First of all, if you're one of those whose basic understanding of acting is that it's about pretending, don't get me started. I'll get back to this.
So almost exactly a year ago, the world went on lockdown. People's movements were restricted, we were mandated to wear masks and in our case in the Philippines, face shields. In Baguio, one can only go to the market and supermarket on certain days and for us living in the outskirts, only once a week. Most of us were forced to stay home. After a couple of weeks of the Enhanced Community Quarantine, I got on my bike to ride around the small village we live in - I figured I could make good distance if I went around several times down and up the same roads. Bike rides always make me feel better. But after two rounds around the same route, seeing the same houses, hearing the same dog bark at me, I went back home. It just wasn't the same.
Each member of the household immediately found their respective routines - my days began with coffee with my wife at sunrise, which would extend for an extra hour or two for me if there are birds around. I'd take out my camera, put on the longest lens I have and start photographing birds. A son was in charge of brunch (we decided to have only two meals a day, which we still do to this day), so the rest of the morning would be spent doing whatever household chore needed to be done. Some mid-mornings were spent in my nothing box, as RL calls it - that's when I seem to stare into nothing, totally oblivious to what's happening around me. Contrary to its name, that nothing box is usually filled to the brim with thoughts, hopes and dreams, anxieties and fears and everything else in between.
Anyway, one day, a day we were allowed to go to market, we bought lots of flour as the girls wanted to play around with oven in the kitchen. I bought some extra meat as I was craving for smoked fare. And the rest is history.
Sort of.
The thing with cured and smoked meats, there's no instant gratification. The curing process takes several days, and in the case of etag, there's the added few days sun-drying it and if it's kiniing/kinuday, an extra several hours of smoking. So while waiting, I played around with the flour in the kitchen - while the girls made their sugar-overloaded cookies and cinnamon rolls, I learned how to make bread. I'm a very impatient man, most people who know me, especially those who have worked with me, know that. With bread, it takes only an hour or so of waiting for the dough to rise, then in another half an hour, you've got bread. I liked that, and despite and after several failures, finally stumbled upon the perfect recipe for a basic loaf that the family likes.
Many loaves later, I finally started smoking that first batch of kiniing. I liked it so much that the kids, especially the girls, rolled their eyes and expected the worst: expect him to make sure he got double, if not triple the amount of meat the next time he goes to market, which means we're gonna have smoked meat for days if not weeks. They were not wrong. And that next time, I chanced upon a good slab of pork belly, and after seeing RL put in a couple of packs of bacon in our cart, I thought I'd try to make my own bacon. I've tried it before, and I wasn't very happy with those first attempts but, with the world on lockdown, I have all the time in the world to finally get it.
Making etag may seem easy at first glance, but there are learning curves one has to navigate still. Curing the meat in salt long enough to draw most of the moisture out makes the meat less attractive to flies when sun-drying it. One could also place the meat inside a mesh container to keep the flies out, but I didn't have that and what's worse than watching a pot waiting for the water to boil? Watching a batch of etag sun-drying and manually shooing the flies away. Or maybe it isn't exactly worse, at least you're not passively waiting - you get to shoo flies away every couple of minutes or so.
Meanwhile, back in the kitchen, I was going through basic bread recipes online, trying each one I find interesting out. I was going for a basic loaf and scones. I've had breads and biscuits that didn't rise properly, were rock hard when they came out of the oven, under-baked, over-baked. I took note of the failures and searched the web for probable reasons for them. Then tried again, keeping in mind the lessons learned.
The initial batches of kiniing were really perfect for seasoning stews and soup dishes - they were that salty. As for the bacon, they were beginning to taste just right, but I didn't find them delicious yet. I was alternatingly curing them in brine and with dry rubs, using different ingredients for both every time but not entirely blindly - I took note of what's missing in this or that batch and made the necessary adjustments. A batch would be cured for three to five days, others for five to seven days, sundried for a couple, five, seven days or more.
And one day, a great batch of scones and loaves bread came out of the oven and bacon out of the smoker which made me say, yup, these are it. Now the challenge became repeating that same process and coming up with exactly the same results.
We haven't bought bread since the middle of last year, and the same goes with bacon, which this family just loves. And with most opportunities for artists like me still in hibernation, I thought of making at least the bacon available for sale to add to the very limited revenue stream these days. So the process just got a bit more professional, so to speak - curing salts, spices and herbs are more carefully measured, meats are inspected a bit more meticulously, curing and smoking duration more precisely timed, etc.
What's this got to do with acting? As with any other craft, it requires much time and effort to learn and develop the skill sets necessary for it. No, acting isn't pretending, it is being and doing. Just like the need to learn how yeast interacts with the right water temperature, or how long it takes for the flavor to penetrate the layers of a slab of meat, playing a role requires a deep understanding of a character's being, and internalizing that.
One has to understand that the knife should be held at an angle to efficiently removed the skin off of a slab or pork belly, or that circular fold and knead motion you have to do to prepare the dough. You read about these, watch others do it, learn from both others' mistakes and successes.
As an actor, you have these basic tools: your unique mental, emotional and physical being. They interact with and influence each other. One has to learn what each can do, its potentials and limitations, and how they can be manipulated to tell the story of the character. You read about these, watch others do it, learn from both others' mistakes and successes.
What's the smoked meat for? Flavoring stews and soup dishes or as a dish in itself?
What's the character's relevance in the story and its relationship with the other characters in the play? Why does this other character interact the way they do to it?
Which ingredient, feature or process best expresses what this bacon is about? The coarsely ground black pepper? The muscovado sugar? The smokiness? What should stand out and which serves as a backdrop?
What characteristic, feature or action best tells the story of this character? The way they dress? The look in their eyes? When they speak or when they stay silent? What should stand out and which serves as a backdrop?
Yes, it takes so much to be able to make bread or bacon, or play a character on stage or in a film.
And yes, I have and there's so much more to learn - about bacon and art.
And yes, there will always be people who will love that bacon or scone, and others who will not, those who will be blown away by a performance, and those who might not even notice you were there - but as an artist, or a baker or chef, what matters is that you respected the craft, gave it the dignity it deserves and did all you can to create something that's real and was not arrogant enough to present what you know to be nothing more than dabbling as art.
Or bacon.
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