I didn't plan my first post to be on Valentine's day. Really, I didn't. But it takes time to get just the right picture of a plate of lumpia. So a Valentine's post it shall be. It's somehow appropriate though. I feel very much like a grade-school kid who got a Valentine from everyone in class but his crush. Something is missing. I feel empty. The Valentine that matters most I do not have - culinarily speaking of course. This is, after all, a food blog.
I consider myself a decent home cook. I can make a pretty good Osso Buco. My chili is fiery goodness from hell, even though The Wife hates it. I even brine and roast a turkey every Thanksgiving. And while all this cookery is fine and good, I've realized that there is a huge gaping hole in my culinary repertoire: I can't cook a lick of Filipino food... and I'm Filipino.
And although The Wife is a good cook in her own right, she doesn't know Pinakbet from pork chops (she's white, shhh!). Besides the stash of my mother's lumpia in the freezer (I always manage to burn at least one) there is a definite lack of Pinoy Prowess in my kitchen.
Knowledge of Filipino food is something that won't just be given to me, I have to go out and get it. Get it from my mother, my grandmother, Filipino cookbooks, and anywhere else I can find it. Learning about the food of my people is something I have to give to myself. But it's also something I hope to share with others along the way. So, through the trials and tribulations of Burnt Lumpia, I hope to find my voice, find my culture, and find my identity, through food.