Essay by Bianca Garcia
Last year, I had my heart broken twice. First, when my boyfriend and I broke up. And second, when my beloved grandfather (my lolo) died shortly after.
I didn’t know how to deal with it. I didn’t know how to mourn. I didn’t want to mourn. So I kept myself busy—so busy that I almost forgot about my broken heart. Almost.
My ex and I were together for a long time. When we broke up, I couldn’t bring myself to eat the things we’d eaten together, much less cook the foods we used to cook together. But when my grandfather died, all I wanted to do was eat and cook all the things he and I loved and shared. He was the gastronomical king of our family, but the two of us had in common a special love for food.
I was torn. My memories of loved ones are always intertwined with food, and many of the things I ate with my ex were the same things I savored with my grandfather.
So I cooked what I knew how to cook. And I ate what I’d always wanted to eat. Spaghetti.
There was another reason why I chose spaghetti. I had found a new love: running. I ran when I felt lonely. I ran when I felt angry. I ran to escape. But pretty soon, I was running because it made me feel good and strong and healthy. I ran two short races. Two longer races. A half-marathon.
And you know what runners eat for fuel, right? Carbs. Pasta. Spaghetti.
Spaghetti spiraled its way into my dinners, and, in no time at all, I was creating and recreating my favorite pasta dishes at home. It was bittersweet, because I remembered all the nights that my ex and I would eat pasta at home, sitting on the couch in our sweatpants and hoodies. I remembered all the times my lolo and I would go to the fanciest Italian restaurant in the Philippines and gorge on the freshly prepared spaghetti carbonara.
But as I cooked alone in my kitchen, feeling sorry for myself, I found that my pasta dishes brought back other memories as well—memories that made me happy.
When I made spaghetti with truffle butter and mushrooms, one forkful took me back to Tuscany, which I'd visited with my parents in the summer of 2010. I remembered the rolling hills, the narrow streets, the beautiful art and architecture, the feeling of wonder and contentment. And I remembered the food: a salami sandwich with sharp pecorino cheese; hazelnut gelato; and pasta, glorious pasta. Italy was the best vacation I've ever had. When I ate my mushroom-and-truffle butter spaghetti, each bite tasted rich yet comforting.
Another time, I made spaghetti with tuna meatballs. I had just come back from a mini-vacation in New York City with some of my best friends, where we'd had glorious tuna meatballs at one of Mario Batali's restaurants. But the tuna meatballs I cooked at home were not Mario Batali's recipe—they were Rachel Ray's.
It made me laugh; I realized I'm much more like Rachel Ray (talkative, a multitasker, loves burgers) than Mario Batali (intimidating, a believer of slow cooking, loves Crocs). Rachel Ray seems like the type who survives hardships by celebrating good moments with friends. In New York City, that's exactly what I did—and what I'm still doing at home.
Then there was the time I made spaghetti aglio olio using sriracha spaghettini that I bought at a farmers’ market. Sriracha is an Asian hot sauce usually served with Vietnamese food. It’s a strong flavor already, so I used garlic, olive oil, and anchovies to create a sauce that highlighted the spicy pasta. I added fresh mozzarella to temper the sriracha and the saltiness of the anchovies and sprinkled everything with parsley for a bright pop of green.
Admiring my colorful pasta, I was reminded of pancit Malabon, a noodle dish from the Filipino town where my lolo and I grew up. He and I used to eat it as we sat side by side. As those long-ago days in the Philippines came back to me, I realized that memories can carry you forward rather than cementing you in the past.
The pancit was bright orange, almost neon, from the achuete (annatto seeds) that lent their blood-red tint to the white noodles. I loved picking at the rainbow of garnishes arranged in perfect rings atop the noodles: white and yellow hard-boiled eggs, purple squid rings, bright green scallions, coral shrimp, silver-gray oysters, brown smoked-fish flakes, and (my favorite) crumbles of golden, crackling pork skin called chicharon.
My lolo didn't just love to eat. He appreciated beauty in everything, and, now, so do I.
Bianca's Recipes
You'll find the recipes for Bianca's spaghetti dishes on her food blog, Confessions of a Chocoholic:
- Spaghetti with Truffle Butter and Mushrooms
- Spaghetti with Tuna Meatballs
- Sriracha Spaghettini Aglio Olio
Art Information
- “Pasta Display at Farmers Market,” “Sriracha Spaghettini Aglio Olio,” and “Spaghetti with Truffle Butter and Mushrooms” © Bianca Garcia; used by permission
Bianca Garcia is a social media consultant for Talking Writing.
She is currently concocting new desserts using avocado, which reminds her of summers in the Philippines with her sisters, eating avocados drizzled with sweet condensed milk.
"That night, I looked around the table with a full heart." — "Sangria and Steak on Noche Buena"
