lomi cuarenta y cinco!

the last time i talked about how i've really enjoyed the food i ate was when i went to calaguas (calaguas getaway). this blog appears to be from someone who doesn't eat at all, an ascetic maybe, i say it's the opposite, food is something i simply enjoy. now that i'm staying in the province i have access to bicolano food and one of my favorite restos which we'll talk about in a bit. yes, i've gained a lot of weight but that's another story. another reason why i don't discuss much about real food is that this is not a food blog, it's more of a 'food-for-thought' blog. i'm thinking of creating a food blog, but i'll probably start next year. this entry is a recollection of a place called 'new china'. a restaurant. it was established in the late 50's and it looks really old now. the name of the place is a clear contradiction/contrast of how the place looks like. the restaurant has always been like that, the sitting arrangement, the familiar furniture, and the mirror that covers half of the wall to make the place appear spacious and perhaps to see who doesn't pay the bill. i've heard that the place has become dirty but i didn't notice, that's what i've always been hearing anyway. it's a chinese restaurant in the first place. i go there once a week to eat my favorite lomi or chopsuey rice. as you enter the restaurant, a waiter/waitress approaches and takes your order. in my case it's lomi, the waiter/waitress then approaches the kitchen area then shouts 'o lomi cuarenta y cinco!' or 'lomi forty-five!', it means lomi, single serving. same old way of getting orders and passing it to the kitchen. no mics and loud speakers. just the old and high pitched voice of the waiters and waitresses. it hasn't changed except for the tiled floor.

i remember my parents would usually bring us there on sundays after attending the mass. i was probably six or seven , i simply didn't like the place, it's a place for old people. it doesn't have a mascot and if it had one, i don't know if i'd like it. they didn't have happy meals or kiddy meals. that's what a resto was for me, mascots, happy or kiddy meals, children playing on some corner and a smiling lady at the counter. food wasn't that appetizing, vegies and more vegies. i was a food ignoramous then. it was in that resto that i learned how to eat real food and eat really well. it probably goes with age, tastebuds metamorphosis.

let's go back to how they serve the food, after yelling the order to the kitchen area (it's probably a requirement there that cooks have good functional ears to hear those yells or shouts), the waiter/waitress goes to a bar-like area to get a glass of water with some ice, the utensils, and a saucer with a lemoncito (Citrus sp.). while i wait for my order, i do the familiar ritual of making a dipping sauce of lemoncito (Citrus sp.) and soy sauce. it really doesn't take long before they serve your food, in about five minutes, it's ready. my favorite lomi cuarenta y cinco is served on cracked, faded, old chinese bowl. hot, thick egg-based soup with their own house egg noodles of fine strands, vegies, and tender meat. it's really good for merienda, quite filling too. and looking at it from an economist's perspective, it's worth the price. the place is more than a half century now, and it isn't dying. many people still come, mostly old people accompanied by their grandchildren, passing on a tradition of good food to the next generation.

a day in the life of a kristo

earlier i had a 'for-the-road' session with my uncle, five bottles of my favorite cerveza and an interesting tale of a certain kristo. if you've read my previous entry (of metal talons, spurs, and kristos) , i may have committed a mistake in saying that kristo's take bets in the cockfighting arena when they are actually the individuals who bet, they act as the 'middlemen' or even the 'representatives' of their boss. here's how that kristo's supposedly lucky day went:

his boss or 'manager', as kristos usually call their boss, was quite lucky that day, it was a 'big time' derby. his boss finished early and gave him Php 1,500.00 as his tip. he thought that since his boss was lucky why not try his luck as well. the kristo decided to bet all the money his boss gave him and from that amount it became Php 44,000.00. it made him happy. his long-time plan of buying his own motorcycle would finally come true, not to mention that he still could spend a big amount to celebrate his luck with his fellow 'sabungeros' or kristo's. his friend, also a kristo, served as his kristo. it sounds a bit confusing, a kristo having his own kristo. just to make a clear distinction, he was the lucky kristo, where would someone get that amount? Php 44,000.00 in just one day. the lucky kristo was ready to take home his big prize when his kristo-friend tempted him to bet another Php 5,000.00 and he did. what's Php 5,000.00 anyway? guess what happened to that supposedly lucky kristo? from Php 44,000.00 he went back to zero, literally. the kristo, having nothing, ended his day sitting on a corner of the arena covering his face with his hands.

true story. what do we get from this? it's quite simple, if you're a kristo, never trust another kristo no matter how big your prize is. kristo's are 'trial-and-error' analysts. the lesson is obviously more than what i've said earlier.

i clearly have nothing against kristo's, i'm quite interested with their 'job title'. i'm even thinking of the possibility if there's a hierarchy in their field. could there be a 'head-kristo'? a 'junior kristo'? or 'apprentice-kristo'? this could be a profitable business, make an institution responsible for the formation of future kristo's. yes, a kristo school.

let me end with another story, this is about a proud boy who was asked by his teacher what he wants to be in the future (i hope that this is just a story) :

'when i grow up, i want to be just like my father.'

'what's your father's job?', the teacher asked.

the boy innocently answered, 'he's a kristo.'

epitaph

"...loved you in life, much more in death."

this was the inscription of my grandma's (mother side) tombstone. everytime i visit her grave

the first thing i do is read her epitaph and it never fails to make me smile, of all the epitaphs available, why did they choose this? and until now i still don't know who thought of it. the inscription could mean two things, the first is quite funny, we loved you when you were alive but we love you more because you're dead or simply we're happier because you're dead and the second meaning is how we're supposed to interpret it, we love you more even in your death, we will never forget you.

yesterday i was asked to give my comments on the landscape design of Raul S. Roco's grave in preparation for his birth anniversary. i'm no landscape artist but i did have some background when i took a subject when i was in college. i didn't know that he was buried here until i saw his grave. it was gray and it was made of granite tiles. my friend, the city librarian told me that his (Roco's) death anniversary was last August 5, the same day when Cory was laid to rest, he told me that he was the only one who came to commemorate the senator's death anniversary.

i told him that you can't complain when no one's visiting you when you're dead no matter how powerful you were when you were still alive. i think it's quite humbling. when the senator was still alive, he was famous for fighting against erap's cohorts in the impeachment trial. he even ran for president twice in the 1998 and 2004 elections.

the grave cannot boast about these facts anymore all it can give is its eternal silence. the name, the date, the memory the dead person made, and the epitaph which tries to speak to the reader but doesn't make a sound at all. its silence is a reminder that we are mortals and we're all gonna go there. there's no way we can escape.

i'm beginning to think of what my epitaph would be. the late senator's epitaph was quite moving,

"I met death, and he said 'Live on!'"

I think my epitaph would probably be, "Get off my lawn!"

yellow redefined

August started with a sad news. She's gone. Learning from history books, Cory Aquino was indeed an icon of democracy. She's what every poilitician should imitate. I want to focus more on how she changed the meaning of yellow. I'm not quite sure how she chose yellow as her political color/motif, I'm thinking it's from the old song 'tie a yellow ribbon'. I personally don't like yellow, it's too loud, and the meaning of the word is another reason why. 'yellow' means cowardice.
I've always thought that Cory was a cowardly woman, it made me think that women are really weak as presidents. Yellow really fits her. This impression came from a story I've heard when I was still about ten, they said Cory hid under her bed while there was a coup attempt outside the Palace, it was a 30-hour revolt. I just found out the other day that this was not true. Her ex-chief bodyguard related the story that when he tried to warn Cory, still the president that time, that there has been shooting outside; he found the president combing her hair, preparing for the media later that day. Cory filed a libel suit against the columnist and the publisher responsible for that 'hiding-under-the-bed' rumor, showing her room and proving the fact that it's not possible to hide under her bed since it had a mattress-to-carpet wooden base.

I was ten and perhaps wasn't too interested to know if the information I got was true or not. I just believed and made my own judgments on what kind of president Cory was. I even shared that story to some of my friends. pardon my ignorance. i was still ten. Now that it's clear to me that she wasn't a cowardly woman and that there are a lot of reasons to believe that she was indeed a brave soul, here, we don't have to go very far to prove this, she was a simple housewife before she became our leader or even the mother of this country. She has, getting it from what she did and how she did things all for the name of democracy, changed the meaning of 'yellow' to courage and bravery.

What did I learn from Cory? I heard a bishop say in his final commendation earlier at the funeral mass, 'thank you for teaching us how to pray'. We would all agree that Cory was indeed prayerful and at the same time vigilant of what's happening in the country. She watched, prayed, and acted. May her fight for freedom be not wasted. With her, let us continue to watch, pray, and act.