Juday serves her kids life lessons in the kitchen
In Judy Ann Santos’ household, where self-sufficiency is a way of life, cooking is taught “not as a talent, but as a survival skill.” The day will come, she tells her three kids, that they will be on their own. Being able to feed themselves in the most practical way possible is non-negotiable.
“I remind them that they won’t have help forever, so they need to learn to cook, even if it’s just for themselves. They can’t just rely on ordering takeout,” she says.
Admittedly, though, getting children into the kitchen—and away from their gadgets or entertainment—is easier said than done. But here’s how she does it with Yohan, Lucho, and Luna: She takes note of their favorite foods. And the moment she hears them craving something simple—say, cheesy fries or pancakes—she uses it as an opportunity to cook with them.
“I tell them, ‘Okay, let’s go to the kitchen!’” says Santos, who also sees such spontaneous lessons as precious bonding time. “It has to start with food they love, so the interest is already there. Once they see they have made something with their own hands, instead of just tapping on delivery apps, their curiosity will grow.”
Passing on the joy
So far, so good. Yohan, 21, tries to replicate some of her favorite Korean dishes. Lucho, 15, scours cookbooks for new recipes. Luna, 9, helps bake cookies and then sells them in the park or gives them to her friends at football practice.
While she’s always there to guide them, there are lessons, she says, that come only from figuring things out on their own. She allows them to experiment and season the food by feel or to taste. She just has one rule: If the food doesn’t taste good, too bad—they still have to eat it. No food goes to waste.
“Para matuto sila… so they can get better at tweaking the flavors next time,” points out Santos, when Lifestyle Inquirer caught up with her at her recent launch as Kyowa’s new endorser. “And they have to clean up the kitchen after!”
The more they cook and find their way around the kitchen, the more confident they grow—so much so that they start volunteering to tackle more complicated dishes. “One time, I asked the three of them to make me dinner. Well… ako pa rin ang ending,” she says, laughing.
But while it all begins with self-sufficiency, Santos hopes that her children grow to love cooking for the sheer pleasure of it and not just out of necessity. “You appreciate your food more if you know how it’s prepared,” she says. In time, she hopes they can share their cooking with others and pass on the joy it brings them.
“I believe that you don’t need to give away lavish gifts; just cook for people, with all your heart, and they will be happy,” Santos says. “Cook something you love and you will feel happy and proud, because you created something yourself.”
A passion for teaching
And wouldn’t it be nice, she muses, if she could take this passion for teaching beyond her home? After setting up her own restaurant, Angrydobo, which has been operating since 2019, she envisions herself starting her own culinary school. There, she will take in reluctant cooks—students, new moms, single people, or anyone afraid of just picking up a knife or turning on a stove.
“I want to create a community and help people learn important skills or even take risks in the kitchen,” she says. “So I really want to have my own little school someday. ‘Di naman masamang mangarap.”
After all, being a chef was once just a dream, too.
In 2006, in preparation for her role as a chef in the drama series “Ysabella,” Santos enrolled at the Center for Asian Culinary Studies, completing in just six months a course that typically takes two years. She went to class seven days a week, which meant sacrificing some acting projects.
“Ginapang ko talaga ang pag-aartista at ang pagiging chef,” says Santos, who credits her husband, Ryan Agoncillo, and her family for easing her worries and self-doubt. “I figured that I would have the rest of my life to act. But the courage and energy to do something new I won’t always have.”
Santos’ initial plan to use her studies for a home business unexpectedly led to a full-fledged venture into the hospitality industry via Angrydobo. Last January, she finished a professional culinary arts program at the same school.
Knowing her worth
But even then, Santos admits, she still can’t bring herself to call herself a “chef.” It makes her shy—almost as shy as when people call her by her many showbiz monikers, like “Young Superstar” or “Queen of Philippine Soap Opera.” That’s why the first time another, more senior chef called her “chef,” she was left speechless. The same goes for the praise her black sesame polvoron halu-halo received from the world-renowned chef Gordon Ramsay, with whom she shared the stage at an event, also last January.
“Being acknowledged like that feels like being officially welcomed into their world,” the 47-year-old actress-chef says. “I tend to downplay my showbiz titles; being called queen of any sort makes me feel a bit uneasy. Being called a ‘chef,’ though, is a different kind of kilig.”
As far as acting is concerned, there’s hardly anything left for her to prove; she has the acting awards and the box-office records to show for it. The opposite is true as a chef. “Malayong-malayo pa ang tatahakin ko,” she says. “But I’m really excited to study more, expand my skill set, and hone my talents.”
But slowly and steadily, Santos is starting to feel the shift in her career. For instance, food-related inquiries now outnumber acting offers. There are naysayers; that can’t be helped, and she’s no stranger to that.
At the very least, she knows her worth. “I didn’t take shortcuts and I worked hard,” she says. “I’m proud of my journey, kasi wala akong tinapakan.”
