Recipe For The Future

by Scarlet M.

A month ago, in my apartment,

minced chicken sizzles on an obsidian hot plate

as my mother scowls at the sisig in front of her.

“Is that mayonnaise? Nasaan ang baboy?”

“Hindi ito ang aking recipe! Go back to the store!”

She slams the door on me, 

leaving behind an uneaten plate,

not knowing the good ingredients were hours away.

Forty years ago, in a California restaurant,

my grandpa shies away from a second bite of his halo-halo.

drenched in the sunkissed gloss of mango nectar. 

“Ang tamis naman. Too sweet.”

“Let’s go home, anak.”

He leaves the restaurant and my mom soon follows,

but the halo-halo he knows is not at home;

at least, the one printed on their green cards.


About eighty years ago, in a Manila military base,

my grandpa’s friends smell a pungent brine

and scold him for the Spam in his hand.

“Akala ko nag adobo tayo!”

“Take it back to the store, kumuha ng refund!”

Nevertheless, he went to work cooking.

since the stink of Spam was a beacon of hope

amidst the odors of gunpowder.

But today, none of it matters.

Today, my apartment will be full of friends and food,

and while the Spam won’t smell like traditional adobo,

and while the halo-halo will be sweeter than most,

and while the sisig will consist of chicken,

we will still return for seconds,

and thirds,

and perhaps,

that is enough.

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