I have lived in the U.S. for almost 30 years and the last time I visited the Philippines, my birth country, was in January of 2003. My mother goes to visit every year. She tells me that the country has changed so much in the last decade, and it continues to grow. She says I wouldn’t recognize the town we lived in. Local markets and restaurants have sprung everywhere and that there are now shopping malls in the province, leaving very little need to do the dreadful drive to Manila. The views of rice fields and vast farmlands on the highways are now of modern condominiums and apartments. My mother’s news always gives me a feeling of nostalgia. I have many fond childhood memories running through those fields in the afternoons with my cousins. During the summers these fields would be filled with ripe watermelons and cantaloupes. I remember the excitement as we would crack a watermelon, pull out spoons from our pockets, and eat these juicy fruit under a shade of a tree. Those were the simple times, and by necessity, full of patience and imagination, void of the iPads and iPhones and instant messaging. We barely watched TV and toys were scarce. I recall a lot of outdoor games and running around. I remember it being fun.

Perhaps it is part of growing old that my past comes back to my mind more often these days. I’ve been having many flashbacks of my childhood as early as when I was four years old. My grandparents and great-grandmother have been in my thoughts lately, too. Is it possible to get homesick about a place I haven’t lived in for 30 years? And of loved ones who have left this world for decades now? Is it possible to miss certain foods from my childhood to the point that I could almost taste it when I close my eyes? I plan to visit soon with my husband and son. I want Max to know where I came from and for him to have some connection to his Filipino heritage. For now, I will fulfill this longing with cooking Filipino food, which usually puts some bright rays to my day when the sun is not so sunny.

My number one favorite street food from the Philippines is Okoy. It is a fritter traditionally made of bean sprouts, acorn squash or sweet potato, shrimp, and cornstarch batter. It is served with soy-vinegar dipping sauce. This treat could be found on any street corner at the market, fried to order and drizzled generously with this special dipping sauce. When done right, it is unbelievable. I usually make my okoy vegetarian but this recipe has krab (with a “K”), just because we had some at home. Unfortunately our local grocer didn’t have any beans sprouts. So, my version today has yellow onions instead.

Acorn and Krab Okoy

Serves 1 or 4

Ingredients

1cup cornstarch

2 medium eggs, beaten

¼ cup cold water

2 cups grated acorn squash, peel on

1cup julienned yellow or white onions

3 cloves minced garlic

4 oz. shredded krab or peeled shrimp

salt to taste

cracked black pepper to taste

3 tablespoons canola or grape seed oil

Dipping sauce

½ cup soy sauce

¼ cup palm or rice vinegar

1 clove minced garlic

¼ cup finely chopped green onions

chopped jalapeno

1 tsp. granulated sugar

Make the batter by combining cornstarch, egg, and water in a mixing bowl. Mix all the ingredients well then add the vegetables and krab. Season the mixture with salt and pepper.

Heat up a frying pan over medium heat and add the oil. Place a small mound of fritter batter on the pan, do not overcrowd. Fry the fritters on each side until brown, about two minutes on each side.

Sauce: combine all ingredients in a small bowl and mix well.

Eat while hot.

I woke up feeling a little under the weather today. I wasn’t surprised at all as some winter virus has infected almost every single one of my family members since just before Christmas. Of course my turn happens to be the day before I go back to work. I can’t stand being sick, so with a little nudge from my husband I decided to go to the doctor. I am now on 3 different kinds of medication guaranteed to fix me in no time.

As I curled up in a blanket on my comfy recliner with a book, waiting for the meds to kick in, I felt a sudden homesickness for the cooking of my mother and grandmothers. These women had a way of driving away pain and sickness with their food. Whether it be the rice noodle and squash soup that is perfect after a painful visit to the dentist, the creamy chicken noodle soup that can heal broken hearts, or the rice porridge with hardboiled egg and ginger to make you feel whole again, all of it works perhaps even better than z-pack and antibiotics at times. So I decided I would make one of the legendary family dishes that cures all ailments, in the hopes that it will have the same effect if I made it. We had some left over turkey from a roast that I made yesterday, so the first thing that came to mind was to make lugaw. It’s a rice porridge that I can never get enough of.

Lugaw is my favorite. It is so simple, and yet can be so good. It’s really about the broth and the toppings. It is considered poor people’s food in the Philippines because it is made mainly of rice and both, but it can be elevated with the addition of toppings like pork rinds or egg. I have served this dish at one of my Pinoy pop-up restaurants, as well as parties I’ve catered, and it is always a total hit. I will make this dish a mainstay when I open my Cali-Pino restaurant because I’ve always felt loved when my Grandmothers or Mom made this for me.

Leftover Turkey and Egg Lugaw

Serves 4

1-tablespoon canola oil

¼ of white onions small diced

3 cloves of minced garlic

1 tablespoon peeled and finely chopped ginger

1 ½ cups jasmine rice or short grain rice

1 qt chicken broth

1 cup pulled cooked turkey meat or chicken

Salt and pepper to taste

A pinch of saffron (optional)

Toppings:

Chopped scallions

Hardboiled egg

Crispy onion

Other Favorite Toppings:

Pressed Tofu

Fried Chicken Livers

Chopped pork rinds

Direction:

Place the soup pot on medium heat and the add oil. Once the oil is hot add the chopped onions and sauté for 1 minute; add the garlic and ginger and sauté just until fragrant; add the rice, cook for about two minutes coating the rice with oil. Add the broth to the rice and stir, making sure that the rice isn’t stuck to the pan. Reduce the heat to low, cover the pot and simmer until the rice is cooked, checking every five minutes, stirring, making sure that there is plenty of broth and the rice is not sticking to the pan. Add the cooked turkey to the porridge and season with salt and pepper. Serve while hot and top with whatever you want!

As an end to 2016, I decided to reach out to my Dad and arrange a meeting. It had been almost two years since I saw him. I also found out that his kids and wife are now in the US, too. Reaching out to him to meet up and meet my half-brothers and -sister was not an easy decision to make. I thought about my mother first, and how this meeting could hurt her feelings. And then I thought about how I would explain the complicated family set up to my six-year-old Max, and then remembered that we live in Los Angeles, and Max has been exposed to an environment where kids have two moms or two dads and divorced parents at his age. So, I decided to do it because I am also a grown-up and this is what grown-ups do. Life is also too short to not give a shit about things that I should give a shit about. My father was nowhere near perfect, he was absent for the most part in my life and my memories of him are few and fuzzy. But he is still my father, and whatever happened between him and my mom was their business. The kids ended up with scars by default though none of it was our fault…a reality that took a while to manifest. I am also my mother’s daughter and she raised me right, so I picked up the phone and called my Dad.

I reunited with my father three years ago after 15 years of nothing. He lives about 25 miles away from me and it took me a long time to bridge that 25 miles gap. Parenthood changes people. I want to be transparent with my kid, and in order to do that, he has to know who I am. So three years ago I told him that we were going to meet with my Dad. He was surprised to hear that I have a father since I never talked about him. Max was great during the first meeting. No inhibitions, just happy to have another person to love and to love him. The remote control helicopter from my Dad also helped break the ice. There were two more meetings after that.

The night before our meeting yesterday I told Max that my Dad would also be bringing my brothers and sister, who I have never met. He said he didn’t know I had other siblings other than his aunts. I explained that my Dad married someone else many years ago and had four kids with his wife. I also told him not to expect any presents but if he does receive any make sure to be grateful and thankful for it. That was the end of that conversation and I was glad it went as well as it did.

On our way to The Grove to meet my Dad and his family, Max asked me why Grandpa and Grandma split up? Was it because they didn’t love each other anymore? And why did they stop liking each other? I was shocked, but then again not so much, as he is my son after all. I said I am not sure why they split up. I told him that I know they loved each other very much at some point in their lives, but people change and sometimes part of that change is that people fall out of love and then they find love again like what happened to Grandma and Grandpa. He seemed okay with that answer and I was relieved. I knew a little bit more than that explanation but really not much more. Of course I remember moments during that time but I don’t think either one of my parents thought it was important to tell us what was about to happen…it just sort of happened. We dealt with it the best way we knew how.

Meeting my Dad’s family was a bit awkward. We were strangers to each other and there was a bumpy feeling that even bloodline couldn’t fix just yet, only time. The kids were very shy and barely spoke. They are clearly homesick for the Philippines, and a bit culture shocked. They reminded me of how my sister and I felt when we first arrived to the US. I told them that the homesickness would eventually pass. They will, in time, pick up the lifestyle and fit in. And once they do they will love it. Just like my sister and I were at their ages, they are also full of hopes and dreams. My Dad’s wife looks older than she actually is. She is no longer the young woman I recalled from my youth. She is more subdued than my mother ever was or would ever be. What I saw that was somewhat similar was that she was clearly her children’s hero much as my mother is ours. She was friendly and I felt the kindness bestowed to my son and me was genuine. She spoke the most out of the bunch and asked questions about my life and my sisters. My dad is pretty much the same…silent for the most part, and didn’t quite know how to express his feelings. At times I wondered what was on his mind. He asked about my sisters and the grandkids. He looked well and I felt that he is thankful to have his family close to him. He looked more rested than the last time I saw him. I could also tell that he was happy to see us. And that was good enough for me. He had a brand new bike and helmet for Max. Max was very grateful and wanted to ride the bike in the parking lot. It was the same bike that my mother gave him for Christmas. I thought it was quite ironic that my distanced parents would pick out the same exact bike for my son. I felt that Max thought the same.

Max’s conclusion of our meeting was that it was nice to see Grandpa. He likes his new bike and helmet. He had a good time. He liked my Dad’s kids. He said that they were so quiet unlike my sisters and me. He followed that comment with a laugh because he knew I knew he was making fun of me.

On my part, it was surprising to care about people you didn’t expect to care about. I didn’t expect myself to have a feeling of connection, nor did I plan to put in much effort, but I did on both accounts, and I walked away feeling good. It was comforting to know that my Dad is not alone and that his kids do care about him. I want them to have a good life too. I want them to be well and to grow up to be decent adults. And I hope they do.

I will mend the gap and forgive the past. I no longer want to live with regrets and resentments from this part of my life. My life turned out pretty wonderful in spite of my parents’ break-up, or perhaps even because of it. I do intend to keep the few fuzzy memories though. Those memories keep me grounded at unexpected times.

In the end, I thought of my mother and how lucky we were that we ended up with her. The three of us inherited her personality, determination, drive, and guts. We also have some of our Dad’s traits in us, just enough to keep it balanced, but we are mostly made from my mother’s genes…a fighter for life and down to the youthful skin.