Category: ISLANDHOPPER

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ISLANDHOPPER

A Rak Experience for a Non-Raker

The truth is, I’ve been blogging even before I knew the word blog. Simply because I love writing out loud. Sharing my gutspill and mind farts to anyone who cares to listen slash read. But for the past few years, I’ve seriously lapsed in the habit. Yes, there are the usual culprits–work, life, sloth, and Facebook. But I guess there was also something about how blogging–its communities, its culture–has evolved that scared me a little bit. And I wasn’t quite ready to print a business card, analyze my SEOs, and sell my soul for freebies just to feel like a real blogger. So I just lay low for a bit, blogged intermittently, but never really got the nerve to delete or stop all together.

Once in a while, after a particularly palate-titillating dish, or a fabulous trip, I feel the itch to blog. But never have I felt the overwhelming rage to rave and to successfully overcome inertia. Until today. And it’s funny how a musical made me do it. I actually just left a very long comment on Facebook, but then I thought to myself that it was too long for a comment, so I might as well post a blog. So here I am, rusty at blogging, and here it is, my review of Rak of Aegis. Copied and pasted from Facebook.

I am ashamed to admit that I did not expect much. The first time it ran, I scoffed at the pun and assumed it would be a spoof of Rock of Ages and a mockery of the band Aegis. I thought it would be a loosely spun string of songs that would be illogically stretched out to accommodate the band’s repertoire.


To begin with, my narrow music comfort zone did not accommodate the folksy, rocky genre of a band who sings with a strange accent. And then it did not help that on the night itself, I was exhausted from an all-day training workshop with 40 participants, some of whom were rowdy and required subtle disciplining. I felt I would much rather go home to have my much-needed massage.

I grossly underestimated PETA, Aegis, and the power of artistic entertainment to wash away fatigue. One of the quips in the musical was, O for Owkward. And I knew then that I would rate this O for Owesome.

The production values made me want to be a stage designer apprentice, and the performance made me ache in envy at my inability to sing in tune.

Experience Design advocate and theorist Brenda Laurel would approve of how the stage brings the audience into the milieu. I could almost smell the stench of the flood and feel the itch caused by millions of germs in the putrid air. This, they achieved by wrapping the audience around the stage, a stylized yet realistic depiction of Manila’s marshy slums. The bubble and sunflower scenes were a bright respite from the dirty brown overload and showed how well the production could laugh at itself.

The costumes were spot on for the characters, who probably sourced their fashion needs from ukay-ukay stores. Plus there were the more outrageous, campy touches from the fantasy scenes. The lovely variety of botas, the cheap version of Plueys, appealed to my aesthetically-alert eyes.

And of course, the performances–Aicelle Santos is a marvel. As fame-hungry, I’ve-got-to-be-discovered-by-Ellen-de-Genere Aileen, she is convincing and endearing–she disarms you and gets you rooting for her. As a singer, she can belt it out for the diva numbers, and she can tone it down to a tender lilt for the love scenes. She can screech her frustrations in a booming voice that fills the theater, and then she can just as quickly bring it down to a hopeless sigh.

Jerald Napoles is a blast! He looks perfect for the role, for his present life as a love struck gondolier, and for his crazy druggie back story. It would have been easy for him to cross the line to annoying character, but he stays just near the border of lovable. He made we wish I had my own Tolits, utterly in love with me while also being an endless source of life-affirming bellow laughs. (Oh wait, I do.)

The humor! Laugh out loud wit that never goes too low, too dark, too toilet. Satire that does not try too hard. Kudos to PETA for its fresh, relevant injection of Bong Revilla elements.

And the last thing I expected was the message itself (shows you how little I know about PETA, which I now know is always big about social relevance). It is a depiction of poverty, the type that makes people want to stop hoping, the kind where one is never up in the wheel of life. It is a commentary on the Filipino’s fondness for get-rich-quick schemes, or in this case, get-out-of-this-miserable-existence-quick schemes. If it was their intention to rouse and guilt out its apathetic middle class audience when they sang Gumising na Tayo, then they succeeded with me. Yet in the end, there is redemption, a message that when it’s bleak where you are, it’s not magical circumstances that can get you out, but good old Filipino talent and abilidad. One can always hope. And back up that hope with change and action.

Yes,Rak of Aegis rocks. And if you haven’t yet, you’ve got to see it, even if you have to brave flood, rain, hale, and traffic to get there. 




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ISLANDHOPPER

Bale Dutung – The Anthony Bourdain Menu (July 2011)

My mother in law celebrated her 80th year. And it was a foodfest that went on for days. 

4 days after the sensory overload at Pinto Art Museum, 3 days after the pig out brunch at Legaspi Market, we were off to Angeles, Pampanga for another slow food experience. 

For most of us, this was our second time at Claude Tayag’s Bale Dutung. https://gegesugue.com/2009/07/28/bale-dutung-house-of-good-food-gracious-entertaining-and-art/

After the first one, I swore I’ll never come back. The 5-way lechon feast was a fabulous culinary experience, but that time at Bale Dutung was truly the most stuffed I’ve ever been in my lifetime, and we all know I have a pretty much world-record-able, bottomless esophagus with an amazing capacity for food. I felt then it was possible to die from too much food.

But like a lot of broken promises, when it comes to things that are too good for me, I had to swallow my oath and force myself to participate in this family activity. The sacrifices I make for my loved ones!

This time, with lessons learned, I knew I had to lay off the second servings of the dips and pace myself really well. And it’s either my esophagus got longer, or I got smarter with food pacing, that I felt I just had the right amount of food. Well, right amount being still a thousand times above any daily recommended allowance.

Bale Dutung’s house drinks with iced moscovado; that way the ice does not dilute the sweetness while it melts. 

This time, we had the menu that was served to Anthony Bourdain when he came to visit the Philippines. As such, these are their signature dishes, those that they feel best represent the richness of Philippine culture.

Claude and Mary Ann put a lot of thought into the planning of the menu, programming it to have a transition and build-up of flavors, with each dish more complex and more flavorful than the previous.  It started with the light and refreshing Pako (Fern) Salad, which was followed by the BBQ Paldeut (Chicken tail) with Lemon Grass Marinade served with Crab Fat Rice. 
The menu got heavier when they served the Adobong Pugo (Quail) and more complex when they gave us their version of Sushi, which used local ingredients like Crab Fat, Catfish, and Fermented Sauce.


The menu built up to even more complex, incredibly interesting, and flavorful dishes. Their take on the Lechon (Roasted Pig) is to shred and fry it to a golden crisp then wrap it in a soft tortilla together with varied flavors like kimchi, basil, onions, and salsa. This is a more generous version of the one they sell at Mercato because it’s served buffet style and you’re free to pile up the ingredients. Mine had lots and lots of basil.

By the time they served the Papaitan (Goat Stew), our palates were primed and ready for more exotic flavors.

To me, the most interesting dish was the Bulanglang Kapampangan na may Tiyan ng Bangus, Ulang, Sugpo, at Tadyang na Baboy. (Milkfish belly, crayfish, prawns and spareribs) dipped in a thick, gooey bulanglang soup made of guava. And this is where fine cooking and excellent menu priming can open up your palate to appreciate flavors you won’t normally like. I hate the taste and smell of guava, but I loved this dish. 


The savory segment is capped by the Kare Kare, gorgeous to look at, and incredibly delicious to eat. 

Serving Kare Kare is a tricky thing. Most people consider their family recipes as the best. And the standard for good Kare Kare is high in the Alampay-Sugue family. My mom in law Lydia’s signature Kare Kare is made using traditional methods and is hard to beat by any restaurant version. Bale Dutung’s gorgeous Kare Kare did not try to beat anyone’s family version. This is just a different and utterly delicious take on the dish. The peanut in the sauce is not too finely and evenly ground. This, plus the coconut incorporated into the dish, gave it a very interesting texture. A wonderful climax to the menu’s savory components.

Mary Ann Tayag still sets the bar for being the hostess with the mostest, ever gracious and ever ready to serve and to share fascinating information about Philippine food. 

The experience is again made richer by a peek at their home and the wonderful stories that accompany the viewing.

At the end of our long, satisfying lunch, Mary Ann brought a bilao (native platter) of Tibok-Tibok, something like the maja blanca but uses carabao’s milik, with a birthday candle. 

Mommy blew her birthday candle and wished for a 3rd Bale Dutung visit. And I swear I’m coming with her on that 3rd trip.
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ISLANDHOPPER

Cagayan de Oro and Camiguin in Bullet Points

(Transferred  from Multiply. Original posted June 3, 2008.) 

Finally, I have regained the right to call myself Islandhopper. Went last May to Cagayan de Oro to conduct 3 workshops at the Bangko Sentral ng Pilipinas. I decided to reward myself with a 2-day vaycay to Camiguin. No reservations. Armed with little else than my Lonely Planet Philippines guidebook. Here’s the blow by blow of that Cagayan de Oro-Camiguin hopping:


Cagayan de Oro – Day One

  • Arrived at CDO on the first flight out of Manila. Charming provincial airport looking like most provincial airports do. Taking the cab from the queue, I asked before entering if it was a metered taxi. Someone said yes it was. That someone wasn’t the taxi driver though. Captive, whizzing through parochial roads that seem too far from the city and too scary to be stranded in, I had no choice but to negotiate the flat rate from 250 to 230. Woow, power negotiator me.
  • Arrived at Willshire Inn, which is quaint and unpretentious. Yes, those are euphemisms.
  • Napped, then took the jeep (and my husband gasped knowing how I hate taking public transport) to Limketkai Mall to visit uhm… their version of National Book Store, and Japanese Home Store, and Watson’s.
  • Then, while I was browsing through Watson’s I thought how about checking out SM’s version of NBS. Nobody seemed to know how to commute to SM, so I had to take a cab. Gasp! Almost 100 pesos. It’s far from downtown. Yeah, I know why am I malling in CDO? Well, it’s just my way of uhm, acclimatizing to my new environment. Or maybe I have this goal of visiting every SM branch in the country. After all, they’ve got it all for you. Shhh, don’t tell my husband, who’s declared a book-buying moratorium, but I dropped in at the Booksale branch. Not quite the reason my return home luggage was overweight.
  • Lunch at Turkish resto. Review to follow.
  • Cab back to hotel. Unpacked and then took cab to the Eco-Tourism Village. No meter again, 250 pesos.
  • Eco-village is a nice CDO welcome. You take a map of the place and walk long stretches, going through gardens and pathways, replicas of native Mindanao houses, an aviary, and a mini zoo. Built up a sweat running away from an imaginary python. Pictures to follow. 
  • Hotel car service picked me up. Goodbye 200 pesos. But driver was nice enough to bring me to the market to buy a sarong and a couple of local bags.
  • Freshened up at the hotel and had dinner at Manukan/ Jo’s, which has branches here in Metro Manila. When out of town or out of the country, I try to make it a point to dine at restos not available back home. (I don’t get it when people eat at Jollibee’s in Cebu or McDonald’s Davao. Which is not the same as my going to SM, of course.) But since I have not tried Jo’s, this was acceptable. Liked the tapioca dessert.

Let’s Speed This Up

  • This bullet point thing is too slow and detailed so I’m going to just do a time lapse sequence of the rest of the week. First day of training a bummer due to noise of the rallyists outside. Participants were from the different parts of Mindanao Very nice folks. Was afraid I’ll bore them with 5-days straight of training, but they showed so much interest and appreciation. Week ended with a very nice, touching send off from the participants. Great affirmation that training is something I am supposed to do. Within that week, I went back to the Limketkai strip a number of times to sample the local restos, visit the internet café, and have a foot massage at Body and Sole. One night, I had a lovely dinner with an old business relation and had a conversation to refresh the soul.
  • Of course, we had to go shopping for local delicacies – bought pastel from Vjandep and chicharon from Sler’s. Sinfully scrumptious both.


Off to Camiguin in a Tricyle, Bus, Ferry, and a Scooter.  

  • Saturday morning, woke up early to check out and leave for my Camiguin experience. Left my luggage filled with corporate training clothes at the hotel. Downsized to a backpack.
  • I was a bit scared. It wasn’t the first time I’ve traveled alone, but it was the first time I would be going to the beach by myself. And I wasn’t all that confident that the information I got from blogs and from Lonely Planet were still accurate.
  • But I was also excited to be doing something that I’ve never done before and going somewhere I’ve never gone.
  • Waited for a jeep to get me to Agora, which is the bus station. No jeep in sight, so took those long tricycles instead. 20 pesos.
  • Took the Bachelor Bus to Balingoan. Airconditioned. 130 pesos. 1 ½ hours with a stopover breakfast and washroom stop over. At Balingoan, took a sitak (motorized pedicab) for P10 to very nearby port. (Terminal Fee – P2.25) 

  • 1 hour ferry ride to Benoni port (P120) in an overcrowded, rickety, wooden boat. As I was surveying the situation and pondering if the monobloc chair beneath me could float in salt water, I started questioning the wisdom of taking this trip. I was afraid it was going to be the last hour of my life and I texted my husband last goodbyes. He asked what he was supposed to do with all my books, my only valuable possessions.  Isn’t he practical? 
  • Beside me in the monobloc bench was this ownerless black backpack. My seatmate and I looked at it suspiciously, trying to discern a ticking sound, feeling for unusual shapes that looked like a bomb. Oh well, I figured ground zero was the best place to be. At least I get blown to smithereens, and do not have to worry about being cast out into the sea for days and having to eat human flesh.
  • Somebody drew the tarpaulin cover down, blocking the view of the water. A bad place to be for a claustrophobe. It’s a good thing I’m not, but still it made the scary experience even more uncomfortable. I napped to shorten the ride. 
  • Whew. Arrived safely at Benoni. Walked towards the bakery and waited for a jeep as Lonely Planet suggested. Accosted by habal habal (motorcycle) drivers whom I ignored at first. No jeeps came. Figured I was wasting time waiting. I’ve got to carpe diem it, so I negotiated the 100 peso habal habal fee to 80. And that’s how I met Dodong. Dodong, my island boy.
  • The habal habal was a good idea. It was a 500 meter uphill trek from the main road, where the jeep would have dropped me off, to my hotel.
  • Checked in at Enigmata Tree House. Lovely, charming; no, not euphemisms. It’s literally a tree house; 3 levels built around a giant acacia tree. Filled with eclectic art. I was led into this huge room with a spacious ante-room. With a hammock!!! And a lovely, rustic, bed swathed in white, covered by a thinner than muslin mosquito net. Suddenly started missing my honeybabs. Reluctantly left room. Had to seize the day.
  • Commissioned Dodong to drive me around the island to the tourist spots recommended by bloggers.
  • Camiguin is a beautiful island. Astonishingly beautiful. A two-lane concrete road wrapped around the island connecting little side roads. No helmet motorbike riding wasn’t scary at all, since there were very few cars on the roads. Mostly scooters who always gave a courtesy honk when overtaking. The sea was almost always in view. One time the motorbike took a turn and there before me was a vista of green cliffs, mountains, wispy clouds, and the deep blue sea that told me why one word for blue just wasn’t enough, I felt rapturously in love. Life looked so good. What a sublimely romantic moment. It was a good thing Dodong was shorter than me and had really bad teeth or the inevitable could have happened. I could have fallen in love with this island boy. And I would be texting my husband – won’t be back, you can keep the kids.  (We don’t have kids, so don’t look at me like that.)

Tourist Trapped

  • First stop was the Katibawasan Falls. I was surprised that when we stopped the bike, there was a gate to get to the falls. Of course, there was an entrance fee being charged. I was befuddled. I thought going to the waterfall would require a long nature walk. It turns out that in the name of tourism, the falls had been made more accessible, and that meant messing with nature. The walk leading down had been converted to concrete terraces with picnic tables. The falls were beautiful, all cascading 70 meters of it. But as my eyes looked at the pool beneath it, I felt that there was something strange. And that something strange is that the natural lines of the river had been altered and cemented into a round concrete walled pool. The water still flowed out of the pool into a stony river, but I can’t help but be disappointed at the artificial aesthetic of the place. I guess that made the place more accessible to tourists, but I wish they had set a larger setback to preserve the natural terrain. Oh well, I’m no tourism engineer, so maybe I don’t know what I’m talking about.
  • I didn’t stay long. Just took a few pictures then exited. Outside the gates, there were a number of huts selling merchandise. I bought a keychain and I tried the kiping smothered in caramel.
  • We then went to the Sunken Cemetery. Then, I wished I were more prepared for the trip. I was really curious to snorkel and check under the water. I also wished I weren’t alone so somebody could take my pictures. Dodong’s picture of me had the cross right above my head. 
  • My island boy and I had lunch at an Italian place. Mostly, I used my time to delete pictures because my memory card was getting full. I observed, though, that the food prices were touristy; quite expensive.

Springbored

  • Dodong then drove us to Ardent Hot Springs. Since it was the height of summer, the place was jampacked with locals. A mass of humanity that would make Malu Fernandez cringe filled the place. And again, man can’t leave nature well enough alone and transformed the place into a place of concrete mazes.

Mini Rant

  • I am all for progress and tourism development. But I think our country has to learn more about nature conversion. I mean, people from the cities flock not to see shrink wrapped versions of what used to be. We go to the islands expecting to see less concrete and more green. And if you’re going to mess with nature, at the very least, work with consultants with great aesthetic sense.

Now, This is Pararadise

  • I figured I had enough of the tourist spots and felt my room hammock calling me, so I decided to head home and enjoy my hotel.  What a splendid idea, Gege.
  • Thanked Dodong profusely not just for driving for me but also for carrying my things and being very nice. The only thing is that he is one of those, when asked about the cost of their services, would say “Bahala na kayo.” I hate that – you never know if you’re being cheap underpaying or you’re being too generous and ruining the curve for the backpackers. I gave him 400.
  • I spent the rest of the day in my room and it really was a good idea.
  • First the shower. After spending 6 days at the euphemistically unpretentious Willshire Hotel with the shower barely a trickle, I was so ecstatic to experience the high pressure cold blast of water to wash the city grime and island dust away. I literally screamed Yes, Yes, Yes! What deprivation does to make us more appreciative.
  • Chick lit. Mango smoothie. Hammock. All in the comfort of my own room. For that whole afternoon, my life was perfect. And I knew that someday, when the government has discovered how to tap into my husband’s finite fart reserve to provide enough power for the 7,100 islands and 7 million SUVs of this archipelago, and all he has to do for us to live comfortably is to eat beans and release, then we can retire early, and that hammock-smoothie-book combination will fill my days.

In the Wilderness

  • Paradise, of course, means rustic environs and communing with nature. And the no air-conditioning ambience of the tree house deeply ensconced into the eco-system means being exposed to all that nature offers–-bugs, howling wind rustling the shell curtains, and the creepiest, strangest noises that kept me up all night.
  • One time an insect landed on my fingers and it immediately sunk its tentacles into my flesh. So many little creatures in the place. I could live with that. But it did make me a bit edgy. So much so that when my camera strap slipped and moved, I almost shrieked.
  • And of course, it was bound to happen in the wilderness. As I was enjoying my breakfast with Grace Nono thumping in the background, in came an unwanted visitor that stealthily walked towards my legs. It was a cat! And those who know me know that I would hug a snake, sleep with a capre, eat ox brain, and do practically anything other than touch a cat. The little boy who served my breakfast heard my bloodcurling scream and got so alarmed thinking the cat did something bad to me–yeah, it did just by showing up. I had to finish my breakfast in my room.

Lonely Animal

  • The trip was too short for me to be homesick. But the beauty of the islands and the charm of my lodging made me miss my husband. Yes, he’s the vacation nazi. But he’s much better looking than Dodong. 
  • I hoped, at least, to find some social animals in the hotel.  I was visualizing carousing with foreigners, having cross cultural, intellectual discussions with people with accents, getting to know the owner of this eclectic wonder. Alas, the owner was in Kuala Lumpur. And  Enigmata’s phone  was busted the whole week so no one could make reservations. So, except for the staff, who  slept early, I was the only social animal in the place. 


Camiguin’s Finest

  • Then, Dodong and I were off to White Island. Technically, it was just me. Dodong just dropped me off at the shore and my boatman, aptly named Journey, brought me to the island. It was a bit scary for a moment when the waves rocked the really tiny the boat too much. But the view of White Island made the mini-ordeal worth it. Really beautiful.
  • People call this a sandbar. But it really isn’t made of sand but of crushed corals. One can imagine the amount of time (eons) to grind corals to that fineness. The time I spent there was too short, but we had to leave the island before high tide because it is one of those islands that disappear with the tide.
  • On the way back, I realized I could actually check out of the hotel that afternoon, and catch the last ferry back to Cagayan de Oro. Not that I wanted to leave this paradise, but it gave me the opportunity to sleep more the next day and spared me the stress of catching my noon-time flight. And that’s what I did.

Goodbye, Camiguin

  • As I was checking out, I realized there was a screw-up and I was given a bigger room than I could afford. I won’t go into detail, but that mistake was a happy mistake for me because I wasn’t charged extra. I’m so blessed to enjoy that huge, comfortable, beautiful room for that price.
  • And so, Dodong and I got back onto the bike and I took one last drive along the coastline and caught the last ferry out, just in time to see the sunset over beautiful Camiguin.
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Sabroso’s at Libreria: A Most Unusual Meal at a Bookstore

I’ve had my share of lechon. And now that my husband is frequently in Cebu, lechon has become fairly common dining table fare.
So, maybe, I’m a little bit jaded now.
But I was in for a surprise treat with my first try of Sabroso Lechon.
One day before 2010 ended, we got invited to a lunch at the best bookstore in the planet, Libreria.

Libreria is a quaint, little bookstore tucked into a corner of the metro’s most happening art spot, Cubao X. Outside, it looks a little bit like Hugh Grant’s bookstore in Notting Hill. Inside is a scrumptious melange of white brick and Caribbean blue walls, floor planks salvaged from a bowling alley, shelves and shelves of books, kitsch (the good kind), and the heady scent of brewed coffee. It’s small in area but big on personality. It’s a place one goes to not just to buy and browse affordable books in great condition; it’s also a place for friends to chill, to discuss books, to party.
And this little party last December was called by Libreria’s lovely owner, Triccie Cantero. I didn’t know if she was thanking us for our patronage or bribing us to come over when she whispered that lechon (roasted pig) would be on the menu. She neither had to bribe nor thank us because we go to her bookstore just because we love it there. But still, lechon! Who says no to a lechon invitation? So, even if my husband and I were off to an anniversary vacation, we had to stop over.
My husband, artisan, surgeon, demi-god of lechon carving, showed off his skills and left not one splatter on the books. He didn’t even break into a sweat. And he finished carving in pretty good time too. He was in his element. And I was in mine, surrounded by books, good food, and my bookish friends.

Sabroso Lechon, as the packaging says, is incredibly flavorful. I have yet to find food that is better than sex, but this comes dangerously close. This is lechon that comes from the Cebu tradition of pig roasting, but deviates a little to make it unique. For one, it comes with a thick garlic sarsa, which might raise the eyebrows of Cebu-lechon-purists. And to my palate, there’s a distinct flavor, something that resembles sinigang and something I cannot guess. I wanted to take a sampling of the stuffing to have our resident science geek Mike analyze. Maybe I have to try it again to find better words to describe its interesting flavor. For now, all I can manage is that it’s lovely, lovely lechon.

Lechon and books — a most unusual combination, a fusion of heaven for the senses and hell for the cholesterol conscious. At least now, I can argue that my vice (books) is so much healthier than my husband’s (booze and baboy).

Lechon without rice is like, well, lechon without rice. Good enough, but a little sad. So, Triccie made sure the experience was complete by supplying seafood paella lovingly prepared by her mom. Cholesterol + carbohydrates; now, what else is missing?
Ah yes! Sugar. Fellow book club friends Blooey and Czar took care of that with a box of Krispy Kreme and the famous ADB chocolate crinkles, respectively.
Then, finally, the appetizer arrived. Like we need it. Our friend Mike (yes, the science geek slash sports watch endorser) contributed the ridiculously delicious hummus made by his mom. All of us now want to be adopted by an Iranian family.
And finally, a cupful of Libreria’s house blend. The bookstore gives out free brewed coffee. Didn’t I tell you this is the best bookstore in the planet?
Unfortunately, my husband and I could not stay longer for the reincarnation of the lechon in paksiw (cooked in vinegar and garlic) form. Pampanga beckoned.
We can always have some more of the lechon by visiting their shop at 1237 E. Rodriguez Ave., Corner Tomas Morato, Quezon City. And according to my Manila by Day book (Thanks, Peter and Rhett.), they serve meals there too. According to the same book, a full lechon costs PhP3k.
For delivery, you can dial +632-725-0711, or +632-515-8253, or +632-515-8259.
Thanks, Triccie! Thanks, Libreria, for this splendid lunch like no other.
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ISLANDHOPPER

Anniversary Weekend at Abe’s Farm

My husband and I recently reached the 15th year mark as Mr. and Mrs. Yeay, us! So we celebrated by having an out-of-town weekend in the middle of the week. I love it when we do that, because that means we get to have two weekends in one week! Always fun.
We headed for Abe’s Farm in Pampanga, a restaurant cum bed and breakfast place we’ve heard so much about.
As is the norm, the Mrs. slept through most of trip as the Mr. channeled Kimi Raikkonen and tried to beat some imaginary world record. Our Trooper zipped through NLEX, creating a psychedelic, impressionistic, moving painting of the rice fields, swamps, and trees surrounding the highway. I knew this even as I slept with my mouth wide open. I know it’s true love because my husband still loves me even after watching me, the world’s ugliest sleeper, sleep. Ooops. A.D.D. alert. I won’t apologize anymore for digressing because I always digress anyway. What I’m trying to say is, don’t ask me how to get there. When I travel, it’s like entering a time machine. I just close my eyes and then I’m there.
Just check out their homepage http://abesfarm.com.ph/ for directions.

I woke up as we neared Magalang, Pampanga. I always love the approach to a town. It’s a predictable, comforting pattern. You first go through the suburbs, where progress is constantly changing the landscape, old homes and rice fields giving way to the sprouting of gated subdivisions. Then you pass through the busy bayan (town center) with it Jollibees, and post-war market buildings, and all sorts of enterprise and merchandise. Then as you go deeper into the more parochial parts of town, things quiet down and the roads get a little rougher, the sights greener, the structures fewer and farther in between. And you can even roll down your car windows to breathe in that unusual smell — they call it fresh air.

I never fail to appreciate it when we pass a tunnel of trees that almost completely shade the road, branches interlocking overhead as if embracing me in a warm welcome.
We followed the signs. Then, finally we saw the farm’s gate, where a man ushered us into a large, shaded parking lot loosely paved with river stones.
Abe’s Farm is owned and operated by the LJC Group. Whenever I think LJC, I think: squid tactics. binukadkad na pla-pla. Claude’s Dream. Abe’s chocolate eh. These menu items have been in the Metro’s culinary scene for ages that they’ve become comfort food for me, and I dare guess for others too. These are also the dishes that told me that going to Abe’s Farm in Magalang, Pampanga would be worth the trip. Because if all else suck, at least, the food won’t disappoint.

But we discovered that’s at Abe’s Farm, it’s more than just the food, there are many other reasons to visit.

The calm. Within the walls, you feel you’re far, far away from civilization. You’re surrounded by dense foliage, muffling the sounds of the outside world, covering you, making you feel like you’re one with nature, even though, I admit, I’m not the one with nature kind of girl. There’s no rush. Paths meander; it’s never about getting from point A to point B in no time. People seem to walk around and talk in whispers, as if reverential of the country quiet.

The charm. The brochure described the place with the phrase tropical art deco. It’s that. Plus architecture and decor that fuse our rich Filipino heritage and Asian aesthetics. The architecture of the main house and the varied cottages do not disrupt nature one bit as they are low rise, unassuming, and finished in indigenous materials. Divans, solihiya lounge chairs, and four poster day beds decked in cotton canvas slip covers and batik pillows are scattered in various places inviting you to sit and read, or slumber, or just sigh and soak in the sounds and scents of provincial life. The air is of unpretentious luxury.

The romance. We arrived just before sunset, settled into our rustic cottage, and by the time we left it to go the spa, the dim of dusk and the sprinkling of outdoor lights have turned the place into a romantic garden of brick lanes and cozy tryst spots.

In the rooms, there are no hi-fi, no wi-fi, no TV. Just a bed. And a tub for two. This absence of high tech pleasantly forces you to go high touch instead. To converse. Or to read in bed together, something I find strangely romantic. And to just share silent space, as old married couples find comfort in doing.

The luxury. Okay, I admit it. Even though I love my creature comforts and backpacking does not make me a happy camper, I’m quite easy to please. Just put a muslin netting over my bed, and I’m easily impressed. I know it’s just for effect, because the air-conditioning and glass walls and doors keep the mosquitoes away. But it just adds a touch of opulence, comfort, sexiness to an otherwise rustic ambiance.

The spa is housed in a cottage similar to ours. My full body massage was glorious. And painful. Just the way I like it. When the therapist asked if the pressure was fine, I requested for her to make it harder. She obliged. She kneaded my holiday-weary body so hard, I almost wanted to shout, Uncle. The next day I was black and blue. And if I weren’t already married, I might have proposed marriage to my therapist, so I can have a lifetime of spa bliss.
Then dinner. Ah, back to food.
Rice with dilis and tausi. Squid tactics. Inihaw na tadyang. Pako (fern) salad. Chicharon bulaklak. I thought we ordered too much. Yet, at the end of the meal, all that was left was the rice, which we asked them to serve with our breakfast the next day. The tadyang was a bit too crispy for me. I want it crispy on the outside, but tender, juicy, beefy inside. This one was crispy all throughout. Other than that, everything was perfect.

We washed all that with merlot, and we brought an order of leche flan to our room.
Because this is in the province, where the townsfolk turn the lights off early, service ends at 8PM.

So off to our cottage.

Insert 60s style hazy fade outs and sound effects to indicate a long time lapse because the censors cut the good parts in the bedroom.

We woke up excited to cap our weekend. LJC style breakfast awaited. We pre-ordered the night before.

We first built up an appetite walking around the grounds; checking out the Ifugao huts and the swimming pool; and admiring the orchid collection.

Moving around the main house, I wished we could stay longer to laze, to just lie on daybed and read.
We broke our fast with tapsilog for me and tocilog for him. Darn! I forgot to order chocolate eh. But the coffee was a delicious picker upper anyway. We wolfed down our breakfast because we were excited to visit the museum.
The museum is a relocated, reconstructed house, and is a great example of adaptive reuse as a means of preserving traditional architecture and decor. It also makes Abe’s Farm more than just a bed and breakfast place as it gives it a story, history, charm, and romance.
In size, it’s not much, which means it’s not overwhelming and you can tour the place in minutes.
But because I am fond of minutiae, the museum was a wonderland of details that clue you in on Abe, his family, his art, his lifestyle. This museum is certainly another good reason to make the trip to Magalang.

We eventually tore ourselves away from Abe’s farm to meet a friend who manages a business at the Clark Economic Zone.

Aside: I was amazed to discover that U.S.-based companies that restore old cars actually find it cheaper to ship the vehicle and parts to the Philippines, where local workers have been trained to do restoration work, and then ship back the finished goods to the U.S. Whew! Long sentence.

Lunch. I’ve been hearing about Zapata’s (now Iguana’s), the Mexican restaurant known for its margaritas. And I was glad to learn that the buzz was not all hype. That was mighty good Mexican food and an awesome margarita.
We managed to coerce our friend, one bottle of beer at a time, to extend her one-hour lunch break, but we eventually had to bring her back to work with her promising to grill some steaks for us pretty soon.
Because our car was coded that day, we had to stall — first by passing for some Paning’s butong pakwan (watermelon seeds), and then having an early dinner at Marquee Mall, an Ayala Mall in Angeles.

Aling Lucing’s sisig, Susie’s pansit luglug, Susie’s tibok tibok (similar to maja blanca, but uses carabao’s milk) — our mini Pampanga food tour, all consumed at the food court beside the supermarket.

I almost don’t know how to end this post, in the same way, that it was hard to end that weekend in the middle of the weekend. So, because the 15th year is merely a milestone in a what I hope to be a long, long marriage, I will not just say The End. Instead, I end with To be continued…

Abe’s Farm, Pampanga Office
Phone: +(6345) 865-1930
Mobile: +(63915) 595-5501
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ISLANDHOPPER

Cards and Such


I hate it when I get nice gift tags because it takes so much effort and forced detachment to write on them and give them away. So it took me a while to give this gift tag away.

My BFF Mariced created this, and it’s special to me because she knows I love dragonflies. Loving dragonflies is one of many things we have in common.

We’re also both papyvores! We squeal in delight and freak out when we get inside paper stores.

I finally decided to use the dragonfly card yesterday, and I made sure I used it as the tag for a gift for another BFF, Cindy. But not without taking a pic and immortalizing it here.

If you’re a papyvore like I am, you will love MPress Letterpress products. They’re just not pretty to look at. They’re also very tactile, because the old fashioned printing method gives it texture.

When I was a in LA, a few years back, I got the chance to try out the letterpress machine. Letterpress printing is such a sensual process — heavy metal touching bare skin; the scent of old type ink; visual stimulation in choosing the types; repetitive, rhythmic motions. I could see how that could be addictive. And why my friend, (Grammy Award Nominee) Mariced, better known as Maria, is in love with the process.
Learn more about letterpress printing by visiting MPress’s new blog. Fascinating for paper geeks. I love the first post — the story of her gorgeous 2009 calendar. I’m never going to throw mine away.
And here is where you order.

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ISLANDHOPPER

I Ate Lechon Five Times and Lived to Tell the Story of Bale Dutung


n.b.: I wrote this piece several months ago. Then, somebody asked me to submit it a travel magazine, requesting me not to post it on my blog before publication. Now, I’m finally allowed to post it on my blog.

My Bale Dutung story started a few years ago when I first heard about it from a friend. Like rumors of a magic island, the stories told of a rustic, art-filled, awesome place in Angeles, Pampanga, a place where one dines on culinary wonders whipped up by food columnist, artist,and chef Claude Tayag, a place where only a few can enter. One can’t just go alone; a party of at least ten is required. You also need to reserve way in advance. Because the owners do this only once or twice a month. If at all. If they’re not busy traipsing around the country or the world, sampling gourmet delicacies and exotic street grub. And you need to break the bank and bring enough cash, about P1,800 per person. More if you’re buying pasalubongs and copies of their books.


I knew I had to try this place. But organizing a trip seemed like a complicated, expensive production number.

Through the years, I’ve read articles and blog posts about Bale Dutung, seen pictures, heard more stories; and my desire to visit grew. Then I read Claude Tayag’s book, Food Tour, a delectable compilation of stories of food, culture, travel, and art. And I knew I wanted to meet Claude Tayag, who has made a career of doing the things I love to do. And I really had to visit this place. Watching Claude serve Tony Bourdain an extremely telegenic rendition of kare-kare, I resolved to make this pipedream happen.


And as proof that dreams still happen, we finally had our Bale Dutung experience. After a flurry of email and text exchanges with our hostess, Mary Anne Tayag, a group of 14 friends and family members trooped to Angeles on a drizzly Sunday morning.


We entered a gated subdivision that did nothing to prepare us for the surprise of entering a place that seemed more likely to be found by the foot of a mountain, by the edge of a rainforest, or somewhere remote and slightly magical. A big pond surrounded by outdoor art pieces greeted us. We walked around taking it all in, and then a lovely lady appeared, serving us a welcome drink spiked with muscovado ice.

The lovely lady was Mary Anne Tayag, who has elevated party hosting to an art form. She tried to memorize all our names and almost succeeded. What she did succeed in doing is making our Bale Dutung experience one of the best dining stories of our lives.

Before the pigfest ensued, the chef came out of the kitchen dressed in a crisp white shirt and batik pants. He explained that Bale Dutung means House of Wood. Claude regaled us with the story of the house – the story of how he built it from scratch and from scrap.


He explained the long, painstaking process of gathering recycled materials from old churches and structures damaged by the Pinatubo eruption and subsequent lahar catastrophe.

He talked about his collections of antique kitchen implements and how they opened their home cum gallery cum dining wonderland to people who appreciate good food and good art.

He then left us to do his magic in the kitchen, and Mary Anne took the helm in the dining room. Also dressed in casual ethnic chic, she was the epitome of the stylish, gracious host that I want to be when I grow up.


The appetizers were not even on the menu we agreed on. Just some of the many pleasant surprises in store for us that day; my favorite surprise was the refreshing face towels dipped in baby cologne and frozen overnight; such a thoughtful detail for guests who’ve traveled far to get there.


The meal began with crackers served with a trio of dips: Taba ng Talangka, Balo Balo, and Pesto. We attacked this first dish so voraciously the servers had to wrestle the dip bowls away from us to ensure we didn’t stuff ourselves prematurely.


Because as we were soon to discover, the degustation that was about to follow was going to stretch our stomachs to the limits.The next course was another off-the-menu surprise. A sotanghon dish that belied the accusation that carbs are heavy. Barely there vinaigrette dressing made this a light, refreshing starter. More starters were served. The Ensaladang Pako was the first dish that was part of the official menu. Mary Anne told us that the now-fashionable pako(fiddlehead fern) was actually ordinary fare, growing profusely in every home garden, usually served to the household help.

The Inasal na Manok was served with a tiny scoop of Claude 9 Talangka Rice. This was followed by the Piniritong Lumpiang Ubod, its flavor made interesting by the mustasa leaf wrappers and the Claude 9 Oriental Sauce. Another surprise dish, the talangka topped sushi ended the round of starters. We felt pretty satisfied by then. Our appetites were whet for the feast. But we had no idea that so much more food was in store.

We chose the menu that included Lechon served in 5 different ways. The first way was the more traditional serving of the lechon skin. It was a little embarrassing how our carnivorous family assaulted the golden red skin. Crispy perfection as it should be. It was served with an unbelievably good liver sauce that would have been a tad too sweet if not for the generous amount of garlic slices.

When the pig has been stripped of its epidermis, the rest of the gorgeous carcass was carted off for the next porky installments.

Second way: Fried Lechon Flakes na Binalot sa Tortilla. Basil leaves and kimchi make this a more sophisticated, zestier variation of the pritchon. By this time, we were feeling the tightening of our jeans, and we were surprised that we were just about to have soup. The sinigang featured the lechon’s third incarnation.

It was a tough decision to make, but I eventually decided that way 4 was my favorite. Inihaw na Tadyang na Lechon served with Ensaladang Talong – it sounds as good as it tasted. It’s very hard to find words to describe the dishes and the experience because at about this time, our brains could no longer focus on the verbal as every vital organ was focused on properly digesting this amazing, and not yet finished, meal. The wine, which they allowed us to bring in with no corkage fee, had nothing to do with the dazed out, intoxicated feeling. We were drunk on food. And the beauty of our surroundings. And the entertaining stories.

And that little pig still had one more number for us. I swear to you – I am one with an almost finite appetite, teased by my friends for having an esophagus that reached up to my knees. But I met the feast that could forever ruin my reputation as a gourmand. I was so full I just let the fifth way, the Inasadong Pata ng Lechon, glide through my tongue just so I can taste the flavor.


We were so stuffed we were relieved when they called a break from the eating. This time, we would feast our eyes and our souls as we toured Bale Dutung. This place provides more than just eye candy. Art, antiques, a dash of kitsch, and even more stories made us forget about food for a moment. I am amazed at Claude and Mary Anne’s graciousness for opening their homes to us, entertaining us, and giving us so much more than what was promised and expected.


The tour burnt enough calories to clear some space for dessert, old-fashioned coffee, and pandan tea. A medley of macapuno, ube, yema, and carabao’s milk, Paradiso was truly paradise for the taste buds. And Mary Anne capped the meal with another surprise dish, the Tibok Tibok, a pudding made of carabao’s milk.

Yes, I ate lechon in 5 ways. And I survived to tell you this story and to tell you that Bale Dutung should be in every foodie’s bucket list.
Categories
ISLANDHOPPER

She Wakes Up from Her Slumber

I’ve been away. Suffered severe bout of blog sickness. (sick of blogging)

Been book blogging though. Check this out. http://gegeflipspages.blogspot.com/

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ISLANDHOPPER

Islandhopper Dines at Bob’s

Tritan Plaza
Paseo de Magallanes, Makati City


The Bait: Namets-inspired sampling of Bacolod food
The Line: “Since 1965. Serving the Negrenses with Good Food For Over 40 years. “
The Hook: Comfort Food
The Sinker: Birthing blues with service not up to the first flux of wannabe-the-first-to-try diners.
The Catch: P350 per person; exclusive of dessert

In our marriage’s restaurant choosing power play, he usually says, “same old, same all-time favorite.” And she says, “anything we’ve never tried before.”

This weekend’s date night brought about a happy compromise.

Bacolod’s Pride, Bob’s, has been in Manila for just a few weeks. But it’s been satisfying the Negrense diners since 1965. It satisfies my husband’s craving for the familiar; the dishes vaguely reminds us of Dayrit’s comfort food. Spanking new and already attracting a wait-in-line clientele, it sates my hunger for the novel.

If you’re looking for newfangled cuisine, Bob’s is not the place for you. The food is no-frills, no-surprises, just-eat-it-and-enjoy, yummy in my tummy, comfy for my soul food.

This old married couple ordered the prosaic and predictable. Buffalo Wings (5 pcs for P250) with blue cheese dip. Good, but not outstanding given the metro’s choices of hot wings. Bob’s Chorizo Sandwich (P105) was a bit of a disappointment — delicious chorizo filling, but too much bread for not a whole lot of meat. They need to double up the chorizo serving and give it some visual interest. It is arguably the most boring looking sandwich on the face of the earth. The Big Boy Cheeseburger (P170) compensates. It doesn’t blow your taste buds away, but it pleasantly satisfies with it simple, beefy goodness.

The major disappointment was the absence of desserts. The mention of Bacolod food conjures visions of napoleones and other sweet treats. The cafe counter fridge offers only a blah display of chocolate cakes and brazos de mercedes.

The main pic above is their place mat, which shows a copy of their menu circa 1965. Nostalgic. But shows the stark contrast of today’s prices, thousands of percentage over. A bit depressing.

The service was a bit sucky; repeated follow-ups necessary before food and drinks are served. But that’s also because the place was packed. We’re going to give it another chance though. The steak and eggs breakfast insists on being tried.

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ISLANDHOPPER

Islandhopper Dines at Purple Feet

Wine Depot, 217 Nicanor Garcia St. (formerly Reposo St.), Bel-Air,
Makati City, 8973220, 897816

The Bait: Dining in the middle of wine heaven
The Line: “Our Wine List is Our Wine Shop”
The Hook: Green tea pannacotta
The Sinker: I’m nitpicking here, but if you pick a copy of their biz card, you see their unimaginative logo, a literal translation of “purple feet,” which at best reminds you of your neighborhood spa and at worse, reminds you of er, purple feet.
The Catch: P1k-2k per person; exclusive of wine

How can this semi-alcoholic, 100%-gluttonic [my word] couple refuse an invitation to dine in a wine shop on the week that Wine Depot was having a restaurant promo around the metro?

With no signs outside, Purple Feet gives you the experience of entering a speakeasy, sans the burly bouncer and the secret password. It feels like you’re in on a secret, but it’s the food that is the contraband, not the alcohol. Walking in, one might take several minutes to get to the dining area with all the eye candy — glistening, glowing bottles of wine calling out your name, tempting you to shop. But we had friends waiting for us, so we had to resist all impulse to walk the aisles.

We were pretty hungry too; this made our decision to go for the set menu easy and obvious. Check out that picture of the blackboard. Four courses, each one accompanied by a glass of wine. At P888. It’s a really good deal; unfortunately tonight (October 11) is the last night for it.

The Blue Cheese Seafood Chowder is hearty, creamy, flavorful — three adjectives tops on my gustatory vocabulary. Dig deep into the tiny soup cup to find spoonfuls of shrimp and calamari. I would have wanted more, But more dishes were to follow. The Villawolf Gewutz…gewirtz…gewurtz…uhm white wine that comes with it is sweet; tastes like champagne without the fizz. A good start.

The Atlantic Smoked Trout in Macadamia Dressing doesn’t look impressive, but actually tastes good. To my untrained wine palate, the Tulloch Verdelho was just okay, but that’s because I’m not really big on white wine.

For entrees, my hubbalicious chose the chicken, and I had the fish — one of the few occasions when he was right, and I was wrong. The saving grace of my Lemon Poached Garfish with Saffrom and Olives were the fresh, raw herbs topping it, and that dollop of Indonesian catsup on the side. Other than those, the fish was the opposite of spectacular. More white wine, please.

Our host, who opted for the ala-carte menu had Duck Breast, which she made me try. It’s very good — oriental-flavored, slightly sweet, crispy skin. For that price (900+) though, you might be better off getting your duck fix in chinese tea houses, says my host. Of course, aesthetically, the warehouse, secret restaurant ambience of Purple Feet is hard to beat.

The dessert totally made up for the entree. The Green Tea Pannacotta was sublime. And the Dr. Loosen Reisling was almost ignored, if not for the fact that I’m cheap and I don’t want wine to go to waste. The Vittoria Coffee is very good; dense, bitter, and strong. Great ending to a good, well-paced meal.

I would love to come back on a non-promo night. The dishes on the other blackboard look like must-tries — that Portabello Mushroom with Foie Gras and Stilton Cheese is now officially part of my bucket list.

But what’s more interesting is the option to pick out “raw ingredients” like beef, scallops, duck from the board, and then collaborate with the chef to whip up dishes to your liking. That and the green tea pannacotta are worth a return trip. I’ll have red wine with my dinner next time though.

(Forgive me for the lousy pictures taken by my lousy phone cam.)