A must try Filipino Food Pinakbet
Had no real idea what I’d make, only craved something cozy and hot. Mood guided my moves instead of thoughts, so next thing I knew, veggies were under water - eggplant, squash, okra. The way chopping and prepping flows helps pull me back into myself, even more so when emotions sit close, soft but heavy. That day, though, I felt like tweaking things - making dinner feel outta the ordinary. So in went some squid. No real reason, just a quiet hunch nudged me: "Try it." Turned out right. Cooking kinda fixes you up. It's rarely only about eating.
When life gets loud or way too much, stirring a pot can be the one time everything actually chills. It brought me kind of peace. It somehow showed me that I am doing something right. It lifts my mood without trying. Then again, just like every time, my sister wandered into the kitchen not long after. She didn’t ask if she could help me prepare - she never even tries. She just start doing her thing - she's starting to help me, like the kitchen belongs to both of us. After grabbing the knife she began cutting veggies while teasing me about my not-so-pretty kind of chopping.
That's just her - funny and hands on. Being in the kitchen together? Simple. No effort needed. Just us connecting without trying. We don’t need grand scenes or deep chats. Every now and then, we crack up about silly stuff, or sit close without talking, yet still - it just clicks, like belonging somewhere. Never knew how much I’d miss these quiet bits till right now. The Pinakbet began simmering slow, its aroma deepening thanks to the squid. Steam curled upward, smudging the glass briefly; once it faded, the pink-and-blue dusk outside seemed way more alive. The sun’s glow touched every little thing. Just a tiny bit of brightness, yet it changed how everything felt, like luck had lined up just right: soup bubbling slow, my sister close by, clouds stretched out wild above us. That first bite came at last.
Same as ever - we both lit up instantly. “So good!” One voice, one breath. After that? Giggles we couldn’t stop. The veggies were tender, the taste rich - yet bold. The squid made such a difference I’d never leave it out next time. It had weight behind every bite, like effort, care, joy - and maybe even a small surprise - all stirred into one. Pride showed up, not only from how tasty it turned out, but because everything simply fit. Joy popped up in tiny moments: the cozy scent of garlic meeting greens, my sister poking fun, bubbling sounds rising from the pot, a pale blue-pink glow spilling through outside, spoons passed back and forth along with laughs, and that calm thought: “Right here? This is enough.” That Pinakbet fed more than hunger. It warmed me inside. It soaked into the air around us. Even hours later, there was still soft heat hanging low across the day.
One moment life feels ordinary - next thing you know, it’s turned into something special. It starts like any dinner prep, yet somehow ends up stuck in your mind for good. When I look back hours from now, that flavor won’t be the only part that sticks around. The quiet glow of dusk will stay with me too. I will never forget my sister’s laugh and her jokes. That peaceful feeling in my heart stays with me too. Yet even more, the way one basic meal turned a regular day into something special. Maybe these tiny, soft moments are the ones that linger - ones you randomly grin at weeks after.
Thank you for reading and spending a bit of your time here. I hope this small moment from my day brought you comfort or a soft smile wherever you are.🤍
