The last time I saw Romy...

...Was towards Christmas of 2017 in the lovely home of Dr. Melendre Araos in Antipolo. I brought my annual and traditional food offering of Cunanan Bakery ensaymada. Midway, while I was having my traditional sips of Melen's molo soup, photojournalist Romeo Gacad arrived bearing a tray of red eggs. He was home for the holidays. I was surprised, nay, shocked at how he had drastically lost weight. His skin and bones clung to his already lanky frame.

Then he told us about his battle with cancer, how at one point he was losing so much blood and needed to be evacuated (from Myanmar? I forget that detail now) by helicopter to Thailand so a more advanced medical team could attend to him. I remembered the Romy who was at his prime, looking out for news at another annual event--the lantern parade ushering the Christmas holidays at UP Diliman. I was a returning freshman working on my second degree in fine arts. My younger classmates and I were building a gigantic papier mache replica of a kapre, that cigar-smoking creature of Philippine mythology. I hailed Romy and proudly showed the still unfinished handiwork of the freshman class. Himself a UP fine arts alumnus, he gingerly stepped around our work, then asked my classmates and me to gather around the kapre while he took some pictures. My more agile classmates climbed the kapre's bamboo frame just so we didn't have a firing squad type of picture. I was too shy to ask Romy for a soft copy of the picture. That would have been for the books because that year (2005), our class won for best lantern in the university-wide competition. So Celina S. Cristóbal, here is my contribution to your virtual scrapbook of Romy memories. Photo courtesy of Melen Araos. Romy is the guy second from right.

Karlo Marko's superb longga

Rolly and I are in a good mood today what with the hefty breakfast we had of sunny side up eggs, fried rice cooked in the fat rendered by the country style bacon made by That Mountain High, meat smokers led by our godson Karlo Marko Altomonte. The slices of bacon did not shrink as I cooked them without oil on the Teflon pan. In the past, we bought commercial bacon, and this would shrink so fast, you had to cook a whole pack to feed a demanding family that wanted their bacon crisp and dry. Last night, we tried Karlo's smoked longganisa. It said on its label: "pork sausage flavored with garlic, vinegar and spices, smoked with a blend of aromatic wood chips." The sausage links lived up to expectation after they were cooked in a half cup of water. As soon as the water evaporated, the links were allowed to cook in the small amount of fat they rendered. No shrinkage either. The sausages were still as long as my hand and not the size of my pinky. We made a mental note to order another batch of meats when Karlo gets his smoker roaring again. Baguio residents have all the luck. He only charges 25 pesos for delivery anywhere in the city. Look out for the bohemian on a motorbike. Patronize local business!

Fruitcake lovers

Rolly and I survived the wind and rain lashes of Typhoon Maring. I thought I’d reward him with something he loved—a whole fruitcake in a round, tin can and redolent with the strong scent of rum. He had worked hard sweeping the garage area free of fallen twigs and leaves. Serendipitously, I discovered a bakeshop in FB offering fruitcakes in different sizes. I ordered for delivery tomorrow, but the one taking my order said Divine Indulgence Cake Boutique could deliver immediately. Rolly paced the room until we heard the delivery guy motor up our gate. We shall indulge tonight!

My heart's desires

A delivery guy on motorcycle honked his horn, and Rolly and I looked out the window to check if the package was meant for us or the next-door neighbor. It was for us, specifically me. When he brought up the LBC page, he announced that it was from Joseph Uy and predicted that among the contents is a fountain pen. I tried to raise my EQ a bit by delaying the opening of the thing and concentrated on the final touches on the first draft of a chapter going into a book. But I couldn't bear the wait any longer, and I ripped off the packaging, including the gift wrapper with musical notes as print. Came the unboxing of the smallest gift--a Faber-Castell pen--that brought to mind all the music artists and friends whom Joseph "pen-abled" from sopranos Camille Lopez Molina and Myramae T. Meneses to pianists Gema Gonzales and Gabriel Allan Ferros Paguirigan. Our world became richer with the gliding of our pens on paper. Speaking of paper, the second box revealed a small journal with the brand Chocolatier and the bookmark that read: "Life with chocolate. Comfort life with joy and peace." The last was a Rhodia notepad made of ivory high grade vellum paper, just perfect for my handwritten letters and for doodles along the margins. Thank you, Joseph, from Baguio to your home on the border of Pasig and Cainta. I'm not joking when I say that you sometimes are like God--you give my heart's desires.

My (almost) perfect adobo

My lansag buto adobo, all chicken drumsticks

Chili garlic sauce I never could get the dish right. Maybe because I don't measure the amount of soy sauce and vinegar I put in. Yesterday I thawed the chicken drumsticks from the freezer, then put in equal amounts soy and cane vinegar, minced garlic and chopped black pepper. For good measure, I added a dash of Worcestershire sauce. Still I refrained from using a measuring cup or spoon for them. I left the drumsticks to bathe in that marinade for 45 minutes before firing up the stove. I let the whole thing in the pot simmer slowly for another 45 minutes while I read the chapter on adobo in that sumptuous, must-have-on-your-kitchen-shelf book Memories of Philippine Kitchen by Amy Besa and Romeo Dorotan. (We got our signed copy from them when we visited and lunched at their New York restaurant in the late 2000s.) I waited for the sauce to render, but since the man of the house Rolly was famished from a day's work in the garden and the house, I set out to serve the adobo with steaming rice. Midway while setting the table, I forgot to boil two eggs as extenders. I've always felt boiled eggs and adobo go well together, not potatoes and adobo. I brought out the chili garlic sauce with a punch made for us by photographer friend Ev Espiritu, and lunch was ready. Or "reydi" as Rolly would say it. Others would pair their adobo with some mango chutney, but Ev's sauce gave the whole thing its needed kick. I hope you all have a good Tuesday with good food to energize your creative endeavors!

Vaxxed and vexed

Except for some drowsiness as side effect, the first jab we had of Sinovac went smoothly. We spent a total of less than an hour at the SM Baguio parking lot for the procedure. There were just a few people in the area. It was a totally different scenario yesterday. We were advised by the Baguio LGU to report at 12 noon and to be prompt. We were there at 12:01, the delay caused by the crowd at the entrance-exit doors. The area where the seniors were assigned to was crowded--monobloc chairs were barely one foot apart. I wondered why there were young-looking adults beside us. One turned out to be on dialysis. The Trip to Jerusalem arrangement took past an hour before I got my turn to have my oxygen and other vital signs checked. I was half fuming inside because of the lengthy wait so my blood pressure shot up to 160/89. Later, it turned out our area was reserved for extreme seniors, those with walking canes and wheelchairs, but sturdy seniors were mixed with our group. The strong ones were led to another area of the lot. A mix-up in communication, but it caused irritation and delays again. From where I sat, I saw that there was only one person administering the injection, and he was alternating between those having their first jabs and those having their second. I looked at Rolly Fernandez and tried to read his eyes. He wore double masks under a face shield so he seemed hard to fathom. Later, he told me that if he had been shooed away from his seat, he would've told the security guard that he was my caregiver, and I needed his physical presence and support in case I might lose my footing and stumble. Sweet! In fairness, as they would say, the volunteers, registered nurses and doctors were all pleasant and even-tempered in the face of irritated seniors. We finally had our lunch at half past two. And boyoboy were we ravenous! I tore through my grilled chicken and gulped down spoonfuls of chicken macaroni salad. When we got home, we climbed the stairs to our bedroom and without undressing lay down to rest. Too much in a day. As Rolly said of the big crowd (almost the size of what you'd see at a college convocation assembly or commencement rites in pre-COVID times), "Queues are signs of inefficiency."

Every day is Tatay's day

With our grandchild Kai. Tatay is how everybody in our household calls him. If they could speak human language, our two dogs would call him that, too. He is our bank and banker, teacher, gardener, cleaner, librarian, curator of objets d'art, occasional cook, marketing and grocery man, dishwasher, dog walker, disc jockey, crying post, steady rock, etc. No wonder he can get irascible sometimes when books are not in their proper spot on the shelf or when our beds are still unmade when the sun is already high. On Sundays, he is our champorado guy, mixing the tablea chocolate with malagkit until the dish reaches the proper consistency. Then he follows this up by frying dilis or tuyo. He calls us down for breakfast. I am joyful and grateful to have a husband and father like Rolly Fernandez in our home. Happy Tatay's Day from your girls Babeth, Kimi, Ida and Kai

A foodie couple

We finally met up with our endocrinologist who interpreted the results of our blood chem. Rolly Fernandez received summa cum laude honors for managing his blood sugar well unlike me who was just given a passing grade. The doctor remarked, " It's obvious that you eat the same food. Both your uric acid is elevated." We blamed it on the rich fabada we dined on the night before. But the doctor said it wasn't beans that were rich in purine. It was the assorted meats--ham, sausages, bacon--that went into the Spanish style pork and beans. To pat ourselves on the back for our good results, we decided to try the unlimited merienda offered by Mario's on Upper Session Road. We started with Misua with Meatballs and Spinach and made our way around the plate for the Tinapa and Togue Rolls, Puto and Dinuguan, Sotanghon Guisado, Cheese Pimiento Sandwich, Banana Cue and Buko Pandan Salad. We cleaned up our plates and readied ourselves for a second serving of the same without the sandwich which we found too sweet. The merienda costs P299 a person without our senior discount. A good deal!