baked chicken in painful fragrant sauce

   this "baked chicken in painful fragrant sauce" is simply a new variant of our all-time favourite "baked buttered chicken".  i thought of tweaking the original recipe for an upcoming potluck lunch of our church whose food theme is chinese-japanese.  the mere mention of chinese-japanese draws me down memory lane, during my childhood days, when we would rap and clap, "chi-nese-japa-nese-pili-pino-ne-gro!" repeatedly -- those were the days, my friend!
  the recipe is (in fact) a fusion -- or is it a confusion? -- of flavours.  one thing it is -- it is unbearably "hot", ergo, "painful".  the chicken itself when eaten, ie, if you eat the chicken only without pouring any sauce on it, it is tolerably "hot", non chili lovers may enjoy it with an extra spoonful of rice ; but eaten with the sauce your mouth becomes indescribably "hot", thus, "painful" -- but pleasantly painful ; and hot chili lovers will enjoy it with an extra cupful or two of rice!
   what makes the sauce "hot" is my homemade variant of habanero pepper oil -- flavourful and fruity, and intensely "hot"!  the habanero oil complements the delectably sweet butter flavour and the savoury fragrant sauce made from ngo hiong (five spice) powder and sangke (star anise) bud in soy sauce.

   for a kilo of chicken, whether whole or in parts, all you need is:
   2 tbsp soy sauce
   1/2 tsp ngo hiong (five spice) powder
   1 whole sanke (star anise) bud
   2 tbsp butter or table margarine
   3 tbsp habanero oil (or any chili pepper oil available)  

   what to do:
   - pre-heat oven to 350F or 165C
   - in baking dish, rub chicken completely with soy sauce and ngo hiong powder
   - leave excess soy sauce in baking dish
   - add the butter to the soy sauce mixture
   - drop the sanke bud in the soy sauce-butter mixture
   - bake for 1 hour and 15 minutes on middle rack
   - baste the chicken with the sauce in the baking dish every 15 minutes
   - remove from oven when done, and serve with rice

   good eats!!!!

Mestisoy Habitsuelas

 

     Mesitzo/mestiza, or mestiso/mestisa – that’s what we call anyone who looks like an American (or a foreigner) but is actually a Filipino, or half-Filipino.  (Or someone trying hard to appear mestiso or mestisa – nagpapa-blandie ng buhok – mestisong hilaw.)  In the streets we call him tisoy, or her tisay.  Mestisoy is a mere contraction, a joining together of both worlds.  But if your skin is of a darker shade, and you have kinky, curly hair, you are... egoy, pare!

   Mestisoy Habitsuelas is a Spanish sounding dish, and it originated somewhere, I suppose, in Spain, along the Spanish Riviera or... somewhere near.  I don’t have the energy just now (I’m still too sick) to research where it actually originated.  But this soup (or something similar) was cooked and served as a meal when I was on vacation in the South in the mid 1980’s with a family with a Spanish-sounding last name and, reputably, Spanish blood.

   My recipe is a mestizo or a tisoy variant – it’s not the original Spanish eyes, probably nowhere near the original, but it poses as something... with Spanish blood!   I actually call it Beef Camto Soup with Beans and Cabbage.  Instead of using white kidney beans, soaking it and spending an innumerable amount of time and fuel boiling it until it softens, I opted for the quick and easy, canned and branded Hunt’s Pork and Beans.

   We grew up as kids with Hunt’s Pork and Beans.  There’s a reason it’s called PORK and Beans – it’s because there is ONLY ONE PIECE OF PORK in it.  The challenge was to fish out the pork piece (usually a small cube of fat – which was, in all fairness, the best part!) from the whole bowl of beans and red orange sauce.  Well, those are now bygone days, the same brand of Pork and Beans has come out (not sure how long ago this was) with an improved version.  Improved according to the manufacturers, but not, in my opinion, according to me, the consumer.  This improved version boasts of “more pork”, but pork which in fact looks like rat droppings more than anything!  Never mind the taste.  I miss the old one.

   For this recipe I used:

   1/2 kilo Beef Camto, sliced

   1 large Onion, quartered

   1-1/2 liters Water

   1 head Chinese Cabbage leaves

   2 cans (390g) Hunt’s Pork and Beans

   1/2 tsp Patis

   Salt to taste

   Boil Beef Camto, with onion, in water.  Simmer to soften until Beef is tender, about 1 hour. 

   Add Pork and Beans to the soup.

   Add Patis and Salt to suit your taste.

   Add Chinese Cabbage leaves and simmer.

   Serve soup hot, with rice on the side.

Good Eats!!!   =D

"pato tim" (duck in dark fragrant sauce)

duck leg in dark fragrant sauce

     ducks don't die as easily as chicken, uhm, i should say it isn't as easy to kill a duck as it is a chicken.  i've slit chicken throat many times before, in less than a minute or two after the chicken's blood drips, and they quibble, they're gone.  can't do that with the duck.  the duck will just innocently stare back at you after you've slit its throat.  american duck hunters suggest to chop off the duck's head!  surefire!  never fails to kill the duck... and probably whatever animal whose neck comes in the way of the hatchet!  it is a bloody and gory image.  makes you suddenly lose your appetite.  oh, well, but not me!

     there are three ingredients in this duck recipe that make the sauce dark, viz., soy sauce, brown sugar, and black fungus.  they also largely build up the fragrant sauce.

     there are a couple of other things, i.e., spices, that help build up the fragrant sauce, viz., star anise ("sangke"), five spices ("ngo hiong"), cloves ("pako"), bay leaf ("laurel"), besides ginger and garlic, and the black fungus ("tengang daga").  the sauce is, in fact, a medley of fragrant flavours!

     for a single duck weighing about a kilo (usually above a kilo) use the following as a guide:
     6 cloves garlic, peeled and crushed
     1 slice ginger (size of a coin)
     5-6 stars, star anise
     1 piece clove
     1-2 bay leaf
     1/2 tsp five spices
     3-4 leaves black fungus, (soaked in 1/2 cup water)
     black fungus soak water
     6-8 Tbsp soy sauce
     8-12 Tbsp brown sugar
     enough water to cover duck
     
     dump everything - with the duck (cut into serving pieces) - in a large wok, bring to a boil then simmer until duck meat is tender to the bite.
     serve with rice as topping or ala carte.

     good eats!
     
    
      

Kakaibang Bakasyon sa Baguio

       "Itapon mo ang unang tabo ng tubig," yan ang sabi sakin ni Jerry Galuba at ni Sam Corpuz, mga taga-Baguio, (bagamat si Jerry ay taga-La Trinidad, eh, sa mga taga-ibaba, Baguio na rin yun.)
       Pag naligo ka sa Baguio ng malamig na tubig galing sa gripo (ang totoo eh galing sa timba) ang unang tabo ay isang napakahapding sampal ng nagyeyelong tubig sa balat.  Ang pangalawang tabo... mainit na, o di na kasing lamig ng una.  Kayat ang payo ng mga pantas - kung ang pangalawang tabo ay mainit na, eh di: Itapon mo ang unang tabo ng tubig!

       Iba na ang may matalik na kaibigan na taga-Baguio.  Iba na ang may matalik na kaibigan na may bahay sa Baguio na pwede mong tirahan pag aakyat ka.  Ang laking ginhawa na inalok ni Atorni Amor Perdigon, a.k.a. Kuya Amor, ang ngayo'y bakante nang tahanan ng pamilya Pedigon sa La Trinidad, Benguet, para tuluyan namin ng buong pamilya ko sa bakasyon namin nato.

       Ang ganda ng loob ng bahay, gawa sa pine wood - pine wood ang dingding, pine wood ang mga cabinet, pine wood ang mga lamesa, pine wood ang mga kama, pati baul pine wood din.  Kaya nang may nagtanong, "How was your stay in Baguio?" ang naisagot ko, "It's pine!" 

"It's pine!"

       Eh, isa sa mga hinahanap ko sa bahay ay kumpletong kusina.  Ahh, panalo dito.  Di ka kukulangin sa gamit: hasa ang kutsilyo, malakas ang apoy ng gas stove, may malalaking kaldero at kawali - eh, pati gas oven gumgana!

(Literally) Behind a successful chef, is a woman with excellent taste.

       Kaya ang sarap ng niluto kong chop suey, chinese asado, at pati sana yong crispy pata, kaso minadali ko dahil baka hindi humabol sa Media Noche - eh pinaka-aabangan pa naman ng mga bisita namin (pamilya ni Rolly, kapatid ko)... at ng mga anak kong di nagsasawa sa crispy pata ng papa nila.

       Napakasarap talaga ng klima sa Baguio.  Sa isang kanta ngang sinulat ko na pinamagatan kong "Naiwanan ko ang Puso ko sa Baguio" ganito ang unang linya nya:

       "Aakyat ako ng Baguio,
        Magpapa-presko ng katawan;
        Inaasam-asam ang malamig na panahon -
        Kasing lutong ng chicharon!"
     
       Nanunuot ang lamig sa akyat namin nato, medyo nasobrahan at gininaw kami.  Di nga ako makalabas ng naka-korto dahil nilalamig ang mga binti ko.  Minsan lang ako lumabas ng naka-korto, Lunes ng umaga - ang lamig!

       Lunes ng umaga, nagpunta ako sa Baguio.  Di ba nasa La Trinidad kami.  Medyo nakakapanibago kasi pagsakay mo ng jeep sa La Trinidad at papunta ka sa city, o sa Baguio, ang sasabihin mo sa driver pag nagbayad ka eh "Baguio".  Wala, nakakapanibago lang kasi iniisip mo, nasa Baguio ka, pero ang totoo, wala ka sa Baguio, nasa La Trinidad ka.  Nagpunta ako sa Baguio para maghanap ng mga imported na pantalon.
       Mura sa Hilltop, sa wagwagan doon (wagwagan ang tawag sa ukay-ukay sa Baguio).  Dun nga sa kantang sinulat ko, ang pangalawang linya nun eh ganito:

       "Papasyal ako sa wagwagan,
        Maghahanap ng mabibili;
        O, nakakita ako ng imported na pantalon -
        Mas mura pa kaysa hopiang hapon!"

       May "Night Market" sa Baguio ngayon.  May "Night Market" na rin naman noong huling akyat namin mga 3 to 4 years ago, pero nasa gilid lang ng Harrison Road.  Eto ngayon buong Harrison mula sa Maharlika overpass hanggang halos sa kabilang dulo ng Burnham Park, nakalatag ang sari-saring mga paninda sa buong kahabaan ng karsada sa harap ng Burnham.  Wala nang sasakyan na pinadadaan mula alas nwebe ng gabi hanggang ala una ng madaling araw - sa kabila lang meron - dahil umaapaw ng paninda at libo-libong mga mamimili ang Harrison Road "Night Market".

"Night Market" mula sa itaas ng Maharlika overpass, nasa kanan ang Burnham Park.

       Eh, wala naman akong sadya sa "Night Market".  Yong mga kasama ko, ahh, meron.  Maraming nabiling cardigan si Jane, na magagamit nya sa opisina.  Mura lang, P50- lang, at may P100- pataas.  

Si Jane, suot ang mga cardigan na binili

Ako tiga-bantay ng mga gamit, mga bag na may laman na mga pinamili, sa gilid sa labas ng Burnham, may sementadong upuan sa may puno.

Sementadong upuan sa may puno sa gilid ng Burnham

       Wala, tunganga lang ako habang nagbabantay ng mga gamit at nagmamasid sa dami-daming mga taong paroo't-parito sa harap ko sa bangketa at malayo-layo sa karsada, kung saan andun 'yong mga mala-divisoria na paninda - biglang may tumambad sa harapan ko: naglalako ng Ray-Ban!
       "Kuya, bili ka na, kakalabas ko lang, bwena mano ka," sabi nya.
       "Yan, magkano yan?" tinuro ko yong katulad ng suot ni Heisenberg.
       "Bigay ko na lang sayo ng one hundred," sabi nya, "one pipti talaga yan kuya, pero kakalabas ko lang, wala pa kong benta.  Bigay ko na lang one hundred sayo."
       Dumukot ako ng P100- sa bulsa ko, binigay ko sa kanya, at sinuot ko yong shades - sa gitna ng gabi! 

Si Rolly Queri at ako, mga miyembro ng Benguet Mapia

       May kaibigan kami sa Baguio na dati rin naming tinutulyan, mga 8 or so years ago.  Matalik na kaibigan din ito, si Rolly Queri.  Tinext ko sya na nasa "Night Market" kami ng pamilya ko.  Maya-maya lang eh andun na sya.
       "Di ka nag-reply sa text ko," sabi ko, "hintay ako ng hintay. Pero buti andito ka na."
       "Anong text???" tanong nya, "Wala naman akong natanggap na text mo."
       "Eh, ba't nandito ka???"
       "Wala, sinamahan ko lang si Presch, nagpasama eh!"
       Maliit ang Baguio.
  
       Nagpunta ako sa Baguio Lunes ng umaga para maghanap ng imported na pantalon.  Wala.  Wala akong nakitang imported na pantalon.  Wala akong nakitang imported na pantalon na nagustuhan ko.  Marami akong nakitang imported na pantalon, eh, pangit - ayoko.
       Ang nakita ko, pagbaba ko ng jeep (eh sa Rizal Park ang babaan) hele-helera ng mga kadete ng PMA na naka-formation.  Aba!  Oo nga pala, Rizal Day nga pala (Dec.30) ngayon.  Pupunta ata si P-Noy (nasa Baguio sya ngayon).  Eh, pupunta dapat si P-Noy, pero hindi sya natuloy - di pa siguro tapos mag-PSP.

Formation ng mga kadete ng PMA sa harap ng monumento ni Rizal

       Maligalig akong tao, maraming langgam sa pantalon ko, kaya galaw ako ng galaw, lipat ako ng lipat ng pwesto, asinta ng asinta ng camera, humahanap kasi ako ng magandang anggulo para makunan si P-Noy (eh minsan-minsan mo lang machambahang makunan ang Presidente) - eh ang layo ng mga tao sa pangyayarihan ng pag-alay ng bulaklak sa monumento ni Rizal, di pwedeng lumapit kasi di naman tayo official photographer.

Nakahanap ng magandang anggulo para kunan si P-Noy

       Eh, si "Sir" pala, napapansin yong kakaibang kinikilos ko - lahat kasi ng mga tao nakatunganga lang habang naghihintay kay P-Noy o magsimula yong programa, ako lang ata yong maligalig doon.  Eh, maya-maya nilapitan ako ni "Sir" (eh si "Sir", ahh, mataas na opisyal, yon bang pag nadadaanan ng mga pulis at sundalo, hihinto sila at sasaludo at sasabihin, "Sir!") may sinabi sya sakin sa mahinang boses sa kakaibang wika (ilokano) na di ko naintindihan.
       "Tagalog, Sir," sabi ko.
       "Ahh, pwede bang makita ang laman ng bag (backpack) mo," sabi ni "Sir", "bawal kasi mga ganyan, pwedeng paki buksan."
       "Sir, yes, Sir!" sabi ko, sabay attention sabay saludo (hindi... joke lang).  "Yes, Sir!" lang, sabay bukas ng bag at pinakita ko ang laman sa kanya.
       Akala ko mukha akong turista, yon pala mukhang... tirurista!

       Namasyal din kami ni Jane sa Camp John Hay, andito kasi mga naglalakihang Pine Tree.  (Gagagawa ako ng isa pang Blog tungkol dito, atbp.)  

Si Jane at ang Pine Tree

       Kakaiba talaga ang bakasyon namin nato.  Huli kaming nagbakasyon sa Baguio sa panahon ng Bagong Taon, dalawa pa lang anak namin at maliliit pa sila - mahigit labinlimang taon na nakalipas.  Doon kami sa Camp 7, kina Jeanette De Guzman maybahay ni Val Agron, mga matalik na kaibigan din - naalala ko bigla, naaalala ko noon wala pang Kenny Rogers Roasters dito sa Pilipinas, nag lechong manok kami ni Val sa apoy ng pine wood sa loob ng isang hinating dram.
       Nasa loob lang kami ng bahay sa pagsalubong ng Bagong Taon - di naman kami nagpapaputok, di rin kami bumibili ng mga pailaw o pasiklab (fireworks) matagal na; at medyo nagsawa na rin kami sa pare-parehong nakikita namin sa kalangitan na mga fireworks - buong pamilya kami, at buong pamilya ng kapatid kong panganay, si Rolly.

Kumpletong pamilya ko at ni Rolly, si Ricky BoyKing umuwi na pala, si Lo at La nai-epal pa.

       Nananatiling bukas ang tahanan ng pamilya Perdigon sa La Trinidad, Benguet, sa amin ng pamilya ko.  Matalik na kaibigan ko si Atorni Amor Perdigon, a.k.a. Kuya Amor, at malapit sa akin (samin ni Jane) ang boung pamilya nya - ang maybahay nya, si Vivian, mga anak nya, mga kapatid nya, si Daddy Rudy, at si Mommy Estela na bagamat kinuha na sya ni Lord, ay ramdam pa rin namin ang presensya nya sa sariling tahanan nya!
 

Nagparamdam si Mommy

                “Nagparamdam si Mommy Estela,” I said.

                We say these expressions when we are at a loss to explain unusual occurrences that happen around us, especially when one who is beloved had recently passed away.  It is one way in which we fondly remember and cope with the loss of loved ones, believing they are still around with us.

                This is what happened:

                It was 2 o’clock in the morning, Jane and I were tucked in bed and about to sleep, in the small bedroom, (across the larger bedroom, where our three daughters were), in the basement of the Perdigon home in La Trinidad, Benguet.  I had put out the light - the room was very dark. 

               The night before, Saturday, (our first night in the room), after I had put out the light, I left the door a bit ajar to allow a streak of the light in the stair landing to seep into the room.  I did the same that night: after I had put out the light, I left the door a bit ajar to allow a streak of the light in the stair landing to seep into the room.  It was 2 o’clock in the morning, Jane and I were tucked in bed and about to sleep.

                Then, I heard the squeaking of a door.  Then, the light in the stair landing went out.  Then... silence.

                I paused a while to review in my mind what had just happened: I (we) heard the squeaking of a door, then the light in the stair landing went out, then silence – then I went out, turned on the light in the stair landing, and went across to the larger bedroom.

                “Did any of you put out the light in the landing outside?” 

                “No.”

                None of my three daughters put out the light in the stair landing.

                There was another room next to the stair landing (before the larger bedroom) where three other people stayed, namely, Reah, Jose, and MJ.  None of them put out the light in the stair landing.  They have been there a couple of days ahead of us, and they never put out the light in the stair landing when they went to sleep; they always left the light on.  On our first night, the night before, it was so: the light in the landing was on all night.  Tonight, someone – but not any of the three in the other room – put out the light in the landing.

                That afternoon, while everybody (we had visitors during lunch) was busy doing this and that and chatting, I sneaked down to the basement and tested the 2 doors (there were four: three bedroom doors and a bathroom door) to find out where the squeaking from that night came from.  Obviously, I exempted the small bedroom (our bedroom) door from the test.  Since my daughters said they didn’t put out the light in the stair landing, I tested the bedroom door next to the landing first.  I opened it until it squeaked.  The pitch of the squeak was higher than the squeak I heard last night, and the door would have to be opened widely before it squeaked.  It was not this door.

                The door of the larger bedroom where my daughters stayed didn’t squeak (or I don’t recall it squeaking when it was opened) but what was characteristic about this door was that the latching mechanism on it was faulty – it doesn’t latch to the jamb instantly when it is closed, you need an extra oomph! for it to latch on, not slide open, and stay closed.  This extra oomph! created a thud. 

                I came home from church the day before, Sunday, past 6 o’clock in the evening, to unpack some items from my backpack and to take a shower and freshen up (walking long stretches uphill and downhill, carrying two heavy backpacks, can work up a sweat even in 12-15 degree centigrade weather!)  I would go back to Baguio and meet up with Jane and the kids afterwards.  

The back door where we normally entered was locked.  I had keys – Funk, the caretaker, had supplied me with a set of keys to the house.  No one was home.  I proceeded downstairs to our basement bedroom, unpacked my backpack, went and took a shower and got myself dressed.  But there was no mirror in our room, so I went to the larger bedroom which had a dresser with a large mirror. 

                As I got out of the room, I noticed the door didn’t latch on completely when I pulled it to close it.  It slid open with a slight push without turning the door knob, so I gave it the extra oomph! to make sure it was closed.

                “Thud!”

                “Thud!” came another thud from upstairs.  Was someone else in the house aside from me?

                I paused.  Must have been an echo. 

                I opened the door of the larger bedroom again, and closed it again with the extra oomph! to test the echo.

                “Thud!” 

     No echo.

                Eerie, I thought.

                I went upstairs, and before I left, I made myself a cup of coffee, and sipped it at the dining table.  Then it slowly crept upon me: the Goosebumps!  Goosebumps so stiff the hairs on my arms all stood up!  I won’t tell you this: but when I have the Goosebumps... I know I am not alone!              

     The thing is this: when I went to ask my daughters if they put out the light in the stair landing, their door was completely latched... closed.  But it was all silent after the light on the landing went out.  It couldn't have been my daughters who put out the light on the landing.

                The squeaking did not come from the bedrooms: neither ours nor the two other bedrooms.

                I forgot all about testing the doors until the next morning, Tuesday, the 31st.  After I had taken a bath, on my way out of the bathroom, as I opened the door, I heard the same squeaking sound – it was the bathroom door!  I opened the bathroom door again – that was the sound I heard before the light in the stair landing went out.  An eerie feeling crept upon me as I thought: there was total silence after the light on the landing went out the other night.

                If somebody came out of the bathroom, creating the squeaking sound, why didn’t we see or hear anybody go in?  (The entrance to the bathroom was just outside our door – the bathroom was sandwiched between our small bedroom and the larger bedroom – we could see at least the movement of the shadow of anybody who would come in or out, with the light in the landing on.  The bathroom door also had the same faulty latch mechanism as the larger bedroom door: it also closes completely with the sound of the latch followed by a thud.)  Nobody went to the bathroom, because we would have heard its door close, as we always do when someone goes in to use it.   But the bathroom door opened before the light in the stair landing went out.

                If somebody came out of the bathroom and put out the light in the stair landing, why didn’t we see or hear anybody go to the bathroom?  If somebody came out of the bathroom and put out the light in the stair landing, why didn’t we hear anybody go in, and open and close the door in any of the other bedrooms?  If somebody came out of the bathroom, put out the light before climbing the stairs, why didn't we hear anybody climb up or down the stairs?

               I have no answers.

               “Nagparamdam si Mommy Estela,” I said with a smile.