Why I Love My HB

There is a saying that "a way to a man's heart is through his stomach". I'd say turn the table to make it apt for me.

Let me make an admission: I hate to cook. I know how to cook a few basic dishes but they're not really good and most of the time, the meals don't come out like it's supposed to. So in our home, HB is king of the kitchen.  And the dishes that he churns out of his turf are mouth-watering. Our youngest daughter, Fiona, and I get entranced when we smell the waft coming from his kitchen. I must say that me and my girls are spoiled rotten by HB when it comes to food.

Here are samples of our weekend lunch fares:

shrimp, quail eggs and veggies

pork leg humba

beef caldereta 

fried rice, oven roasted lechon kawali and lomi 

Last Mother's Day, we had no need to go to a restaurant as HB prepared my favorites:

steamed crabs, ensaladang arosep (seaweed salad) 

and inihaw na liempo (grilled pork belly)

So, he may not be quite a chivalrous gentleman in the sense that he forgets to open and close doors for me, forgets to stay on the right side while we cross the street, doesn't know how to hold out an umbrella for me, doesn't give me flowers during anniversaries and Valentine's day, gives me roses wrapped in old newspapers ... i could go on and on ... but, he provides me with my most basic need. This is why I love him dearly.

(photo credits: HB's CK One Album in Facebook)