A childhood memory: rainy day, possibly a typhoon, called out from playing in my room to have lunch with the family, dash out to the dining room to make sure my brother doesn't usurp my seat on the right hand side by my father's chair, attempt to get the cat down from the dining table, resume sitting while the meal is set before us all. It's soup, but not just any soup, a bulalo, with lots of meat and vegetables, ginger bobbing in the broth, cooked long and slow till the meat falls from the bone. My goal however, is not the meat, but what's inside the bone. Marrow. Soft, jelly, tasty, soupy, succulent, rich, makes my tummy happy marrow. I hope that one of the portions with the bone will be for me, and I send up a second hope out there that the bone I get will have a good chunk of marrow I can scoop out with the flat of the knife. My plans for that rich jiggling blop is to top it on my steaming bowl of rice, add some broth, and eat it simply. As we got older, my brother and sister stopped or just resolved not to clog their arteries with it, but my dad and I continue to enjoy a good rich bulalo with the marrow as our proverbial cherry on top.
As I've gotten older, I've also learned how wonderful roasted marrow is, and with a sprinkle of fleur de sel, some hearty bread, what a meal it is! Locally, there are a few places to get your marrow fix (Cibo used to have it), and if you have a super duper urge for it, I say go to Je Suis Gourmand for one heck of a marrow plate. A month ago, 2 friends and I went over to appease our marrow urges. K and I ordered one each, and were blown away by the size of the serving. This is no crosscut of bone with perhaps a teaspoon, if you're lucky a tablespoon, of gooey yumminess. This was a femur! A leg bone, cut down the shaft, roasted and served with both halves on display. Each long crevice shimmies with marrow crying out to be eaten. (All food lovers see their food as crying to be eaten!) We gratefully acquiesced to their wishes. Dabble a bit or a chunk on your toast and chomp your way to pure joy. There's enough to feed two or three nibblers, but K and I are no pansy eaters. We finish our bones, mop up the juices and roar with womanly pride. Rowr. I bet our friend wished he had ordered the marrow! K outdid us all that night by having the foie after the marrow; while I was happy with my arugula salad. But I did have two kinds of ice cream for dessert!
Je Suis Gourmand
G/f, Net One Center Bldg
Fort Bonifacio, Taguig