I have a word or two about my father. Yes, I know it is a struggle to live with an elderly who, on his worst element as an alcoholic, could drive you to your wit's end. On the other hand, on better days, he could be the most attentive, affectionate and caring person you could have.
I will not tell you, for now, the worst experiences when the booze takes the better of him. But let me share his kind and tender side.
My father could be a terrific cook. On rare occasions he would prepare breakfast and I would be awaken by the strong aroma of kalokalo (fried rice), which he would partner with a sunny sideup. Both of us prefer well-done.
His favorite is tocino and longganisa from Aklan. I should tell you he has such a versatile palate. One time he would ask for salted eggs, and uga, whenever I do the marketing. The next time when he has had enough of these, he would prepare hotdog and Spam, or opt for pansit canton, noodles, or corned beef, whichever is available on the fridge or the pantry, but which we have not eaten yet for breakfast for the past few days.
He cooks adobo with a little sugar, so you get a sweet flavour blending with salt, pepper, and vinegar. He likes tinola, inubaran na manok, and pinaisan (steamed fish in vinegar). His binakol sa ibâ, prepared using chicken innards, feet , blood and batikulon leaves a sour but meaty feel on the taste buds.
His nilâgâ nga baboy sa langka kag dahon sang libas is a weekend favorite. The pork knuckles are boiled until they become tender and he would add sliced green langkâ and libas leaves for a souring. To add aroma, a bunch of tanglad leaves becomes part of the ingredients.
When he grills bangrus, he halves it and stuffs it with ginger, tomato, onions, and herbs, then folds it back and wraps either with aluminum foil or banana. Grilled slowly over ember, I get a juicy, rich-flavoured fish, cooked but unburned, and perfect when dipped in sinamak or a mixture of Kikoman, calamansi, chili and chopped garlic.
Very recently , our langkâ tree teemed with fruits and we have bountiful supply for days. He knew I love to eat frozen langkâ. Despite his bouts with gout and arthritis, which inflicts him on his hands, arms, and knees, he painstakingly sliced, chopped and plucked the langkâ meat, despite its intricacies and the mess brought by its sticky residue.
"The secret is oil the knife and your hands first," he told me over dinner table, as I munched on the frozen fruit for dessert. I could smell Tanduay by now, so I guessed he had taken a shot or two already.
Some days I thank heaven, especially when my father is in good elements. Some days, I rage in anger, especially when he's had too much of the booze. There would be times that he would suffer from his gout and arthritis and it would bother me terribly. As of this writing, he is under the spell of his illness, and I just think of the good days to brighten up the day. It could get exasperating but in learning to live one day at a day, i keep telling myself, "Savour each moment until it lasts." I remember the HBO TV movie My House in Umbria. The lead character played by Maggie Smith told the little girl when she was about to return home, "Life is like reading wonderful book, you'll never know what's going to be on the next chapter." So let's take it from here...
Happy Father's Day!
