#sinangag…..

[kylehydesaga]

i want garlic fried rice so bad

[heartshapedgreen]

last rb: related but unrelated, something that made me go ???? about the whole xiaohongshu "cultural exchange" thing is.... there are so many chinese americans. you know that there are chinese americans among you, right? there are chinese immigrants. you never talked to them before?

[foodwithrecipes]

Filipino Garlic Rice (Sinangag) Recipe.   Garlic contains compounds that help stimulate digestion and promote the production of digestive enzymes, which can enhance overall gut health. Read full recipe

https://foodrecipesoffical.com/wp-admin/post-new.php

This dish is not just food, but an ode to culinary creativity, reminding us how beautiful and delicious life can be. यह व्यंजन केवल भोजन ही नहीं है, बल्कि पाककला की रचनात्मकता का प्रतीक है, जो हमें याद दिलाता है कि जीवन कितना सुंदर और स्वादिष्ट हो सकता है।

[anyonghalimaw]

potaenang karinderya na to tapsilog daw e di naman to sinangag 😭😭😭

[luanarbilo]

Sinangag Express

🌏 Muntinlupa City, Metro Manila, Philippines

Adsilog (Adobo + Sinangag + Itlog)

📅 2014-02-07

🗒️ Dinner

[originalamateur]

Almusal

Sumilip ang sinagng araw sa puwangng bintana at kurtinaKumakatok naang umagaSinta, bangon na.Bumangon kasa halimuyakng kaning sinasangag,ng kapeng bagong timpla;sa saliw ng nagsasayaw na bawang,kamay na kumukumpas.Sinta, kakain na.Tikman angnilutong pagammahal.Metikulosong tinimplahanng bukas na pag-uusap,pagtitimbang, atpangtangi;sinangkapanng pasensya,at sinaing natiwala.Kay sarap ng mga arawna…

[good-night-space-kid]

if you like rice and egg, might I suggest filipino breakfast? it's usually Sinangag, or garlic fried rice, that's made with day-old rice fried in oil and garlic + a fried egg, cooked until the sides are crispy but the yolk is still gooey + a viand of your choice (typical filipino breakfasts would be like. a hotdog, or some filipino style cornbeef, or fried lil fish called dilis, or some fried squid, or some tinapa, another kind of fish, but you can add whatever you like! the rice is the star of the show anyway)

It has taken me a while, but today I finally had the chance to make this! I looked up some recipes online for reference, but I don’t think I added enough garlic so it didn’t have enough flavor so I did end up adding some soy sauce which I didn’t see in the recipes I was looking at, but didn’t seem too far out there. It’s really tasty!!

The meat is deer marinated then simmered in a Thai braising sauce that I had laying around which I think goes very well with the rice. I don’t love hotdogs and I live about an hour from the center of the North American continent, so good fish is hard to come by. The deer, however, is very fresh and only about a week old since it’s one I got over break.

Thank you so much for the recommendation! I will definitely be making this more often because it was really easy and is very delicious.

[massivementalitynut]

Had pork adobo with steamed rice last night for dinner and cut up the leftover pork adobo pieces in smaller pieces to put in my sandwich for tonight's dinner :D

[glv88]

Recipe for Filipino Coconut Garlic Fried Rice Sinangag To make quick and simple fried rice, Filipino-style and with a crisp, combine cooled jasmine rice with garlic, coconut cream, and fish sauce. 1/4 teaspoon salt, 2 tablespoons fish sauce, 1/4 cup finely chopped garlic, 2 cups uncooked jasmine rice, 1.5 cups water, 1/2 can unsweetened coconut cream, 2 teaspoons ground turmeric, 3 tablespoons coconut oil

[dax-varley]

Filipino Coconut Garlic Fried Rice Sinangag Combine cooled jasmine rice with garlic, coconut cream, and fish sauce to make quick and easy fried rice, Filipino-style and with a crisp.

[sillylazyfran]

Hmmmmmm

I'm gonna bringgg.....

Garlic Fried Rice eheheheh

tag!

@senseigrace

@legendsoffandoms

new tag game:

Say what you are bringing to the tots opening banquet and tag whoever you want

I‘ll go first: homemade potato salad, family recipe

no pressure tags: @rainofthetwilight @jalluzas-ferney @s0ull3ss-p3rs0n @garmaballs

[lovefms]

(  🎧  ) — somewhere  between  blankets  and  trips  to  sm  baguio  and  lava  cake,  blair  realised  he’d  never  been  outside  of  love,  only  surrounded  by  it.

tags:  beau  ahn/taejun  song,  minor  or  background  relationship(s),  taejun  song,  blair  kim,  beau  ahn,  sanguk  kim,  anthony  han,  milo  rhee,  cassius  cho,  shiloh  li,  found  family,  proposal  planning,  domestic  fluff,  everyone  loves  everyone,  gc  shit,  blair  has  feelings,  love  is  in  the  small  things,  comfort  no  hurt

blair  had  witnessed  love.

it  really  wasn't  like  the  over-romanticised  kind  people  wrote  about  in  songs  or  in  the  films  he  loved  bingewatching.  it  wasn't  always  kisses  under  the  rain  or  handwritten  letters  in  mailboxes.  but  in  blair's  twenty-six  years,  he’d  seen  love  in  forms  that  stayed  with  him  longer  than  most  declarations  ever  could.

he’d  seen  it  in  his  mother’s  hands  as  she  wiped  sweat  from  his  father’s  forehead  during  those  final  months.  she  never  once  complained.  she  never  once  asked  for  help,  even  when  her  back  ached  and  her  eyes  were  swollen  from  sleepless  nights.  she  brought  him  food  he  barely  touched,  warmed  his  medicines  between  her  palms  like  it  could  make  them  work  better.  she  read  the  news  aloud  to  him  sometimes,  even  when  she  knew  he  was  too  far  gone  to  hear.

he’d  seen  it  in  the  way  the  neighbourhood  kids  used  what  was  left  of  their  baon  to  buy  sachets  of  dog  food,  splitting  it  between  all  the  strays  around  town.  they  named  the  cats,  argued  over  whose  turn  it  was  to  feed  which  one,  and  sat  beside  them  like  they  were  lifelong  companions.

he’d  seen  it  in  anthony’s  breakfasts.  those  heaping  servings  of  longganisa  and  sinangag  made  with  a  lot  of  garlic  because  shiloh  liked  them  that  way.  he  always  made  too  much.  “in  case  someone’s  hungry,”  he’d  shrug,  waving  them  all  over  like  he  hadn’t  made  enough  for  sixteen  when  there  were  only  eight  of  them.  love  was  eggs  cooked  until  the  edges  crisped  and  rice  generously  packed  into  tupperware.

he’d  seen  it  in  the  way  beau’s  grandfather  used  to  pack  more  food—extra  rice,  boiled  eggs,  leftover  adobo—for  recess.  not  because  beau  asked,  but  because  lolo  ahn  knew  blair  and  anthony  always  hovered  whenever  beau  opened  his  lunchbox.

and  then  there  were  the  tourists.  the  honeymooners  who  held  hands  and  the  old  couples  who  argued  about  which  trail  to  take  and  ended  up  holding  each  other’s  waists  the  entire  walk  anyway.  the  younger  sweethearts  who  giggled  while  they  fed  each  other  food.  he  remembered  them  all—those  fleeting  visitors  who  carried  love  on  their  backs  like  it  was  luggage  they  refused  to  lose.

up  until  the  universe  had  given  him  sanguk,  blair  didn’t  know  much  about  being  in  love,  but  he  did  know  what  it  looked  like.  love  wasn’t  taking,  it  wasn’t  demanding.  it  didn’t  need  to  be  loud  or  boastful.  real  love  was  offering.  opening  yourself  up  not  because  you  were  promised  anything  in  return,  but  because  something  in  you  simply  wanted  to  give.  just  because.

it  had  been  a  normal  tuesday  morning.  nothing  out  of  the  ordinary.  just  the  sun,  the  sound  of  cars  and  tricycles  passing  outside,  and  blair  fumbling  with  the  register  at  exactly  8:55  am.  he  had  just  turned  the  sign  on  the  door  to  “open”  when  his  phone  buzzed  against  the  countertop.

at  first,  he  didn’t  think  much  of  it.  he  assumed  it  was  beau  checking  in  from  baguio—he’d  left  before  sunrise,  off  to  talk  to  some  of  their  regular  merchants  and  suppliers,  most  likely  already  halfway  through  a  negotiation.  but  when  blair  checked  his  phone  after  a  while,  he  paused.

blair’s  hand  flew  to  his  mouth  as  if  he  could  physically  keep  the  squeal  from  escaping.  it  didn’t  work.  he  laughed.  loudly,  startling  a  customer  halfway  through  browsing  necklaces.  and  judging  by  how  fast  anthony  spammed  the  chat  with  cat  gifs  and  heart-eyed  emojis,  blair  wasn’t  the  only  one  feeling  unreasonably  giddy.

blair’s  thumbs  were  flying  across  the  screen  while  trying  to  ring  someone  up.  multitasking  had  never  felt  this  joyful.

the  rest  of  the  day  passed  in  a  blur.  customers  came  and  went,  coins  were  exchanged,  but  blair’s  brain  was  stuck  on  one  loop:  tj’s  going  to  propose.  and  he’s  trusting  us  to  help  make  it  perfect.  blair  barely  looked  up  from  his  phone.  he  kept  it  beside  the  register,  checking  the  notifications  every  few  minutes  like  he  was  waiting  for  news  from  a  friend  in  labour.  people  asking  about  keychain  prices,  postcard  bundles,  if  they  had  any  stock  left  of  the  hand-painted  mugs.  and  all  the  while,  blair’s  mind  was  somewhere  else  entirely.

and  he  couldn’t  stop  smiling.

the  messages  came  slowly  at  first.  scattered  ideas.  vague  things  like:

“ano  tawag  dun  sa  mga  maliliit  na  ilaw  na  estetik?” “fairy  lights?” “kahit  siguro  isang  kaserola  ng  chorizo  ok  na.  hehehe  JOKE  LANG  WAG  NIYO  AKONG  I-KICK”

but  then  the  details  started  filling  in,  piece  by  piece.

the  one  thing  tj  was  dead-set  on—non-negotiable,  no  matter  what—was  that  it  had  to  happen  on  their  hill.  the  one  that  had  witnessed  them  grow  from  something  tentative  into  something  real.  and  if  tj  was  going  to  ask  beau  to  spend  the  rest  of  his  life  with  him,  then  of  course  it  had  to  be  there.  the  one  place  that  had  seen  every  version  of  beau  and  tj—before,  during,  after.

it  had  always  been  their  place.

tj  didn’t  say  how  he  was  going  to  propose,  didn’t  mention  speeches  or  rings  or  what  he  might  say.  but  the  details  were  meticulous.  by  the  time  the  sky  outside  the  shop  had  turned  purple,  tj  was  delegating  tasks  like  he  was  directing  a  movie  and  they  were  his  production  crew.  anthony  and  milo  were  assigned  to  the  food,  the  rest  of  them  were  in  charge  of  the  set-up:  lightning,  the  arrangement,  the  ambience.  cassius,  in  particular,  was  given  one  very  specific,  very  crucial  role:  keep  anthony  from  spilling.  cass  replied  with  a  salute  emoji.  ant  sent  a  bunch  of  sad  emojis  in  retaliation.  sanguk  asked  if  they  needed  a  playlist.  shiloh  said  he  could  bring  extra  pillows.

they  mapped  out  the  next  few  days  with  more  seriousness  than  they  ever  gave  school  projects.  how  to  carry  everything  up  to  the  hill,  what  time  the  sun  would  set,  how  to  light  the  path  just  enough,  but  not  too  much.  on  blair’s  day  off,  he,  cassius,  shiloh,  and  sanguk  all  crammed  into  shiloh’s  car  and  headed  down  to  baguio  together  to  shop  for  decor.

they  spent  the  whole  afternoon  bouncing  from  one  store  to  another.  sanguk  found  a  nice  tent,  one  with  canvas  walls  and  a  collapsible  frame,  easy  enough  to  carry  up  the  hill.  shiloh  found  a  picnic  basket,  the  classic  kind  with  wicker  weave  and  leather  straps.  they  picked  up  soft  throw  pillows,  fairy  lights,  and  battery-powered  lanterns  into  their  haul,  just  in  case.

on  the  way  home,  anthony  texted:

“taste  test  2nite!!  bring  your  pretty  mouths  👄”

so  they  drove  straight  to  anthony’s  kitchen,  where  the  table  was  already  packed  with  small  portions  of  what  would  eventually  become  the  menu.  blair  took  one  bite  of  the  lava  cake  and  sighed  dreamily.  they  voted  on  what  to  keep,  what  to  ditch.  sanguk  nixed  the  spicy  wings.  cass  approved  the  liempo.

in  the  days  that  followed,  the  plans  moved  from  blueprint  to  execution.  shiloh  and  sanguk  took  charge  of  the  music—curating  a  playlist  of  mellow  love  songs  with  soft  acoustic  guitar.  songs  you  could  fall  asleep  to,  songs  you  could  propose  under.  blair  sketched  out  a  loose  diagram  of  how  they’d  lay  things  out  on  the  hill.  the  tent  would  go  near  the  top,  just  under  the  trees.  the  picnic  blanket  would  spread  at  the  centre,  with  lights  strung  from  trunk  to  trunk  in  pretty,  glowing  arcs.  the  lanterns  would  line  the  path  upward.  it  was  going  to  be  perfect.

then  came  the  day  itself.

they  all  met  early—blair,  cassius,  shiloh,  sanguk,  milo,  and  ant,  buzzing  with  nervous  energy  like  they  were  the  ones  proposing.  tj  was  already  gone.  he’d  taken  beau  out  to  baguio,  told  him  it  was  just  a  casual  trip.  so  while  tj  dragged  beau  through  crowded  cafés  and  antique  stalls,  trying  to  tire  him  out  with  food  and  errands  and  long  walks,  the  rest  of  them  climbed  the  hill.

the  weather  was  good.  the  wind  was  light.

they  worked  fast  but  careful:  they  rolled  out  the  blankets,  fluffed  the  pillows,  set  some  of  the  food  into  the  picnic  basket  and  laid  out  the  plates  like  a  page  from  a  magazine.  by  the  time  tj  finally  texted—“we’re  on  our  way.  twenty  minutes  max.”—they  had  just  finished  setting  the  last  touches.

the  hill  looked  like  something  out  of  a  dream.  the  wooden  table  and  chairs  were  perfect  for  two.  it  wasn’t  extravagant,  just  a  white  linen  cloth  that  fluttered  a  little  in  the  breeze,  plates  arranged  in  pairs,  the  napkins  were  folded  by  hand.  mason  jars  filled  with  tiny,  flickering  tea  lights  lined  the  edge  of  the  blanket,  and  in  the  middle  sat  all  of  the  delicious  food.

the  tent  was  set  up  just  slightly  off-centre  on  the  hill.  milo  and  shiloh  had  spent  the  better  part  of  an  hour  adjusting  its  placement,  making  sure  the  ground  beneath  it  was  even.  they’d  driven  the  pegs  deep  into  the  earth,  pulled  the  ropes  taut.  inside,  they’d  piled  the  floor  with  blankets—thick,  comforting  ones.  there  was  more  than  enough  space  to  lie  down,  to  stretch  out,  to  fall  asleep  tangled  in  each  other's  warmth.

just  outside  the  tent,  right  on  the  open  patch  of  grass  facing  the  sky,  was  a  blanket  blair  had  chosen  himself.  tj  had  specifically  asked  for  it,  one  laid  out  so  they  could  stargaze.

it  was  sanguk  who  spotted  the  car  first.

“it’s  them,”  he  said,  quietly  but  firmly,  loud  enough  for  the  rest  of  them  to  freeze  where  they  stood.  blair  turned  sharply,  and  sure  enough,  tj’s  familiar  car  was  crawling  up  the  narrow  dirt  path  that  led  to  the  hill,  headlights  low,  tyres  crunching  softly  over  gravel.

blair  could  feel  it  immediately—the  shift  in  the  air.

“go,  go,  go!”  cass  hissed,  already  nudging  them  towards  the  treeline.

they  scrambled  in  the  half-dark,  ducking  low  as  they  slipped  down  the  side  of  the  hill  and  towards  milo’s  waiting  van.  cass  gathered  the  last  of  the  bags,  and  shiloh  tripped  over  a  log  but  caught  himself  before  anyone  had  to  catch  him.  they  all  climbed  in  as  fast  as  they  could,  trying  not  to  laugh,  trying  to  be  quiet—but  their  hearts  were  loud.

blair  paused  at  the  edge  for  a  second,  turned  around.

tj  and  beau  had  just  stepped  out  of  the  car.  he  couldn’t  hear  what  was  being  said,  couldn’t  make  out  the  words.  but  he  saw  the  way  beau  stopped  walking.  the  way  he  blinked  like  he  didn’t  understand  what  he  was  seeing.

and  then—he  saw  tj  look  up.

right  toward  them.

a  single  look  across  distance  and  trees  and  fairy  light  shadows.

tj  smiled.  a  grateful  one.  there  was  a  hint  of  nerves  in  it—his  shoulders  a  little  tense,  one  hand  twitching  at  his  side.  but  his  eyes  were  bright.

blair  grinned  back.  felt  warmth  fill  his  whole  body.

milo  waved,  a  simple  gesture  from  the  van  window.  anthony  raised  a  thumbs  up  like  a  proud  dad.  shiloh  said,  “tara  na,  baka  makita  pa  tayo  ni  beau.”

so  they  did.  they  didn’t  linger,  didn’t  peek  or  hover,  didn’t  try  to  witness  the  moment  that  wasn’t  theirs  to  see.  they  just  drove  away,  laughter  in  the  backseat,  warmth  still  in  their  hands  from  the  lights  they’d  strung,  from  the  picnic  they’d  laid  out,  from  the  love  they’d  helped  build  like  it  was  a  shelter.

this  was  tj  and  beau’s  moment  now.

and  tomorrow,  or  maybe  the  next  shift  they  shared,  beau  would  gush,  show  off  his  ring.  blair  would  lean  against  the  counter  and  listen  to  every  detail.  maybe  tease  him  a  little,  maybe  cry.

so,  yeah.

blair  had  witnessed  love.

not  just  in  tj  and  beau—in  their  gentle  orbit  around  each  other,  but  in  everything  that  had  led  up  to  that  moment.  the  planning,  the  weeks  of  preparation,  the  groupchat  that  never  stopped  buzzing.  the  errands,  the  calls,  the  last-minute  adjustments,  the  details.  he  had  witnessed  love  in  the  effort.

because  that’s  what  it  was,  wasn’t  it?  love  was  commitment.  it  looked  like  six  boys  giving  up  weekends  and  days  off  just  to  make  something  special  happen.  the  kind  of  love  that  meant  no  one  second-guessed  tj  when  he  asked  for  help—they  just  jumped  in,  willing  to  do  anything.  this  wasn’t  obligation.  this  wasn’t  helping  out  of  politeness  or  boredom.  this  is  the  we  know  what  this  means  to  both  of  you,  so  it  means  something  to  us  too  kind  of  love.

blair  had  also  seen  love  in  five  separate  taste-testing  sessions—because  milo  and  ant  refused  to  let  the  menu  be  just  fine.  they’d  show  up  with  tupperware  and  ask  for  their  thoughts  like  it  was  a  michelin  tasting,  hovering  over  their  shoulders.  milo  would  tweak  the  spices,  remake  entire  batches  just  because  “it  didn’t  feel  right  yet.”  and  none  of  them  minded.

he’d  seen  love  in  sm  city  baguio,  in  aisles  full  of  fairy  lights  and  cutesy  trinkets  and  pastel  cutlery.  all  of  them—cass,  sanguk,  shiloh,  and  himself—moving  like  a  pack  of  indecisive  interior  decorators.

he’d  seen  love  in  the  little  things,  too.  in  how  tj  had  clearly  thought  this  through,  even  requesting  a  blanket  outside  the  tent,  just  so  they  could  lie  under  the  stars.  in  how  he  never  said  much  about  what  he’d  say,  but  everything  about  how  he  wanted  beau  to  feel.

and  love  bloomed  everywhere  around  that.  in  sanguk  always  carrying  blair’s  shopping  bags  without  a  word,  even  the  heavy  ones.  in  how  ant  always  served  cassius  first  during  every  tasting.  in  how  milo  always  saved  the  front  seat  of  the  van  for  shiloh.  those  small  kindnesses,  those  unconscious  gestures,  they  meant  more  than  flowers  ever  could.

blair  looked  at  them  sometimes—this  group  of  boys  who  bickered,  who  teased  each  other  mercilessly,  who  shared  playlists  and  inside  jokes  and  the  kind  of  loyalty  that  couldn’t  be  manufactured—and  he  realised:  this  was  love.

this  was  family;  not  family  you’re  born  into,  but  the  family  you  choose.  they  didn’t  say  i  love  you  out  loud.  not  often.  but  they  didn’t  need  to.  blair  had  seen  it  in  how  cass  reached  for  ant’s  hand  under  the  table.  how  shiloh  texted  milo  good  morning  without  fail.  how  sanguk  always  waited  for  blair  to  finish  locking  up  the  shop,  even  when  he  said  “you  don’t  have  to  wait.” blair  hadn’t  just  witnessed  love.  he  was  living  it,  too.

[luanarbilo]

Sinangag Station

🌏 UP Village, Diliman, Quezon City, Metro Manila, Philippines

Sisigsilog Green Mango Smoothie

📅 2012-03-18

🗒️ Dinner

[exegeticaletiquette]

Sinangag for Two

Small Gas Burner

For 2C stale cooked white rice, peel and chop—do not mince—1 small head garlic.

Set largest skillet on high flame with 2T oil until oil runs like water when skillet is tilted.

Add garlic and stir until fragrant but not browned. Reduce to medium-high heat, add rice and 1/4t salt; break up rice clumps.

Fold gently every 20sec until rice begins to change color or to taste. Do not overmix.

P.S.—Silog for Three

Serve sinangag (above) with a tomato, diced and tossed with 1T sugarcane vinegar or distilled vinegar, a fried egg, and hot breakfast meat of choice.

More on hot breakfast meats later.

[diodellet]

So what kinda small, everyday stuff would Lou miss from her own world? 👀 Like foods, sights, sounds, or perhaps little habits or something (or like kitchen utensils or something if you wanna go that route, lol).

cw: (oh boy oomf, imagine i am holding u by da hands and shaking wid excitement), hints of angst, lots of character-specific nostalgia

"'Things I miss from my old world,' you say?" Lou tilts her head, taking in the question. "Well, nothing, that's for damn sure. I'm glad I'm not going to highschool with the same people from middle school. Good riddance to those guys." A grimace pulls at her lip.

She mulls over her words a little bit. "Not like NRC is any better but, well, at least I don't have any immediate guardians for the disciplinary committee to contact."

She smiles - no, it doesn't seem genuine, but there is a note of something wistful in it - "I guess, home cooking, would be nice. Nothing beats a breakfast of tocino and sinagnag, oh! or tapsilog… And the sound of the news too, it's the last thing I hear before leaving for school and the first thing I hear when I get home."

Lou thinks some more, twintails swishing against her shoulders as she shifted from foot to foot. "…I miss how easy it was to navigate a school campus. You know, we don't need to move from classroom to classroom? At most we had to go to the gym or the science lab, and none of those cardinal direction wings. And we had a little nipa hut in the school field, so NRC needs to up its decor game."

This pause is longer than the previous ones. Her gaze ducks, as if suddenly hyperconscious of her conversation partner. Of being judged. Of the possibility that her words were being internalized meaningfully. "…damn, there's actually a lot of things I miss - Well, at least Sir Crowley keeps me too busy to think about it!"

(For the briefest second, her voice wavered. As if she was on the brink of tears. But it could've been a voice crack. And there she goes, off to her next errand.)

slight translations/author's note stuff: -the abs-cbn tv patrol theme is like one of The Staple Sounds of a school morning soundscape, i believe -nipa huts/bahay kubo are cute to use as a secret base, but the one i used to chill in had a leaky roof and was usually infested with ants -sinangag is garlic fried rice -tocino is sweet cured pork -tapsilog is an acronym of tapa (sweet cured beef), sinangag, and itlog (egg) -these are all seen as breakfast meals, but are perfect to eat for any other meal of the day. (i personally vouch for bfast food for dinner muehe) -lou refers to all the professors by 'sir' since that's how male teachers get referred to in the ph in normal conversation. you dont really use 'mister' unless you're in like a rlly bougie private school, or unless you're the parent i guess?

taglist: @crystallizsch @twstgo @moonyasnow (if anyone’s interested in being tagged for yuusona shenanigans, lmk throughda replies!)