Saving Baby Corns
CHOP SUEY is one of my all-time favorite foods, and I can have it any time. Cooking it myself is another story. The never-ending chopping of the thousand ingredients to make it happen is the spoiler. Thus, when I posted on FB that I was saving the baby corns salvaged from the hurricane that hit Vienna on a weekend, I didn’t realize I was inviting another storm — in my own kitchen. Little did I know that this seemingly trivial post would lead to a series of unexpected events.
A friend called right after I bragged that I could make chop suey with the tiny baby corns I salvaged from the uprooted cornstalks—to say she could make it for chop suey dinner at six o’clock, at my place. Who else was coming? she asked. Niemand, but a neighbor who said she’d buzz when she gets home from work. Translation: “If I have no better offer by the end of the day.” You bet!
Clara’s parents haven’t responded to my post yet, so I didn’t count on them. Meanwhile, I had to go out and buy the ingredients critical for a great chop suey night — thousands of them, no kidding — which I didn’t get for a song: chicken meat, chicken liver, veggies, shrimps, Chinese sausages, black fungus, oyster mushrooms, and so on. The list didn’t end there. And then my phone rang. It was Clara’s mom, calling a good four hours before dinner. They were just nearby and could come to the chop suey extravaganza. They know it was too early, but they could hang around my place if I don’t mind. Hmm! Clara, at three years of age, is surprisingly well-behaved that you don’t worry about your clutter of porcelain and glass collection sitting on your center table getting smashed. You only have to move them out of reach of the little sister who is just starting to learn how to walk, but can ruin everything and anything within her grasp. You are like: “Come back for chop suey dinner when your brat was 18; when you didn’t have to watch her over, run after her to feed her with a piece of walnut bread, the crumbs falling all over my oriental rugs.” The humor in these situations keeps us going, making the preparations more enjoyable than stressful.
My chop suey recipe would not be that authentic sans the Chinese chorizos Filipinos call Chorizo de Bilbao. Why Bilbao and not Marco Polo? Unless Marco Polo brought chorizos from Bilbao, Spain, when he explored China. Oh, never mind. A sausage by any other name would still be Chorizos de Bilbao to us, Pinoys. These cultural references add a unique flavor to our dinner preparations, making it more than just a meal. I have the Bilbaos freezing in my fridge, but do I want them in my recipe? We have a friend—a Pinoy Muslim—who may show up at any time. Barkadas, you know, they don’t need an invite. Set aside the Bilbaos as a side dish, Clara’s Dad suggested—to play it safe. After several failed attempts to reach him by phone to see if he would join us, our Muslim brother called. Yes, he’s on his way; set one more plate.
But one food dish doesn’t make a Pinoy dinner. Two is the norm, and they should complement each other. I found mung bean noodles in my kitchen to make Ginisang sotanghon; it would make an excellent match to the chop suey. And the choppings went on! All of these because I decided one late summer day that I would plant corn in the garden despite all the odds and eat corn-on-the-cob from my harvest. And then the storm!
Nice sequel to what happened to the baby corns after the storm. Thank you for writing this, and sharing.