It's summer but we cannot tell with all the waterworks pouring from the sky, undulating, unforgiving. It's my birthday week, hope it wouldn't rain Sunday. I want to throw frisbee in the park.
I'm thinking about my spread. On Saturday, Alma is throwing a party for his little boy. It would be beautifully catered as usual. Which brings me to the array of sandwiches and finger foods in English parties, a far cry from our pancit, dinuguan, adobo and rice preparations. We grew up with certain recipes. Pie for instance likes ampalaya while I try my best not to on load carbs.
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