Diana Ross, Barbra Streisand, Dionne Warwick and Donna Summers that for awhile there I was beginning to think, maybe I am a closet drag princess after all. Hmm...I think not..I am too drab to be drag.

I have to make myself stop right here. There's still a short list of more than a hundred songs I would love to include in this list,  like I haven't even gotten to the Roberta Flack selections yet (no, Careless Whisper is not and never will be a part of this playlist)  but I don't want to get into that compulsive mode again. I am just making an attempt to make a connection to an event that I've never been an active participant of. And the only way I can relate with matters of the heart is through the songs written about it. Having said that, I guess you don't really need to be in love to love a love song. So carry on, Happy Hearts Day!

The Art of Doing Nothing or The Couch Potato Rambles

First of all, let me start by saying I love my job. And that is not a sarcasm filled declaration. Just the plain and simple truth that I love what I am doing and I cannot imagine myself doing anything else. The thing that I don't like, however, is after squeezing and extracting all the adrenaline my body can produce to sustain me through one of those marathon worthy 12 hour shifts, I go home and crash like a junkie on withdrawal. And today's one of those days. I stepped out of the hospital torn between two extremes - extreme fulfillment and extreme exhaustion - - I dragged myself home like a zombie wearing parka, snow pants and Sorels. I didn't even notice that there's a -48C windchill until I entered the building and a neighbor kindly volunteered the information. Last thing I remembered before passing out was a segment on E channel about celebrities on rehab blaming all their health woes on exhaustion. Really. Tell me about it. Then darkness follows.


When I opened my eyes I was greeted by the bright sunlight of a clear but chilly Iqaluit afternoon. For the next how many, unrecalled minutes (could be hours, I don't know) I found myself just remaining flat in bed, staring at the window, gazing at the snow covered mountains and the occasional raven in flight. Then I came up with the perfect post crash recovery plan. Today I am going to be the ultimate, pampered, semi sedentary, well fed couch potato. Perfect! I felt like a woman on a mission! Today I will do absolutely nothing! And I will be very, very good at it! 


First item on my agenda was to replace depleted adrenaline levels with happy hormones and chemicals to bring me back to life. And my drug(s) of choice as always: caffeine, protein (in the form and structure of meat in particular) and spice. By the way, I am still on the road to self forgiveness for my self induced coffee mishap . . just because I thought it was smart cost effective planning on my part to leave my beloved Tassimo in Calgary, buy a cheap coffee maker only to arrive in Iqaluit and find the carafe shattered to coffee ground pieces and having to buy a new single cup coffee maker here that cost more than the 10 cup maker I broke. Yes, that's cost effective planning for you. But what's done is done, I had to move on, and forgive myself. After all, coffee is an essential necessity for me that comes close second to oxygen so that about justifies everything, including foolish miscalculations. So my first semblance of motion after slowly waking up from my post adrenaline crash was to make coffee. Now for a dose of spice. A couch potato sustains itself with the least, minimal amount of movement so for my spice fix, I forgot about taking the high road... I just called Yummy Shawarma for delivery - made strict specifications to make my beef shawarma extra, extra spicy with more pepper. I took extra effort to repeat my request twice. Extra extra spicy with more pepper please!  I said it with the urgency and desperation of a convict requesting his last meal.  I also tried the 2 side dishes my friend from Vegas (and Mediterranean food expert) recommended - kibbi and spinach pie. And just in case my semi immobile self suddenly feels the need for sugar rush - I ordered a slice of Blaklava and kept it within reach, on standby, ready in case of emergency.


Of course, other than the couch, a couch potato's must have accessories are a TV set and remote control. And thanks to a friendly Filipino family, I now have my own hand me down TV. The cable guys being a part of the grand design of the universe to make all things fall into place at the right time, decided to set up my TV box yesterday despite their earlier notice that they were going to be busy and they're not too sure when they can be available. So yes I have cable now. And to give myself a much needed treat, I had some channel packages included in my cable plan - including the one that gave me access to Oprah's OWN channel. And that brings me to where I am at this very moment. Happily munching a Mediterranean sandwich that is bursting with beef and hot pepper, big mug of coffee now empty and the only marathon I am doing this time is watching a succession of feel good shows from Oprah's channel. I tell myself that I am not just being a couch potato, I am a couch potato feeding a tired body and weary soul. For that I feel my well laid out plan of doing nothing is well justified!


I guess I will be in this state for the next remaining hours of the evening and well through the night. I checked the TV schedule . . and I realized that the perfect timing of my suddenly acquiring a TV set and have cable set up is in part because I have been cursed never to miss a season of American Idol. So after feeding my soul I'll step down a bit for a little taste of pop culture. I don't know if critics would forgive me for using culture in the same paragraph as American Idol but nevertheless, I am entitled to my own guilty pleasures even if it means suffering a little bit with a little dose of J Lo nonsense, Steve Tyler drunken stupor like mumbles and Randy Jackson's litany of dawgs, pitchy, not jumping up and down. 


I am particularly adverse to any form of sloth but today is an exception. I am relishing without guilt my few hours of non productivity. Will be back to work again tomorrow but for today this adrenaline junkie is on rehab, blissfully sedentary and doing nothing with utmost perfection!

Water Runs Dry

There's almost something apocalyptic about waking up on a Friday the 13th in the year 2012 with the news that a broken water pipe has caused depletion of most of the city's water supply and that the city's shutting down. As a northern newbie, I got a bit of reassurance and consolation when I read Townie Bastard's blog that this is not the first time (and I don't think it would be the last either) that the city's on a shut down for some only-in-Iqaluit reasons.


Anyway, so it's business unusual today in Iqaluit. Actually it all started late last night. I came home from an overtime shift, had late dinner and after several minutes of lying leisurely like a lazy cat on the couch I finally convinced myself it's time to wash the dishes. And that's when I realized there's no water.


 A little confession before I proceed. I have this little neurosis that I have been trying suppress for the longest time. It's a sort of "Truman Show" or the-universe-revolves-around-me-but-in-a-bad-way type of paranoia wherein if bad things happen, it's only happening to me or it's happening because of me. This is one reason why I always struggle to maintain a positive attitude because the alternative is me feeding on this neurosis. The rose tinted glasses I always wear? They are prescribed treatment  for an otherwise severely dark, gloomy tunnel vision. I remember when I was little my mother was the main lead of a local production of A Portrait of the Artist as Filipino, a play that mostly centered on the Marasigan spinster sisters, Paula and Candida, who used to belong to an affluent family but had to make both ends meet post war. My mother played the role of Paula and I used to go with her during all her rehearsals that I almost memorized all her lines. There was this scene though that I would never forget because it somehow mirrors my own neurosis and paranoia. So there was this blackout scene and the sisters, Paula and Candida broke into melodramatic rantings and crying thinking that the electricity was cut off because they were not able to pay their bills..so they were exchanging lines back and forth about the shame, what will their neighbors say, the misery of being poor, what to do next etc etc..and in the end when they looked out of their window they realized the whole town had no lights - it was, after all a town-wide black out and they started laughing hysterically at themselves. That's how I felt initially when I realized last night that there's no water. I had a Marasigan sister moment there. Like this is only happening to me or because of me. Good thing I had enough sense to call the city's after hours emergency number .. and a very harassed sounding lady told me that there's no water in 6th storey, 8th storey, Apex and other locations but they are trying to fix the problem. I guess I must have been her 100th caller in the last hour judging from the sound of her voice - but to her credit she managed to answer the phone after 3 rings and even exerted extra effort to sound nice. So I went to sleep last night not knowing the full story. All I know is that there was a problem and it was being fixed. I had water themed dreams. I was in a resort with different kinds of swimming pool - hot water, cold water, pool with giant slide and a weird dirty pool with lots of algae and floating stuff.


When I woke up, first thing I did was check the faucet. Still no water. I went back to bed and thought about all my water related activities for the day - the laundry I had to do, the dishes from last night that I didn't get to wash, taking a bath, using the toilet, my daily dose of caffeine. Around 90% of the things I need to do today has something to do with water. This is too cliche but it has to be said - you don't know what you've got til it's gone. I have to admit that I am not the biggest environmentalist. I mean I know all the issues and I sympathize with the many causes but I don't really go out of my way to preserve the environment the way other people do.  I went downstairs to buy some bottled water and that's when I learned about the water pipe bursting last night. I bought my initial supply of four bottles of water and a cup of coffee hoping this would be enough until things get fixed but when I went upstairs to check on the news, I found out that the reservoir was depleted as well. I think it must be the Filipino in me but I immediately went into panic buying mode without even analyzing beyond my must-have-water thoughts. I went to the convenient store downstairs again and added a few more bottled water, microwavable food that doesn't require water or use of utensils and a few cans of pop - yes this is panic buying for a single woman, once again I am thankful that my circumstances in life make me immune to other concerns like milk formula and diapers. The nice lady who manages the convenient store was kind enough to lend me her grocery cart but since it was Friday the 13th, I didn't really get that lucky. The elevator wasn't working and appears to be stuck on the 2nd floor. I said to myself, no way I am taking the stairs with all these stuff! I stubbornly stood in front of the elevator and glared at it as if I can will it to open with dagger looks. Luck just wasn't the word for the day unless you affix it with un- so I took the stairs. Did I ever mention I live in the 6th floor? 


While I was trying to soothe my nerves with the mix sushi lunch I bought at the cafe downstairs, I decided to update myself with the goings on in the city. There was an advisory not to use water unless absolutely necessary. That made me think about what "necessary use of water means". So I have to go without doing my laundry today. I am not a big fan of water as a drink but I am thinking about my daily dose of caffeine, my bath, the need to use the toilet and other things that are not really directly water related but to some extent need water. My musings were interrupted when the fire alarm sounded off at the entire building. I was not even surprised that it did. After all the series of unfortunate events on this Friday the 13th, I was half expecting something like that to happen. Took the stairs again and by the time I reached the main floor the alarm stopped and I had to go back to my apartment again. At least with the few minutes I spent mingling with the not too happy neighbors, I got to hear the good news that we have water again. Elevator still not working though and once again I had to take the stairs. For awhile there I was tempted to look for a video camera hidden somewhere a la Truman Show.


I checked the advisory again. Water's back but reservoir still depleted, everyone still urged to conserve water. From Townie Bastard's blog I found out that there's an Iqaluit Public Service Announcement site on Facebook so I asked to join the group. And I have to say I have to admire the mayor here for being so involved with what's going on. I mean, I know it's her job to be involved but there's a sense there of going the extra mile. There's water again although we are all advised to conserve. With caution I washed the dishes, took a bath, forget about the laundry. Life goes on as usual. I stared at the how many bottles of mineral water I bought. I asked myself how it would be like if this water-less state lasted for a longer time. I am thankful it was not electricity or heating that was damaged. Glad that it's my day off. But still..a lot of things made me think today. And I am not just talking about apocalyptic signs of the times or scientific basis for Friday the 3th bad luck.

Dragon Tattoo a la Hollywood

I had a bit of a grand debate with myself yesterday whether or not to go downstairs and watch The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo at Astro Theater. After all, this is one of my all time favorite books ever and I wasn't too keen on witnessing how it would get desecrated Hollywood style. A movie is a medium totally different from a book no matter how you look at it. I mean if I say that the movie tried to be true to the book (it wasn't really)  that may not mean a good thing. Like Steig Larsson effectively managed to weave a story that makes you struggle with the first how many chapters in a slow, dragging uphill climb and then suddenly  you find yourself being pushed at the edge of the peak and you roll full speed you don't even know what hit you. It's true that pictures can paint a thousand words but there are times when only words can define, paint and create a story that you can't quite capture in (moving) pictures. That's why I love movies and I love books but as two separate media..I have never been a big fan of seeing a beloved book being made into film. And that's why I had a lot of misgivings about watching Dragon Tattoo. But last night I was still recovering from my holiday binge and I was happily being a bum, browsing through the year end special issue of People Magazine and I chanced upon some positive reviews on Rooney Mara's (as Lisbeth Salander) acting and I took that as a sign that I should go downstairs and watch the movie. If anything, it would only mean a $12 and 2h40min worth of regret and I talked myself into believing that I am after the entertainment value and I should not even attempt to make any comparison to the book. So 20 minutes before screening time I managed to drag myself out of the apartment, bought a ticket and consoled my anti film version other self with a large bag of popcorn and pepperoni stick.


First of all, Mr. Larsson, in all three books he wrote before his too untimely demise, never aimed to entertain but he seemed to be more concerned about making sure you are uncomfortably shifting in your seats and feeling disturbed while reading about the series of unfortunate events that befell the hapless, unlikely, atypical heroine that is Lisbeth Salander before finally providing a sense of vindication at the very few last pages of the last book. Which is a little too late for some of us who have already been consumed by all the darkness, injustice, perversion and what nots of the first two books and at least 90% of the last one. And with the way he tried to paint a picture of corruption and evil in a seemingly perfect Swedish system, your now paranoid self would even go as far as thinking maybe Larsson didn't die of a heart attack, maybe there was some foul play there since he was ruffling a few political feathers. That's why I came to love his The Girl..Trilogy, it sucks you like a whirlpool into it's pages, no matter how the first how many chapter drags, it moves you, it disturbs you and in the end it's one of those rare books that makes you want to do a standing ovation and cheer. And I think it was mainly due to how Steig Larsson chose how and when to slowly build characters, plots and background, when to suddenly go for the kill. To capture all these in film would be such a tall, tall order so as expected, the movie version failed in this aspect. To their credit though, the producers seem to respect the fact  that the author didn't really aim to entertain so they also tried to tone down on the drama, shock value, cliche or other Hollywood-ish formula and even managed to succeed in creating a dark, somber, disturbing mood.


The casting was perfect. And I am especially referring to Rooney Mara. If anything, she did give justice to the role although at times she's doing it too perfectly that you can feel her all too conscious effort to "be like" Lisbeth as opposed to "being" Lisbeth. I don't know how to explain this one but sometimes it felt like watching a two hours or so character interpretation monologue rather than watching a movie. But she's the perfect Lisbeth, I can't think of anybody else who can pull that one off. Thank God they didn't get Lindsay Lohan or Kristen Stewart. The rest of the cast were good too except that it's Hollywood so it's like one grand musical chair or recycling event so at some point I was half expecting Christopher Plummer to burst into song and sing "I go to the hills when my heart is lonely" or for Robin Wright to scream, "run Forrest run"! or yes for Daniel Craig to reveal that he is actually "Bond. James Bond".


It's hard to reconcile the book in two hours something worth of film so of course it can't entirely remain faithful to the print version, that's forgivable and expected - especially if you promised yourself not to judge the movie by it's book version. I just wished more emphasis was placed on demonstrating Lisbeth's genius methods for hacking computers (the way it was described in the book) because it was really a fun part of the story that I thought Hollywood would have wanted to magnify. And of course you really have to read the book so that you won't assume that the movie was just an excuse to advertise Apple and McDonald products. Unlike in Filipino movies, out of nowhere the leading man would have a headache and a well meaning supporting character will give him a certain brand of acetamenophen and proclaim it to be most effective for headache. Of course everybody in the audience know that the leading man is in real life an endorser for this brand of drug. How and why they resort to that kind of lame advertising psychology never fails to baffle me and annoys me like anything. Anyway, back to the Dragon Tattoo. I didn't like their version of how the Harriet thing was finally resolved but since I didn't provide a spoiler alert at the beginning of this post, that's all I can say about that one. Though I don't think the one or two faithful readers of my blog would mind (referring to mother and a friend I love to harass to read or else). I also thought it was weird watching Michael Blomkvist (Craig) being tortured to the ironically benign, light and breezy tune of Enya's Orinico Flow. I don't think I can listen to that song in the same way again! I don't remember that happening in the book though, maybe I should read it again. Or that part at least. And just in case there are Steig Larsson fans who happen to stumble into this post, go ahead and watch the movie but with no great expectations.

Hot Soup

I know I know. Post Christmas is the worst time to even mention food. Not while everybody's nursing a bad hang over or trying to get rid of the ham, turkey, fruitcake or other holiday foot aftertaste from their mouth. But I will talk about food nevertheless. I promise though that this is about the perfect antidote to all the fatty or sweet stuff we've been pigging out on for the last  couple of days.


So I wanted to eat something today that would neutralize the holiday fats, sugar, sauce/gravy, salt accumulation in my system. And I thought about making sinigang again..inspired by my successful first attempt a few days ago. Sinigang is a popular Filipino sour soup (usually tamarind based) and pretty much the same way you can adobo anything, you can also sinigang anything! Today I decided to go for salmon because I am out of chicken and pork and I am too lazy to go to the grocery store. To hear me talk or write about this you'd think I invented the sinigang! Actually I am just feeling a little smug about finally being initiated into the art of Filipino cooking. At 39 at that! When everybody else learned this from their mothers, grandmothers etc from when they were as young as 7! And of course I have to go the extreme end of the pole for this to finally happen! Anyway, let's go back to my to die for salmon sinigang.


I have all my support groups online to help motivate me or teach me how to cook so I turn to them like a drowning person clings to a lifesaver. For my sinigang today I decided to ambush my sister in law in Sweden..as soon as I saw her online (after she clicked "like" to one of my posts) I called her via Face Time and bombarded her with questions that would have evoked a lot of eyeball rolling and litany of "are-you-kidding-me" from other people who aren't family .. but my sister in law, God bless her, answered with a lot of enthusiasm and excitement that motivated me to make my perfect Salmon sinigang. So I took all her tips and instructions to heart and planned on a little "modification".


A backgrounder on the "modification". People who know me well know that I am notorious for having a very, very high tolerance for hot and spicy. My preference for hot(ter) and spicy(-ier) is not something I am particularly proud of since I have seen how it can either elicit some unwanted innuendos or cause people to ask really, really personal questions like if I have hemorrhoids already from eating all these spicy food..and I can really get defensive by enumerating all the medical benefits of eating hot and spicy. So again for my sinigang today, I planned to really make it hot..after all I am cooking just for one so I don't have to worry about taking anybody's hot and spicy meter into consideration. 


I am not the ultimate chef (yet) so my supply for ingredients are limited to stuff I can actually identify and spell but I do have different kinds of pepper and chili in my limited supply because I categorize them under food basics - so I have cayenne, crushed chili, chili powder, cayenne pepper sauce, long green chilis, jalapeno etc and the usual pepper (black, peppercorn). I used to swear by Tabasco and would add tabasco on anything but now it tastes like water to me. Not hot enough. And then a couple of days ago I was introduced to the ultimate form of chili powder that made everything else look and taste like placebo. I attended the first of two Christmas eve dinners I was invited to. This was at my neighbor downstairs. Turned out they were also hardcore hot and spicy fans. My neighbor is a Filipina living with her Canadian boyfriend and the Canadian boyfriend made this amazingly delicious, hot and spicy (my level of hot and spicy so it's actually deadly for everyone else) pork sisig (a favorite Filipino beer match). It was hands down one of the best sisig I've ever had! I guess they were watching me devour the sisig without even pausing to wipe a tear or soak my tongue with whatever I was drinking - so this was proof enough for them to believe me when I say I love hot and spicy and I am not just saying it to please my host! It was like passing a sort of test I guess. So my prize for that night was that they gave me a bottle of something called Bhut Jolokia Powder 100% pure and they said it is the hottest chili ever and made me sprinkle a little on my fingers so I can taste how hot it is..they were amused when I had to sprinkle twice before I can agree that well, it's hot. But then I drank two glasses of wine before that so it might have masked how hot the powder really was because I woke up the next morning with the tiniest hint of mouth sore right were the powder landed.


And that's the little backgrounder to my sinigang..I grabbed several long green chilis and sprinkled a hint of the Bhut Jolokia powder  and added these  with the sinigang mix, lime juice, tomatoes, onions, radish, greens that I used for the salmon sinigang.

While waiting for my sinigang to cook I googled on Bhut Jolokia powder and this is what I discovered:


The Bhut Jolokia, or Ghost Chile, so named for its ghostly bite, is the hottest chile pepper in the world. Also known as the Naga Jolokia and Bih Jolokia, or poison chile pepper. The Bhut Jolokia is twice as hot as the Red Savina Habanero and has a slightly smoky flavor. Imported from India.


                                                                                  - Firehouse Pantry Store

Well that was more than enough to "fire" up my excitement for the soup I was making and I was pleased beyond anything that I now have in my possession the hottest chili pepper in the world! My neighbor told me that this was more potent than pepper spray and I realized that's no exaggeration! So that means I can use it for self defense as well, in case there's a break in or something. 


The verdict? I was in food heaven with my comfort soup. I love how it warms the heart and satisfy my chili-specific taste buds. I am glad I added more than the usual amount of lime juice because the sourness of the soup was in perfect harmony with the hotness of the chili and the mildness of the salmon. Of course I might sound like I am bringing my smugness to a higher level by singing praises to my own creation but I am happy with my sinigang. And happier because I am now armed with this bhut jolokia powder!

A breather and time out from 1Q84

I read for different reasons. Sometimes it's because I want to unwind and escape from either a too sad or too drab reality. Sometimes it's to stimulate my senses by watching how words are joined together like patchwork quilts to create a picture, an image, a thought. Sometimes it's merely just to lull myself to sleep. Once in awhile, however, I would chance upon a book that transports me to another reality that's more unsettling and disconcerting than the one I am already in, that while it stimulates my senses - the effect is not that of a happy or fluffy feeling one gets from gazing at a patchwork quilt and it hardly puts me to sleep..and if it does, I'd end up having disturbing dreams. 1Q84 is that kind of book.


I may be one of the last few people in the planet to hear about Haruki Murakami and now I am beginning to understand why he has an almost cult-like following. If anything, I am this close to becoming a convert. I am still halfway through reading the book and one of the reviews did warn that it is a long 900++ pages novel. But it's one of those long novels that pulls me in two different directions. A part of me is dying to know how the story would end and yet there is this other part that, for the last few days, has become accustomed to the hypnotic, seductive, mesmerizing power of the book - like a drug with psychedelic or hallucinogenic  effect...that I don't want the book to end at all..if only to maintain that strange high. Rarely a book has the power to suck me into it's pages that I am actually given the idea of how it must feel to cross a parallel dimension or a very e=mc2-ish sort of alternate reality..especially since I now live in an out of  this world environment up north..in between reading the book, when I find myself gazing out of the window, I half expect to find two moons like the ones mentioned in the story. While I did say it is a mesmerizing read, I can't seem to finish the book soon enough. Sometimes when I am in a chapter or in a scene that is much too intense, I will myself to stop reading and start doing some mundane things that can remind me where my reality begins and 1Q84 ends - so I would wash the dishes, visit Facebook, write emails, feed myself..and with my reality well defined, I shut myself off from everything else and open my iPad's ebook app and start reading again.


I want to talk about intensity because I did say something about some chapters getting too intense. I've always felt that I am a person least qualified to give any form of book reviews. I have no technical know hows on form, style or writing technique. It's either I like a book or I don't but I don't feel the need to explain why..simply because I am not in the position to provide credible critique. This time, however, I will make a feeble attempt to discuss this particular book if only to detoxify and decongest my mind and spirit from it's overwhelming effect on me before I immerse myself further into reading and ultimately finishing it. Murakami is a Japanese author and the English translation of 1Q84 was released late this year. I am not an expert in Japanese culture or psychology but I've always found the Japanese to have this certain restraint and discipline on the surface that effectively masks whatever turbulence that lies beneath. In whatever structure (food, buildings, technology, words), they seem to have a penchant for projecting minimalism even if in that minimalist form there is actually a certain, unexpected heaviness. When I find it hard to explain something sometimes I tend to use too many words. It's hard to start on this premise because it's not easy to explain. But then as Murakami wrote, "if you can't understand without explanation then you won't understand with explanation"... so I am hoping that anyone who has ever watched a Japanese movie or attempted to dissect a haiku or even appreciated the elaborate simplicity of Japanese food would know where I am coming from. The mesmerizing power of 1Q84 does not come from any fast paced action, dramatic dialogues or colorful plots that's all too commonly seen in books written by Western authors. It's the quiet restraint of everything in the story - choice of words, pacing, characters' personalities that gives the readers the feeling that there is something ominous about the calmness and the stillness, something disturbing about the paucity of emotions from the characters (including a female lead who is incapable of using question marks!). To capture one's attention, you either create a lot of noise or in a quiet stillness you hold one's gaze and hypnotize. The book does the latter. And so far, speaking for myself, it has been very, very effective. For those who agree that Japanese or Korean horror movies although not as graphic and loud as their American counterparts are downright scarier, you would know what I mean.


These days, before I would buy a book or e-book, I tend to read the reviews first. This is mainly for my own economic and logistics justification. Interesting enough, those who were disappointed with this book happen to be hardcore Murakami fans. Most of them declared that his previous works were much better, 1Q84 just received more hype and attention based on the merits of the author's past efforts. As a novice, this didn't stop me from choosing 1Q84 as my initiation to the world and mind of Murakami. And I have no regrets. I have not finished the book yet but I have already downloaded two of his past works, the highly acclaimed Wind Up Bird Chronicle and at the risk of being accused of judging a book by it's cover or title, I also downloaded Norwegian Wood - mainly because it is the title of my favorite Beatles song (from where I got the name of this blog. Serendipity, eh?). Suffice it to say that it is totally inaccurate for me to declare that I am this close to becoming a convert of his cult-ish following, I believe I already am!


Having gotten that out of my chest, I will end this post and cross that parallel dimension that will take me back to 1Q84.

Steak

I am a happy carnivore. While I have deep respect for all forms of life, I also happen to know where I rank in the food chain. And I definitely relish my spot at the top. I realize the value of greens in a healthy diet and while I ingest these edible plants to sustain my needs at a cellular level, vegetables do not give me the same intense sense of satisfaction and gratification that I get from meat. When I was having one of my seasonal quest for losing unwanted pounds early this year, I was thrilled beyond anything when a new, popular diet endorsed by no less than a duchess' mother, called for unlimited consumption of most proteins - specifically beef, chicken and fish..and I wholeheartedly embraced this diet not just because it promised weight loss but more because it allowed me to eat meat. 


One of the many things that I appreciate about living in an arctic region is that this is a place where one of man's oldest instincts - hunting for survival is preserved. And when a hunter hunts his prey it's not to live out a violent game or killing for thrill. It's meant for the survival of a specie. Ours. A few months ago, I read a novel partly set somewhere in Alaska and there was a part that dealt a little bit about seal hunting..that seals know their purpose is to be hunted, killed and ultimately be fed to humans but it was a process that was done with great respect from the part of the humans that part of the ritual of killing seals is to get their bladder and throw it to the ocean to symbolize the release of their souls. I am not sure if I am retelling that accurately but my point is, with that kind of perspective on hunting for survival and eating meat, the arctic then is one of the best places to be a carnivore.


Today is Sunday. I was planning that after hearing mass I would take a leisurely walk and head off to the restaurant at Nova Inn because I heard that food was good there..and there where some items in the menu that I wanted to try like whale blubber and caribou salad. And after eating I was also planning to do more walking and go to Northmart to buy groceries. It was a little bit windy when I stepped out of the chapel and it made me rethink if walking would be a good idea. Fortunately, one of the Filipinos in church was also going to Northmart and offered me a ride. So I decided to put my plans for going to Nova on hold for now and just went straight to Northmart. This turned out to be a good move since I found out that they actually sell beef, chicken and fish there that does not necessarily move my wallet to tears.


And that's how I came to decide that today I was going to make steak. My friend in the US sent me some seasoning called Vegeta and she said it's a good sprinkle to add to steak rub. Since I got here I have used this Vegeta on most anything I make..from omelette to baked chicken but I have been dying to use it for steak using the recipe and technique that my friend's husband taught me. Until today, I have been buying groceries at Arctic Ventures and supply for meat, chicken and fish was limited and expensive. Happily, this was not the case at Northmart so I got to buy my (hopefully) one week's supply of chicken, fish (salmon) and of course beef I can use for making steak.


I was shaking with excitement when I got home and got all my ingredients ready. I didn't want any tinge of guilt cloud my ascent to meat heaven so for side dish I decided to saute some vegetables that I actually like (asparagus and mushroom) and I promised myself I will only have oatmeal for dinner. Now I am the kind of person who's got very selective retention for information and instruction. If it's something I am not interested in, no matter how important or crucial it is for me to retain the information - chances are I would forget. But if it's something I am passionate about no matter how trivial or unnecessary the data, I would store and super glue it to memory. So when I was visiting my friend a few months ago and her husband (who makes the best steak ever) gave me some pointers on how to make delicious steak, I had his instructions etched on my brain and it's now permanently tattooed there somewhere in my cerebral cortex. I watched and remembered how he did it, it's now a movie I can replay in my mind at will for future reference. And the bonus of course was that my friend was kind enough to send me that miracle seasoning that her husband uses for his steak.


Save for that few minutes when the smoke detector alarm went into frenzy, my first attempt at making steak here in Iqaluit is, I should say with all honesty and modesty, a hands down success! I followed all the dos and don'ts my friend's husband taught me..how long to cook it if I like it medium (and I like it medium, never ever over done - part of the thrill in eating steak for me is sucking the juice out from the tender meat), to never poke it with a fork or anything sharp just to check if it's done and to let it stand for a few minutes before slicing to trap the heat and juice and allow it to go towards the core of the meat - - I took all the minute details to heart and for that I was rewarded with a delicious, juicy, tender, melt in your mouth home cooked steak! Yes indeed, I am a happy carnivore!


Even if I wanted to devour it right away like a hungry hunter, I had to remind myself to let it stand for a few minutes. Patience is a virtue and I got my just reward!

Of course I made some effort to create balance, thus the mushroom and asparagus.