Bisita Iglesia 2014: Central Pangasinan

For this year's Bisita Iglesia we go to the central part of my home province, spanning the third and fourth districts of Pangasinan. It includes one of the country's oldest pre-colonial settlements, my hometown, the province's oldest church, and the province's main pilgrimage town. 

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Parish Church of St. Vincent Ferrer

Bayambang, Pangasinan

We start at the border town of Bayambang, which is the first town of the province of Pangasinan from Tarlac, taking the Camiling route. Bayambang has vast fields planted to the native red onion, and during summer the countryside reeks of onions baking under the sun.

The present church structure dates back to 1869, and the cavernous interiors produce acoustics  dreamed by singers, sounds amplified by the thick brick walls. The first church was built in 1614, but numerous natural and man-made disasters resulted in various reconstructions.   

 St. Dominic de Guzman Parish Church

San Carlos City, Pangasinan

From Bayambang taking the bypass road through the municipality of Basista we arrive at the city of San Carlos, formerly called Binalatongan and Caboloan because of the abundance of mung beans (balatong) and the bolo variety of bamboo, respectively.   

The church of San Carlos City used to be the biggest in Luzon, while the parish is Pangasinan's oldest. The church retains its cathedral grandeur, and has the feel of a pilgrimage center. Excellent stained glass windows adorn the thick cemented walls, enriching the time for contemplation. 

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After saying a prayer at the church, the new city public market of San Carlos City is worth going out of the way for. For heaped under the sun in an open field the size of an entire block are the city's pride - dalikan from giant to play size. Dalikan are the clay stoves of old, with a mouth on which to put pots (clay, too, of course!) and a wide pan underneath to put in wood for the fire. The number of dalikan still being sold made me wonder - I thought everybody had migrated to gas stoves as my family did when I was a kid.

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Other implements made from clay are sold here, too. Banga, lasong or lasungan - huge baking pans for latik, small lasong for bibingka, buyug or buyugan (clay water container), as well as small clay saucers for feeding poultry.

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Paso (clay planters) in different sizes, shapes and designs, and other landscaping decorative clay materials are also available. 

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Bamboo huts, and bamboo furniture - rockers, chairs, tables, cribs, benches, cabinets, hampers - and other bamboo decorative creations like baskets, lamps and chandeliers, are also known products of San Carlos City, and all can be found lounging in the market.

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St. Ildephonse Parish Curch

Malasiqui, Pangasinan

From San Carlos City the next town is Malasiqui, the town I am most familiar with, for I was born and grew up there. 

The church I attended used to be a cavernous, all-brick structure. In the 1980s the cement facade was chiselled away bit by bit to expose the beautiful brick layering. The entire structure crumbled down, though, in the 1991 earthquake that leveled down Baguio City and submerged the Malasiqui Central School by a meter or so. It took more than ten years for the town to put up a new church, which is a modern, beam-surrounded structure brightened by huge stained glass depictions of the stations of the cross. 

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In front of the church on Sundays and on big Catholic feasts one can find small discs of rice bibingka and intemtem freshly cooked. In the public market just a block away from the church  after the town plaza are the various local kakanins I have been writing about in this blog - like binuburan, kulambo, latik, inkaldit, versions of the Calasiao puto, even buro.

In the afternoons to early evenings grilling stations are set up in front of the market, and one can buy milkfish, catfish and tilapia freshly and perfectly broiled. Grilled bangus and hito are the first things we eat whenever my family goes home to Malasiqui.

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The Holy Family Parish Church

Sta. Barabara, Pangasinan

The town adjacent to Malasiqui is Sta. Barbara, which boasts of a very old church, built in 1716. It used to be a common belief among us Pangasinenses when I was a kid that the Holy Family Parish church was the oldest in the province, and the adjacent convent used to be an unassailable proof of this. The convent has since been renovated, while the church lawn on the other side has been landscaped. 

What's distinct about the church is the elevated area in front of the altar, around which rows of pews are arranged, so that is is like a centerstage.

Senor Divino Tesoro

Calasiao, Pangasinan

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From Sta. Barbara we go out into the provincial highway and turn left towards the municipality of Calasiao. The town is very famous for its white gold, the Calasiao puto, and a line of kiosks sell the kakanin and other sweet stuff along the road across the town plaza.

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But Calasiao is famous for two other things besides its puto. One, is the excellently preserved National Cultural Treasure 17th century Spanish church. And two, the Senor Divino Tesoro, an image of the crucified Christ that is regarded to be miraculous, drawing devotees from all over the province. The Senor Tesoro is housed in a shrine across the Sts. Peter & Paul parish church.

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In Calasiao are many local restaurants worth visiting, and they are the only decent eating places from those found among all the towns and the one city covered in this Bisita Iglesia. There are the fastfood chains at the junction along McArthur Highway, but there is also Dagupena further along, serving stylized bangus. Grilling stations for bangus and hito also abound, and decent lechon manok and lechon baboy are also good stomach fillers. Along De Venecia Road are the main outlets of Jech and Panaderia Antonio, which is the owner of the pita snack kiosks Plato Wraps.

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St. Thomas Aquinas Parish Church

Mangaldan, Pangasinan

From Calasiao go back along the highway towards Sta. Barabara, but turn left  into a street which goes straight to the town of Mangaldan. 

The imposing church of Mangaldan has a relatively new vintage, having been completed only in 1962 after the first structures were leveled down by natural disasters. Its narrow nave is highlighted by the very high ceiling, so that it appears even narrower. 

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All around the plaza adjacent to the church premises are grilling stations for good Mangaldan intemtem. Further on, in front of the public market, bangus and hito grilling stations also engage in brisk business, so that sometimes during busy afternoons the smoke along the road can impair visibility. Carabao meat, fresh and pinindang (marinated, and sometimes sun-dried), is sold inside the public market. The famous peanut brittle brand Romana's calls Mangaldan home, and has an outlet downtown.

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St. Hyacinth Parish Church

San Jacinto, Pangasinan

The municipality of San Jacinto is the town next to Mangaldan on the way to the pilgrimage town of Manaoag.

The church is spanking new, having been completed only by the turn of the new millenium. The imposing old brick church also gave way during the July 1991 massive earthquake. The present church has the span and style of a chapel, cozy and modern. 

Portions of the old church have been left at the former site, and the wall perimeter still outline the church's original size.

the church convent

The Shrine of Our Lady of the Rosary

Manaoag, Pangasinan

The church in Manaoag is probably the most well-known, not only in the province but also among the religious in the country. Flocks of devotees visit Manaoag on a daily basis, hearing mass and lining up to touch the back of the miraculous enshrined image.  

The church is appropriately vast, situated in a large property housing a covered structure for lighting candles, the second floor prayer room at the back of the altar where devotees line up, a hall selling all kinds of religious paraphernalia, and a meditation garden at the back of the church. 

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The "unofficial" religious items are sold in the front area lining the path going up the church. People usually buy some of these and have them blessed at the convent beside the church. Pangasinenses also have this habit of having their new vehicles blessed in Manaoag. 

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Also in front of the church are the many tables groaning with provincial kakanin. There is the Manaoag puto, yeasty and flat, as big as a plate and flecked with anise seeds. It is best eaten with sotanghon sabaw, also sold in the premises. There is good tupig, and sweet patopat. Good chicos, too, when in season, by the roadside, and siriguelas that are unparalleled by any in the province. 

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About three kilometers from the Manaoag church is a private property with a spring called the Virgin's Well. Devotees drop by this place after going to the church, for it is believed that the spring water is miraculous. It is open to the public, but there is some kind of fee for collecting the water. And yes, people collect the slow-flowing water going through mossy pipes, collecting them in plastic containers by the gallons.

It is believed that the image of the Our Lady of Manaoag once appeared inside the well, rendering it with curative powers. The spring water bubbles up from time to time, but it is hard to see now that the well has been enclosed in a mausoleum-like structure.

The first time I went here was in my elementary grade years, with a black rosary group. The second time was only just recently, with my family. I can say that not a lot has changed from the span of decades that has elapsed. The same rolling, rutted road, the same dusty property. What's remarkable now, though, is the significant amount of plastic trash by the side of the property, and the cemented structures grouped around the well. There is a line of narrow stalls - dingy, mossy and smelly, where one can take a bath using the water purportedly flowing from the well. For a fee, of course. 

There is also a small chapel, though it looked closed, and 3D depictions of the stations of the cross, which didn't seem well-made enough to entice me to go take a closer look. A group of women by the entrance offer to everybody arriving at the property anting-anting made of dried lizards and salamanders. For what, I asked, since it reeks of voodoo, and we were supposedly in a religious place. It depends on my faith, I was told. Oh well, typical of Pangasinan faith, mixing everything in.   

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Public Transportation:
The bus line Five Star has daily trips to San Carlos City from its Tramo, Pasay and Cubao terminals. Bayambang is two towns away from San Carlos City. Five Star also has a direct trip to Manaoag, and the Bisita Iglesia can start with Manaoag going backwards to end with San Carlos City, from where one can board a bus going back to Metro Manila. Dagupan Bus line, with terminal in New York Street, Cubao, also has daily trips to Manaoag. With the Bisita Iglesia ending in Manaoag, one can go to Urdaneta to board buses going to Manila, or go to Dagupan for the Five Star and Victory Liner bus terminals there.

Jeeps and mini buses interconnect all the towns with one another. Fares do not go beyond Php20 for a trip between two towns.

From Bayambang, one can flag down an air-conditioned bus going to San Carlos City from Manila, which goes through the town of Malasiqui. Mini buses going to Dagupan from Bayambang pass by Malasiqui, as well. In Malasiqui jeeps go to San Carlos City.

In San Carlos City there are jeeps going to Malasiqui, and from Malasiqui the jeeps and mini buses going to Dagupan that queue by the public market pass by Calasiao. From Calasiao jeeps go to Sta. Barbara and Mangaldan. From Mangaldan jeeps go on to San Jacinto and Manaoag.

It is not advisable to take a tricycle, as the distances between towns are lengthy. Pangasinan is one of the biggest provinces in the Philippines in terms of land area. It is possible to cover all churches, however, in one day, as long as the Bisita Iglesia is started early in the morning.

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Impangat

It has been very difficult waking up these unbearably hot days. I want to lie in bed to avoid the heat. But if I stay in bed the air I breathe gradually mimics the inside of my oven during baking season - not now, I can hardly mix batter, let alone fire up the range - as the sun climbs up the sky.

But one sure thing that gets me up and about is impangat - which is probably equivalent to the Tagalog paksiw, though I'm not really so sure. In Pangasinan we call fish stewed in vinegar and select seasonings and spices impangat. The scales of the fish are not scraped off, and there is ginger, garlic, whole peppercorns, bay leaves, siling haba, and optionally a drop of cooking oil.

To tame the sourness of the vinegar, particularly if using delicate fish, we add sliced tomatoes. And then, to incorporate a salty, umami component, agamang - salted krill commonly known as bagoong alamang - is also added. Sour, sweet, salty, garlicky, the smell induces salivary glands to go on overdrive.

I understand that for other people I may be talking about at least two dishes at once. For I know that in the Tagalog region fish stewed in vinegar is paksiw, while fish stewed in sour fruits - sampalok, kamias, tomatoes, green mangoes, batwan, kipil - is called pinangat, or pangat for short.

In Pangasinan it is baliktad. Fish stewed in vinegar, sometimes added with soy sauce (which I know is already adobo, it's endless!) is impangat, the im prefix serving the same purpose as the in in the Tagalog term. Also pangat for short. But anything soured with fruits is sinigang, and is never called pangat.

So my impangat ya bangus is hybrid, but it is impangat because the main souring ingredient is vinegar, the tomatoes serving only to temper the acidity and to provide a fruity, sweetish aspect.

But here's another conundrum - pangat, or paksiw - fish stewed in vinegar, just to be clear, is a means of preserving fish, invented here in the tropics during the days before the invention of the refrigerator. With the addition of tomatoes the dish' shelf life is shortened, as tomatoes spoil easily.

With all these issues my brain cells have heated up and I have rendered the reason I wanted to write about impangat, which is because it is refreshing that it gets me through the day, useless. Impangat is one of a few dishes I like at room temperature better rather than smoking hot, and somehow the sourness - even sometimes bracing, without the tomatoes - refreshes and cools.

I also prefer pangat cooked the day before, so it has come to embody the connotation of the word - pangat, short for pangatlong init, referring to a dish sold in eateries that is not freshly cooked but reheated several times already. But Filipinos know that anything cooked with a sour ingredient becomes better as it is reheated the next day. So we cook big batches of sinigang, and adobo, and paksiw, hoping there are leftovers to reheat the day after.

It has been observed that pangat, or paksiw, is popular Filipino breakfast fare. That is probably because the fresh fish bought the day before is stewed in vinegar, to be eaten the following day. But the family could not wait til lunch to eat the paksiw, so it is eaten first thing in the morning.

Me, I don't eat pangat before it has turned a day old. Because then the ingredients haven't had time to meld their flavors together and impart this delicious harmony to the fish. Particularly to a bangus, whose milky sweet flesh is the perfect receptacle for the garlicky sourness of the stewing liquid. With the thick black belly fat slowly disintegrating with every reheating and melting into the stewing broth,  pangat defines a little invincible piece of homey goodness. Spooned onto rice and sprinkled with a pinch of large-grained rock salt, breakfast becomes a comfort that makes a hot day endurable.


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Binuburan

Binuburan is fermented rice sold on weekend - and market day -  mornings at the public market of my hometown in Pangasinan. The fermented rice is pressed on a banana leaf-lined bigao, or bilao, then again covered with banana leaves. A serving is a cupful, along which goes a plastic bag of water and sugar syrup.

It is meant to be taken and eaten home, where it is put in a bowl and mixed with the water - preferably cold - and sugar syrup.

Binuburan is different from the other fermented, odoriferous rice - buro - in that the latter is very savory, an appetizing side, while the former is sweet, and can be had as a meal, like some kind of porridge. Binuburan is called binubudan in the Ilocano language.

Binuburan is actually the first stage in the process of making tapuy, the Northern Luzon wine made from rice. It is in the phase when the rice has just been inoculated with the fermenting culture and has yet to turn alcoholic. But it has been allowed to ferment for a few days, up to a week, so it tastes slightly caustic, like an over-ripe pineapple or grapes.  

It is also the culture introduced to sugarcane juice when making basi, the wine of the Ilocos and Central Luzon regions that is based on sugarcane.

The culture comes in the form of hardened rice dough flattened into discs, looking a bit like free-form puto seko, but more like play-doh piso. These are called, unsurprisingly, bubur, and are available most days at the section of the market where local rice delicacies are sold. The bubur is crumbled and sprinkled on cooled boiled rice for it to start the fermentation process. Thus the name bubur, a permutation of bubud or budbud, describing the way it is used.

The bubur is made by mixing ground rice and pounded ginger with a small amount of a pre-made culture - the previous bubur - then fermented, molded, then dried under the sun.

Binuburan was actually exotic to me. That is saying a lot, because my life growing up in Pangasinan was full of what many citified folks would consider verging on the fear factor - consider snails, or frogs, or wild dwarf crabs. Fear factors extreme, actually.

But it was as exotic as coffee, which was forbidden to us children. So it was an exotic adult fare. Though it wasn't exactly forbidden - I never saw it in our house, and I never saw it eaten by any family member.

The first time I came across it was when I came upon a parish priest having it for breakfast. I thought then it must be holy. Over time I thought it was a male thing, like alcohol, or cigarettes. But when I got married I learned that binuburan is occasionally made at my husband's house, and eaten by the elders, who are all females.

So I got the courage to buy some at the market. When I lugged home my purchase I was scolded for taking the water, as it must have been fetched from the public CR. I didn't know it was just piped water, for diluting the binuburan. So I got cold, distilled and mineralized water and mixed it into the binuburan, along with some brown sugar for a caramel finish.

Binuburan takes some getting used to, and is an acquired taste, but so does buro. It has the same tangy sourness, but not as pronounced. It was refreshing, though, and perfect for the weather. But my cup was fininshed by my husband, who grew up eating the stuff, albeit home-made. The elders pronounced the market kind to be okay, but said next time we'll make some ourselves, and instructed me to buy bubur instead.

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Hometown Fiesta 2013

After many, many long years,  I was back in my hometown in time to witness this year’s fiesta celebrations. I haven’t experienced the town fiesta ever since I went to college, mainly because it was on fixed dates and was never moved to weekends.  This year it fell on a Tuesday, but I was home because I had to accompany a balikbayan relative who attended her high school class’ 50^th year reunion.

And so for the first time I experienced Balikbayan Night, which has been celebrated annually for as long as I can remember, but of course it had always been an inaccessible event. Not that I coveted to participate – there were at least three nights of baile during the fiesta, and they were attended by people generations removed from mine. And music was provided by live orchestras whose entire repertoires came from the eras of my grandparents and beyond.

Much to my surprise, food was served for all the returning natives and their company. I don’t know if this had been a long-time practice, and I wonder where the funds came from, since the balikbayans, for once, weren’t charged a registration fee.

The food was simple, and just enough to refresh after the exhibition of antics on the dance floor. While the drums and the trombones of the live orchestra boomed and echoed throughout the town auditorium,  uniformed servers circled tables with plates of fried, salted peanuts, flavored Calasiao puto which I found thoughtful, and sliced suman. The big news was, there was lechon.

But the even bigger news was, the lechon was amazingly, gorgingly good. A chopping table was staged at the back, from where issued plates heaped with squares of lean and tender meat topped with thin, crispy skin. Each piece was garlicky and succulent. The baile started at 8PM, so we had dinner at home and were still full by the time the refreshments were served. But we couldn't help but eat, and eat, the lechon, and eyed regretfully what we couldn’t finally take in, left coagulating in fat in the cool evening air.

Suddenly I found I harbored respect for the organizers of the event, overlooking the fact that they campaigned for the upcoming elections right then and there even though the campaign period was still months away. And I smirked at my relative who was called, along with all the balikbayans, to march all around the auditorium and come up to the stage to shake hands with the local officials.

At dawn the following day a mute procession of santos from the town’s barangay chapels wound its way around the streets of the poblacion. Flickering amber rays from a multitude of candles barely pierced that thick black darkness just before sunrise, flinging shadows like ebony puppets.

Just three hours later, in the full brightness of sunshine, came the town parade, tracing the same route.  It was a long one, with all the government officials and public school teachers, though all the ones I knew weren’t there anymore.  To my amusement, innumerable elementary and high school drum and lyre bands, marching on every two minutes or so along the parade, provided lively cacophony. They came in colorful satin costumes, dragging along drums and xylophones bigger than they were.

There were bigger ates and kuyas from the invited (hired, most probably) drum and bugle corps of several colleges in the province. After the parade I dragged my relative back to the auditorium to watch the exhibition pieces of these DBCs. I wanted to see particularly the exhibition by the band from the Virgen Milagrosa University in San Carlos City, which had won, in my teens, national championships for years in a row.

We could hear the music from the house, but I wanted to see, because the DBCs do not just play music - they perform to it, too. Unlike the live orchestra of the night before which had a gaggle of slinky-dressed girls barely into their teens cavorting in front of the musicians, the DBCs had the musicians themselves cavorting around the now covered auditorium.

VMU was as good as ever, playing “in” tunes, including the inescapable Gangnam,  as well as melodies my mother had sung to. The fast numbers were choreographed, with quite a few changes in formation.

Like my balikbayan, I’m glad I went. And now, having lived in several places, I realize the way we celebrate fiesta is quite distinct. I noted before that I was perplexed that in Cavite several fiestas were observed in a year, because in my hometown there is that one single, but over-the-top, observance. It was a discovery for me to know that my hometown fiesta – a commemoration of the town’s patron saint in thanksgiving and supplication, so is mainly a religious event – has been embraced by the local government and has made it also its own, staging around it secular events.

So the several nights of baile – socialization for the 73 barangay kapitans and their sanggunian, the balikbayan night, climaxing towards the town parade and the main baile that ends with a pageant of the town’s fairests. A fair with games and rides is set up on government land two months before the fiesta, and stays there for a month more afterwards. Without these the fiesta would be a very sedate affair, with only the silent dawn procession and a mass officiated by the archbishop of Lingayen, who then confirms the baptisms of the past year.

We are religious to some degree, but I don’t think we would have come home to pay homage to our patron saint, who is not that very well known. So it’s a good thing there is no separation of God and state in my hometown’s case. It has always been, and remains a good excuse to meet with long-seen relatives and friends and schoolmates, be entertained, and together eat long-missed food. 

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Pigar-Pigar

Feeling very virtuous and totally cleansed after imbibing jugs of avocado-guyabano tea, we thought it a good idea to give our kidneys a little treat. We were afraid we'd take ill from withdrawal - a chain-smoker who suddenly stops smoking can die instantly, after all, and we didn't want to suffer the same fate.

So off we went to the public market of Dagupan City on our last night home, with the apparent reason of buying enough bangus and other seafood to bring back to Cavite. But the more weighty consideration was a trip to the pigar-pigar stalls by twilight, along the road leading from the meat market.

There, freshly slaughtered cattle are cleaved into hunks of meat, which are then hung from hooks to display by the roadsides. The street is closed to traffic, tables and chairs are set on the asphalted pavement still steaming from the afternoon sunlight, and the communion begins.

It's beef paradise. Beer paradise, too. People come to eat, as well as to drink. And it's easily the cheapest way one can chill out - ice-cold beer and stir-fried beef at unbelievably next-to-nothing prices that's unavailable anywhere else. The utensils and tabletops may be greasy, the plastic chairs smudged with years of use, but it's al fresco dining, and the lights are dim so what you can't clearly see won't really bother you. And you don't go to the public meat market and expect fine dining ambience, do you?

Pigar-pigar in the Pangasinan language is turning and overturning oneself or something. It has been taken to name this place along Galvan Street in Dagupan City to describe the way the beef is cooked. Once you've stated how much beef you want, and made your choice of pure beef meat or mixed with beef liver, the meats are weighed, chopped and sliced, then dunked in a deep pan full of boiling oil. The thin pieces of beef are turned over quickly to keep them from over-cooking and toughening up. 

Sliced rounds of large white onions are added, and tablespoons of salt, and most probably MSG, as well, are then swirled with the meat. Everything's done in just a couple of minutes or so, the pigar-pigar served still sputtering from the heat. Even so, the beef can be tough, depending on the cut of meat available. So it would be good to request the slices to be really thin.

There are vegetable stalls near the area, and it's become our custom to buy a few grams of what's from Baguio that day - snow peas, young corn, broccoli florets, even marble potatoes, which are peeled and cooked along with the pigar-pigar at no extra cost. Some enterprising vendors actually choose to sell beside a pigar-pigar stall, and this has made the entire experience more convenient, although the choices may be a little wanting. 

I like mushrooms - oyster or button or whatever kind - with beef, and I scouted around for a while looking for them, but in vain. I guess for another time. 

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Avocado-Guyabano Pandan Tea

It is All Souls' Day today, the Philippines' nationwide remembrance of the dead. It is a good one this year, with four days off from work, as the first two days of November fell just before the weekend. But we had been raised to pay our respects to our ancestors on these days, so we never schedule a trip out of town around these dates to take advantage of the holidays.

So we are home in Pangasinan, and what a day to face our own mortality. I've reached the age when my elders are now senior citizen card holders, naturally afflicted with aging complaints. It's Undas and we talk about cholesterol levels and uric acid and kidney problems, and the various natural ways to maintain them at healthy levels, to delay, infinitely if possible, the time when we have to join our dead elders and take our final repose at the town cemetery. 

So now, instead of iced Pop on the table, we are served avocado-guyabano tea, made with seven leaves each from the fruit trees, steeped in boiling water til the liquid has turned amber. It is a folk remedy to aid in easing cholesterol (the bad one) levels, and many other things besides. 

There have been reported studies abroad proving this concoction's efficacy, though I'm not sure if they are supported scientifically. But the folks in my hometown reportedly swear by it, and my aunt-in-law tells me she has become a sort of "supplier," giving leaves to a lot of her acquaintances downtown (baley, in the dialect). 

avocado leaves

Sounds a bit like Mexico? And if I remember correctly, the fruit trees came from Latin America, too. But the aunt-in-law hasn't gotten rich all of a sudden. She gives the leaves gratis, for she has a very green thumb (makatanem, my husband likes to joke*), and she has several younglings growing in the backyard.

guyabano leaves

We have the tea from morning til night, squeezing in it some lemon juice to accompany dinner. I let the kids drink up, too, as my elder daughter has become attached to dishes made with internal organs, and my son daydreams about junk food. 

I found the tea to be bland, and very near tasting like boiled water, so for the next batch I added several blades of pandan. I remembered the pandan-avocado tea served at Earth-Haven in San Mateo, Rizal, which I had been wanting to recreate but didn't have access to an avocado tree.  

I found the previously lush pandan by the twa-to (manually-operated water pump) made panot by chickens and ducks. That was a revelation - I wonder if their eggs taste differently?

The pandan elevated the drink, which had become aromatic and flavorsome. Mixed with a little sugar and served cold, it tasted like sago't gulaman. Without the sago and gulaman, but with the cleansing power of avocado and guyabano. But who says we can't have a little fun? Guess what I'm thinking of adding to the next batch.... 

As further proof of the aunt's makatanem status, vegetables are available for the picking for today's lunch. Near the bamboo groves katuray flowers are flapping like opaque moths in the gentle wind. 

And right beside the kamote and kangkong carpeting a large swath of soil is a young baeg with flowers suspended vertically like pupae waiting for their metamorphosis.

In the summer looking up this tree would be heart-racing, in contemplation of the reward of sweet fruit. But it is not aratiles season now, though I heard the leaves are made also into tea. I didn't quite catch what  ailments it cures, I'll have to ask the elders.

This is the plant that supplied the leaves that were made into the tea which we drank when we suffered from stomach trouble when I was growing up. It sprouts tiny red berries, which are slightly bitter with sour edges. I had believed this was the tea plant, so I was unbelievably surprised to learn Ceylon tea comes from a plant that's entirely different. 

*Literally the word makatanem may mean plants thrive under her care, but figuratively it can also mean she has the capability of engaging in voodoo.