Serendipity and Shabu-shabu on a Sunday

- An entry to the SM Hypermarket blog-writing contest -

I loved to shop back in those gentle days I was a young wife and mom. I remember savoring supermarket sights, scents, and sounds, lane after sparkling lane; and feeling, as I push my trolley along the last alley, something close to regret.

Not anymore.

Where I go for grocery the past 15 years, I can shop blind-folded and ear-plugged. I know exactly which lanes to breeze through, skip, fuss over. As I buy the same stuff week after week, I finish in 45 minutes flat. Shopping has become so predictable it has lost its allure. This in turn inflicted the same” ho-hum” dullness on our home-cooked meals.

Another (simple) pleasure bites the dust!

I knew it couldn’t be just another weekend when my older daughter, a medical intern, came home unannounced late Saturday night after making herself scarce for the better part of two months. As she barely has time to gulp down cafeteria food at hospitals where she clerks at 36-hour stretches, she expects to eat GRANDLY when she’s home. You see, she has pretensions, too, of being a gourmand.

Sure enough, “MOMMEEEE, what’s for lunch?!” woke me up Sunday morning, earlier than my usual rise-and-shine hour.

Like the dummy I always am when woken prematurely, I opened the fridge to confirm what I already knew: that it was practically empty.

A light bulb flashed – luckily, one usually does when I’m desperate enough. “Let’s eat out, then shop,” I announced to my girls. I knew, without asking, hubby and the boys would rather stay home for television boxing and last night’s leftovers.

We reached SM Hypermarket inside ten minutes. It was only our third time there. At Taste Asia, the food court that puts some upscale restaurant to shame, I gave my girls and their friends who met us there some peso bills, ignoring “how-cheap” catcalls and giggles.

The youngsters ordered hot platters at the Asian Fusion counter, but for the gourmand who bought as well fresh giant squid at the paluto stall and had it grilled.

As for me, I settled for popia (Chinese springrolls) as I dutifully stuck to my diet, only to junk it when I saw puto bumbong.



As the girls dispersed after lunch – a pair to duplicate keys at Keycard, the other to browse at Books for Less -- I entered the supermarket, with half a mind on buying stuff for a special home-cooked dinner and the other half, expecting no surprises.

I met serendipity by the meat section, where there was this counter like no other.



It looked like a cross between a sweet and a sushi shop –with little mounds of pastry-like stuff in delightful shapes and colors. I looked and looked again, fascinated. Finally, I had to ask what they were. “Shabu-shabu po, ma’am” was the bemused reply. “Shabu-shabu as in hot-pot?” “Yes, ma’am!”

By this time, the girls had reappeared and taken over. They had a field day choosing – tofu cubes, crabsticks, hot’n’spicy shrimp balls, fish dumbbells, fancy fishballs the shape of panda bear faces. I left them awhile for chicken breast, sotanghon, spring onions, cabbage, pechay wombok.

“Ma’am you’ll need satay and chili sauce, too,” the eager crew reminded us. A pair of girls gladly ran where they were pointed to.

At home that night, we had steaming, eat-all-you-can shabu-shabu with satay-chili dip that heated up palates and warmed hearts -- prepared by younger daughter who swore it was easier than frying an egg.

Later, as my family settled down to a home movie, I wondered at the possibility of retrieving (simple) joys temporarily mislaid.

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Postscript:

Here's how my daughter -- who can't distinguish coriander from colander -- prepared shabu-shabu, thanks to the smiling counter crew who gave us almost idiot-proof instuctions:

In boiling water (8-10 cups), toss in minced onions and 2 beef cubes and 1-2 cups sliced chicken breast fillet. Simmer 10 minutes or even just 5 if the mob is impatient. Add upwards of 600 grams assorted shabu-shabu meat (fish balls, tofu cubes, shrimp balls, crabsticks, etc.). Bring to a boil. Add sotanghon and veggies of choice (spring onions, pechay wombok, cabbage, sweet peas, carrots, etc.). Bring to a boil. Season with 2 tablespoons or more satay sauce, salt, and pepper, according to taste.

Serve steaming (we set the kaldero on the table and let the mobsters fill up their bowls themselves) with a satay-chili sauce dip.

Be prepared to sweat and singhot-singhot while you enjoy. Be ready, too, for raves from the mob to the chef.

Tips: I'd suggest a 1:1 ratio of water to diner to make almost 2 cups of the pot per person. Another tip: you can put in slices of almost any meat (including liver) or seafood. And if you have soup stock, why, you don't need beef cubes, of course.