They call Nigella Lawson
the "domestic diva," and perhaps deservingly so. If you've seen her cooking shows, you'd probably agree that she cooks in a certain, oddly sexy way - in the way she throws in the pasta or tosses the greens. Or perhaps it's because of her British accent, and since all British accents are sexy, well, maybe that somehow makes sense. Oh, and did I tell you she's already forty-eight? That, and she's still pretty.
I'll admit, I watched Nigella Bites
when it was still being shown on the Lifestyle Network, and primarily because it's a British cooking show, and I haven't seen one until then. (Some way to learn the British accent, I say.) I've been watching cooking shows since I was a kid, starting off with Nora Daza's on ABS-CBN
, to the point that I cam hum the program's theme from out of nowhere. I also watched the then-ubiquitous (and perhaps until now) Chinese cooking show that I never understood because, well, the host spoke exclusively Chinese, aside from the fact that the set is merely a wall with a big frame displaying the show's title.
When cable television came, I was watching cooking shows whenever I got interested, which meant prosciutto and aioli would eventually populate my vocabulary. I watched as the steam rose from the pan, and the sugar got dusted on the top. Now, I still watch them whenever I feel like it - Iron Chef America
, Throwdown with Bobby Flay
, even Rachael Ray
, for some reason. And yet I never really became a whiz in the kitchen.
Even if my cooking experience would remain stuck with flipping hotdogs and making my own breakfast omelettes, I get asked anyway. Two days ago, I suggested that my mom add oregano to the blue marlin fillets she was baking in the oven; it turned out pretty well, despite my doubts. (I thought she should've added it while it was marinating.) Yesterday, my mom whipped up some putanesca sauce, only with some cream of mushroom added in, and realized at the very last minute that she forgot to add the basil leaves. I thought we could just grab the bunch from the chiller tray, rip them up, and top them on our plates before serving. I'm still amazed with how good it turned out.
Sometimes I think that I'll end up being some really domestic person at this rate. Yesterday I found myself in charge of the house, and in three hours I have mopped the floor, reheated lunch, washed the dishes and watered half the garden. (Perhaps this also proves how lazy I can get.) I did a lot of errands, to the point that I ended up almost sleeping very, veeery early. I nevertheless managed to watch both the French Open
's male semi-final matches, and in between sets the discussion came to why I automatically knew what to do, while my sister keeps on asking for time when it's her turn to work on the house.
I did imagine the possibility. Next week, the house will really
be mine on most mornings, because both my siblings would be in class, and my mom would be playing badminton with friends. This means I can sneak into the conferences
in vain, but this also means I can burn lunch more often. The next thing I know, I'll be flying with an umbrella, making everything I touch sparkle. And that's not the depth of what I should be doing.
But that might change soon. I was on the PC yesterday afternoon, and right before logging out - I was on the verge of saying goodbye to Sam
, in fact - I found out that I'm having my first job interview, exactly fourteen hours after the eyeball
would start. Almost immediately I sprung to life on a different plane, growing frantic as I recorded all details of the interview, and thought about whether I should wear a necktie or not. I was already asking my dad about what to do, and what kind of documents I should bring - I technically don't have anything but my resumé, since I've still to get my transcript of records out of my sister's refusal to do so for me. In return, I was taught advanced spin. So much for genuine honesty, isn't it?
told me the morning before that Jackie
already got a job
, apparently in a PR company. To be exact, Jackie writing about already having three (then) pending job interviews
got me springing into life and had me actually starting the process. Ariane got around four interviews already, but was reassuring me that the wait for replies will soon be over. Well, in fact, it is over now.
And as I find myself in another race for time - it shouldn't really be a competition, because we'll soon find our rightful places, but they're pressuring us all, right? - I can't help but think about all these possibilities. Would I end up in the corporate setting, stuck at home, or somewhere in between? I've started thinking about what I'd probably do when I get my first paycheck, but of course there are a lot of hurdles to go through. Oh, if I only became some sort of domestic diva and became popular on television, then perhaps I wouldn't need to worry about the race at all. But, come to think of it, domestic divas worry about whether they're being very domestic on screen...