So from my previous blog, I posted the odd statues and pools from Hagnaya! Nowww, it's time for their food~!
My mom got mad at me for how I was rolling around In the food. I can't blame her, she says it's ‘unhygienic’ but I'm the cleanest rock you know! Besides I don't do it on purpose- well, sometimes.
She got me my own plate, with forks and spoons. But I don't exactly have hands to use them. But how do I type? Well, you can take a guess.
It started innocently enough—a table full of glorious dishes, each one calling out to me. I couldn’t resist exploring, rolling my way from plate to plate, and sampling whatever caught my eye.
First, let’s talk about Lechon Kawali. Just looking at it was enough to make me drool. The crispy, golden-brown skin? It had this perfect crunch that echoed in my ears when I took my first bite. I barely had time to savor the sound before I was hit with the rich, savory flavor of the meat. Oh, the meat! So tender, juicy, and seasoned just right. It was like biting into a little piece of heaven, with every crispy crackle satisfying my soul. I dipped it into a tangy vinegar sauce, and whoa—just the right amount of kick to balance the rich, meaty goodness.
Then there was the pizza. Oh, that glorious pizza! Melted cheese, sweet pineapple, and savory ham—it was love at first sight. I crawled right to the center of the pie, breathing in the tangy, cheesy aroma. Before I knew it, a slice was gone, leaving me sticky with tomato sauce and a little cheese stuck to my top.
And the shrimp! Let’s not forget those succulent, saucy shrimp. The moment I rolled onto the plate, their rich aroma hit me, and I knew I was in trouble. The shrimp were bathed in a buttery, garlicky sauce that seeped into the rice scattered around them. I took a bite—or, well, as much of a bite as a rock can take—and let the flavor melt into me. The garlicky goodness coated me in a delicious sheen that I wore proudly like a trophy.
Now, just when I thought it couldn’t get any better, the roasted chicken made its grand entrance. The skin was perfectly roasted—glossy, golden, and irresistible. I cut into it, and the juiciness just oozed out. It was smoky, savory, with just a hint of herbiness that made every bite taste like it came from a five-star kitchen. I swear, the chicken practically melted in my mouth. No need for sauce—this bird was perfection on its own.
“Okay, this is it. This is the moment.” Then there was the bihon which was nicely cooked—thin noodles soaked in a rich, savory sauce that was just the right amount of sweet and salty. You could tell someone had poured their heart into making it. It wasn’t too greasy, and the noodles had that perfect slurpy texture that made each bite feel satisfying.
Every dish had its own story, its own flavor, and I made sure to experience each one fully. By the end of the meal, I was a sticky, saucy mess—rice on my sides, barbecue glaze on my face, and a faint smell of grilled pork lingering around me. But oh, was it worth it. Every bite was a little slice of heaven, and being surrounded by my family’s laughter made it all the sweeter.
I waddled back to my spot on the table, stuffed and satisfied, looking like a rock who’d been through a feast and lived to tell the tale. That day, I truly ate like a king.