SUMMER 201: ON TAKING THE BEST ROUTE TO A MAN'S HEART

There is one substantial reason, other than the adhered assumption of their exceptionally amiable and self-effacing personalities, why I constantly visit the blogs of kiwipinay and tonimarikit: they blithely write about their experimentations in food and proudly narrate their achievements in homecookings.

I love to eat. My continuing affinity to all things edible is reared not just by an obligation to eat in order to live but by the higher commitment to live rather happily - and anybody who looks at food above its nourishing quality, like Beth and Toni to me, could be my friend. Food, after all, is a sustaining power that unlike air and water beckons us under our own devices. Not like air, we choose our food intake; not like water, we have a wide selection of food.

Which brings me to Beth and Toni. In this age of empty or shallow or jaundiced blogging, these two ladies write about love, and life, and family, and of course, about food they prepare in their kitchens - in the same simple but effective fashion as Henry David Thoreau's broodings on building a house with his own two hands under tight budget, or Jose Saramago's winsome ruminations on the societal significance of owning a dog. Through their blogs, food are not just food, they are little stories too, or even poetry, or a love note, a fragrant flower in bloom, a kid's laughter.

I remember how Beth salivated us with the simple dish she made from the mullet given by a friend, and there was a story behind that exchange; or how Toni cooled us off with words on the simple concoction of avocado ice candies handed over by a generation before. Reading those posts along with others that contrive alluring images of food magically brought me to some of the greatest moments of my life - the times when I ate with all my heart and tummy aplomb, all the times I came to realize that food should not only be filling, they also have to be fulfilling.

Here's my additional two cents on food: Aside from being about food, meals are also about people. We are what we eat; any indications external like the smoothness of skin, the pinkness of fingernails, or the bounciness of attitude could be attributed to what's historically in the stomach. Likewise, meals are a social event and should thus be treated as opportunities to a lively social interaction, hopefully, with those who share with us the same aesthetic and nutritional value of food.

Or maybe I am just lucky. I remember in high school or in college where, spending some days in the house of a friend or classmate, the mother or the cook would hoist us out of the kitchen everytime we ventured there with our tiny curiosities as if we were the bearers of bad taste, or the stealers of secret recipes. For in my house of childhood onward, the kitchen was the place where emotions were built up. In our abode, everyone was encouraged to cook and everyone was encouraged to eat. Heartily. Joyfully.

And so as I read Beth's and Toni's food posts over and over again and scream, Yummy!, I kept on wanting to ask, short of commenting, can I please, please come and visit your wonderful kitchens?