Sundays back in my hometown were times of reflection and family gatherings. The streets were quiet, most people are dressed up and the chiming of the church bells adds to the eeriness. The montage is like an episode of Alfred Hitchcock's Twilight Zone.
Sundays in OC have been lazy due to my orientation that one has to be on a contemplative mood during the first day of the week which leads me to my Gastro Lab for some wicked concoction in mind after chatting with some folks abroad.
My conversations with my dad are always lighthearted and funny even when things are serious. Work and health are the main entrees with poker on the side. The constant bickering between him and mom are desserts simply because they're just so sweet. I just hope someday, my love life would not be the appetizer.
In one particular Sunday, Dad's signature Ribs ala Mario popped while I was having the usual Facetime with my mom to discuss the Vanilla Bread Pudding I was set to make that day but I was curious enough (as always) to ask for dad's cooking ritual.
My dad came calling as I walk aimlessly from floor to floor with an agenda to tire myself out and head straight home. I have defied the ritual and led myself astray to the labyrinth of stocks while I convince myself that I needed them. Now, I've understood why I had to stay home on Sundays -- to avoid the battle of the 12 egos.
The goodness of garlic and lemons were bouncing on my cart as I find myself buying a rack of ribs just because my dad-across-the-continent just ordered me to do so. Back at my lab, I was the mad scientist again trying to figure out the correct formula for the famous ribs. The House of Sharma was divinely pungent from all the garlic -- enough to ward off any vampires in the midst.
After two hours of experimentation, I was satisfied with the results but I vow to myself that I need more specimen to do justice to my dad's specialty. The Vanilla Pudding had to take the backseat as my joints protested to the whole ordeal. I decided to call my Mom, instead.
By some cosmic intervention, this Aquarian Goddess whom I've inherited my looks and all just had the power to summon me back to my drawing board and start the Vanilla sauce with her giving pointers then leave me on my own since she has an appointment. Shheesh... Nevertheless, I carried on with my mission.
Bone-tired and sleepy... I knew this is going to take its toll on my joints the next... But I'd trade any given Sunday just to cook for my parents halfway around the globe.
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