meditations 1

and so i started to appreciate the gelatinous rarity of ox tail on today's special. today's special came served in a bowl not meant to hold bulalo, its hunk of bone and its open secret, the precious bone marrow, whose heart-defying flavors coalesce with the abundant broth, now splashing violently as it is tamed by the master of the serving spoon and two-tined fork.

instead, the bowl contained the surprise ox tail, with the most basic of vegetables, unlike the version nanay makes, in which the vegetables outrank the meat, hands down. it is a dreary exercise in nutritional advocacy when the minority meat signs away several months off the diner's mortality.

the rare ox tail is now in a languid pose on top of delirious sauce and smoking rice. it need not be torn apart by the ready knife. (i'm sure this is a butter knife, but table setting rules do not correspond to the realities of the one-course meal that should suffice.) its delicateness, however, is not justified by mere cutting of spoon. let out the (butter) knife.

really, it is not cutting that's involved here. it is the mere prying away of the rare ox tail to be made into bite-size portions. you know, like those handy non-perishable, lifeless, sterile cupcakes, cookie sandwiches, cakes with colored goo in the middle fed to the babies who came one after the other. i guess spelling out partially hydrogenated oils on the wrapper is just a fancy concept lost on their mother who barely sees her children awake. their father is just too dumb-headed to offer suggestions on why their eldest son lets out those monstrous sounds.

already, it performs its gelatinous aftermath from the pot. it is appreciated for its softness and flavor. it does not require of the cattle to be still. be still! sit sit! hush hush! lest you become tough. you are no longer what i deemed you to be.

imagine that, it used to go swish swish. to buzz off flies. to maintain this strange sense of balance, god knows. this monstrosity is anticlimactic. its end is the tapering of the tail.

and now, dear ox tail, you are the element, you are the piece that completes this tableau, in which you prevent me from keeping my mouth vacant, my fingers still. you prevent me from letting my confusion and sinking feeling fly off my mouth and stating, for the record,

i don't know where you stand.

who are you?

to be continued...