Mom’s chicken curry has always been one of my favorites. Today, she decided to surprise me and my Papa, so she cooked chicken curry for lunch. I put some on my plate, the usual parts (two drumsticks and lots of potatoes), and stopped. I put my plate down, rushed to the bathroom… and cried.
Living on my own in the Philippines, I had to rely on the cooking of others, mainly carenderias since I cannot cook.
My favorite carinderia was Sta. Ana’s, which was near my university. It’s chicken curry is the closest to my mom’s version. Other than that, it was one of the first places I ever hung out with Rico and the rest of our beloved IT group of friends.
I loved Sta. Ana’s… not only because of the food… but because of the memories. I remembered Chicken Curry the most because it was delicious and also it was what “he” ordered almost every time we ate there. There were times when only he and I ordered it while the others opted for variety. It was like a thing we shared (just in my mind). Like how our conversations… no matter how it started… always end up with “poop” or how whenever we play World of Warcraft, at some point, him, Rico, and I, take a bath together… each in our own homes (Thank God).
He and I haven’t spoke since March 2013. Actually, that doesn’t count. The moment he had that psycho as a girlfriend, everything between us changed (WTF happened to BROS BEFORE HOES?!).
What’s worse is you ruined chicken curry for me! I can never look at that dish the same way again. I’ll always hear your voice saying “Ma chicken curry lang ko ya [I’ll order the chicken curry]” every time I will see that dish.
Chicken curry is ruined… forever.