QUAN YIN CHAY -- Veggie Good Eating

Many years ago, I became a lacto-ovo vegetarian.
I ate only vegetables and dairy and egg products. This phase lasted for four years.
Since I shifted back to being carnivorous (or omnivorous in my case), I still pop back into vegetarian mode for 40 days each year, specifically during the lenten season.
I still find it easy to just stop eating all meat and sea food specially when there are many delicious dishes for vegetarians.
There is a very good vegetarian restaurant in the heart of
Chinatown called Quan Yin Chay.
If you are on Ongpin Street, turn at Salazar and you will find it at the very end, where Salazar intersects Masangkay.
Quan Yin Chay has been around for ages and offers a lot of vegan dishes.
Choose from sauteed veggies like spinach, broccoli, bok choy, chinese style fresh lumpia.
There are all sorts of mock meat dishes like gluten barbecue, mock pata tim, mock asado, mock kare kare.
Ampalaya with mock beef. There's mock chicken empanada even a vegan ginataan and pancit palabok.
However, I am not too keen on the veggie meat and gluten dishes that are all masquerading as meat imitations.
I should think it would be harder to keep to the vegetarian lifestyle
if you constantly tempt yourself with dishes that still remind you of meat.
That said, the food at Quan Yin Chay is all yummy and it's all veggie.
I can't say that it's all healthy though since some of the dishes are deep fried or sauteed in a lot of oil.
If you want a vegetarian pantry at home, Quan Yin Chay also has a fully stocked
mini store selling everything you could ever need to make that lifestyle shift.
Next time you're in Chinatown, try something different.
Quan Yin Chay welcomes vegetarians, vegans, carnivores and omnivores alike.

Shrimp Tales - G Squared at Dampa

The best ever deep fried, crisp, crunchy shrimp I have ever had, bar none is at G-Squared in Dampa along Macapagal Avenue in Pasay City.
It is so good that I can easily eat half a kilo and if I really pushed myself, I'm sure I could eat more.
Because G-Squared is a "paluto" type of restaurant, you can actually go and buy the shrimp yourself from the very complete wet market right outside the restaurant door.
I however prefer to sit and relax and have a cold beer while waiter does all the marketing.
A half kilo of good sized suahe, not too big and not too small, easily fills two plates. Seasoned perfectly with just salt and a little pepper, the shrimps are so crisp and tasty that you can eat every little bit -- from head to tail, nothing wasted, nothing left on the plate.
I sometimes like to dip the shrimps in vinegar with lots of garlic and chili, just as a taste breaker but it's perfect, just as it is.
If you've ordered a kilo of shrimp, the other half kilo can be made into a passable shrimp tempura.
G Squared can cook any kind of sea food you feel like having -- crabs, fish, squid, mussels even non sea food items like inihaw na liempo.
But believe me, once you've tried the crispy shrimp, it's what will keep you coming back for more.

Food Memories from my Childhood -- Everybody's Cafe, San Fernando Pampanga

I was born and grew up in Malabon, Rizal but my folks were from Orani, Bataan.
My father's family stayed in Orani, while he migrated to the big city. But as they say, you can take the man out of Orani...
So every time there was an occasion, my father would head "home" -- for Holy Week, for summer vacations, for the town fiesta in October, for Christmas breaks.
Summer meant a trip or two to Orani. Since this was way before the North Luzon Express Tollway, the route was through the MacArthur Hiway - a long stretch that took you through towns of Bulacan and Pampanga before you eventually reached Bataan.
A car journey in those days meant a lot of stops for food and drink -- puto from Pulo in Bulacan, chicharon from Bocaue (and later on, more chicharon from Guagua, Pampanga), pancit from Marilao and so on and so forth.
But the stop I most looked forward to was Everybody's Cafe in San Fernando, Pampanga.
Once we crossed the boundary sign that said Pampanga, I would start to fidget, I would crane my neck to look over from the back seat, waiting for the bend in the road and the large tree and the house with the sign that said "Everybody's Cafe".
It meant a real stop, with a real meal (not just chichiria) but good hot food and rice.
Today, Everybody's Cafe is still at the same location where it has been for more than fifty years.
Since the opening of the North Luzon tollway, it is no longer along the regular route but foodies and Pampangos all know that a detour through the old highway will still lead to the reliable bastion of home cooked Pampango cuisine.
Just a few months ago, I invited my Bataan cousins for a trip down memory lane. We all met up at Everybody's Cafe, they drove from Orani and we motored from Manila.
It was a food trip that beat all food trips.
We spent our time ooh-ing and aaah-ing at the "escaparate" of ulam that displayed all the things we remembered. There was Pampango dinuguan, kare kare, dalag cooked in luyang dilaw, burong baboy ... what to order? What to eat?
We finally settled on our old favorites -- the sinfully rich and decadent "morcon" (actually, an embotido topped with drippings and gravy), tapang usa, inihaw na hito with buro and young, tender mustasa leaves, nilagang biyas ng baka, dalag cooked with luyang dilaw.
How about some of that crispy lechon kawali? Let's have that too!
And what would a Pampango meal be without the camaru -- field crickets cooked dry adobo style.
Not to mention deep fried, crispy frog legs.
We ordered and ate them all!
Excuse me while I burp...
KOKAK!

Lenten F(e)asting in Orani -A Shark's Tail

Ever since I was a small child, lenten traditions included a vacation in my father's hometown of Orani Bataan, specifically during Holy Week.
I always looked forward to staying with aunts and cousins, watching the "penitensiya" and the "padugo", attending the church services, doing Bisita Iglesia, following the Good Friday "prusisyon", having a cold "sago at gulaman" free from the friendly neighborhood "caridad".
Admonitions of not laughing too much, keeping our voices low, staying in the house and reading the "Pasyon" were heard but not really obeyed.
I still make it a point to be in Orani come Good Friday every year. This is so I can continue my father's devotion to the "prusisyon" and walk in his footsteps as I follow the "carroza" that he also religiously followed, every Good Friday.
Just like during my younger years, my cousins and I still have not mastered the admonition to keep Good Friday as a quiet and reflective day.
It seems too much like a long awaited reunion, the chance to see each other again, to tell stories and to do the one thing we enjoy most -- sit around the table and eat.
And what feasting we do every Good Friday.
We abstain from meat -- as we should, but we cannot seem to fast.
We console ourselves by saying that we will only eat lunch as our one real meal for the day but what a lunch it always turns out to be.
Not having meat, my cousins pull out all the stops and lay out an array of sea food -- the fattest crabs for which Orani is known for, steamed shrimp, vegetable lumpia, daing na bangus, seafood curry, pancit and the piece de resistance -- the centerpiece of each and every Good Friday lunch ... hingkin!
"Hingkin" is actually a variety of small shark, which reaches a length of about 1 meter, tops. It has a short season, showing up only during March and April -- just around Lent.
These sharks are caught in fishermen's nets, along with the regular catch or sometimes, it shows up in fishponds, getting in through the waterways. It's quite rare and when there is a catch, the lucky "tindera" who has it usually sells it all out within minutes.
In Orani, "hingkin" is cooked as "pesa", a ginger flavored fish soup. I prefer cooking it as a soupy "pospas" -- boiling the fish with some rice to make a watery porridge.
Because sharks have no bones but just cartilage, "hingkin" is fleshy, meaty, all white and very tender and flavorful. The ginger in pesa and pospas removes all traces of "lansa".
The best part of the fish is the liver -- which tastes like foie gras but milder. When you buy "hingkin" at the market, the fish is already cut into slices and when you buy 3 or 4 slices of meaty fish, the seller puts a small piece of liver along with your purchase. Of course the bigger your purchase, the liver also grows from sliver to slice.
Needless to say, that small slice of liver is what everyone hopes to snag during lunch. Being the "bisita" for the day, the out of towner, the "guest of honor" my cousins always try to give me the lion's share -- which of course I never refuse.
"Hingkin" is always eaten with a "sawsawan" of "calamansi and patis". You take your slice of liver, crush it in the "sawsawan" and take a small bite with a very large spoonful of hot rice.
It's almost sinful to have such a great feast when one should really be fasting.

Pajo Mangoes ... Summer's Bunches of Happiness

Pajo mangoes are small green mangoes that remain tiny throughout their brief life -- sour and tart and with a slight sappy aftertaste.
They herald the start of summer and are to be enjoyed for a short season -- March till April only.
I look out for pajo from my suki at AANI, our neighborhood week-end market. The minute I see the small green mangoes hanging in bunches from the stalls, I make sure I buy them, no matter what the price.
Usually, when the season is just starting, they sell for up to P200 a bunch. The price comes down to P100 or P150 as the supply goes up.
I like to make pajo into buro.
Just slice off the ends and halve each tiny fruit, remove the pit, place into glass jars and sprinkle with rock salt. I keep them overnight in the fridge and pour cold water over them the next day.
They keep their color, texture and crunch for a few weeks, just keep them in the refrigerator. Or, I sometimes make fresh pajo salad -- julienne the pajo, chop some tomatoes and wansoy and sprinkle a little fish sauce or patis.
Pajo adds a tart zing to any meal.

Eating in Doreen Fernandez's Footsteps

Count me privileged, I had Doreen Gamboa Fernandez as a teacher when I was in college at the Ateneo.

She was my professor in Philippine Drama and every week, for three hours every Wednesday night, for a whole semester, my eyes and sensibilities were opened to the richness of our literary tradition.

After I graduated, her enthusiasm and love for all things Pinoy actually inspired me to try and take up my masters in Philippine Literarature, while I was working as a junior copywriter.

Regretfully, the hectic schedule of advertising got in the way and after finishing only two semesters and 18 units, I came to the realization that I could either be a scholarly success or a successful hack -- but not both.

So I chose the latter.

I never quite forgot Doreen Fernandez -- we would bump into each other once in a while, she actually came to my wedding and as the years went on, I followed her rising fame as an authority on Filipino food.

I collected her books -- from the first coffee table book on Filipino Food -- which I still read and re-read today -- to her small restaurant guides called "Lasa" to her collection of essays to her weekly columns at The Inquirer.

Once, I had the temerity to submit an article to her on eating in Pala Pala, the fish market in Bacolod and was completely surprised to find that she had it published in the newspaper.

I wrote an effusive gushing thank you letter and her simple reply was "It was a good piece. It deserved to be published, why are you so surprised?"

Doreen passed away in 2002 and she left a void which many food writers and scholars have yet to fill.

She continues to inspire me to this day -- I have had the courage to write about food, and maintain this blog, in my own unscholarly, untutored way -- thanks to two people: my father who shared his love of cooking (and eating) with me and also because of Doreen, who awakened in me this desire to write, to write about food and to write about (and love) Filipino food.

Aside from being a noted and acclaimed food scholar and writer, Doreen was first and foremost a foodie.

She wrote restaurant reviews for the Chronicle and then the Inquirer and she also did a series of four restaurant guidebooks called "Lasa". This series would eventually cover not just Metro Manila restaurants but would branch out to Baguio and later on to other provinces as well.

She co-wrote them with Edilberto Alegre, who like her, was a passionate and staunch advocate of Filipino culture. They are both gone now but their work remains.

Since so many writers and bloggers are now looking to books for their inspiration and as the source of their "projects" (Julia and Julia comes to mind), let me create my own project for the rest of this year (and yes, as a source of posts for this blog).

I shall attempt to find and eat my way through the restaurants initially reviewed in the first Lasa: A Guide to 100 Restaurants by Doreen G. Fernandez and Edilberto N. Alegre.

Published in 1989, most of the restaurants in this book may no longer be around but I will try and go through the ones that are still serving up that lasa, that taste that Doreen found memorable enough to write about.

As I go on this journey, I hope that Doreen and Edilberto Alegre (and yes, my daddy too) wherever they are, will be saying to me ...

"Sige, kain na!"

"Oh, the pleasure of eating my dinner alone!" Charles Lamb

Although Epicurus did say that

"We should look for someone to eat and drink with before looking for something to eat and drink, for dining alone is leading the life of a lion or wolf." --

I on the other hand, look for that solitary time to myself - whether at home or in a restaurant, to enjoy my meal alone.

No one to worry about, no one to share the requisite small talk with, no one to distract me from the pleasure of my food except perhaps a good book if there is time to linger, or just the quiet observation of other diners enjoying their own meals.

I particularly savor the peacefulness of eating alone, specially when I'm traveling.

Thankfully, most restaurants abroad do not look askance at solitary diners. Even the most popular and crowded ones will usually give you a secluded table for two.

Some of my best meals have been with just myself.

Although if you believe an Arab proverb

"He who eats alone chokes alone."