I am thinking back on the soundtrack of my childhood and perhaps I can sum up so many of my happy memories in four little words: The Sound of Music. There is something very gratifying and peaceful about how the first bars of any of the songs can immediately make me go back in time. In a flash, I smile as I remember the times I played under sun and rain, what I collected (stickers and stationery), who my playmates were (most of the time the children of our favorite driver Manoy Delfin: Dayday, Boyboy, Jerry, Jessie, Yani), the games we played (waring-waring, marbles, rubber bands, Monopoly, Chinese garter). When I was little, I knew what I liked and did not like, for sure. The former included, among many other things: red hotdog, meringue, pastillas de leche, party spaghetti eaten with bread, dresses with full skirts, Barbie dolls, hula hoops, Reader’s Digest and Nancy Drew books. What I did not like: burgers, vegetables, French fries, fighting, horror movies, chicken drumstick, ketchup. As I grew up, there were more things I did not like: the color red (except when it was a lipstick), animal prints, perfume, yellow gold, sad endings in any movie, Danielle Steele (I would have loved her except for the fact that she always liked killing off characters in her stories — too tragic for me, way too much sadness in an already often-sad real world).
Now I do not know what shifted, or how and when it did, but I woke up one day last year wanting so much to eat a burger. Nothing strange about this, except for the fact that I spent the better part of my life not even eating anything that involved ground meat — nothing against it, it just never appealed to me. A burger would be the last thing I would order anywhere, ever. The only trigger I can think of was that I had watched a cooking show on one of the food channels, unremarkable for the most part except for how the cook revered his burger, as if he were preparing some food for a god. He waxed poetic about it, and it was a love affair between man and burger. Perhaps I got sucked into the story, so much that the next day I was willing to give a burger a chance. I remember thinking that maybe, just maybe, I was missing out on something. (more…)