Tropical Depression — Missing Lugaw

Nostalgia is a dish best served in a bowl —

When you’re the type of island wench that misses late night wanderings and failed random encounters, the first thing you crave for is lugaw.

My point is if cannabis was made legal in the Philippines and I happened to still live there I would most likely scramble to the designated lugawan, chug my usual San Miguel Pale Pilsen, and waste the dawn away ruminating and marinating in my incredible thoughts. And then roll another Backwoods blunt to toast the new day ahead of me.

But who said I never did that while I was in the Philippines?

The smell of garlic, soiled streets, and cheap eats at 2 am — sweaty and writhing in my own anxiety — only to have a bowl of goto or arroz caldo or lugaw to ease me out of my own neurotic mess.

Food was what I missed in my country. The availability and affordability of it all. The inglorious use of salt and worship of umami. Asia is the embodiment of flavor —

Someday, when I’m ready to leave California, I’ll go on that vacaycay. It’s been a long time…

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