Kowloon In My Heart

It's past nine in the evening. In less than an hour another work day will come to an end. Deep in the heart of my belly, the rebellious forces of my intestines are gathering. For the second time this week, I skipped eating dinner again. Blame it on my lack of appetite but if your stomach has been used to digesting Oatmeal for almost a year, it would surely grow weary of it. Come to think of it, I cannot remember the last time I ate rice for dinner.

So there.

My arms weak and my limbs close to collapse. I limp my way from P. Guevarra to a neighborhood known to its residents as Little Baguio in San Juan. From there, I need to ride a jeep that will take me across the rolling hills of that posh town and emerge a few steps away from Agora. From there all I need to do is hail a jeep bound for Divisoria to find my way home.

However, my real journey has just begun.

With an aching tummy, a frustrating work performance and a frail body abused due to erratic eating habits, the need to heed one's craving must be paid attention. When the mind takes over one's action, not even the consideration of money will stop it from fulfilling its goals.

And my mind speaks of one thing. Food.

What it desires is not just an ordinary dinner. It demands a serving of Jumbo Pao and three pieces of Pork Siomai only from Kowloon House.

Me: hails a cab across Puregold Agora.

Taxi Driver: Boss saan tayo?

Me: Sa Santa Mesa manong, pero daan muna tayo sa Araneta. May bibilhin lang po ako.

The taxi driver who is oblivious to my cravings will drive his cab pass the funeral homes and pass the massage parlors in that stretch of road only to make a brief stopover in the lone Kowloon House outlet in Araneta Avenue. As he waits inside the cab with its hazard lights blinking to serve as warning to speeding vehicles, I take all the time in the world placing my order to the attendant and savoring the steaming buns inside the traditional bamboo steam baskets while its sweet, woody aroma wafts under my nose.

In that brief encounter between me and the pork buns, the worries of the world suddenly evaporates like steam from my thoughts.

The big Siomai would be the first to go as the cab speeds its way home. It is my habit to ask the manong driver to partake on my little feast as a gesture of goodwill. I do this while devouring a piece of Siomai with three big bites. Sensing perhaps my greed, the cab driver would just smile and decline my invitation. The truth is, I have no intention of sharing my food. I have given up too much just to enjoy such life's little pleasures.

The moment I arrive home, I would sneak towards my room. Expecting to find my sister lying on my bed, I would drive her out while the oversized bun waiting to be eaten lay hidden in one of the mattress racks outside my room.

I would then grab the Jumbo Pao from its hiding place and feel its warmth as it rests in the palm of my hands. Taking it out of its plastic bag, I would gently peel the rice paper covering its base. With its soft bottom exposed to my gnashing teeth, I would pour copious amounts of sweet sauce as I brace my mouth for the first bite.

Glomp... Ah... Heaven.

The blend of sweet, cake-like dough, salted eggs, Chinese sausages and minced pork stuffed inside a plump bun would tempt you to bite some more...

And more...

And more... until you realize that the siopao you have rewarded yourself after a long boring day at work; the siopao you have craved the whole evening and the reason you took a long-way route from office, rode a taxi costing you P75 pesos just to get to the outlet, and revealed the hidden glutton in you when you kept its presence a secret from everyone at home, is already gone.

With my tummy now full and my cravings finally satisfied, I should have moved on to do other things. However, now that I think about it, the siopao's absence now leaves me empty.

Strange isn't it?

Is it because I have achieved a unique sense of taste for things only people from older generations would truly appreciate? Is it because I have gone beyond the cravings for Chowking, North Park and other high-end Chinese fastfood restaurants which sprouted across the city only to discover the source of them all?

I would never know.

As the Jumbo Pao's sweet aftertaste lingers inside my mouth, it opens some long-shut doors for vague memories of childhood to flow. I never thought I would remember, but strange how familiar tastes invoke a sense of longing:

It is almost midnight. Cramped in a small room in my grandparent's house, my mom and I await for dad's arrival. Since it's already late, he would never enter the house through the main door. Dad will surely get some tongue lashing from my mom's mother the following morning. Instead, we have a trap door next to the bathroom. It is where my dad enters when he doesn't want the entire household to know his arrival.

The moment he knocks on the trap door, expect me, who pretends to sleep the whole night jumping out of the bed to open the door and greet my dad. In some bountiful nights, he would extend his hand to give me a brown paper bag whose contents I already know.

"Pasalubong ko sayo anak..."

"Ano yan?"

"Miyaopao... diba gusto mo ito, hati kayo ni mama." He would say grinning.

Had I not rediscovered the Siopao from Kowloon House many, many years later. That memory of my good father would have been lost to me forever.

Happy Meal | Calamares Blues

Minsan isang hapon, naglalakad ako sa tapat ng PGH matapos bisitahin si Phanks sa kanyang opisina. Palibhasa'y gutom at kagagaling lang sa pagy-gym, tantiyado ko na hindi ako aabot ng hapunan nang hindi naglalagay ng anumang sustansya sa sikmura.

Patuloy ako sa paglalakad. Sa mga oras na iyon, naglalaban na sa aking utak kung ako ba ay kakain o patuloy na magtitiis ng gutom. Hindi naman ako salat sa pera ng mga panahong iyon. Ang Wendys at Jollibee ay tanaw ko na mula sa aking kinatatayuan. Ilang hakbang rin lang mula sa akin ay ang Buena Bonita Burgers kung saan sa halagang 32 pesos eh makakabili na ako ng two-in-one cheeseburger.

"Shit nami-miss ko na ang burger nila," bulong ko sa aking sarili habang nakatulala sa mga burgers na nakasalansan sa harap ng burner.

"Maraming calories yan tungek!" bawi sa akin ng aking utak.

"Pero paano naman ako, puro hanging na lang ang nasa loob ko?" Sabay hirit sa akin ng aking sikmura.

Pagtingin ko sa aking kanan, nasa harap ko lang pala ang Gary's Restaurant. Natatandaan ko pa na kapag meron akong extrang pera ay dito ko nililibre si Phanks ng hapunan. Paborito nga namin yung Lechon Macau nila eh. Lagi nila itong sineserve sa isang bowl na may kasamang kanin, ilang piraso ng lechon kawali, carrots at radish sticks sabay lulunurin ito sa malapot na brown sauce na pagkatamis-tamis. Sa mga oras na iyon, ang temptasyon na mag heavy meal ay unti-unting nagco-corrupt sa utak ko.

"Disiplina! Disiplina sabe eh!" Protesta ng aking utak.

"Kompromiso tayo," kabig naman ng aking tiyan.

Kaya ang resulta, kumain rin ako bago umuwi ng bahay. Yun nga lang, napagkasunduan ng aking utak, tiyan at nagmama-asim na bulsa na happy meal ang trip kong meryenda ng hapong iyon.

Sa halagang trenta'y dos pesos, nabusog ako sa dalawang cheeseburger na binili ko sa Buena Bonita Burgers. Namimiss ko na kasing kumain dito lalo na't nagsara na yung kiosk nila sa may kanto namin. Ngunit hindi rin ako nakuntento dito. Matapos maglakad ng ilang metro, natiyempuhan ko si manong sa may panulukan ng Taft at (put the name of street here) na naglalako malutong at katakam-takam na fried calamares. Malalaki kasi ang hiwa ng mga pusit kaya't madali akong naenganyong tumuhog ng ilang piraso.

Sa halagang dose pesos, nakatuhog ako ng apat na piraso. Matapos itong i-dunk sa sukang puno ng naglulutangang sibuyas at sili, pakiramdam ko'y hindi ko na kailangang maghapunan sa sobrang kabusugan. Badtrip nga eh, hindi ko nakitang may sili palang nakasingit sa galamay ng pusit na kinakain ko. Napaso tuloy ang dila ko. Sa kamalasan, wala pa namang malapit na bilihan ng tubig sa lugar na iyon.

Sa bawat pagnguya ng calamares, unti-unti kong narealize na maari pala ito maging alternatibong pagkain sa mga taong nagtitipid sa pera. Nalaman ko ito nang sa paglingon ko sa aking paligid, hindi lang pala ako nag-iisa sa pagpakyaw sa calamares ni manong; naroon si Mang Jani, na mukhang iniwan lang ang mop sa tabi ng kalsada, pati na rin si Mister Salesman na buong maghapon na yata nag-iikot sa Ermita makabenta lang ng car insurance ng kanyang munting kumpanya. Imagine, sa halagang anim na piso, meron ka nang dalawang pirasong pusit. Bumili ka lang ng dalawang tasang kanin sa pinakamalapit na karinderya at tiyak solb na ang happy meal mo. Kung bitin ka pa, nasa tabi lang si manong pinyahan at ang kanyang sampung pisong kalahating pinya.

Eh nabitin ako sa burgers at calamares, tuloy nauwi ako sa pagbili sa kalahating piraso ng pinya para pantunaw ng mga toxins.

Natapos ang hapon at sa wakas ako rin ay nabusog. Sa aking pag-uwi, baon ko ang experience ng pagkain sa kanto-kanto, kung saan higit kong naramdaman na sa kabila ng ugali kong pagka-eletista,

May natitirang bahagi pa rin ng sarili ko ang konektado pa sa masa,

kung saan ako unang namulat matagal na panahon na ang nakalipas...

Food Trip

After starving myself for two days with only a standard sari-sari store hopia to keep me nourished, my weight dropped two pounds in the scale when I checked it this afternoon.

Should it be a cause for celebration?

I don't think so.

Because ever since I completed my gym routine for today, these are the things that occupy my thoughts, especially after I discovered that my salary has already been deposited in my ATM account:

- A large order of KFC Hotshots, large fries and an extra large gravy - included.

- Pasta Carbonara - any restaurant where it is served.

- Jollibee TLC, large fries.

- McDo Spaghetti, Large Fries, gravy.

- Pork Menudo in a bowl of hot rice.

- Pansit Bihon Guisado, Beef Maki at Delicious

- A can of red-colored Pringles

- Chowking Chow-Fan Rice with Siomai

- Two orders of Siomai at Siomai House (they have a kiosk at LRT Stations)

- Tocilog and Beef Pares at Bestfriends (restaurant)

- Breaded calamares sold in the kanto.

- Anything heavy that could fill my tummy.

I'm so hungry right now. It seems like the single breaded calamares and chicken empanada I ate earlier could not satisfy my immense hunger. Dinner is still being prepared and my patience really wears thin. Phanks said he will stay over for the night so most likely, I will still have to wait for him to arrive until past 10, before I could finally have a decent meal.

If only my metabolic rate is not slow, I could always pig-out whenever I want.

There's Something Good Cooking At Delicious (Last Part)

After 10 minutes, my order has arrived. The syrupy Beef Maki was served first in a regular sized bowl. The breaded beef chunks and long pork strips form like submerged islands that resurface every time the bowl is stirred. The thin garlic strips provide a neutral flavor to the sweet succulent taste of the dish. Madame Tan later said that Beef Maki is a favorite companion to another favorite – the Ma-Chang - a steamed pork porridge dish dashed with dried mushrooms and wrapped in Taro Leaves.

Immediately after the Maki has been served, the Miki Bihon Guisado soon arrives, still steaming and sweating of vegetable oil from its oblong-shaped platter. This dish, which is a rich menagerie of ingredients that include thin Bihon Noodles, large Pansit Miki, generous amount of beef strips, sliced squid, pork siomai and another dimsung called chopsai forms the base of my heavy meal. A single spoonful of this dish and you know, the mix of sweet and salty flavors would leave a lasting imprint on your tongue; making you craving for more the next time you return. It took me less than 15 minutes to eat everything on my plate, but its heaviness on one’s satisfied tummy is still felt during breakfast, a day later.

Madame Tan says all ingredients – from pork kekiam to shrimp dumplings and other dimsum toppings are prepared in-house. She claims that no supplier could duplicate Tan Aiao’s secret recipe exactly the way he prepared it, that they took some effort to make the ingredients themselves.. Their army of loyal suppliers dating back to the time of Aiao, has remained the same. This ensures the quality of meat, seafood and vegetable ingredients delivered to them every day.

In a time where many authentic Chinese restaurants have either closed down or evolved to adapt to the changing tastes of their customers, Delicious kept the old, authentic Chinese fast-food charm they have been known for generations. Their loyalty to the original recipe and servings, while keeping their prices well within the capacity of an average salary worker has earned them the respect and admiration, not only from their growing clientele of Filipinos eager to have a taste of an original Chinese cuisine but also from the old Chinese clique that still runs the rest of Chinatown, who enjoys the old nostalgic feeling of being in a place that witnessed how their own business empires grow and prosper in this part of the city.

My personal journey towards finding this place has been long and memorable. It began many years ago, when my father still lives. Sometimes, late at night, he would come home unexpectedly, bringing a big plastic bag of pancit with him as pasalubong. The whiff of heavy oil and steamed noodles, the sweet-salty texture and strong flavorful aroma of the large sliced dimsum and meat strips that usually overwhelms the noodles, and the distinct, soft taste of the bright-orange shrimp and purple-black slices of squid makes us look forward to this unusual midnight treat.

Years passed, I found a job to support myself. My taste has diversified and still, this lingering memory of unexpected midnight treats still hold a special place in my heart. Overturning the alleys of Ongpin and deep into the heartland of Chinatown, finally one afternoon, an unsuspecting bystander pointed me to the place, which turn out to be within the peripheries of Avenida. Gathering all my thoughts and sweet memories of that mysterious, captivating pancit that my father brought us, I ordered a noodle dish trusting my instinct alone. One taste, one bite and then the memories surged again like a dammed river bursting from years of longing. And the memories now keep coming back, whenever I am into soul-searching, for I know, Delicious is not just a mere restaurant to me. Like all others who come and go to this place,

I know, this is home.

There's Something Good Cooking At Delicious (First Part)

Note: After spending the entire day writing this essay for school (at the expense of not going to work), I think this deserves a blog entry of its own.

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The late afternoon sun blazes across the enigmatic blue sky over the heart of Santa Cruz, where a few steps away from the busy street of Ongpin stands an old unchanged restaurant unaware of how the modern times changed everything around it. Across the street, at the corner of a busy intersection, only its white-washed walls, a faded old Chinese signage at its side and a huge tasteless billboard advertising a nearby motel are the only landmarks that reveal this place to first time customers. Often hidden in a trail of passing jeepneys and occasional pedicab bikes – which turn the restaurant’s door-less entrance into a terminal, only the sweet faint aroma of a vegetable oil-laden noodles being stir-fried in its exposed underbelly would remind the visitors that Delicious is indeed a genuine Chinese restaurant.

Settling down on the table, the first thing a guest will notice are the glazed red brick walls that seem to be coated with oil. The heavy familiar aroma coming from the open kitchen hung like a thick curtain of smoke, leaving the customers more eager to sample their main dishes. The mood, which reminds me of the restaurants of my childhood, creates a nostalgic feeling as I waited for the waitress to hand the menu. The tables are all worn out, creaky at best; the leatherette seat cover of my aluminum chair have turned dirty white revealing their age; and heavy dust have accumulated outside the steel window grills that a slight breeze may blow away particles to the food I am eating.

However, despite these impressions, one would never fail to notice the huge number of customers who come to this place. One table alone holds a group of colleagues; bottles of beer and a ubiquitous serving of pork, fish and noodles overflow on their table. Opposite them is a stoic elder Chinese reading a mandarin-based newspaper while sipping a cup of tea. Beside me is a couple in their late thirties doing a public display of affection, while enjoying a serving of Siopao and Siomai on their table.

As I observe the customers around me, a waitress wearing a cerise blouse and black trousers came to hand over the menu. This waitress seems to be in a hurry, she keeps on looking at the old Chinese lady manning the cashier’s booth. Being on a tight budget, I asked her their in-house favorites. She suggested that I should try Miki Bihon Guisado or Beef Maki for starters. I ordered them both for they were well within my budget (the miki bihon cost P90, while the beef maki cost P60) after which, she then leaves without clarifying my orders.

Delicious’ long history began nearly 50 years ago, two blocks away from where the present restaurant is standing. According to Zenaida Tan, the present manager of the restaurant, the business is started by her husband’s father as a small eatery along Alonzo Street in Chinatown. People fondly call her father-in-law Tan Aiao, a friendly Chinese immigrant who personally invites onlookers to dine in his restaurant. “Siya pa nga mismo yung nagluluto at nagse-serve sa mga customers niya na mostly Chinese rin.” Says Tan who also told me that the restaurant was named Delicious because of Tan Aiao’s signature enticement to passerbys, “kain ka dito, delicious dito.”

The restaurant gradually expanded over the decades amidst the general Chinese biases against a restaurant business. Many looked down to restaurant owners like Tan Aiao, who continues to struggle to keep the business running despite its high demand of personal time and little profit he gets from it. “Imagine si Tan Aiao gigising ng 5 am everyday para mamalengke then magclo-close shop ng midnight.” Tan Aiao’s children never followed his footstep and opted to start a less demanding enterprise instead.

By mid 70’s Tan Aiao had already passed away. His children, who are successful businessmen themselves are already entertaining the thoughts of selling Delicious’ rights to interested parties. However, Tan’s husband took a second look at his father’s ailing business and decided to run it himself despite receiving no support from his brothers. The customers keep on coming, which are now mostly Filipino employees from Escolta and Santa Cruz. Gradually, the restaurant rebounded and they moved to their present location during the early 80’s.

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-tobecontinued-

Big Fat Shanghai

For Mami Athena, in honor of her wonderful Pork Binagoongan.

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I took up classes in Food Writing for my masters in hopes that my one-time experience in writing about a restaurant in Manila Times during my OJT would get me through this subject. But less than halfway through the semester, I am beginning to think that food writing is not just writing about food.

It all started last week. Before the class was adjourned, one of my classmates suggested that we should have a little Christmas Party the next meeting. The moderator immediately bought her suggestion and since we are in a Food Writing Class, she said that we should at least bring a dish that we personally prepared.

Everyone agreed and their decision posed a huge problem for me.

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You see, I never really know how to cook. I wasn't even allowed to light a stove because I used to be a pyromaniac in the past. I guess my past deeds (which almost burned our house one time) never got out of my karma. So I told them I don't know how to cook. The moderator suggested that I could at least fry an egg, which I confessed to them that I cannot do. So we ended the class last meeting without me anything to offer them for this afternoon's "little tea party."

At first, I thought that I could ask my mom's friend who is good at making Graham Mango Cake to assist me in how to make one. But I later realized that I don't have the necessary cooking materials and experience to do such a grand thing. Besides, I am not even sure if I could count her with preparing the cake or not.

So I junked the idea before I could actually make preparations for baking.

As days passed, I thought about making a salad. But since nobody knows how to make one and assist me in making my own, there might be some unforseen problems that could happen in food preparation. Then, two days ago, after having some deep thoughts about the food that I would bring, I realized that it would be best to bring a dish that is very close to me. I thought of something that I could not cook, yet I know in my heart how the maid prepares it.

So I decided to make a Lumpiang Shanghai to bring it to the party.

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The preparation is very simple.

One need at least a half a kilo of ground pork; 1 onion, 1 garlic and a carrot sliced and finely minced; a half teaspoonful of salt, half-sachet of Ajinomoto and black pepper powder dashed into the mixture. Stir gently all the ingredients in a bowl until the mixture becomes uniform enough not to distinguish one ingredient from another. Finally add the california raisins and two eggs into the bowl and mix well. This will improve the texture and taste of the filling.

Once the ingredients have been mixed thoroughly, spread the lumpia wrapper in a plate. Take a spoonful of the mixture, dab it into the plate until it forms a long lump halfway towards the center of the wrapper. Fold the wrapper and roll it in a manner that the final product would look like a 6-incher fat Cuban cigar. Repeat the process depending on the serving.

The frying must be done under low heat so that the filling would cook the same way as the wrapper does. This light flame technique would avoid the terrible fatality where the lumpia ends up being crispy yet the filling has a repulsive smell and raw-like aftertaste.

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I took the first taste test when the first lumpia was taken out of the casserole. I must say that its taste and experience was what I had envisioned in mind. It's smell roused my fondest memories of eating in Jollibee and it made me smile everytime I take out a piece of lumpia from the bubbling pool of boiling oil. You see, the very reason why I chose the dish is because I wanted to capture the fat lumpiang shanghai our maid cooks for dinner. I'm so tired and bored with the slim small ones that is so often served during parties that I have hoped to make my own version that is filling and full of lively ingredients. In the end, I succeeded in making one in just my first try.

When my lumpia was served during the little tea party, my classmates could not help but comment on how wonderful my dish was. I'm not sure if they believed that I made it myself but nevertheless, I am flattered by their compliments. At least, my gruelling crayola moments while dicing the onions paid off.

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Carla Pacis, our moderator in Food Writing always tells us that the secret in writing excellent food essay lies on the experiences and memories of the food writer. He must capture its essences and write it in a way that the reader's senses would be roused by his words and feelings. As I prepared the mixture, I had a little bonding moment with our helper, who was there every step of the way to guide me.

I told her how much I appreciated the dishes she cooked for us and her experiences and memories serve as my example whenever we have class discussion in the subject.

It would take a long time before I get to be a good cook or a very good food writer like Doreen Fernandez. But my first time experience with Lumpiang Shanghai might hopefully, wishfully awaken the inner chef in me.