Hot cocoa and pandesal

I wrote this a few weeks ago and posted it in another site in honor of my grandpa who recently passed away. Reading and re-writing this post here just makes it easier for me now considering that we as a family still grieves and doing this somehow makes me feel that my dear grandpa is just here with me enveloping me with all the love and goodness he always had in his heart.

If you love food like I do, I bet there is something or someone who has influenced you, or driven you to have the passion for it. The most common thing I observed with co-foodies is that they associate this culinary passion with a former event which made such a big impression, a big impact on them that all these years, they have brought it with them - cherished, treasured.
People have asked me if I already knew during my younger years that I will be working with and around food. I've always answered yes - I've never seen myself working desk bound in an office setting. I've always wanted to be in the kitchen, discovering new flavors, testing crazy ideas and sharing gustatory pleasures. There were a few people with whom I can associate my interest with food. Ironically, most of these individuals are not really cooking professionally. They however, drove me to spike my interest and hone my talent which will eventually be the source of my livelihood.

Lolo Trudo (my grandpa) is one of them. When summertime comes, off I go to SAn Pablo city where Lolo Trudo and Lola Meding awaits. I was still in grade school at that time and the vacation was an event that I have always anticipated. Breakfast was Lolo's specialty. Given that Lola had to leave early to open their RTW market stall on a daily basis, it is Lolo who is tasked to ensure that his first apo (me?!) gets a hearty and sumptuous first meal of the day.

His fried rice is the best that I have ever tried. I have yet to find an establishment that could beat his sinangag. He starts with the perfect "bahaw" (left-over rice) and saute's this with either pork lard (from his adobo dish) or longanisa oil (the left-over oil he used for frying local sausage). With all the mixing and frying, the fried rice is infused with the right flavor, with the garlic browned and not burnt, and the rice grains generously coated with oil. Eating it with as plain as fried egg makes of a deliciously satifying meal. Better yet, his perfect fried rice would be served with Lola Meding's sinaing na tulingan. What more can you ask for?

I also remember that Lolo had his food idiosyncracies. Imagine having hot chocolate with cut-up pandesal, eaten warm with a spoon. Sometimes, the pandesal would be replaced with bits and pieces of suman sa ibus (sticky rice wrapped in coconut leaves) or what we sometimes call Antipolo suman, also soaked in hot choco. I believe that was his favorite breakfast because up until my adult years, I would see him having this for snacks.

What probably made our meals together more interesting are the stories he would generously share on how he and Lola met, or how they hid during the war, and how he loved to teach. I also recall how he loved to hum and sing the old OPM songs, and how he would proudly show me off his co-teachers and bring me to their school events and parties during the summer. I also recall us watching the procession during Holy week and how he would complain because he had to carry me almost the entire duration of the procession.

Our meals together were simple. Quite ordinary, in fact. But they were special. I would have wanted to have more of our summertime bonding, but given the demands of adult life, it became difficult. So the summertime bonding stopped and became limited to seasonal visits attributed to Christmas reunions and his birthdays.

I lost him last Sunday. We lost him. He died due to cardiac arrest. In his typical non-imposing way, he died quietly at home. I wasn't able to say goodbye. But in my heart, I know that one day, I will see him again. One day, I will share a cup of hot chocolate and pandesal with him amidst interesting stories of life and love.

I love you Lolo Trudo.