The transaction at the bank was really fast. It was nothing like the usual lines at any branch of any bank. I really love paying my bills at EastWest Bank Tomas Morato since the lines there are really short. And the staff are very friendly and accommodating.
So here I am, done with the bills payment and was actually feeling hungry. Obviously, the milk tea didn’t fool my stomach. So when I was through the door of the bank, I willed my vision to scour the street of Tomas Morato for any dining establishment which interested me.
Usually, Chili’s would’ve easily caught my attention. But since I just paid some bills, I was budget-conscious and so I shunned Chili’s. So with Kimono Ken and Amici.
As I started to walk away, determined not to eat excessively and pay for it excessively, I saw this small shop which offered Spanish Take-out foods. Yeah…I went in and checked.
What do you know…there were frozen callos, fabada and several other Spanish I can’t recall. I so picked one pack of Fabada. The frozen pack is placed in a microwaveable plastic with just enough amount of food for one person. I say just one person though I’m sure some will argue it’s good enough for two or three. They wouldn’t dare argue with someone as hungry as me.
I paid for it and went out of there without so much of a thought as getting back to our pantry so I could heat it using the microwave and then eat it. Heat it then eat it. I like that.
Once I got to the pantry, I immediately set to heating my Fabada. I was just too hungry. As soon as I pushed the start button, the door to the pantry opened and two of my bosses went in. Lunchtime!!!
I didn’t really want to eat my lunch at that time. I usually eat in silence. Having my bosses on the same table with me and eating lunch with me will really force me to talk.
As soon as they saw me checking the microwave, they asked me what was in there.
“Fabada, maam.” Wow, that was a short reply. I hoped it didn’t sound too curt and too dismissive.
“Fabada, ahhhh.” One of them replied.
Really, it rhymed and it sounded funny. I would’ve giggled if it wasn’t my boss who said that.
They set their food and were soon saying their graces. As soon as one of them said amen. Another asked, “So who cooked the Fabada?”
I said, “Oh, I just bought it from a small shop in Morato.”
“I thought, you cooked it.”, one of them replied back.
“Not me. I don’t know how to cook. I could fry…just fry…”, I explained.
“I cook Fabada with red beans. That Fabada has white beans in it. I put pork pata and tomato sauce with the red beans.” My boss went on to explain in detail how she cooks Fabada.
That’s when it hit me. That’s how my mom cooks Fabada.
“That’s how my mom cooks Fabada too.”
My bosses went on to taste the Fabada and we were soon lost in another topic. Before we knew it we were done with lunch. I offered to wash the dishes.
And as I was washing the dishes, I remember the times I washed the dishes after lunch on weekends. And since the family is complete on weekends, I really have a lot of washing to do.
I miss those times a lot. I have lost count of the times I have tasted Fabada from my mom’s casserole. It is actually one of her best dishes.
To cook Fabada, you have to be patient.
First, you need to boil the beans for a very long time. Of course, you have to cook the pork pata too. You can only add the pork pata once you're sure the beans are soft. You can always choose to place chorizo or ground beef in it. The tomato sauce comes in last. So yeah, cooking Fabada requires patience.
Mind you, cooking it takes time. But it takes in a little less than an hour for the whole family to finish a casserole-full of it.
Darn Fabada. It makes me miss home so much.
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