Arroz caldo can be dangerous to your health
As the brisk Fall weather descends in Vienna (Austria), where I live, I find myself yearning for the familiar taste and aroma of arroz caldo. This dish, a comforting staple of my childhood, would be lovingly prepared by my mother for us, her children, especially during the monsoon season. The cold air would send shivers down our spines, but a steaming bowl of arroz caldo would always wrap us in a blanket of warmth and comfort. It’s more than just a dish to me-it’s a sensory journey back to my past, a reminder of the love and care my mother infused into every pot.
Arroz caldo
Recreating my mother’s recipe was a journey of anticipation and discovery. I ventured into the depths of our stand-alone freezer in the tools shed of our garden house, where I knew the chicken parts —wings, drumsticks, and liver —were stored. They were buried deep at the very bottom, a result of my habit of buying foodstuffs I never got around to cooking, until they were hidden beneath my latest food hoardings. It was a moment of realization that I had these ingredients all along, albeit freezer-burned from long storage. This discovery added a new twist to my cooking adventure.
And as always, I end up cooking for a platoon. I don’t know how to cook for just one person. It’s not worth the effort you put into preparing the dish when you see the mess you make in the kitchen cooking for one. I speak for myself, though. The kitchen becomes a battlefield when I cook with a multitude of kitchenware, big and small, and I often don’t know where to start cleaning once the chore is done. But amidst the chaos, there’s a sense of amusement and entertainment that I’ve come to appreciate in my cooking adventures–my excuse for cooking up a storm. The process of chopping, sautéing, and simmering for a large group is a performance in itself, and the result is always worth the effort. If only I could convince myself!
My neighbor Marilyn appreciates my cooking adventures. She’s been down with flu-like symptoms for a week, and they say arroz caldo can help alleviate them. I called her to say I had made arroz caldo and would bring her a bowl, which really got her going, and she called later that night to thank me once more. I told her she could have more. “I am filled now, but save me some for tomorrow.” This act of sharing food, especially in times of need, always warms my heart and reminds me of the value of generosity in our lives. It’s moments like these that make me feel genuinely connected to others.
She came the following evening with the Tupper I had used for her share the other night, and also brought another empty container to fill for her husband. “For his breakfast, he wanted you to know,” was what she said as she handed me the empty bowl. “Help yourself,” I said, “fill it to the brim.”
We dined together, and yet there was still enough left in the pot, which I warmed up for breakfast the next day. And that was when a dangerous thing happened.
Bruise on my head
After taking the leftover arroz caldo out of the microwave and placing it on the table, I noticed a plastic sack in the sink. I picked it up to dispose of it in the waste bin located below the kitchen shelf where the microwave is. The waste missed the target bin, so I bent to recover it, stood up, and instantly heard myself cry shit after my head hit the sharp corner of the open microwave door. It was a moment of unexpected humor amid the chaos of a kitchen. Automatically, I rubbed the area of my head where I felt the pain. I was wounded for sure, but since I could not see if I was, I took a photo of the top of my head to find the wound. I saw a dent — red, but not bleeding. Hurting? Oh, you have no idea!
I took photos of my breakfast and the dent on my head, which led to my temporary dementia, like what it did to me. I said that while composing my message to break the news of that little accident, I had to pause because I got a mental block. Suddenly, I found myself unable to recall the name of the kitchen tool used for warming up food. Pressure cooker? No way! Tried as I might, I really could not. It was a microwave, of course, but as I mentioned, I couldn’t recall the term for it, and it took me some time to figure it out. I even returned to the kitchen, thoroughly checking the exterior of the “nuke” for any indication it was a microwave, but found none.
Do not eat arroz caldo. It can cause dementia and leave a scar on your head for everyone to see, especially if you are bald like me.
In reality, I do have lapses of memory. It happens often: I forget the names of famous actors when asked, even though I’m a fan. I’ve had a cleaning lady for years, but there are moments when I struggle to say her name when talking to her; it just slips my mind. So, I go like “Kuwan, ano nga pangalan mo? Ah, Sally. nga pala.” What I’d like to tell you, actually, is that my little accident with the microwave is just my excuse for those dementia bouts I get now and then. Tell-tale signs I ignore. They happen to older adults, I tell myself, which is ironic, since I’m already one of them —just in denial. Seventy-six pushing seventy-seven is not old! But in that moment, I couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of the situation.
Kohlrabi (turnip cabbage
For dinner today, I’m making tinola — another favorite I crave. I must ensure there are no leftovers. Main ingredient is the same as those in arroz caldo–chicken drumsticks, chicken wings, liver, ginger sans rice. I have chili leaves in the garden. Chili leaves add a distinct flavor to tinola. Also, I need to get that apple-green round veggie…”Jeezes, ano nga tawag dun? You know, that essential vegetable you substitute for green papaya because you don’t have them where you live? Dementia attacks again. Think harder! “Oh, yes, Kohlrabi! (turnip cabbage)” How could I forget?