The long weekend saw me holing up inside our house for three straight days — I worked, watched TV (True Blood is not for me; too much sex. Yes, that just came from me.), surfed the net and played PSP all day, until I realized I was fainting from hunger.
I took a look at the contents of our freezer and saw porkchop.
How does one fry porkchop? I wondered.
I remember, my mother used to marinate it with 7-Up or Sprite. I didn’t want to go out and buy soda so that was out of the equation.
So I poured soy sauce into a bowl, bathed the porkchop in it, then mushed it with garlic. I figured this was not enough so I showered it with vinegar just to make it more exotic-tasting.
What I didn’t figure was that this is the exact recipe for adobo. When I fried the thing and it turned adobo-esque, I calmed myself. I figured, I like adobong manok, I like adobong baboy. This should not be a problem.
Except that it was. Adobong Porkchop is so horrible, I won’t feed it to Payatas children.
So I punished myself by eating it because I cannot stand seeing food go to waste. It was pure torture.
The next day, as I was trying to find something else to cook, I saw the other porkchop laying around the freezer. There they were, frigid and silent. I looked close enough and I can honestly say that they were taunting me.
“Wimp,” I heard it say. “What a dumbass,” the bloodied one added.
“Fuckers,” I muttered under my breath as I was forced to go to… a supermarket.
At the supermarket, I came across aisles and aisles of spices. There were those that were so exotic that I’ve never ever used them in my culinary adventures ever. Like, um… pepper.
Of course, it doesn’t help that my culinary adventure can be summed up by my attempts at frying eggs, but anyway…
… I searched and searched, thinking that 7-Up or Sprite just won’t do. This has to be awesome, just so I can get back at those bastards.
So I got the McCormick Season ‘N Fry Porkchop Coating Mix. I mean, it’s McCormick right?!? Of course it said “Porkchop” too, so that was just like, destiny.
I got back to our house and I immediately coated them with McCormick. “Bwahahahahaha… Who needs culinary school when there’s McCormick?!” I thought to myself.
Then I plopped them into the pan and waited. And waited. And waited.
Of course, they turned into charcoal.
I flipped it over and knowing better, I was more careful.
Except that I waited. And waited. And waited.
At least, now I know McCormick tastes great with uling.