REMEMBERING GRANDMOTHERS & PAYING HOMAGE =)

Sometime last week, Hubby Sweet posted "What did your grandmother cook for you?" as his Facebook shout-out. It was a quote from Chef Alice Waters who may have been mentioned in the article he was reading about organic food.

In the comments bar, I posted, "Champorado, tocino, fried chicken and egg...every single day. And never, NEVER, akong nagsawa. =)"

His shout-out brought me back to simpler times, back to when my siblings, my cousins and I were between 5 and 7 years old. Back to the time when our parents were still working--when they used to drop us off at Daddy Iston and Noni's for the day. Noni was our maternal grandmother (my favorite grandmother actually, as I was her favorite grandchild. Walang kokontra. ;p.).

There was no cable TV back then. We had five channels: GMA7, BBC2, RPN9, IBC13, NBN4. Cartoons were only aired every Saturday morning. Sesame Street was aired once in the morning and replayed in the afternoon. In the time in between airings (yes, we also watched the replays, haha), we kids had to find something else to entertain ourselves with. Usually, we'd be running around, playing "football" with a cheap plastic ball in the front yard. Sometimes, we'd be playing house. Then, there'd be those times when the weather was just too sticky-hot--when Daddy Iston would either bring out the garden hose to spray us kids with, or when Noni thought it better to just let us "swim". HAHAHA. They had no pool; my grandparents weren't rich. When they asked us if we wanted to go swimming, it actually meant that several basisn (although the term "batya" seems more apt, haha) will soon be brought out (one for each apo). Me, I was special. While everyone else got to sit around in their "batya of choice" (haha), I got to sit in a mini-drum that had me submerged in water up to my neck, never mind that the bottom was probably thick with "lumot". I remember us regularly wasting half a day away just sitting there in our underwear. =)

The other half of that memory is precious. See, back in those days, Noni cooked food not in the proper kitchen inside. She did it in the makeshift kitchen outside. The gas range inside the house was used only for reheating food (pretty much how we use the microwave these days). The real cooking was done outside on a makeshift stove made out of stone, fueled by logs (pugon) and dried twigs.

The laundry area were we sat around until we turned into human prunes was next to Noni's makeshift kitchen. Every day we'd watch her carry plates of ingredients out through the back screen door. She would set them on the table, before turning around to try and get a fire going. She'd pick the logs carefully. They would have to be dry enough for them to catch fire. Then she'd arrange them on the "stove", careful to leave space for air in between each piece of wood. Then she'd crumple several pieces of old newspaper and insert them through the pieces of wood. Then she'd light a match and ceremoniously hold it long enough on each of the pieces of newspaper, waiting for each to catch fire and ignite the logs. Pretty soon, she'd get a good fire going. I remember the smoke. Goodness, the smoke! It would've been an environmentalist's nightmare, but those were simpler times when burning wood ovens were not necessarily a bad thing. If any, they made for better tasting food.

And so we'd sit around soaking while Noni cooked several dishes in quick succession, taking advantage of the going fire. When Hubby Sweet posted his shout-out, I said "Champorado, Fried Chicken, Fried Egg, Tocino" because I was pretty sure those were our daily staples. Daily staples that we never seemed to get tired of.

Then cousin Zaldy posted, "My lola's EMBOTIDO...YUMMY!!!" and I found myself nodding, "Ah, yes! Noni's embotido! Sweet, salty, smoky, simple yet rich. Sausage, carrots, green peas...." I found myself reminiscing and mentally agreeing.

Then, apparently not quite done, cousin Zaldy followed it up with another comment, "And my lola's HOME MADE HAMONADO!!! =)", and I found myself smiling and thinking, "Ah, yes! Noni's homemade hamonado." I remember the leg of some pig sitting in a ceramic basin as Noni cured it with a mixture that I never got to ask her about. Then she'd "bake" it in a big wok (the elders called it talyasi) in the makeshift stove outside. My favorite part was when it was already cooked, properly browned in some parts, a thick layer of fat glistening on the edge. Then, she would sprinkle brown sugar all over it, covering the fat as she waited for the steel spatula she set on the burning fire to heat up until it glowed red-hot. Ceremoniously, she would pick up the steel spatula, telling us kids who were watching her eagerly, to stay a good distance away. In a graceful move, she would sear the glowing steel spatula onto the brown sugar and just the mere memory of the sizzling sound and of the sweet smell that followed as the brown sugar caramelized into the fat still makes my mouth water to this day. "Ah, yes," I thought, smiling as I reminisced, "Noni's homemade hamonado."

Then Sister Pusjing joined the trail and posted, "Si-cream with langka! :-) Macaroni Soup! And, Harming, anong tawag dun sa pang-special occasion food na talya-talyasi lutuin ni Noni? May hotdog, chickpeas....", and I remember thinking, "Si-cream with Langka! And Macaroni Soup! How could I forget?!". Si-Cream is Noni's play on the word Ice Cream. Back in those days, Magnolia was only served if someone was celebrating his birthday. During ordinary days, us kids would have to content ourselves with either the 5- centavo ice candy that is being sold by our next-door neighbor or with ice shavings that Noni gets by rubbing a bowl against the side of the freezer (hahaha!). This was before the advent of no-defrost refrigerators. Then she'd take the bowl of ice, heap strips of fresh langka over it, before dousing it with a good portion of Alaska Evaporated Milk and a teaspoon of white sugar for good measure. One can call it Langka Con Hielo, I suppose. We called it Si-cream. Haha. It was simple, but heavenly. ^_^

Oh, and yes. Noni's Macaroni Soup. Shell-shaped pasta swimming in milky chicken soup. Nothing complicated, and yet it was everything that Chicken Macaroni Soup ought to be.

Sister Pusjing's post was followed by a few more comments and "likes" about how Noni was the best cook ever, about how they missed her, about how they missed her cooking.

---------------------------------------------------

Hubby Sweet and I ate in a restaurant once. I had read about it in some article prior, and found the concept endearing.

The restaurant was really more of a levelled-up carinderia. It was owned by Katrina Ponce-Enrile. Her reason for putting up Petra & Pilar was simple, she said. She wanted to share the dishes her lolas used to prepare for the family. Petra is her paternal grandmother; Pilar is her maternal grandmother.

Armed with nothing but stock knowledge that Petra & Pilar was on the ground floor of the Jaka Center which was along Pasong Tamo (between Makati Cinema Square and Buendia), Hubby Sweet and I set off to find it. Finding Jaka Center was easy enough. Realizing that Petra & Pilar was on the side of the building (along a one way street) was the difficult part. Thankfully, the building guards were helpful. Waiting for a break in the steady stream of cars passing through, they slowly guided us (blinking hazard lights and all) to the restaurant's parking lot. I liked the restaurant's facade. Simple but classy.

Maybe Petra & Pilar is for the lunch crowd. When we got there for dinner, there was only one other couple eating inside. Just as well. At the end of the day, sometimes, one could really do with a little peace and quiet.

The "turo-turo" was on the far end of the restaurant, but before we could get there, we were sidetracked by the Delimondo cove right by the door. Not yet too hungry, I told Hubby Sweet to go and check the food if he already is, but I wanted to check out the deli goods first. I've heard much about them--mostly from friends who frequent the Salcedo Saturday Market--but I have not, until then, had the opportunity to try them out.

The goods with their plain white labels and simple text branding looked, for lack of a better term, almost "artisan". Being displayed against a simple backlit wall also added to the drama.

I found the Ranch-Style Corned Beef that my friend was raving about. I wondered how much different it would be compared to Palm (which is my favorite brand) or even Purefoods for that matter. I decided to take three cans just to find out.

"Ma'am , malapit na kaming maging available sa Robinson's kung magustuhan niyo siya," the deli attendant offered, "Yung iba po kasi, di naman nakakapunta palagi sa Salcedo."

I smiled and thanked him for the info. I moved beyond the corned beef to the other goods on display and instantly found myself thinking this place would have been heaven for me had it still been The Wander Years. Bottles of "instant food" that at least had the semblance of being "home-prepared". Haha. =)

There was Calamares en su Tinta, and I imagined it would be perfect with pasta. Pasta al Nero. ^_^ I was tempted to take one, but decided to reserve the purchase for another trip, thinking about how much food we still had leftover in the ref at home.

There was also Bottled Callos which pretty much sealed the deal for me that, one way or another, I would have to go back. =)

I also found Bacalao a la Vizcaina. I am not a great fan of fish, but I did remember Father wishing out loud quite recently about how he missed the Bacalao in I-forgot-what-restaurant and decided to buy one as well just to take home. (Note: Father, when he tasted it, found that it was not salty enough. Bro-in-law G-Genius, however, thought it was really good Bacalao. =))


Further down, I found bottles of Chili Oil. I had wanted to get a bottle for House Better, but decided to postpone it again for another trip. Just the weekend before, I had gone home with a bottle of Claude 9 XO sauce and a bag of chili flakes. I figured, well, the Delimondo Chili Oil can wait. =)

"Ma'am, pag Christmas po, we actually make Christmas baskets. Pwede po kayong pumili, tapos we can wrap it for you," the deli attendant said as I surveyed the sausages and the cold cuts in the chiller.

"Really?" I told him, "Babalik ako. Gandahan niyo ha." And, at that point, I really meant it.

"OO, Ma'am. Maganda," he continued, as he handed me a small bag with my purchases. There was much more to look through, but I figured, it was already time to join the Hubby at the food line.

I went up to the turo-turo to find Hubby Sweet looking at a menu. The turo-turo was already closed, but was advised by the attendant that we can order ala carte.

Hubby Sweet decided to go for the Adobo sa Luyang Dilaw. Apparently, it is a dish fairly common in the Southern Luzon provinces, but not so in Manila. In a place that prides itself on "my lola's cooking", I suppose it made sense for him to choose something that would bring him back to his childhood roots. I initially found it weird (being used to the dark adobo of Manila), but decided I actually liked it after trying. There was something interesting about the way the "cool" ginger note, blended with the sourness of the vinegar. I suppose there was no soy sauce used for this version. Possibly only salt.

I couldn't quite figure out what I wanted. I found the description of the Bicol Express interesting (although how it was actually described escapes me now), so I ordered it--except that when it arrived, I was sadly disappointed. I prefer my Bicol Express more coco creamy than milky, and this version was milky. It also was not spicy enough. This one, I can skip it next time. =S

Good thing that with my indecision (or gluttony, depending on how you look at it, haha), I decided to also order the other dish I was eyeing. Batchoy Tagalog. I grew up with the dish. Mother used to make a great version even though she does not eat it herself (don't ask me how she managed). With recent diet restrictions for the "adults" in the family, however, she has not cooked it in quite a while. I secretly celebrated the fact that it was available in Petra & Pilar. Hot, gingery soup. A bowl of innards. It was a perfect foil to the soft drizzle outside, and at first sip, it was love. ^_^ Now, this, I would go back for. =)

I looked over to Hubby Sweet, and asked him what he thought of the place.

He shrugged and smiled, "Uh, Tweet, para lang siyang lutong bahay."

Haha! OO nga naman. Then again, sometimes, that is not necessarily a bad thing. =)

----------------------------------------------------

I used to think Noni was the greatest grandmother cook in the world, but Hubby Sweet seems to think it was Yayay, even as Katrina Ponce-Enrile thought it was Petra & Pilar. I'm pretty sure Patita and Ray*-B think Lola (as in my mom) is the greatest. I suppose the feeling is universal. (Hence, the catchphrase, "Wala ka sa lola ko!" Haha. =D)

That said, I am sadly inept in the kitchen and so there is no way I could pass down the recipes that Noni has passed on to Mother. Writing this post, however, made me realize, one way or another, I would have to find a way to document them so that, long after we're gone, they can continue to be shared. After all, it is in sharing that we remember. And it is in remembering that we keep the stories of old alive.

Darn it! Now I miss Noni. BIG. TIME. *Sigh. =S*

COFFEE CUPS & GARDENS =)

It was a particularly crisp February morning. We were on our way to Tagaytay to celebrate Panet's birthday (our tita who hosts Sunday lunch for us every single time at Eduardo's).

Traditionally, the cousins come together and plan her birthday surprise (which is never really a surprise, I suppose, because Panet has come to "expect" it). We usually hold a special dinner in one of the Metro restaurants, and was even crazy enough to plan a lunch birthday party at McDo Fort once just to throw Panet off our usual birthday surprise track. This year (and this is a much delayed post--2 years delayed, I think, haha), Lolo Art kindly offered to arrange it with the Tagaytay Royale clubhouse and simply have the cousins foot the bill. Go. =)

Now, I've always liked roadtrips, but this one, in my mind was special. I don't go on roadtrips very often with my parents, and really wish now that I could. During the Wander Years, I was too independent-minded, and I suppose with much to prove, I would much rather go through things alone or with my, uh, other friends who also felt the need to prove that they were finally adults. Not so these days. More settled and with nothing more to prove on both sides, my relationship with Father and Mother has evolved to include easy friendship.

It was a particularly crisp February morning, and as soon as we got through the Rotonda, we decided to shut off the car aircon and roll down the windows instead. It was early enough; no car fumes yet on the usually busy thoroughfare. Just as well. We don't get "fresh air" that often in Manila, and Mother really prefers fresh air to the aircon. Father was wearing a crazy grin. As usual, I suppose he is just happy to be on a car going somewhere. I highly suspect I inherited my highly-developed wanderlust from him. Haha. =)

It was just Hubby Sweet, Mother, Father and myself in the car this time. Sister Pusjing and family--who usually rides with us on roadtrips--has decided to celebrate her own birthday in advance by spending the night in Tagaytay. We will just be meeting them there.

When you go on a roadtrip with Mother though, you have to be prepared to leave early. She hates traffic, and really, in everything, she'd rather be an hour early than 10 minutes late. (I realize now that I inherited my highly-developed need for punctuality from her! Haha. =)) Which is why, before 11:00 am, we were already in Tagaytay, much too early for Panet's birthday feast. No biggie.

"I suppose we can just have coffee somewhere," I suggested.

"Bag of Beans?" Hubby Sweet asked. It was almost our default coffee place in Tagaytay.

"Yup," I nodded.

Father's grin grew wider. =)

I discovered Bag of Beans years ago. BFF Marts and her then-BF-now-Hubby-BJ introduced me to it. We were a group of about 6 or 8, and had just come from a volunteer Habitat-for-Humanity housebuilding activity. We were all young and single, and in no real hurry to get home. I remember going down a flight of stairs into a garden, illuminated by candles--an attempt to help dispel the darkness that will soon follow dusk. I fell in love with the garden then; it was enchanting. The coffee was good. Their own home-baked bread even better. The image of BFF Marts fighting with the resident monkey who took revenge by throwing nuts (I think) at then-BF-now-Hubby-BJ still makes me laugh to this day.

A few years ago, on another roadtrip, I introduced then-BF-now-Hubby Sweet to it. That was my best visit ever to Bag of Beans. It was early morning. The garden, even without the twinkling candles, was just as enchanting. I was just set to have coffee, bread and butter then, but when we walked in, we found a buffet table laid out with beef tapa, tocino, fried fish, rolls of every-kind, coffee, tsokolate-eh, etc., etc.! P250 per person, the waiter said. Sold! Haha. (Click here and here to read my past blogs on it. =))

The buffet has since been discontinued. Just as well. We were not here for the buffet this time anyway. I just thought Bag of Beans would be the perfect place to take my parents to. Father loves coffee. Mother loves gardens. Bag of Beans is all about having coffee in a beautiful garden. =)

We walked down the stairs, under a canopy of floral ivy. Mother smiled. She likes gardens, and usually picks a thing or two to apply to her own in House Better.

The cabana were Hubby Sweet and I usually sit was already occupied. We looked around and decided to stay under one of the "umbrella-covered" tables in the middle of the garden.

"Pa'no ginagawa yung leaf imprints?" Mother asked as we sat down, clearly referring to the leaf marks embedded on the walkway.

"I'm not sure, but I saw it on TV once," I replied, "I think they press real leaves on concrete that is relatively stiff, but not yet fully settled. Then once the concrete hardens, they just take out the leaf and the imprint stays on the concrete. Then they paint."

"Oh," she said, smiling, an idea clearly forming in her head.

"Eh yung mga nakasabit na lamps, sa'n kaya nila nabibili?" she asked.

"I think they sell it in the country store next to the bake shop. We can check it out later," I replied.

"Sige," she said. (NOTE: We did, but it was still sadly closed when we got out.)

"They actually sell the plants," I volunteered, thinking that she might want to bring some back home to Manila.

"Nah," she said, shaking their head. "These kinds of plants thrive here dahil malamig. Sa Manila, malalanta lang sila. Or kailangan silang i-water several times a day. Eh, sa atin pa..." she trailed off, referring to the fact that in Paranaque, water from the regular pipes is scarce, and people have actually made a good living out of delivering water to homes.

The waiter approached us, menu in hand.

"I'm not hungry," Father said.

"Ako din," Mother seconded.

"We can just get coffee or hot choco," I suggested, "and bread. You have to try their bread!"

"Kuya, dalawang kapeng barako," I ordered, "Chaka bread basket with butter and marmalade."

"Hot choco sa'kin," Hubby Sweet piped up.

"Orange juice lang ako," Mother said.

The waiter nodded and smiled, then turned around back to the kitchen. He was back in no time with our mugs, and quietly set the bread basket in the middle. It was freshly-baked, crusty but soft. It still felt warm through the cloth bread basket liner.

We all dug in. The butter melted as it was spread on the warm bread. The marmalade spread just as easily on top of it.

Father took out the newspaper he had brought along for the trip. Mother continued to survey the garden from where she sat. It was a scene right out of House Better, actually, except that we were in another enchanting garden, about an hour away.

Regular life is often complicated and chaotic. Not so that day.

It was a crisp, easy Sunday morning with family.

Hot drinks on hand.

Warm bread on the side.

In its utter simplicity, I found perfection.

I would be so lucky just to have more days like these.

*Sigh. =)*

BEACHED WITH FATHER AND MOTHER / BORACAY, SEPTEMBER 2009 =)

This post is one year delayed. I know because Cousin Dooders and Special Girl MJ celebrated their first wedding anniversary yesterday (which reminds me, today, Banzo has officially been with us one year). Yey for both occasions!

Still, I know this post is a year delayed because it was soon after their wedding that I chaperoned my parents, Tita Doy and Cousin Rhae (the latter being Cousin Dooder’s mom and sis who can home for the wedding).

Now, cousin Rhae hasn’t been on Philippine soil since they migrated to the U.S. in the mid-80’s when she was three. Over the years, as Dooders flew to Manila for different weddings, she has had to live with his photos in Boracay, Palawan, etc., etc. She therefore came home with a mission. To see as much of the Philippine beaches as possible.

Thing is, September is NOT really the best time to go to the beach. It is, after all, typhoon season—which also means that all the parties and events that happen regularly on the Boracay shores are practically non-existent. She will not be deterred. Haha.

That said, we can only do so much for this visit and so the choices were narrowed down to Boracay (required) and Puerto Princesa (which, if statistics continue to hold, has never been hit by a major typhoon in decades).

The last time I went to the beach with Mother and Father was way back in 2001, soon after the wedding of Sister Pusjing and G-Genius. Both Ate Babs and Dooders had come home to Manila (one from Canada, the other from LA) so an out-of-town family trip seemed to be in order. We stayed at Pink Patio then--which was perfect for me—never mind, that it wasn’t right on the beach. At that time, I was passionate about wall-climbing and Pink Patio not only had its own pool (a rarity for a Boracay hotel at that time), it also had the only “wall” on the island. Beyond the hotel amenities, however, what I do remember most from that trip was the joy of walking barefoot on the sand, wind on our faces and sitting on the shore, sipping fruit shakes from Jonah’s when it was nothing but a small, makeshift stall on the far end of the shore. As adults, we used to go a lot on out-of-town trips with friends. I suppose when you're in your early/mid-20’s, it never really occurs to you that going on an out-of-town trip with your parents could also be just as fun. That was the first time such a realization hit me.

“This is the life,” I remember Father murmuring, a Cheshire cat grin planted on his face as he sat on a lounge chair facing the ocean. It was their first time on the shores of Boracay.

Fast-forward to almost a decade later. Times have changed. The wall has since been transferred to D’Mall (which has since replaced the talipapa as the “eating and shopping destination of choice”). Jonah’s is no longer a makeshift stall, but a full-fledged restaurant. Hotels along the beach have since been upgraded from nipa huts to concrete structures—each with their own pool / bar / restaurant.

We arrived in Boracay mid-afternoon, having had to take the road trip/sea trip route from Kalibo after flights to the more convenient Caticlan airport were temporarily prohibited. Earlier in the month, two planes overshot the runway and authorities were still investigating whether the planes are too big for the runway or whether the runway is too short for the planes. Haaaaaaaayyyyyy...So it cost us half-a-day. Whatever. After a protracted route, we were finally on the island.

For this trip, I thought maybe it would be good if we can stay in a reasonably-priced beachfront hotel. At the PALakbayan site, they gave several options, and I stupidly chose La Carmela. I had often heard of it on TV being thanked by all those artistas, haha. I figured, Boy Abunda may be showbiz, but he does have expensive taste, so it couldn’t be that bad. (*Cringe, I know. =D*)

What I did not realize, of course, was that there was that La Carmela had an “executive wing” where they all probably stayed, while the rooms at the PALakbayan site referred to the rooms on the regular wing. As soon as we entered the hotel lobby, I realized, “This is not a hotel. It's a dorm!” Gr. Haha. Think youth hostel as opposed to a real hotel. It was good enough, I suppose, if you were on an out-of-town trip with your barkada, but I always adhered to the idea that for an out-of-town trip with the family, a higher level should be called for. Still, it has been pre-booked and pre-paid so we had no choice but to live with it. Ngyar. (Sorry, guys! Next time, we're staying at the Regency. =D)

We left the sunshine in Manila and arrived on the island to texts from Sister Pusjing and Tito Bie checking if we were OK and asking us to be careful. Apparently, it was announced on TV that there was a tropical depression headed our way. Yay! Haha. Oh, well. Worst case, I figured, I’d get to experience my first typhoon on the beach. Naku! =S

So the winds were strong (clear indication was that bamboo windbreakers have been set up along the shoreline, and all the kiteboarders have transferred to White Beach from the kiteboarding site on the other side of the island).

So the waves were huge (big enough to cause an accident at the far end of the beach with one fatality).

So it rained incessantly.

So what the heck.

We swam anyway.

We lounged by the shore.

We walked to both the talipapa and D'Mall in heavy downpour, keeping our purchases in water-proof plastic sando bags (very effective kahit di sosyal, haha).

We ate.

We talked.

We enjoyed Boracay anyway--despite the rains and the gloomy skies.

Still, more than the activities, what I would remember most from this trip would be the smiles and the peace that came with temporarily being away from the hustle and bustle of Metro Manila (or of L.A., in the case of Tita Doy and Rhae). Being on opposite ends of the globe is not easy; the trip also gave us the opportunity to catch up on each other's lives.

“This is the life,” Father once said--on these same shores, almost a decade ago.

Except for the La Carmela booboo, I suppose, it, indeed, is. =)

**********************************************
Dos Palmas, next! =)

CELEBRATING MOTHER / MAY 25 OF EVERY YEAR =)

Every year, celebrating my parents’ (separate) birthdays has always been special. Except for one year when Father’s party was cancelled in deference to Lola Thelms (who was then at the hospital), end-May and mid-December have always been earmarked for clan celebrations in House Better.

This year wasn’t any different, save for the fact that for the first time in years, we didn’t have a camera on hand (oh, yes, I do want to kick myself for not having one ready). That said, I suppose I would have to write this blog the way I used to write blogs before I discovered I could actually append photos to them—I would just have to attempt to recreate everything from memory with as much detail as possible. =)

For as long as I could remember, I looked forward to Mother’s birthday celebrations. Typically held on the last week of May, it was the literally the culmination of summer for me. I anticipated it not just because birthday parties are always happy occasions, but because I always looked forward to the other tradition that everyone else looked forward to every time the end of May rolled along.

When we first moved to House Better, Mother did away with the usual ornamental plants, flowers and Bermuda grass. Having been born with a dominant practical gene from Noni’s side, she, instead, had carabao grass and all sorts of fruit-bearing trees planted in the garden. Never mind that they didn’t particularly go well with the Spanish villa theme of House Better. Roses, no matter how beautiful, wilt. With fruit-bearing trees, well, at least you get to eat the fruit.

And so it goes that we had a dwarf mango tree in one corner, a santol tree somewhere in the middle, a langka tree on one side of the backyard and a guava tree (the traditional ones that yield small fruits for sinigang) right outside Bro I-gue’s bedroom window. Somewhere in the garden, we also had rows of calamansi and siling labuyo. At a certain point, we even had rows of bananas and papaya trees. Oh, yes, I lived in a real-life Farmville when I was a kid (which probably explains my current fascination with the darn game, haha).

Anyway! I digress. =)

Mother’s birthday celebrations always coincided with the full-blooming of those trees—never mind that their flowers start sprouting at different points in time. The anticipation inside me bubbles up and grows as the flowers of the mango and santol trees slowly give way to small green fruits until they finally grow into a multitude of big, yellow orbs that dot the green foliage. Somewhere in the garden, the banana hearts slowly peel, layer by layer, to reveal the small fingers within that eventually grow into either long, yellow latundan (or were they lakatan?) or into stubby, fat and brown saba. By then, the papayas would also have ripened, and the langka fruits would have been heavy and fragrant, ready to fall off the tree. The guavas, if I remember correctly, seem to be available year-round so they’re really no biggie to us kids, except for that one year when Father—with his typical naughtiness—brought home several giant guapples from one of his trips (guapples weren’t as widely available back then), and tied them discreetly with straws to the branches of the guava tree. I remember how loudly I laughed when Tita Thelms rushed excitedly up the guava tree only to guffaw herself silly while perched up on the ladder when she discovered that the guavas were “fake”. =D

Every year, we’d wake up to hear the dirty kitchen abuzz with activity as Mother cooked one of her signature dishes (one year, it could be roast beef with mushroom gravy, another year, it could be roast chicken, another year, it could be mechado, etc., etc.) to match the staple soup, steamed crabs/shrimps (high impact, low stress, she says, haha), inihaw na liempo or BBQ, manggang hilaw with bagoong, etc., etc. In the far, hidden end of the backyard where the dirty kitchen was built, the maids would also be busy firing up the charcoal grill, peeling the mangoes, chopping onions and tomatoes, even as they remain on their toes, ready for Mother’s further directions.

Us kids (along with Father) knew better than to meddle in the goings-on in the kitchen at that time. It was literally a no-fly zone: no kids AND Father allowed. Haha. Bawal kami makigulo at panggulo lang daw talaga kami. =) Instead, we would eat breakfast leisurely until the party tables and chairs were delivered. That was our task: to set-up the tables and chairs (which have since evolved from the wooden folding chairs and tables of yesteryears to the plastic monoblocs of today) under the trees, careful to choose the right spots. Our objective was to provide protection from the noontime heat while minimizing the possibility of having the guests bonked on the head by a wayward falling fruit.

Every single year, for reasons I could no longer remember, us kids and Father would always have a discussion as to where the tables should go.

“Eh, last year, that’s what we did, eh di ba….”

“Eh, mainit diyan mamaya….”

“Eh…….”

Hahaha! Hay! ;D

I suppose because of the series of third quarter storms, a good number of branches inevitably get cut off by the raging winds, so much so that by the time next summer came along, the branches would have grown back in different directions, effectively rearranging the patches of shade under which we can set up the tables and chairs. And so, year after year, we would set up tables…..then rearrange them……then rearrange them again. Success came only in the form of plaid rental tablecloths finally being laid out on the tables; it was the clear signal that an agreement has already been reached to everyone’s satisfaction. (Buti na lang, hindi kami ang assigned sa kitchen! Haha. ;p) Setting up the citronella candles on each table was the final touch.

By around 11:30 am, uncles, aunts and cousins would slowly be trickling in, by family, by batch. By then, the food would have been laid out on the buffet table. The electric fans would have been set up in strategic locations in the garden. Mother, Father and us kids would have been squeaky clean, fresh from the shower. There would have been no trace whatsoever of the stress and chaos that was House Better earlier that morning. It was time for celebration. =D

Over lunch and tons of food, chatter would be incessant, laughter boisterous. Never mind that, back then, we actually used see each other practically every week at Eduardo’s. There would always be something new to talk and laugh about. During birthday celebrations, however, the decibels always seem to go up several notches higher. Haha.

And so it goes that we would while the day away, practically glued to our seats, getting up only to either get more food or something to drink. Lunch would slowly give way to after-meal coffee which would then give way to afternoon merienda until it was finally time for Mother to blow out the candles on her birthday cake.

My siblings, my cousins and I looked forward to the ceremony because after the candle has been blown and the pictures were taken, we were—finally!—allowed to take and eat as much of the sugar flowers on the cake as we want.

The blowing of the candles had an entirely different significance for the adults, however. It signaled open-season on the fruit-bearing trees. Some would end up on stepladders. Others would reach for the makeshift “sungkit” that Lolo Danding once made out of bamboo and wire, as the others stood by holding out their shirts/skirts, ready to catch the fruits as they fall. Still, others (usually Tito Art) would literally climb up the trees to either shake the branches or pick the fruits by hand and throw them down to the people waiting below. Celebrating Mother’s birthday was literally harvest time in House Better, and the freshly-picked fruits went into sando bags along with packed food from whatever was leftover from lunch. Lootbag! Mother-style. Hahaha. =)

This year, we celebrated Mother’s birthday—as usual—with a lunch party at House Better. Same rituals on food preps and table set-ups—except that all the trees (save for the Santol) have been uprooted, at one point of another, by the different super-typhoons that have ravaged Metro Manila in the intermittent years since we were 10 years old. That said, even the Santol is no longer the same. The years, I suppose, have finally caught up with it. It still bears fruit, but the fruits are decidedly fewer and much smaller (closer in size now to the local santol fruits compared to the Bangkok santol-sized fruits it used to yield). The fruit trees have also since been replaced by bromeliads, euphorbias and other ornamental / flower-bearing plants. Even the banana that sits in one corner of the garden is now of the ornamental variety. With the kids all grown-up, I suppose, Mother has learned to tame her practical side and allowed herself to finally pursue those that she really loves for no other reason than just because she enjoys them. As she added each year to her age, her garden evolved along with her.

For this year's party--with the fruit trees gone and a new generation of kids running around Eduardo’s and House Better--I suppose a new tradition needed to be put in place. It came in the form of plastic inflatable pools that were set up under the Santol tree which kept the kids entertained all afternoon and the adults free for lunch, for coffee, for merienda, for never-ending stories, for boisterous laughter, for catching up on each other’s lives.

While the details may have changed, some things will always remain. Life. Family. Love.

Happy birthday, Mother!

May you live long enough to celebrate your 50th Golden Anniversary (even if walang renewal of vows, haha), to see Maia, Raya and Siobe dance on their 18th birthday, to see them walk down the aisle, etc., etc.!

Love always,
T&T =D


************************************************

I typed this on Word but refrained from posting it to my blog until I have fine-tuned it. Last Thursday, my siblings and I woke up to a text from Father telling me that he rushed Mother to Makati Med because she was experiencing chest pains. Thursday afternoon, we were told that tests have confirmed that she had a mild heart attack and that an angiogram would be necessary to confirm the extent of the potential damage on her heart. She had the angiogram early Friday morning which confirmed that an angioplasty was necessary (but that thankfully, a bypass was not). We always complain about work stress, but we now know that nothing compares to the stress of having one of our parents in the hospital as everything hung on the balance.

Mother is home now, and thankfully, much better, but that was quite a scare. So may I just reiterate: Happy birthday, Mother! May you live long enough to celebrate your 50th Golden Anniversary (even if walang renewal of vows, haha), to see Maia, Raya and Siobe dance on their 18th birthday, to see them walk down the aisle, etc., etc.! We love you! Mwah! =D

THE MOM & POP SERIES: PART 1 =D

Sometimes, I get surprised. It may be an ordinary Sunday at Eduardo's with everyone in a post-lunch huddle at the garage over butong pakwan, pinipig suman and brewed coffee. Then Patita, GB, Ray*-B and Kirstie would come barging through the front door--some holding scratch paper and colored pencils, the others holding mismatched plastic plates topped with oversized plastic pizzas, hotdogs and fries.

"Here's your order, Mom," GB would declare, holding out a plate to Cousin Trix--never mind that we never really "ordered" anything.

"That'll be P10.00," Patita would declare, handing over a piece of paper with doodles all over it as Ray*-B giggled by her side.

"My turn!" Kirstie would shout out, and just like that, she'd be off running back inside--conveniently forgetting that she did not get any order from us.

The others take it as their cue to run back inside, only to come back out with a new set of dishes for the "diners" at the "restaurant".

Then, it hits me. We used to be the kids who'd run to and fro, pretending to cook, serving baked mud as chocolate cake to our unfortunate parents, titos and titas.


The wheels of time have turned. We are now the parents, titos and titas. Our parents have turned into doting lolos and lolas.

The past few years have made me more aware of our mortality. While the Eduardo's group continues to be a crazy bunch of people, things have been decidedly different after we said goodbye to Tita Thelms first, then Tita Eds, then just recently, Tito Jorge. We continue to talk about them with fondness and laugh at their past antics as boisterously as we would have if they were still with us physically, but really, the loss of our loved ones have brought on, for me, a heightened sense of appreciation for those who are still with us.

When we were kids, I remember Mother fussing about Noni and Daddy Iston, and Father always considering Lolo Danding in his plans. So we grew up with a trunk-full (a gigantic trunk!) of memories rich with the presence of our parent's parents. I don't think Mother and Father deliberately did it so we could grow up with tons to reminisce about. As far as their parents were concerned, I suppose, they really did it so they can "give back". Not that they were being required, but because they wanted to.


The wheels of time have turned. And so, these days, we do (or at least we try to do) as we saw them do while we were growing up.


Now, Father and I have always belonged to a mutual admiration society. Being his firstborn, I suppose, allowed me that privilege. Mother used to say that when Father is in a bad mood, the clouds of gloom and doom are automatically dispelled as soon as I walk into the room. (He may deny it, of course. I don't think anyone will believe him, haha!). When I was younger, I was the quintessential Daddy's Little Girl. As I grew up, our relationship evolved into one of easy friendship (laughter all around) even as the respect between father and child was clearly established. Although....uh.......on occasion, maybe not, haha!


"Father, can I go to with so-and-so to so-and-so's party this Saturday?" I'd ask nonchalantly.

"Hindi," he would say decisively, not even bothering to look up from his paper.

"Ba't hindi????!!!" I'd jump up, hitting him playfully on the arm, half-meaning the playful scowl on my face.

"Eh, ba't nagtatanong ka pa?!" he would reply, suppressing a laugh.

Such easy banter would not have been possible if I didn't have the kind of relationship I had with my Father. On most occasions, I got away with it. On those occasions when he really felt I shouldn't go, he had a ready answer, "Sa mommy mo ikaw magpaaalam." Ngyar.....=S

I suppose to establish some sort of balance, all parents decide that in any situation, one must play the "good cop", the other must play the "bad cop". Truth be told, Father can never be a disciplinarian. He'd attempt to sound mad, and Sister Pusjing, Bro I-gue and myself would all be guffawing by the second sentence of reprimand. Ngyar...=) In any case, with Father away most of the time for work, the task of disciplining us crazy kids unfortunately landed in Mother's hands. (Truth be told, I don't think it's a role she relished, but it was a role that she probably felt she needed to take on.)


To say that I didn't have the easiest relationship with Mother growing up would be an understatement. The fact that I was the firstborn who necessarily had to "test the bounderies of what will be allowed and what will get you in heaps of trouble" made it so. Don't get me wrong. Love and respect was all around. It's just that, I suppose a stubborn, independent-minded teenager and a strong-willed, protective mother do not exactly a match-in-heaven make. Mother used to tell me, "Pagtanda mo, maiintindihan mo...." and I remember my arrogant, 16-year old self thinking, "Nooooo way....not eveeeeeeeer!" The irony was, at some point, I've come to realize that--like some biblical prophecy--her words of old did begin to ring true. These days, my sister and I marvel at the fact that to a great degree, "we have turned into Mother". Haha. =D Which is why, I suppose, I'm appreciative of the kind of relationship I have with Mother now. With me no longer needing to prove anything, and her no longer needing to worry that I would be foolish enough to sneak out on a Sunday morning to jump off some plane, Mother and I have finally (!) met somewhere in the middle. We have finally become more than just mother and daughter; I'd like to think we have finally become friends. =)

And so, while my teenage and early adult years had me dreaming of moving out of House Better to live in a place of my own so I can finally "do what I want to do", I soon realized, no more than a few months after I moved into House Pioneer, that I practically spend the entire work week wishing for the weekend so I can go home to House Better. HAHAHAHAHA! =)

Spending the weekend bonding with Mother and Father is something we all look forward to (we defined as Hubby Sweet, the pups and me), but getting to spend time with them out of the usual confines of House Better is always special. (Such will be chronicled in this series. =)) I suppose, there is something blessed about being able to share our "adult world" with the very people who reared us from childhood to become the very people primarily responsible for the kind of adult life we enjoy now.

The wheels of time have turned.

It is now our time to give back. =)

PIK-TYUR DIS! =D

Back in the day, when were all still in good old CSA, trips to....uh....QUAD and Northmall (before they all got connected into what is now collectively called as Glorietta), would inevitably start or end with a trip to any of the smatterings of Foto-Me stalls. Actually, sometimes, we end up inside every single Foto-Me that we pass by! This set belongs to me, next set belongs to Gnet, next set belongs to Jen V...etc., etc. As I type this post, I wish I had all the Foto-Me shots of the different permutations of the HS barkada (sometimes, with up to 10 people desperately trying to squeeze into a 2x2' enclosed booth). The one below was actually taken during the college years (with Gnet in DLSU and me in ADMU, what the heck), and was actually shamelessly lifted off one of Net's blog posts about the good, old high school days. HAHAHA!


CSA '89 recently celebrated our 20th reunion at Heirarchy in the Fort Strip with a party fund-raising of sorts for the GK Village. Old friends, good conversation, free food, flowing drinks, and woopee! A metamorphosis of the old Foto-Me's. This is us, 20 years later. =D


Apparently, despite the fact that we were all X pounds heavier, a gazillion brain cells wiser, and hopefully, at least a few pesos richer, not much has really changed. Haha! ;p

A few months ago, after several trips back and forth from LA to Manila for his cousins' different weddings, cousin Dooders finally came home to take his vows before God and man that he will have and hold--for better for worse, in sickness and in health--Special Girl MJ till death do them part. WOOOOOOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! Well, what do you know? A photo booth! Yey! Haha. =D

During the reception, we were all concerned because we were about to start the program and half the tables were empty. Cousin Rae (who flew in from LA for her brother's wedding) actually asked if RSVP is unheard of in these parts. The mystery was solved when the coordinator went out to ask Dooders and MJ if they're OK to march in already even if the reception hall wasn't full yet. Lo and behold, half the guests were apparently all outside, lined up, waiting for their turn at the photo booth! Ngyah! Haha. =D

Sige na nga, because it IS their wedding, Dooders and MJ get top billing in this post (although, in reality, they also had to wait in line. Haha!). =D


Me and Hubby Sweet. =)


Bro-in-Law G-Genius with Sister Pusjing. =)


This time with Patita.....=) The last photo, BTW, was not a posed shot. She, apparently, did not want to be kissed in the previous shot. Haha! =D


A saner set of pics from Bro I-gue, Sis-in-Law Momsy, Adorable Ray*-B and Siob-siob. =D


Even Yaya Do got to test the equipment! =D


After which Sister Pusjing and I posed with our baby cousin Rae. (We used to baby sit her before they moved to LA! Now, she's all grown-up. =))

Cousins and nieces/nephews on my Mom's side got in on the action....Ko, Ate Anne, Tur, AJ, Letlet and Kuykuy. =)


Photos of cousins from my Dad's side started simple enough with Cousin Day and Joey. =)

And then, the Pioquintos stepped up to the plate and decided to explore the bounds of....uh....their sanity. Haha! There are two lawyers in this set....promise. Hahaha! =D

While this set (cousin Trix and V with The Gabster and Ray*B) supposedly have day jobs as respectable corporate bankers. ;p


Now even the titas got curious enough to try and see what all the fuss was about. Left on their own though, they did not really seem to know what to do. We understand. During their time, ID photos were taken by professional photographers. Hahaha! (They are sooooooo going to kill me for that comment, hahaha.) We tried to coach them. Really! We tried. We told them, "Just pose as we will direct you to do!" First shot: Happy! Second shot: Sad! Third shot: Angry! Fourth Shot: Crazy! After much coaching, this is how their set turned out....ngyah! Hahaha! 'D


And finally, the next generation showed that they are naturals at this thing--which pretty much guarantees that this won't be the last version of the Foto-Me that we will be encountering in this lifetime.


Sabi nga ng operator, "O, ridi....git sit....tingin ditu.....wan....tu....si chiiiiiiiiiisssssss!!!!" =D