It usually comes after about five or six days away from home.
You can't look another sushi or roast duck or pizza or brie in the eye. You want to run away when someone mentions tonkatsu. Or wontons. Or nasi lemak. Or risotto.
The only cure for that is to have food that screams HOME from every molecule of its being.
On our 7th day in Paris, it was time to break open the small bag of brown rice I had lugged all the way from Manila.
It was time to have kanin. Kanin for breakfast and if there would be any left, kanin for dinner.
I had bought a can of Ma Ling from the Pinoy mini mart the night before and a can of spanish sardines from Franprix.
That, along with scrambled eggs and steaming hot rice was such a good way to fortify oneself for the cold and rainy day ahead. When we got back later in the afternoon from walking and walking through the museums at the Invalides, we stopped by the supermarket at Rue Mouffe and bought the provisions for sinigang -- pork neck, spinach instead of kangkong, onions and tomatoes.
Back in the apartment, I boiled the pork till tender and added all the other ingredients, using lots of tomatoes to help add sourness to the sinigang mix. Spinach stood up well, taking kangkong's place without any trouble.
Soon the aroma of home was wafting through 7 rue Berthollet.
Ang asim! Ang sarap!
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