Lunch offered me a selection of fried chicken and nilaga. Assessing the situation, I decided I needed to prioritize my options. I mean, while I fully intend to eat as much as I can from both dishes, I am going to have to face the fact that there is only so much awesomeness I can fit in my belly. Choices had to be made. HARD choices!
While chicken is always awesome, I have been having it on a semi regular basis thanks to the McDonald’s right outside my house. So nilaga it is. But not so fast! I do not want it to think that I’m too eager to eat it. Mind games like this needed to be handled delicately. You let it get the upper hand once, and next thing you know, you find yourself eating fried chicken everyday while thinking about the nilaga who up and left because it got it in its delicious, juicy head that it’s too good for you. ALL BECAUSE YOU WERE TOO EAGER!
I reached for the fried chicken first, all the while keeping nilaga in my peripheral vision. I can almost hear it whimper as I placed that big, juicy chicken leg on my plate. That’s right deary, go ahead and think that you will never see the inside of my belly. Just watch me devour this chicken leg as you sit there under the airconditioner, uneaten. Unwanted.
I cut out a huge chunk out of chicken, no sense in doing things half hearted. As I heaped everything on my spoon, I glanced at the nilaga watching helplessly on the table. Look at you I thought, in a few minutes I’m about to turn that frown upside down. And you’ll be so happy, you won’t be able to contain it. And then I’ll eat you.
As I lifted the heaping spoonful of chicken to my mouth, I saw that the opening may not be enough to accommodate the first bite of awesome. I adjusted accordingly and then a sharp flash of pain. I tasted blood and realized that the wound at the corner of my mouth from a few days ago hasn’t healed yet. The wound had been preventing me from fully opening my mouth for the past few days.
As I sit there in pain, wiping blood from my mouth, I realized that given nilaga’s smaller-sized chunks, this would never have happened had I eaten it first. I glanced over to it, and I could almost detect a smug smile coming from that wily beef stew from hell.
Moral of the story: food politics is an ugly ugly game. If you want to get involved in it, be to have a bloody lip.
Whatever you’ve been smoking as you were writing this, I want.
Wow I can read your site in green! and black! and – oh, yeah the nilaga.
If you ate the nilaga with the blood, you could have had bulalo. Foresight fail.
You know what this comments section needs? SYMPATHY! FOR MY BLEEDING MOUTH!
You were writing while eating? How?
That’s nothing. I blogged this without the aid of the internet.