Always on a Sunday

Sundays at our house means a hearty lunch—sometimes the main course can take a while to make and sometimes the dish is a family tradition.  But always special. 

And I was in trouble.  The bananas I bought at the supermarket were not ripe enough to put into the Pochero- a ginger-flavored soup made up of beef shank, saba bananas, potatoes, cabbage or pechay tagalog.   More often than not, Pochero is the main dish for our Sunday lunches. No bananas. No can do.

I did not relish the effort of going out early in the morning for one ingredient.  But this was just the reason I needed to visit one of the Sunday markets in the City.  The market used to be located inside the Lung Center of the Philippines compound but had since relocated about two years ago to a bigger location closer to the main thoroughfare—EDSA. 

  

So I was off to an early start.  The morning was pleasantly cool after the night’s heavy rain.  The streets look scrubbed from the grim that goes with daily traffic.  In no time I was at the market.  My immediate impression: so clean and orderly!  Where there used to be mud, there was now concrete pathways. Where there used to be chaos, everyone now had their place. Meats, seafood, fruits and vegetables, ready-to-eat dishes, plants galore, pet corner and the usual tiangge finds: t-shirts, shoes, and handicrafts.

But where was the vendor that sold frogs and the old lady with a basket of pinipig? Where was that young Chinese entrepreneur who sold chicken nuggets? Where was the couple whose stall of kakanins were always a crowd drawer? When before, the owners manned their stalls, now there were a lot of hired help doing the selling.  They must have gotten rich and decided to go elsewhere to relax.  Or maybe in the new set-up, they all just blended in. I also noticed that the new market was not as packed as before.  There is something about pushing your way through a crowd that makes for some strange but wonderful market experience.

  One thing I can be happy about were clean rest rooms—when before, you had to go into the hospital in search of a toilet. I guess you can’t have it all.

After a hour’s visit, I was ready to leave with my bananas, my bbq tuna belly, a small tub of ginataan, some mangoes and half a dozen bbq pork on skewers.  You could say that Sunday lunch was in the bag.

Next time, I will go back for those house dresses (dusters) that were calling out to me.

xoxoxoxox

Many of my childhood Sundays were spent in the house of my mother’s cousin—Auntie P.  My mother was more of an adopted daughter than a cousin as my mother was very much younger. My mother, wanting to further her education, had been welcomed to stay in my aunt’s house for the duration of her college years. To repay my aunt for her kindness, my mother would help care for the younger children.

Auntie P was a formidable lady. She had married into a prominent political family and at one time, her husband served as Mayor.  She was bigger than life (figuratively and literally). Everyone respected and held her in awe. She would intersperse her conversation with Spanish phrases and her orders were always heeded. 

She had seven children—many of whom were married and with lively kids.  They all gathered at her dining table for Sunday lunch.   And so it was.  Every Sunday right after mass, my father would drive us over to my Aunt’s house for lunch.  At any given time, there would be at least 25 relatives sharing a meal together in maybe three to four tables.  It was always a riot with lots of teasing and kids’ running around. 

 Pochero was always served for Sunday lunches—without fail.  It would probably take all the shanks of a young cow, a whole bunch of bananas, several ears of corn, a bowl of potatoes, a bundle of baguio beans and several heads of cabbages to feed so many hungry mouths.  Can you imagine how huge the pot was to contain all of these ingredients?

No pochero on Sunday? No can do!

xoxoxoxox

Have a huge crowd to feed?  Can do!  Give Aunt P’s Pochero a try.

Ingredients—to feed 4 to 5 persons (may be increased or decreased depending on number of people)

1 kilo beef shank

(try to get cow’s knees to enrich the broth—there is no meat but the flavor and the tendons will be a winner)

Ginger-  about two thumb-size, peeled and sliced

1 t peppercorn

1 large onion, sliced

3 cloves garlic, sliced

2 large potatoes—peeled and quartered

250 grams of squash—peeled and cut into large portions

50 grams Bagiou beans

2-3 saba bananas—peeled and cut up into quarters (or half depending on the size)

1-2 ears of corn, quartered or halved depending on the size

6 large cabbage leaves, rib removed or you can use a bunch of pechay tagalog

Salt and pepper

Patis (optional)

When firewood was plentiful or electricity and gas were cheap, the shanks were boiled for hours.  Not having the luxury to time, the use of a pressure cooker will come in handy.

Place the shank, ginger, pepper corn, a tablespoon of salt and ½ t of pepper in the pressure cooker.  Add enough water to generously submerge the shank. Cover and once the stopper starts to “dance”, cook for about 40 minutes.  (Read the instructions of your pressure cooker before hand)

After the time is up, shut off heat and cool down before opening the pot.  (Again, follow instructions of your pressure cooker manual to avoid any problems—like an explosion where you will have to scrape your soup off the ceiling and floor)

Add the corn, potatoes and the bananas, cover and simmer until tender. Add the squash and simmer until the squash becomes tender.  Adjust seasoning with salt, pepper and patis.  Lastly add the beans and the cabbage. Turn off the heat and cover for 5 minutes. 

Serve with lots of rice and fried fish.

I had prepared a similar soup for my daughter when I visited-- minus the bananas and pechay tagalog. You can find the recipe here.