Parmesan Peas N Rice —rsquo; The Simple Bowl That Holds the Week

Solstice Festival downtown. Midnight kayaking. Midnight tennis. Two trauma cases stayed with me through the weekend. I cooked through them.

Lourdes is 75. She is slower. She still cooks. She still tells me to find a husband even though I have one. Joseph called from Kodiak Sunday. The fishing is good. The boats are running. He is fine.

I made salmon sinigang Sunday. Reynaldo's recipe. One extra squeeze of tamarind. The recipe is the rope.

The blog has four hundred subscribers now who get the posts via email. The subscribers are the loyal core. The loyal core is the chorus.

I am tired in the seasoned way. The tired is the cost of love. I have been paying the cost. The cost is bearable.

I made tea late at night. The tea was the small comfort. The comfort was the marker.

The Filipino Community newsletter announced a fundraiser for typhoon relief in Samar. I committed to making three hundred lumpia. The number is the number. The number has always been the number. Three hundred is what I make. The math has stopped surprising me.

I read three chapters of the novel Saturday night before sleep. The novel was about a Filipina nurse in California. The nurse was being undone by her work. I knew the unraveling. I had lived the unraveling. I read on. The reading was the witnessing.

I drove the Glenn Highway out to Eklutna on Saturday. The mountains were the mountains. The lake was the lake. The body needed the open road. The open road did its work.

The therapy session this month was about pacing. Dr. Reeves said, "Grace. The pacing is the love for the future self." I am working on the pacing. The pacing is harder than the loving.

A blog reader sent me a photograph of her grandmother's wooden mortar and pestle, used since 1962. The photograph was holy. I wrote her back. The writing back is the work.

The light was good Saturday morning. I sat on the porch with a cup of coffee and watched the inlet for forty minutes. The watching was the small therapy. The therapy was free.

I taught a Saturday morning Kain Na class on basic adobo proportions for new cooks. Eleven people in the kitchen. Half of them had never cooked Filipino food before. By eleven AM the kitchen smelled the way it should smell. By noon they were all eating. The eating was the lesson landing.

The break room had cake Tuesday. Someone's birthday. We ate the cake. We did not ask whose birthday. The cake was the cake.

I sat on the balcony in the cold for ten minutes Sunday night with a cup of broth in my hands. The cold was the cold. The broth was the broth. The body held both.

The grocery store had no calamansi. I substituted lime. The substitution was acceptable. The acceptable is the working version of perfect.

I drove home Tuesday evening and the sun set at three forty-five and the highway was already iced at the bridges and the radio was on a station I did not recognize and I did not change it.

Auntie Norma called Sunday afternoon. She is now seventy-nine. She wanted a recipe. I gave it to her. She wanted to know how my week was. I told her, briefly. She told me about her week. The exchange took eighteen minutes. The eighteen minutes was the keeping.

Auntie Norma called Sunday to ask if I had a recipe for a particular merienda from Iloilo. I did not. I said I would ask Lourdes. I asked Lourdes. Lourdes had it. The chain.

The salmon sinigang was Reynaldo’s recipe, and it held me through Sunday — but later that night, sitting on the balcony with cold air on my face and broth in my hands, I thought about the smaller comforts, the ones that don’t ask anything of you. Rice is always the foundation in my kitchen; it is what the table is built on, the same way the eighteen minutes with Auntie Norma is what the week is built on. This Parmesan Peas N Rice is what I make when I have already spent everything and still need to eat something warm — it is fast, it is honest, and it is enough.

Parmesan Peas N Rice

Prep Time: 5 minutes | Cook Time: 20 minutes | Total Time: 25 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

• 1 cup long-grain white rice
• 2 cups low-sodium chicken broth
• 1 cup frozen peas, thawed
• 2 tablespoons unsalted butter
• 1/2 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese
• 2 cloves garlic, minced
• 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, or to taste
• 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
• 2 tablespoons fresh parsley, chopped (optional)

Instructions

1. Toast the rice. In a medium saucepan over medium heat, melt 1 tablespoon of the butter. Add the minced garlic and cook for about 1 minute until fragrant. Add the rice and stir to coat, toasting lightly for 1 to 2 minutes.
2. Simmer. Pour in the chicken broth and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat to low, cover the pot tightly, and cook for 15 to 18 minutes until the liquid is absorbed and the rice is tender.
3. Finish with peas and cheese. Remove the pot from the heat. Add the thawed peas, the remaining tablespoon of butter, and the grated Parmesan. Stir gently to combine, allowing the residual heat to warm the peas and melt the butter.
4. Season and serve. Taste and adjust with salt and pepper. Spoon into bowls and top with fresh parsley if using. Serve immediately while warm.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 290 | Protein: 10g | Fat: 9g | Carbs: 41g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 380mg