SQUARE SPAGHETTI

CHAPTER 1

*A Tricycle Is Not A Racing Bike*

JAKE

"Where is the soy sauce?"

"Don't use soy sauce," my grandmother said, the sound of her sewing machine almost drowning out her fragile voice.

"What do you mean not use soy sauce lola?*" I asked, surprised. "I'm cooking adobo, how will this taste like without soy sauce?" I looked towards her, calmly sitting in front of an old sewing machine that looked better fit to be in a museum than in our house. She turned back at me, only then did I notice that she looked so small, especially surrounded by the colorful fabrics that made up the quilt that she was sewing.

(lola - means grandmother)

"The real adobo does not need soy sauce."

"Huh?"

"Put the cubed cut pork in a pan, put enough water mixed with a little vinegar and a lot of crushed garlic and just leave it there to boil."

"Seriously lola?"

"You will know when it is near cooked when the oil from the pork fat simmer out and become the oil that will eventually brown the pork cuts. You don't need soy sauce, traditional Negrense adobo needs no soy sauce." And then she went back to her sewing, forgetting about me and knowing that I will follow whatever it was she instructed; as confusing as it was for me to believe. For me, adobo needed soy sauce, but she was a terrific cook, maybe that was why I wanted to be a chef in the first place.

The blaring sound of an alarm clock broke through my dream. I could almost smell the sweet, tangy aroma of the adobo from my dreams but as soon as I opened my eyes, I was greeted by the alarm clock beside my bed; the short hand much nearer to the number 7 than I wanted it to be. The alarm must have snoozed several times without me hearing the alarm for me to be still in bed.

"Oh shit! I'm going to be late ... I'm late ... I'm late!" I cried out, flung the comforter to the floor and rushed to the bath room. I was too in too much of a hurry to even use the heater, I just drenched myself in icy cold water and rushed back out. I would be in a lot of trouble if I was not in the food laboratory in exactly 15 minutes for the practical test. I was dead meat, and Prof. Cristobal will be very pleased to grill me as her next demo.

Hi! My name is Jake, I am in myfreshman year at a nearby university taking up Culinary Arts and today I had a very important practical test for one of the strictest professors in the university. 

Still, having won several international awards and having her own bistro was a feat that no other teachers in my school could compare to. In fact, a lot of students choose the school simply because they wanted to be taught by her. She was considered as one of the best.

So, currently I am running out of the room in a condo that I share with 4 others. Who they were, I really didn't know, it's not my habit to stay in the common areas. Having come from the province, I did not know much about anyone and I did not plan to. 

My shoes have not been tied accordingly, but who cared because right now I am running for my life. In the next 10 minutes my exam will start. 

Normally I'd walk from this rented space to my faculty building; it was just a 25-minute walk. 

But not right now!

"Trike, you're my last hope!"

I needed to reach the faculty as fast as possible because I will be dead if I'm late. Not only is Ms. Cristobal strict but she will lock the doors of the food laboratory from the inside and none can enter it anymore. There was no way that I could fail the subject. I had to get there in time.