The Chong Palate

Our running family joke is, “If we didn’t eat so much, we could afford to live in a palace.”

Going over our family group photos over the years, I think it is no exaggeration to say that 90% of them were taken around a dining table. The only way I could get my boys together for a family photo is when they’re seated before dinnerware.


Looking back, it might have started on day one of my marriage. I would not attempt to sugar coat it: I couldn’t cook. I had not cooked in my life, and if Tony had not known that, well, it was too late.

So we either ate out, or suffered what my househelp had concocted from bits and pieces of whatever, or went to my in-laws who always had a grand array of food prepared by a full-time cook!

My father-in-law was into good food in a big way. Despite the glorious food prepared in his kitchen, every Sunday he would bring the whole family to a Chinese restaurant where we had a lauriat. Plus, Tony’s clan always had an excuse to party—again, centered on scrumptious exotic Chinese dishes.

Eating gourmet food seems to be my boys’ passion and panacea. When they’re sad, they eat. When they’re happy, they eat. When they’re celebrating, they eat. When they’re mourning, they eat. When their cousins, uncles and aunties visit, the first words that come from their mouth is, “Let’s eat.” And they’re always on the lookout for good restaurant reviews.

Yes, they can eat through any crisis.

While I am grateful that with food comes grace, I am just as grateful for the grace of my simple Ilocano taste buds, which can sustain me even in global recession. To this day, I can feast on roasted fish, boiled vegetables, and bagoong (local anchovies). But then, there is no Chong blood in my veins.

Gianina calls this love for food, The Chong Palate. She certainly knows what it is all about. Palates are handed down! And Adrian, only two years old, has inherited it big time.