Living across from a farm has its perks. For starters, you never need to wonder what season it is – just look at the field. If it’s full of leafy greens, it’s spring. If it smells of manure and ambition, it’s planting season. And if it’s suddenly filled with large, slow-moving bovines… well, the cows are back.
Yes, cows. Giant black and white creatures who look like they were designed by a distracted art student with a thing for splotches. This year, the farmer decided that the field directly across from our apartment was the prime grazing real estate. So now, instead of waking up to the usual gray sky and the quiet hum of suburban life, I roll up the blinds and lock eyes with a Holstein. Or three. Just standing there. Staring. Judging my choice of sleepwear.
They don’t do much, really. Mostly they chew. And stand. And then chew some more. Every now and then they switch things up and lie down, but don’t be fooled, it’s still all about the chewing. Honestly, their commitment to grass is inspiring. If I focused on any one goal as much as they do on mowing down the pasture, I’d be running a multinational empire by now.
Despite their size and the fact that they travel in slow-moving gangs, cows are surprisingly quiet. This was unexpected for someone like me, who grew up with my dad’s roosters, creatures that crowed from sunrise until you seriously questioned the existence of peace. You always knew where you stood with a rooster: one decibel away from a migraine. But cows? Silent as ninjas. Cow ninjas.
So, when one of them does moo, which is not often, it’s weirdly startling. It’s like getting a random voicemail from someone you assumed was a text-only kind of person. You jump a little, spill your coffee, and then look around like, “Was that… for me?”
I’ve grown fond of these ladies (yes, they’re all ladies, this is a dairy farm after all, not a bull ring). They’re steady, unbothered, and always impeccably dressed in monochrome. They don’t gossip, they don’t throw wild parties, and they maintain excellent social distancing, which is more than I can say for some of my human neighbors.
And while others might look out their windows and see traffic or tall buildings, I get a front-row seat to bovine zen. And who knows? Maybe the cows are watching me, too, puttering away in front of the stove, wondering why I spend so much time poking boiling pots and sizzling pans when there’s perfectly good grass right outside.
They’d be even more concerned if they knew what I was cooking today.
Yes, it feels mildly awkward to be frying up Beef Tapa while making eye contact with a living, breathing cow across the field. But as any Filipino will tell you, when the craving for tapa hits, you don’t argue – you marinate. You fry. You serve it up with garlic rice and a fried egg and pretend the cows aren’t silently judging you through the window.
So, in honor of my curious, mostly-silent neighbors (and perhaps in defiance of their judging stares), here’s my go-to recipe for Beef Tapa, a Filipino breakfast (or actually, an anytime meal) classic that’s equal parts savory, sweet, and unapologetically meaty.
Beef Tapa
500 grams of beef, sliced thinly and pounded
2 tablespoons dark soy sauce
2 tablespoons brown sugar
1/3 cup pounded garlic
1 teaspoon Knorr or Maggi liquid seasoning
½ teaspoon red pepper flakes (or more if you want it spicier)
1 tablespoon vinegar
1 teaspoon onion powder
½ teaspoon fine sea salt
1 teaspoon cornstarch or potato starch, optional but highly recommended (to give it a silkier look)
Lots of freshly ground black pepper
Directions
1. In a bowl, mix together the beef strips, pounded garlic and all other marinade ingredients.
2. Mix and massage well with your hands. Really get in there.
3. Ideally marinate for an hour in the fridge before frying or freezing.
Notes
I like to freeze the extra beef tapa for future meals! This makes it a great make-ahead meal.*
