Hey, wait, I got a new complaint… I’m sorry, I just had to put that in.

It’s been a while since I last ate off a lunch box was a full decade ago.  Back when the portrait of Erap Estrada hung at the front wall of I-Gardenia, we all had to eat some form of packed lunch.  “Lunch” is too heavily loaded with gourmet connotations; I don’t care how much your mother loves you, but she won’t slave over a hot stove at 3 in the morning preparing cordon bleu. Lunch, for many students, involves some form of torta:

• Tortang talong
• Tortang Ma-Ling
• Tortang corned beef
• Tortang giniling
• Tortang hotdog

Under threat of being taunted as the child of a pauper, you’d disguise this unappealing hunk of fried egg on top of a block of cold rice to be something more gourmet, something more sosy that would appeal to your desire to be friends with your wealthy classmates.  The word is, of course, “omelette.”  Tortang talong becomes an “aubergine omelette,” which it’s not.  Ma-Ling, whether made with the flesh of pigs or chickens or horses or rats, would be made much more “class” if you called it “SPAM” or “Hormel.”  It’s either you throw your lunch away at the trash can, give it away to some poor wretch on the streets.  Or you explain your predicament to your mom, who spent 10 minutes slaving at the stove preparing your lunch.

I felt the same way with Nutribun when I was a kid.  Apparently, a moron decided that a potato-flavored bun can add some weight on your bones.  I don’t know about the next kid who had a Nutribun, but I have nothing to remember it buy except a bad taste in my mouth.  Worse is when you have to take a Nutribun and two glasses of Sustagen from the two giant plastic-faced mascots of Susie and Gino.

I was reading last week’s papers when I came across a news item where, in a conference in Baguio sponsored by Innabuyog-Gabriela, mothers in Abra and Kalinga are complaining about the unpalatable nutritional monstrosity called the “Vitameal.”  Vitameal is apparently a nutritional supplement/cereal drink made from healthy nutritious legumes.  Mothers and teachers are all up in arms over this more nutritious alternative to Yakult.

In case you don’t know what legumes are, think of beans.  Think of a cereal drink made of beans.  You think Marian Rivera will still be “byoo-ti-pul” after drinking that?

Which is why I like to add “nutrition” to my growing list of advocacies, if only because I grew so concerned about my back pain being related to an extra pound I carry as a paunch.  I’m gonna go lie down.

I’ve never live-blogged before… pardon the rockstar-ing, but live from UCC Cafe Terrace in TriNoma, this is TMX.  (Shhh… I’m pirating free wi-fi.)

I’m here at the invitation of Abbey Tomas of Protege, where, together with some bloggers, I’ll sample UCC Cafe Terrace’s coffees and stuff.  Not my first time in UCC: my favorite stuff here include:

• Hawaiian blue soda
• Air-conditioned smoking area.

Small cups.  Servings bigger.

10:20 AM: I just had UCC Blended for this coffee sampling routine.  I doubt the caramel cubes, but that coffee was a great way to kill a bad hangover.  UCC apparently first opened in Quezon City, says Abbey: it’s not just about good coffee, but also about a good meal.  The Blended tastes a bit like, well, coffee.  Nothing the coffee aficionado would like.  I hate to be harsh, but I like my coffee kick-ass.

Cost: P129.  It’s the David Cook of UCC’s coffees.  I don’t necessarily like, but other people may like it.

UCC gets their own coffee from their own plantations in places like Indonesia and Hawaii.  Arabica, by the way; the Japanese can be very obsessive with their coffee quality.

Arpee says that Starbucks doesn’t serve food, which makes it lose compared to other coffee shops (like Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf and Seattle’s Best Coffee).  This is UCC’s distinct advantage.

Candy says that if coffee shops offer free wi-fi, then they’ll have free customers.  This UCC doesn’t offer free wi-fi yet, but hey; I’m pirating.  I think the wi-fi thingy is just from the other store.

10:31 AM: I just had UCC’s Sumiyaki.  I want more; I like it!  The coffee is very, very strong; it makes me want to do the King Leonidas outside.  That coffee is extreme, baby!  Not for those who like frappucinos from Starbucks; Sumiyaki is coffee that will kick your ass, and will make you kick people’s asses.  I love it.

UCC Vienna has a European feel.  UCC Terrace mimics a country club.  It’s kind of intimidating; so… upper-class.  Your P500 probably won’t get you far here (although I would date a certain person at UCC).

Cost: P159.  It’s the Zach de la Rocha of UCC’s coffees.  I heart Sumiyaki, definitely a must.

Roch says that the lunch menus are great here.  I don’t know: I’m a MiniStop fellow.  She also says that UCC is a comparatively affordable place.  It’s a great place to eat, because you would pay for really great food.

We’ll see… just ordered breakfast.

I’ve been browsing UCC’s menus, and boy, when they said expensive, they meant it.  Consider these prices:

• Cafe au lait (i.e. coffee with cream and sugar): P139
• Iced cafe cappuccino (i.e. what you get at Starbucks): P179
• Oreo smoothie (i.e. stuff you get at Starbucks): P129
• Filipino breakfast of beef tapa served with garlic rice, Japanese salad, and egg (i.e., tapsilog): P289

Expensive?  Yes.  Worth it?  Definitely.  We all need luxury goods one way or another, y’know.

10:41 AM: I’m sampling UCC’s Blue Mountain coffee.  It’s kind of… sour for hot coffee.  I hear it’s their most expensive coffee, but I’m very partial towards that kick-ass Sumiyaki.  Blue Mountain kind of feels like emo coffee; it’s a medley of sourness.  Bitterness.  The mood swing, the PMS, the emo episode.

It’s the kind of coffee that reminds you of the tenuousness of life… or if you take your coffee that seriously.  I’d like to think that those who appreciate depth and contrast with their coffee would really like Blue Mountain.

Cost: P399.  Musical comparison: Chris Carrabba.  Note, this is the most expensive siphon-brewed coffee available at UCC.

Chrissie just gave me her calling card.  Note to self: must get one.

I’m eavesdropping at the conversation at the other table, and as it seems, they’re talking about the different kinds of bloggers.

When an impromptu blogging thing takes place, expect a lot of gadgetry.  I see digital cameras, a new iPhone, a Canon EOS digital SLR, and my laptop.  It’s one of two things: pretentiousness (admit it) or necessity.

UCC will expand to 18 stores, says Abbey: including Cebu, Pampanga and Greenbelt 5.  No plans yet to expand to Baguio City.  Slow but sure.  Too bad… oh well.

Arpee asks how UCC measures up.  Abbey insists that they focus more on “Sit down, forget what’s happening outside.”  Target market of UCC: professionals.  At UCC Tomas Morato, their main customers are the Chinese-Filipinos.  At EDSA Connecticut: golfers.  At UCC Podium: bankers of ADB.  At UCC Paseo de Roxas: executives.

Swank?  You tell me.

11:15 AM: Had a Classic Breakfast with English Bangers, scrambled eggs, Japanese salad, and wheat bread.  The salad was made of tomatoes, cucumbers, and lettuce.  I liked the wheat bread - no butter, I like my bread without palaman - and the scrambled eggs and salad were so-so.  I ordered the bangers for the pornographic connotations in it.  Really.

The bangers were terrific.  I know they’re a swanky version of longganisa, but hey, they taste really good.  You can imagine making a sandwich out of the wheat bread, the lettuce, the eggs, and the bangers… but I have bad table manners.  (I have RSI, so I can’t handle cutlery properly).

Cost: P289.  What strikes me as rather queer about it is that the Blue Mountain coffee costs P100 more than the meal.  I ordered orange juice with the breakfast meal, because I drank a bucket of San Miguel Pale Pilsen last night.  I need detoxification.  The orange juice is not Tang or Eight O’Clock or bad orange-flavored garbage; it’s freshly-squeezed.  Excellent.

Time for dessert; the problem is, I’m not a dessert eater, so I just decided to take a photograph of the P165 Coffee Jelly Cooler:

I’m not a dessert-eater… I hate dessert.  I despise dessert with the wrath and the fury of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.  I loathe dessert.  Under duress, I took a few bites of ice cream and coffee jelly.  It didn’t make a convert out of me, but I suppose that if you revel in the decadence of sweet vanilla ice cream and jelly made from brewed coffee, you’ll like it.

You’ll really like it.

After that we got some gift certificates (I think), UCC instant coffee (I’m giving them away to the first five people to tell me I’m sexy… whatever), pens, and a coffee cup.

Anyway, for the lowdown on UCC…

I could rant and rave about how much I don’t like coffee shops for the annoying swankiness and poseur wealth that comes with people drinking just one coffee for three hours, but UCC is different.  UCC prides itself on its coffee, but it’s more of an experience than anything else.  Granted that it’s not exactly the cheapest place to eat, much less have a coffee, but excellence has a price.  It is pricey, but with big servings and great coffee, it’s really a good place to have an experience like no other.  It will dent your budget if you don’t make enough, but everyone needs their own bits of luxury every now and then.  That - including terrific sausage and the chemistry of 133t siphoned coffee - is enough reason to make UCC a monthly treat.

Many thanks to UCC Trinoma.  You ain’t seen the last of me.

The word for it is schadenfreude.

As much as I despise the President, I do wish her the best of luck after last week’s stomach upset episode.  Apparently, GMA had some indigestion following a meal of bilo-bilo (sticky rice balls) and dinuguan (blood stew).  I wonder if she had that upset stomach following that “borjer” episode, but that’s just me.

I know all about upset stomachs myself, and I kind of sympathize with her on this one.  After all, Sec. Cerge Remonde - consistent with his public image as a stooge - also suffered from an upset stomach.  This was following the wake of Sec. Leandro Mendoza’s mother.  I can’t blame them, but I follow a simple rule during funerals: stick with the biscuits.

Like I said, the word is schadenfreude; what I find amusing about all of this is that there is some sort of obsession with Presidential shitting (I’m sorry, but I just had to say it).  While more than one person would decry that the President is full of shit, we’re the only country I know that would cover even executive toilet behavior.  In-depth analysis, so to speak; if my memory serves me right, The Media also covered Erap’s colonoscopy.  Erap wouldn’t be Erap without the orange wristband, the barong, the leather slippers, and the rectal polyps.

Schadenfreude has a lot to do with my own preferences towards dinuguan; I don’t eat bilo-bilo. Back in Baguio, the prejudiced bigot in me would head off to one of the many eateries at the Slaughter Compound right by Magsaysay Road, and eat in full view of the Iglesia ni Cristo church right across the street.  I just don’t know another place in Baguio that serves better dinuguan, and the counters and seats are just positioned in such a way that you’d face INC anyway.

At the very least, whatever the President was served succeeded in giving her the kind of upset stomach many could only dream of.  Although I have to give it up to the Prez: she has great taste in food.

I don’t want to know what kind of diarrhea she expelled.

If there’s any feeling that has been crushing me lately, it’s being surrounded by poverty.

After writing a guilty entry over at Filipino Voices, I decided to go home immediately before I start having pangs of conscience again.  I think I’m growing morbidly obese over feelings of guilt lately, to the point that some of my friends think that I am developing an unhealthy propensity towards sociological emo.

As I alighted from the bus home, I decided to have some calamares for dinner.  As luck would have it, here comes a kid tugging at my pants.  “Kuya, pahingi,” he said.  While children can deceive you out of Christmas aguinaldo, they can’t dupe you out of food.  Soft-hearted loser that I am who would not at once doubt the innocence of a child asking for food, I decided to buy him three pieces, which he then proceeded to share with two of his friends.

I couldn’t take it anymore.  I walked fast to some corner of Citimall, lit a cigarette, and allowed the tears to fall.  Not being a good crier, I stopped crying after I was done with half.

I’ve always confessed to my mom that my real problem here is being surrounded and exposed to poverty like I’ve never seen before.  You think poverty is just an invention of cinema or of documentary journalists, until you see people actually scrounging trash cans near fast-food chains not for recyclables, but for food.  You actually see people cooking leftovers bound for the trash in tin cans bound for the dump.  What makes it extremely heartbreaking is that as you look around, you see wealth.  You are privy to affluence so much so that you live it.  You see, for the first time in your life, gaps between the rich, the poor, the really really rich, and the really really poor.

You realize you’re sick of it and want to change things, then you realize that there’s really only so much you can do.

So you do what you can, then you realize that you really aren’t doing enough.

Empathy’s a bastard.

In almost three and a half years of blogging, I never wrote a single food review.  Maybe it’s because I have a very unsophisticated palate, and that my idea of “food” is limited to the mathematical combinations and permutations in a McDonald’s.

Then again, they say that a true gourmand will go at great lengths to get the best food out there.  On an idle weekend, when the urge to get some really good chicken gets to me, I will brave the chaotic Metro Manila south-bound route for the absolute best chicken in the world: Church’s Chicken.

Pardon my photography skills (and for you die-hard readers of TMX, my use of a camera phone), but I just want to demonstrate how much P120 will get you at Church’s Chicken.  The chicken portions are very, very generous indeed.  The chicken is cooked through, the breading is crisp, and the spiciness is just right.  What really impresses me about the whole Church’s experience is their flavored rice.  It’s damn sure flavorful: it’s definitely not gourmet, but it’s better than those rice-like lumps you get at any other fastfood restaurant.

Here’s the thing: the two branches of Church’s in Metro Manila (SM Mall of Asia and Starmall Las Piñas) are right next to KFC.  I’m not saying that you should all surrender Hotshots and that funky fizzy strawberry drink in favor of Church’s (mainly because I would be a hypocrite if I said so: I like Zingers and strawberry soda).  All I’m saying is that you should at least give Church’s a try.  I tell you, you won’t be disappointed.  Like me and my brother, you’d be coming to Church’s every weekend for the best chicken in the world.

Although maybe it wouldn’t hurt Church’s franchisers if they put up an outlet at TriNoma…