Lola Hilaria and my Love Affair with Food

Yesterday, my brother unearthed some pictures from his baul (treasure chest) and shared these with the clan on Facebook.  What struck me, more than my lollipop pictures from grade school, was a picture of my grandparents in front of the signboard of their newly launched restaurant, Malolos Kitchenette. 

Looking at the picture immediately brought back delightful and comforting memories of my pre-school years spent in the kitchen of my maternal grandparents' house where my family lived until I was six.  While my parents were at work and my elder siblings were in school and my younger brother was doing I-don't-know-what somewhere in the house, I'd stay with lola in her kitchen as she cooked meals for her family and friends. Oh, how can I forget the sight of lola cleaning pork intestines like she was washing laundry just to make sure that her dinuguan  wouldn't have that foul smell, or the double XL kawa (I honestly don't have a perfect translation for this extra large wok cum sauce pan) where she would lovingly cook this for her big brood of 10 and their children to enjoy?   Family reunions meant bringing home dinuguan stored in a big bottle of Nescafe, my lola's alternative to a mason jar.  Childhood in lola's kitchen also reminds me of the many times she would make pickled papaya in big planggana (wash basin).  Now that I look back at it, I wonder how she managed to grate all that papaya with no fancy utensils.  Until now, I still long for that marinade which made her fried chicken to die for. I honestly still salivate at the memory of her fried chicken which no famous chicken could match by my palette's standard. It had that perfect blend of calamansi (Philippine lemon), Lea and Perrins Worcestershire sauce, and I-don't-know-what.  Really, if I can find a fried chicken cooked the way my lola did, I will grab a whole chicken without even considering if it's free range or not. 

Two images stand out in my memory bank when I think of my early childhood years - memories of me anxiously waiting at the porch for my mother's return from work and memories of my lola's cooking.  Our internal system really has a way of balancing things, a good balance of pleasant and not-so-pleasant memories. I guess this explains why I have this tendency to turn to really good food when I'm feeling emotionally unsettled.  Many would call it emotional eating;  I'd call it a return to paradise. 

Perhaps, it is this early exposure to lola's cooking and deep unconscious connection with lola that made cooking or preparing food a source of joy for me.  I know that work can sometimes drain me dry that I don't even have time and energy to cook the kind of food I want, but I would constantly feel that inner wolf howling at me and calling me to cook or concoct some unusual salad.  (Incidentally, when I was still freelancing, I used to make this simple fresh tomato and basil pasta that my son so loved that he thought I could actually make a living selling those as to-go meal branded as "La Loba's Kitchen"!)  There is this comforting, soothing feeling that I get from preparing the kind of food I want or food prepared the way I wanted. I may not have the birtud (that special gift) of cooking that my cousins and I would often wonder who would inherit, but I think what I got from lola was the plain joy that comes from cooking.  When I think of cooking with love and reckless abandon, it's lola's cooking that comes to mind. 

As I look at this picture for the nth time, a certain joy comes with the thought of how my lola, past her prime years, was able to make something more of her special gift.  Using my grandfather's retirement money, they set up Malolos Kitchenette which would become a landmark in Malolos in the 70s.  Occasionally, I still meet people who, when they find out I'm from Malolos, would share with me how stopping by Malolos Kitchenette along the Mac Arthur Highway was among their fond memories of our town. It was her two daughters who would eventually run the place while my lola spent more time at home. To my magical mind though Malolos Kitchenette was borne out of lola Hilaria's passion for cooking, a perfect example of one letting her light shine and doing something one does best. I also feel a deep sense of hope and stronger conviction in the truth that it is never too late to dream and give life to one's dreams. And I quietly and soothingly comfort myself with the thought that perhaps there's also something yet to be born in me.  And whether it's La Loba's Kitchen or not, I face the future with anticipation.