I grew up in a house where tuyô was a breakfast staple.
That salty bastard of a fish, along with a relish of tomatoes and onions, a vinegar-calamansi dipping sauce and god-knows-how-many-platefuls of freshly steamed white rice.
Back in the days, tuyô was an ubiquitous symbol of the great unwashed– after all, it was being sold at 50 cents each. While a breakfast of tuyô isn’t so bad, eating it every single day would still be considered a gastronomical torture.
Today, thanks to a better standard of living, we are now able to afford a more diversified diet. Breakfast items now include pancakes, sausages, toasted bread and jam, breakfast cereals and what have you. Then every once in a while, in the middle of the morning feast, among the smorgasboard of cured meats and viennoiserie, comes the doldrums of the tastebuds– a certain type of wanting, a weird kind of craving ensues– the French call it nostalgie de la boue, or “a yearning for the mud.”
All of a sudden, I want tuyô again for breakfast.
Such is the case for me taking monochromatic photos– a return to the basic, to the crude, to the familiar and the comfortable.
Fujifilm Acros 100 B&W