A LOVELY BUNCH OF COCONUTS

The first time I had macapuno icecream was in the Philippines – it wasn’t made by anyone in San Francisco yet at that time. Imagine a small store in a seaside settlement that was not particularly picturesque or worth visiting, but there was a wharf where the ferry to the next island over docked several times a day, and people who were waiting for the boat easily became bored.
Especially when the boat was late – which was always.

Boredom transformed equals “ravenous”.

Philippinos think of food as entertainment.

In the Philippines, it usually is. Better than a cock fight.

Nothing had better come between a Philippino and his food. Nothing!

The national passion for good things to stick in one’s mouth completely explains the insane traffic in Manila.
Half of the drivers are rushing somewhere to eat, half of them just ate, and now feel absolutely no hurry whatsoever.
The third half are heading towards an illicit affair, but as the chances of positive and negative outcomes for such adventures are equally divided, there is no appreciable skewing of the statistics. In any case, everyone adheres to their own chosen speed, irrespective entirely of everyone else on the road.
Unless they stop suddenly in the middle of the fast-lane when they see a promising dining spot, all hungry again.


NO SMOKE WITHOUT A COOKING FIRE

The 'Mercado Dandy' at the wharf made money hand over fist.
Ice cream. Grilled isda. Fresh mango juice. San Miguel Beer.
Estofado kambing and babui-masisig. Ginger soda na may yelo.
Small hot packets of savoury-sweet press-rice in banana leaf (katupat), fresh from the fire, best with calamansi juice squeezed over so that the flavours explode right onto your tongue as they burn through the roof of your mouth.
About the latter, the proprietor mr. Punsok dryly explained “is called Pilipine Pizza”.

I found out later that he was the ONLY person to call it that.

[The proprietor: Dandy Punsok. An eloquent man. “Do not buy onboard ship – they are highway robbers only”. “My prices very competitive, for a captured audience”. “Everything is cheaper elsewhere, but here IS elsewhere”.
Only later did I find out that his surname was a wordtwist too. It had originally been Poon. Uncle Poon – in Chinese: Pun Sook.]


Mr. Punsok’s older son was back from college, much preferring to roar around the island on his shiny motorcycle rather than staying in Manila with his aunties till next term.
Unlike most Japanese bikes in the Philippines, his was all glittery chrome and stainless steel, very painful on the eyes even from very far away. You could see its venomous glare on the road long before you heard it coming.
The big motorcycle, with its polish and very audible power, was the pride of the neighborhood. He offered several times to show me the sights on the back, which I declined.
Not that I thought he was a dangerous driver (he was - not an issue).
But by taking the car, I could ride with his two sisters. Sweet girlish company, and air-conditioning! Even though I sat in the front seat, and so had an unobstructed view of the scenery – green green rice fields, cool dark palm groves, patches of forest – I cannot remember much about the island.
Perhaps it was the witty commentary from the backseat that distracted me. Yes.

One day we stopped at an eatery in one of the larger barrios in the extended munisipalidad, where the brother was waiting for us, sitting astride his big shiny monster with an American cigarette hanging out the corner of his mouth. He looked very rakish.

With the exception of the rice, everything there was deep-fried. Little saucers of vinegar with chopped garlic and a few pieces of sliced green chilies to cut the grease.
The two girls ate sparingly, but I was considerably more careless.

Afterwards we drove to a scenic area where there were beautiful rapids and rocks. By that time the first wave of acid-indigestion had taken hold. Consequently the rapids did not thrill me, as they resembled the fierce roiling going on inside, but I smiled brightly and vocally admired them.
Then we went a few miles uphill, to a historic bridge over a gorge – built by the Japanese with slave-labour. It too, was absolutely gorgeous. But I was abdominally distracted, and while I could and did express very keen appreciation, there were other things on my mind.
The road to an old Spanish convent twisted and bumped gently – but it felt like a roller coaster, with my internal maelstrom accentuating every minor little jolt. There were lovely old buildings there, around a quiet garden where the nuns had grown medical herbs. It would have been very nice to have spent more time there – me and my stomach would have liked to have simply sat in the shade of the trees for a long time – but we had to get back before dark.

The driver pulled no punches, and roared down the road back to the seaside at top speed. We made it back in less than an hour, well before nightfall.
Probably the closest I’ve ever come to being motion sick.


Eighty plus miles an hour. One elderly Philippino nascar-uncle, two bright young Cantonesas home from Saint Scholastica in Malate, and a dyspeptic mukang puteh. Ninety nine bottles of beer giddily coming out of four throats.
Chitty chitty bang bang for the last fifteen miles, but only by three people.
The fourth person was somewhat cabbage-hued at that point.
And couldn’t remember the lyrics to that song.


It had been a lovely day out with two very funny girls.
But the best part was the big bucket of macapuno ice-cream I had for dinner.
So very very very soothing.

I could’ve rubbed it all over myself, it was that good.
Felt much better afterwards.
In retrospect, it was one of the very best days ever.


MACAPUNO

Macapuno is the grated jelly-like flesh of a mutant coconut, often used in Philippino sweets and drinks. Somewhat gelatinous, somewhat aromatic, very good.
Philippino agriculturalists have succeeded in creating a strain of coconut which produces primarily such mutants.
Macapuno is available in the United States mostly in the form of strands in syrup.

In northern California, both Marianne’s and Mitchell’s make macapuno icecream. Marianne’s is in Santa Cruz, Mitchell’s is in SF. Both brands are available at Molly Stone’s.
Mitchell’s ALSO makes ube ice cream, in case you were wondering.



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