Peppercorn

We're about to harvest peppercorns again, it's that time of year when the vines are drooping with this all-important spice that were among those that triggered explorations in the 15th and 16th centuries. We in the tropics kinda take spices like this for granted, just as ginger which gives immense flavor to a lot of dishes we regularly eat.


And I only learned when I had the farm already that white pepper and black pepper comes from the same peppercorn, except they're just picked at different stages. If you pick them while they're green, just as how the berries above look like, you can either consume it fresh while tasting mild and fruity or dry it for some days then crush it and mix with olive oil or brine.

When you pick them instead some weeks later, just when it's about to turn red, leave them to dry until they shrivel and turn black (right). When you grind it on a peppermill, you'll get black pepper, the most flavorful of all.


On the other hand, if you missed out picking some and they've turned ripe and red on the vine, you can soak the berries in water with salt for some days. This will dissolve the outer shell and will effortlessly make the white inner seed come out. Leave it to dry and it becomes white pepper when it's ground.

November Bird of the Month

The Philippine Oriole (Kilyáwan) is our featured bird this month, a medium-sized bird with brilliant yellow feathers that makes it easy to spot, sometimes even way before you hear it chirp. It's fairly common to find them anywhere in the Philippines, yet their attractiveness hardly diminishes at all.

Aglaonemas

Even as a young boy, I always enjoyed a group of plants that I did not even know the name of but was fascinated by the variety of patterns and hues of its lush foliage. I would bug my Mom to bring to my Lola's house empty pots to have them filled by her gardener Mang Ciano. It was up to him what to put but I would particularly request for these, which he collectively called sédang dáhon (silk leaves). [A footnote: after some months and I failed to keep them healthy, we repeat the cycle of the empty pots and the bugging and the requesting...]

Now that I have my own garden, I started collecting aglaonemas, which turns out to have an even bigger number of varieties and cultivars. They are a member of the aroid family (Araceae) just as alocasias, anthuriums, philodendrons, and xanthosomas. Also, despite them being given the popular English name of Chinese Evergreens, they are actually endemic to the Philippines, particularly to Luzon.

They thrive best in filtered sunlight: too much and the leaves will burn while too little will not bring out the patterns and the colors. I place them under big philodendrons as proportionately-big ground covers and to offset each others' leaf shapes and patterns.


They would also look good as potted specimens and do well as indoor plants. Moreover, most of them have unusually-colored or patterned stems, all the more it is best placed on a tabletop to better appreciate the plant. 

Around Lipa: Casa de Segunda

Lipa is one of the few Philippine cities (and towns) whose main street is not called Rizal. Instead, it is named after Claro Recto, a nationalist and one of the city's most distinguished sons. The other major thoroughfares pay tribute to equally-prominent Lipéňos: Morada, Luz, Kalaw.

But there is a Rizal Street, a side street of Recto Avenue, some blocks behind the Cathedral. There is a special, sentimental reason for this rather unusual street-naming: the young Jose used to visit a house on this street, a house that you can visit until today. He would arrive on horseback (presumably from Calambâ), tie his horse on the alagáo tree by the gate (which is still there today) to court a young girl he was infatuated with: Segúnda Katigbâk.

The house is a fine example of colonial tropical architecture; it dates from 1880 and is in excellent shape to this day, one of the city's five remaining Spanish-era houses that survived World War II, earthquakes, and typhoons. In fact, this particular ancestral house has this wonderful, lived-in ambience: Segunda's descendants live within the compound and personally attend to every guest who knocks in their gate.

The nárra floors are polished, the capíz windows are complete, the planters and pedestals are filled with greens, and the compound seems to be always abuzz with activity. Once I was there, the barangáy was having a meeting in the courtyard.

Apart from its great condition, it also displays a tasteful selection of period furniture made of tropical hardwoods with exquisite inlays and tracery, rattan caning, Chinese porcelain, silverware and kitchen implements true to the era of this beautiful home. There are family photos, leather-bound books, Lipa memorabilia, and of course, references to Segunda and her famous suitor. But the ancestral house speaks far more than this short historical footnote: its design alone is a good model for tropical architecture.

Despite the heat and the sunshine outside, it was pleasantly cool and breezy within the rooms, the corridors, and especially in the foyer downstairs. Of course, the compound is sheltered by old trees that further enhances the shady and balmy atmosphere.

Casa de Segunda requests a token amount of twenty pesos to help maintain their house. They are open everyday but big groups best book ahead.

Suman sa Ibus

My caretaker and his family made súman (above) today, a glutinous rice cake wrapped in young coconut fronds (íbŭs), on the occasion of All Saints' Day, when Filipinos troop to the cemeteries to pay respects to their loved ones who have gone ahead. The market-bought glutinous rice (malagkît) is mixed with kákang gatâ (the first press of coconut cream), then functionally yet artfully-wrapped and tied together before boiling it in water.


It was striking to see that even though my Ilónggô caretaker has no tomb to visit in Lipa, they still hold their traditions dear and keep them alive. And because he and his wife are quite amused that I patronize their traditional foods, they set aside some of the malagkit to make for me the rice version of báye báye (below), that toasty cake they made last July and August after the corn harvest.