Bringing Back the Age of Wonder

Visiting Disney World in Orlando was way down in the bottom of my to-do list in my family’s five day visit to Florida. 

Unlike my 9-year old niece, who had her heart set in meeting as many Disney Princesses, mine was set on catching up with cousins and family.  Of course age is a factor in the difference of priorities.  I felt I was pass being enthralled by make-believe characters and could do without the adrenaline rush or heart attack I could get from a roller coaster ride.

In the course of the five-day visit, I found myself being captivated by non-Disney characters (besides my relatives) in easy-to-find locations. And the best part was: there was little or no need to pay for tickets to have close encounters with them.

A Love Affair

My love affair is a wondrous thing

That I'll rejoice in remembering
My love was born with my first tea set
Then came crystal bowls and fine Chinaware...... (adapted from the song “Our Love Affair”)

Yes, I admit. I am one of those women who continues to have a love affair.  Not the sordid kind but one just as spell binding. 

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My alarm had gone off. It’s 4:30AM.  Anticipating what lay ahead made for a fitful sleep. Splashing cold water on my face gave me the jump start I needed.  Quickly, I got myself dressed. I tossed my camera and phone into my bag and headed down to the kitchen.

In less than 30 minutes, I was ready with my assignment: the group’s light breakfast and more.  Two mini coolers filled with solo bottles of frozen ice tea and bottles of cold water; two packs of chilled jello treats; a dozen each of ensaymadas and warm empanadas; mint candies and packs of wet wipes.

Nine pilgrims. One destination: The Divine Mercy Shrine in Marilao, Bulacan. 

And now the end is near…

Shortly after Typhoon Yolanda left a trail of destruction and despair along its path, a story started to make its rounds in Cebu.  This is the story.

An old beggar had approached a female devotee as she was on her way out of the Sto Nino church.  

Of Trees and Memories

Aratiles or Manzanitas is a fast growing tree, 5 to 10 meters high, with spreading branches. Leaves are hairy, sticky, alternate, distichous, oblong-ovate to broadly oblong-lanceolate, 8 to 13 centimeters long, with toothed margins, pointed apex and inequilateral base, one side rounded and the other acute. Flowers are about 2 centimeters in diameter, white, extra-axillary, solitary or in pairs. Sepals are 5, green, reflexed, lanceolate, about 1 centimeter long. Petals are white, obovate, 1 centimeter long, deciduous and spreading. Fruit is a berry, rounded, about 1.5 centimeter in diameter, red on ripening, smooth, fleshy, sweet and many seeded.  It is a tree that thrives in poor soil, able to tolerate acidic and alkaline conditions and drought. Its seeds are dispersed by birds and fruit bats.

http://www.stuartxchange.com/Aratiles.html

The Aratiles Tree was the subject of my second postcard to my niece, N.  

Reflections

“Mirror, mirror on the wall

   Is that you mommy

   Looking back at me?”

Growing up, you could say that my relationship with my mother conformed to the usual phases that most girls go through: 

Up to age 11-  I looked up to my mother.  She knew everything.  I wanted to grow up and be like her. Specially the part about baking goodies for my children. 

Turning Chicken

A well meaning friend, let’s call her C, comes up to me after morning mass and tells me that she was castigated by a mutual friend (let’s call her D).


Apparently, D was upset that she was not informed about a little gathering we had a few days ago. Since I was charged with informing the group, C asked if I had sent out the text invite to D. I immediately said yes!

Not wanting to upset my morning, I changed the subject. After we went out separate ways, I could not help feeling uneasy about the whole thing. Did my text fail to reach D?

Upon checking my celphone’s sent folder, I could no longer retrieve the messages I sent out four days ago as my unit could only save the last 15 messages.

My first thought was to just ignore this little incident. D has been known to be moody so I brush her actions. But somehow the nagging thought that I might have hurt D would not go away. Pride is an awful thing to have and can make a strong person turn chicken and run the other way. I did not want to start the year by becoming a chicken.

After morning mass today, I decided to greet D as she was leaving the church. I tried to catch her eye, but she seemed bent on looking the other way.

Oh well, I guess she still had issues with me. Then again, maybe she had to hurry home and I was making unfair assumptions.

In time, I hope I build enough courage to walk up to her and clear the air. Life is too short to let pride stand in the way of friendship. Besides, I don’t want to be a chicken.

xxxoooxxxoooxxxoooxxx

On the last night in London, my sister and I were deciding what and where to eat. Passing several restaurants in a nearby mall, we decided to try out the chicken at Nando’s. Top on the menu was Peri-peri chicken—a spicy dish with roots in both Portugal and Africa. I was so taken by the delicious flavor that I made up my mind to make it at home.

After reading up on the many peri-peri recipes on the internet, I ended up trying out the recipe offered by Antony Worrall Thompson found on the BBC website as reference. And I must say that it hit the spot.


Here’s one chicken dish that you can be proud of and will surely have your friends come running to get a bite.


Piri-piri Chicken (adapted from AWT’s recipe)

Brine 6 pieces of chicken legs and thighs (about 1 kilo) in a measure of ¼ c salt and enough water to cover the chicken. Leave in the fridge overnight or at least 4 hours.

Peri-Peri Marinade

Place all of the following ingredients into a pan and simmer for about 2-3 minutes. 1 bell pepper (roasted, charred skin peeled off, sliced) – I roast my pepper directly on the flames of my gas burner.

1 serrano pepper (chili espada—the one you use for sinigang—also roasted, charred skin peeled off and sliced. If you want more heat, you can use more pepper or the hotter variety of pepper)

1 T chopped garlic
1 t salt
½ t dried oregano (or 1 t fresh oregano)
½ t paprika
¼ c olive oil
3 T lemoncito or lemon juice

Plenty of Nothing

The time on my celphone read 5AM. It is still dark and I hear water gush out of the faucet in the bathroom next to my room. Doors are opened and muffled sounds come from the kitchen downstairs. I hear the whirling sound of the garage door opening and after a few seconds the house is quite again.

I snuggled deeper into the thick comforter and went back to sleep.

“It’s 7 o’clock. Time to get up,” the alarm on my celphone announces just when my dream was getting complicated.

A little bit disoriented, I slowly remember that I was still in the States and in the house of my sister and her husband. My mother, whom I had accompanied on the trip over, had gone off for the week to visit with relatives. My sister, her husband and 2 nephews had left early as was their habit during the work week.

I was alone in a big and very quiet house.

I begin the day with setting T and M, the Maltese dogs of my sister, free from the garage. They will be my companions for the rest of the day. They will follow me as I get a glass of water, as I go out to the patio to read and reflect on the gospel for the day, as I eat my breakfast of yoghurt and fruits,

and as I fill my morning with light house work. They will sit very close to me—on my lap or at my feet or sometimes on top of the sofa where I sit to watch teevee

or read the many enticing magazines on home and food.

Occasionally T and M would start rushing to the door when they sense that a vehicle had stopped by the driveway. It’s just the mailman.

Some days on that week alone, I go out for a walk around the neighborhood. Unlike in my neighborhood back home, I hardly see or hear anyone moving about. There seems to be no activity going on inside each of the houses. The gardens are immaculate. Nothing out of place. So perfect, not a leaf or flower out of place.

The automatic water sprinklers are sometimes all the sound I hear. I feel like I am the only one around in some “Twilight Zone” teevee episode. Where is everyone?

Back at home after a quick lunch of left-overs, I settle in with a double scoop of ice cream

 before I spend some quality time with Don Drapper…. the main character of “Mad Men”—a series I have developed an addiction to.

Will his wife leave him? How will the company keep that big advertising account from going to the competitor? What exactly is brewing between a voluptuous secretary and one of the company directors? All these questions are soon answered one by one as I go from one episode to the next for most of the afternoon. T and M caring less what happens to Don, stay dozing close by.

As I go to the kitchen for some juice and a snack, the clock on the microwave oven show that it is 3 in the afternoon. It is time to get busy with dinner.  Don will have to wait.

One by one they arrive. A nephew back from school; my sister closely followed by her husband arrive from work; and, an hour later, another nephew come through the kitchen from the garage to mark the end of another day. And as luck would have it, another sister comes in later to join us for dinner.

The table is set and soon we all sit down to an early dinner. I am eager to hear about how their day went.

As we each retire to our bedrooms, my last thoughts before I fell asleep were the words stitched on a sampler displayed on a kitchen side table.  

It was indeed a beautiful week.
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My week alone was like a retreat.  It gave me the silence I needed to hear myself think and time to reflect on life in general.  I found that I am good company. Time alone also intensified my appreciation of the people that come back into my life at the end of each day.

Here is one of the dish I prepared that week. It got the most positive raves. This dish can be prepared well ahead of time. It actually taste better with a little time in the fridge. Not only will you have more time for yourself but after your family or friends have a taste of this dish,  they will reward you with these three words: "That was delicious."


Afritada of Mine

2 1/4 pounds or 1 kilo meat (may be all pork or all chicken or a combination of pork and chicken), cut into serving pieces

2 tablespoons soy sauce
1/2 lemon, juiced ( or about 2 T of calamansi juice)
3 tablespoons olive oil
1 big potato, quartered
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 onion, chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 large tomatoes, diced
½ c tomato sauce
½ can of liver spread/pate
1 chicken buillion dissolved in 1 cup of hot water
Additional water (optional)
1 green bell pepper, cut into chunks
½ green peas (frozen or canned)
salt and ground black pepper to taste
DIRECTIONS:

1. Place the meat in a large pot; pour enough water into the pot to cover the meat. Stir the soy sauce and lemon juice into the water. Bring the mixture to a boil for 5 minutes. Remove the meat and set aside. Discard the liquid.

2. Heat 3 tablespoons olive oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat; fry the potatoes in the hot oil until golden brown, 7 to 10 minutes. Add 2 more tablespoons olive oil to the skillet and allow to get hot. Cook and stir the onion and garlic in the hot oil until fragrant, 3 to 5 minutes. Add the meat to the skillet; cover and cook for 5 minutes. Stir the tomatoes, liver spread/pate and the tomato sauce into the mixture. Stir to dissolve 1 chicken buillion cube in 1 cup of hot water. Add this to the skillet. Simmer the mixture over very low fire until the meat is tender.

Add more water so as the dish will be saucy. Return the potatoes to the skillet and continue to simmer. When the potatoes are tender, add the green bell pepper and the peas. Season with salt and pepper. Cook and stir another 5 minutes.

3. Remove from heat and serve with lots of steaming white rice.

Love is in the Air

Weddings get me all sentimental and the one I attended last Saturday was no exception. I was happy to have attended the wedding of the son of a very good friend. Her son was marrying a lovely girl who possessed a most charming smile and eyes that sparkled. It was a Christian wedding set in a mango orchard and the venue could not have been more idle for the whimsical themed event.

I could not help feel teary eyed specially when the groom and the bride exchanged vows they personally wrote to say to each other. Just thinking about how to describe my feelings got me all “brain tied”. Maybe it’s because I once more was face to face with a love that is so brand new and precious; maybe it’s because it brought memories of my own wedding day; and, maybe, it made me recognize how far my husband and I have gone together.

Suffice to say, love was definitely being carried on the breeze that gently moved among the mongo leaves that day.

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I could not help remember the lines of a song from the “King and I”.  It expresses more or less what I felt.

I share the lyrics and a link for your listening pleasure.

HELLO YOUNG LOVERS

Hello young lovers, whoever you are,
I hope your troubles are few.
All my good wishes go with you tonight,
I've been in love like you.

Be brave, young lovers, and follow your star,
Be brave and faithful and true,
Cling very close to each other tonight.
I've been in love like you.
I know how it feels to have wings on your heels,
And to fly down the street in a trance.
You fly down a street on the chance that you meet,
And you meet--not really by chance.
Don't cry young lovers, whatever you do,

Don't cry because I'm alone;
All of my memories are happy tonight,
I've had a love of my own.
I've had a love of my own, like yours-
I've had a love of my own.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e2yeH7uTX88&feature=related

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A delicious buffet was prepared for the guests in the reception area that was playfully decorated with pinwheels, pastel ribbons ,buntings and delicate flowers. And pretty cupcakes took center stage instead of the traditional wedding cake.

This was keeping with the whimsical theme.

Memorable to me was the tender Chicken Salpicao. I had asked for another serving—it was that good. The taste was so memorable that after a couple of days, I tried to replicate it at home for lunch. Below is my interpretation. It was not exactly the same as that served in the wedding but it delighted my daughter and my husband. I now have a Salpicao recipe I can call my own.

Curly Cook's Chicken Salpicao

800 grams skinned and deboned chicken thighs- cut into bite size pieces
1 head of garlic, chopped finely
2 tablespoon worcestershire sauce + 2 tablespoons
2 tablespoon kikoman light soy sauce + 1 tablespoon
Salt and pepper
2-3 tablespoon olive oil
1 tablespoon butter
Marinate the meat in the sauces ( 2 T each of worcestershire sauce and kikoman sauce) add about a third of the chopped garlic. Set aside for about 15-30 minutes.

Heat the oil and melt the butter in a skillet. When very hot, add the rest of the garlic and fry until golden.

Remove the garlic and set aside. Now add the chicken slices and remember not to over crowd or you will steam up the chicken and not fry it.

When done, place on a plate. Cook the rest of the chicken pieces. When you have cooked all of the chicken pieces, place them all back into the skillet. Add the remaining worcestershire sauce and kikoman sauce. Season with salt and pepper. Give this a good toss and transfer to a serving platter. Sprinkle the fried garlic liberally on top of the chicken. Enjoy with lots of steaming white rice.

Good Morning Katagbakan

It's already past six in the morning and the temperature continues to be chilly in my grandparents’ (mother side) farm.



There are tiny dew drops on every leaf in the surrounding garden. An early venture out of the house meant coming back with wet slippers and toes.

When I was so much younger, I remember my uncles getting ready to check on the farm right after drinking a cup of steaming coffee. That was at 4:30AM! Now that they are in their 80s, they take their sweet time swapping stories on the balcony and wait for trusted workers to come over to the house with crop and cattle report later in the morning.



The kitchen is slowly filling up with the sweet smell of burning wood as preparations for breakfast gets underway.



Soon there erupts a combination of squeak and squeal from the pigpens and the cackle of chickens as they anticipate the approach of a younger uncle with their morning meal.



The floors are quickly given a good sweep and the contents of bedpans quickly disposed of.



Before long, a hearty breakfast is ready and a call goes out through the house for everyone to come to the table before the food gets cold.



My grandparents are no longer around but I still feel their presence-- specially my grandmother. She's watching over us as we share stories of time past, present concerns and plans for tomorrow.

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Just recently, I asked the origin of the name “Katagbakan”-- the name given to the area where my grandparents’ farm is located. I was promptly shown the “tagbak” plant that grow all over the area. (Tagbak is a stout herbaceous plant growing to a height of 2 to 4 meters, with stout rootstocks).



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A lot of meals have come out of my grandmother’s kitchen. A gas stove and oven had been installed sometime ago but it seldom is put to use. Instead, a wood-burning, three burner iron stove continues to be the work horse of choice.

Many outside help have been employed to do kitchen duties. Their number would swell during celebrations. At present and for the last 10 years, “Ibyang” has taken on the task of coming up with daily meals for my aunt and uncle and the occasional visitor. Although physically challenged at a height below 4 feet, she manages to cook up a storm on the iron stove while standing on a small stool. Because of her happy disposition and infectious laughter, one would not know of the many heartaches and hardships she continues to face. Putting on a wide smile and with pride, she comes out of the kitchen with dishes taught her by my aunts. Recipes of which were handed down by my grandmother.

Below, are just some of dishes she prepared while I was visiting. Unfortunately, she could not give me exact measurements as everything is by “feel” and ingredients added on to taste. Surely a good reminder to live life with spontaneity rather than following a step by step measured plan.

Sliced Eggplant with Minced Pork



4-5 eggplants, sliced
About ¼ kilo of pork, minced
Sliced Garlic & Onion
Soy sauce
Salt and pepper

Soak sliced eggplants in water with a little salt. In a wok, sauté the garlic and the onion. Add the minced pork and continue to cook. Drain the eggplants and add to the wok. Add soy sauce, salt and pepper. Soy sauce should be an amount that would bring the dish to a uniform brown color. Serve with lots of steaming rice.

Native Chicken Tinola



1 native chicken, cut into serving pieces
Tanglad
Sliced Ginger, garlic & onion
sili leaves
Small green papaya, peeled and sliced
Salt and pepper

Boil the native chicken in plenty of water. Add the tanglad, ginger, garlic and onion. It’s tough so this will take some time to become tender. Lower heat to a simmer. When chicken is tender, add the sliced green papaya. Cook until papaya is tender but not mushy. Add the sili leaves, salt and pepper. Turn off heat when leaves start to wither. Serve hot with lots of rice.

Pata with Kangkong



1 pork pata, sliced
Tanglad
Sili espada
Garlic
Onion
A bunch of kang kong
Salt & pepper

Put pata in a pot and cover with water. Bring to a boil and immediately throw out the resulting broth. Return pot to the stove and add new water. Add garlic, onion and tanglad. Bring to a boil then lower heat to a simmer. Continue cooking until pata is tender. Drop the kangkong leaves; sili espada; add salt and pepper to taste. Turn off heat when kang kong leaves have withered somewhat. Serve hot with lots of rice and a side of fried dried fish (daing).

Roasted Eggplant with Coconut Cream



4-5 eggplants, roasted and sliced up after burnt peel remove
Sliced Ginger, tomatoes and onion
Sliced Green onions or leeks
Coconut cream (the 1st squeeze from grated coconut)
Salt and pepper

Place the sliced roasted eggplant in a bowl together with the sliced ginger, onions, tomatoes, green onions, coconut cream, salt and pepper. Toss around until everything is well coated with the coconut cream. Chill before serving. Best served with grilled meat or fish.

My Grandma's Farm

“What’s the name of your carabao Lola?”, I asked as I spied the young carabao she pulled by a rope that went through its nose.

“Elvis,” my grandma answered.

I remember asking that question when I was a 12 years old. At that time, my sisters and I were vacationing in the farm of my grandparents up in the mountains of Leyte. It was the farm where my mother grew up on with nine other siblings-- not counting several half-brothers and sisters. But that makes for another story.

When you come from the city, all animals are considered pets and should have a name—hence the question. Coming from the city, the farm was both scary and exciting all at once. Scary for fear that a cobra could be lurking behind our back as we used the outhouse (outdoor toilet);



exciting because there was always something to discover—turtles in a nearby stream and the cows that come late in the afternoon to lick salt from our hands.



As we were growing up, my father insisted we conversed in English. And since my grandmother hardly had any formal education, she tried to respond to our questions as best as she could. But what she lacked in proficiency in the English language she more than made up for it with her knowledge about what really mattered in life: how to raise a large family on the meager earnings of a poor farm, how to deal with a fair amount of hardships and tragedies; and eventually, later in life, how to manage a community as barangay captain.



She was a quiet person but not timid. She was firm with her decisions but tempered them with tenderness. She was the type of person whose one-liners were meaningful and most often humorous.

As we grew up, my mother made it a point to bring us to her parent’s farm every summer. There were always new paths to walk through the fields.



These visits continued well into our high school years but, over the years, sadly became less and less as my siblings and I found it difficult to visit— either due to work or migration to foreign countries.

Now that I have time on my hands, I look forward to visiting my grandmother’s farm on a regular basis. Only recently, I was sitting at the terrace of my grandmother’s house trading stories with my mother and her siblings—aunts and uncles well into their 70s.



There is always so much happy reminiscing to be done and something funny to laugh about. And at night, a cacophony of sounds made by the crickets, the giant geckos, cicadas and owls is music to my city ears.



By the way, Elvis grew up to be a strong carabao. In the following summer when we returned for our annual visit, I rode on its back. And boy was I surprised to learn that Elvis had given birth to a fine calf.



¤~ ¤~ ¤~ ¤~ ¤~ ¤~ ¤~ ¤~ ¤~ ¤~ ¤~ ¤~ ¤~ ¤~ ¤~ ¤~

The following is a dish which my grandmother use to prepare when we would come to visit. When I asked her the name, she said that she called it “Rhapsody”. And rightly named so as one taste and you’re sure to hear a rhapsody.

Rhapsody

1 live native chicken
Blood of native chicken
3 cloves garlic, chopped
1 med-size onion, chopped
Coconut milk from a grated coconut
1 stalk lemon grass, tied up in a neat bundle
Some sliced ginger (about a thumb-size)
1 sili espada (green chili-- optional)
A bunch of young bago leaves( edible leaves of Gnetum gnemon Linn) or leaves of a sili (pepper) plant or a cup of malonggay leaves
Salt and pepper to taste

Step 1: The native chicken must go thru cleansing for about 1 week. It is caged and not allowed to roam around. It is feed some corn and given water.
The chicken is then slaughtered and its blood collected in a saucer. The chicken is then dressed (funny that when you dress a chicken, you remove its feathers). Finally the chicken is cut up into serving pieces and set aside. In the province, nothing goes to waste as the head and the feet are cleaned and included in the stew but this is optional.



Step 2: In a bowl, place the meat of a grated coconut. Add the blood and about a cup of warm water. Mix and squeeze the grated coconut. The resulting milk will be a nice shade of pink. Pour the milk thru a sieve. Set aside.



Step 3: Saute the garlic, onion and ginger in a little oil (1/2- 1 T). Add the chicken pieces, 2 cups of water and the lemon grass bundle. Bring to a boil then lower flame so that the stew simmers until the chicken is very tender.



Step 4: Add the coconut milk, the sili espada (optional) and the bago or sili leaves or malongay/kamonggay leaves. Continue to simmer for about 3-5 minutes.

Step 5. Season with some salt and pepper. Remove the lemon grass bundle and serve piping hot with lots of rice. Prepare for a rhapsody of flavors.



Note:
Bago- is a medium size tree with edible young leaves. Grown mostly in backyards in the provinces.