by Jude A. Bacalso
Almost exclusive to the degustation of seafood is a macabre preprandial satisfaction in watching the subject thrash about in a cold metal scale.
Weighed down with life, the numbers rise steadily in crimson LED, announcing heft and corresponding monetary value like a boast; pincers and carapace full of the promise of the inevitable. An uncertain future that forks the question: chili crab or steamed?
I should have gone for the latter. After all, just-caught is to gourmet what hand-made is to couture; everything else is just seafood and clothes. Who needed the coconut milk and spice when I was in Roxas City, Capiz, Seafood Capital of the Philippines?
