Valentine's Day is just around the corner. A lot of people I work with, those who are openly "in a relationship", are busily planning for their Valentine's Day dates. I've never had a Valentine date before. Well, I've never really had a real date in my entire life, if date is being discussed in the context of romance and if we're really going to be strict about it. After all, what does "date" really mean? When does a simple hanging out of two people who enjoy each others' company become a romantic date? Does dinner of grilled fish and rice capped with a couple of beers already qualify as a date? How about steaks and wine in a famous restaurant, such as, let's say, Highlands' Steakhouse? Or a ridiculously expensive dinner of lamb chops and sea bass in an old house converted into a dimly-lit culinary attraction with customers dining in cocktail dresses while sipping wine? Nah. The definition still eludes me. It puzzles me sometimes, that I refuse to think about it. I prefer to call everything "dinner" rather than "date", on account of the potentially dangerous and outright icky connotations the latter evokes.
Before I completely digress, however, I'd rather leave the above discussion hanging. I'm open to comments from my readers, and would appreciate your valuable opinions on the matter brought up.
To proceed with the real meat of this post, I am currently imagining my ideal Valentine date. What would really sweep me off my feet will be a dinner of fried galunggong, warm rice, toyo and kalamansi, and fresh tomatoes soaked in sukang pinakurat, all eaten with no forks and spoons required. I want those galunggong young - small and crunchy - deep-fried enough so the head, tail, and all bones can be eaten without me having to worry about choking or a perforated viscus. The setting could be anywhere - by the beach on a moonlit night, or under the trees and the stars, or in the candle-lit warmth of anybody's kitchen. The Beatles would be softly playing on the background, of course.
The right man plus galunggong - I am that easy to please. I really don't need fancy dinners, or wine, or culinary masterpieces I could not even pronounce arranged so grandly that I wouldn't even want to touch them. All I really want is that lowly poor-man's fish, my all-time favorite food, something I wouldn't mind having every day for the rest of my life - and the right man to enjoy it with me.
Too bad, even galunggong is so hard to come by.