A line of different dishes lined up, inside a what seems to be a glass cage. A woman with a stick, at the end of it is a bundle of straw tied on what looks like a ponytail. Loud noises, people shouting on top of their voices calling every person’s attention as they pass by to check out what they had to offer. This is just one story that I can share to everyone about fast foods: Filipino style.
Venue: market place, wet market place to be exact… or it could be the side streets of the town I grew up in. Each trip to the market, me and my mom would go to the local cantinas or “turo-turo”, as we like to call it. Turo means point, and as you go along you point to what you want and it is served to you with unlimited amounts of rice. So with that “turo-turo” literally means point-point. The woman with the stick attached to a bundle of straws this is what I call Filipino innovation to ward off flies that are trying to share your food. Everywhere you look, someone’s trying to sell you something especially to my mom since she is carrying a “mestiza” (half breed) child ( that would be me) while we are trying to eat our meal. The best part is when I finish my main meal and my mom would let me eat the top of the “halo-halo” we ordered, what’s on top is a Filipino version of flan. “Halo-halo” is a mixture of cured banana, sweet beans, sweet potatoes, tapioca, jackfruit, nata de coco(cultured coconut), top with crushed ice and evaporated milk. To eat it, one has to mix (halo, hence the name halo-halo) all the ingredients together first, and then enjoy the sweet blend of this very own Filipino dessert. In some restaurants the halo-halo is topped with a purple yam ice cream and flan. Just eating the ice cream and flan takes me places.
At night, the local turo-turo would serve a different array of foods, that can, not only be eaten with rice, but also served with beer. They would barbeque different parts o the pig, cow, chicken, or fish. Usually, the innards of the pig or cow, the feet or head of the chicken, or the tail or ears of the pig. I would delight on eating these foods. They are so flavorful even though it sounds or even looks unsanitary.
I would always ask my mom how to eat this or how to cook that, she would say “Don’t worry, your brothers and sister would cook it for you.” But that did not stop me from finding out how to cook it, but unfortunately I soon found out that these foods tasted better if I am “NOT” the one cooking it. I don’t know if it’s just me or simply every cook has their own hidden secret of preparing it which I would soon find out after twenty six years. I say twenty six because I was twenty six years old when I learned how to cook, but I am not here to talk about my cooking, I want to talk about fast food- Filipino Style.
I am the youngest in the family and my mom loved taking me places and anywhere she took me, this kid has got to eat. So I get to pick what I eat no matter where I am.… Yes, even when I am home. If I didn’t like what is on the table my mom would send someone to buy food from the local turo-turo or take me with them so I can point on the food that I want. My parents don’t only feed me Filipino fast food they also feed me American fast food. We would go to the navy base’s cafeteria where they serve burgers, fried chicken, barbecue beef or pork. I enjoyed watching the cooks fire up the grill, and serve the food with great speed in just a blink of an eye.
My relationship with fast food never ended even when I came down with hepatitis. My dad was horrified. I was told to never eat at any fast foods again. I still ate…. behind his back. My mom didn’t care she would still feed me these foods. My mom would say so I can develop antibodies from all the dirt I’m putting in. I sure do love eating it.
When I was eight years old. My sister worked in the city that is a good two to three hours away from our town. One day she surprised me with a bag that has a burger, fries and best of all- a toy (I think it was the hamburger toy from McD’s) inside it. She said that there is this new restaurant that opened where she worked at and that it was called McDonald’s. She said that all Americans go there to eat and that one day she would take me there to eat, too. My sister only comes home once a week and she would always bring the burger with toys that I later came to find out that it’s called a happy meal. Then one day she said since the school is out “I want you to come with me at Angeles City, so we can eat at McDonald’s”. I was ecstatic. So we went and guess what they have this indoor playground too. My sister brought her camera and took my picture in front of the store and with Ronald McDonald, the statue. It was bliss!
As time passed by I would bring my two daughters to McDonald’s too. It would be a weekly thing. I had this gig, yes I call it a gig, I would buy women’s bags, clothes, and perfume, even Tupperware, then sell it. My customers pay me installment every payday. So every time I collect at the end of the week I would take my kids to McDonald’s or Jollibee, a strong McDonald’s competitor, they sell the same thing as McDonald’s except they have a giant red and yellow bee for their mascot. It became part of my family life. Every trip to McDonald’s or Jollibee is to be remembered.
That is until I went to America and joined the Navy. I left my kids to the care of my sister. The once a week trip to McDonald’s or Jollibee became a once a month thing. It was still something nice to remember. I took my kids to the US after two years. Lo and behold I took my kids to McDonald’s almost every day. Until my kids would say “Ma… just cook we don’t want to eat McDonald’s anymore.” Good thing I already know how to cook by then, I had to learn because no one would cook for me anymore. But working full time in the Navy, it was always hard to find time to cook, even if I have time I don’t have the energy. I just do whatever it is that is convenient for me.
I feel guilty a lot of times when I would feed my kids fast food, but the guilt is most often overridden by fried chicken. Now I stopped working, we still eat fast food and the three of us gained weight for the past two years. Since I stopped working, I thought I can spend more time with my kids and I’ll finally be able to do what I couldn’t do before. Maybe, I’ll bake more, cook more, learn to sew and even though I did all that we still ate fast food. It’s like a bad habit that I cannot break. It has become a part of me, a part of my family. If Kentucky chicken is selling 10 pieces of fried chicken with three large sides for twenty dollars, how can you argue with or even resist that? How can I fight the twenty pieces chicken nuggets for $4.99 at McDonald’s? It is not only cheap but very convenient, I don’t even have to park my car, I just drive through it.
I think I am not the only alone for feeling this guilt. All moms are. The daily rigors of raising a family are always coupled with the convenience o purchasing fast food. What is there to do? I think I’m just weak, like the rest of us. No wonder why half of the country is morbidly obese. I always tell my daughter that with my height if I become one hundred pounds overweight they can just shoot me. I gained twenty pounds since I separated from the navy two years ago. If that didn’t stop me from eating these greasy, unhealthy foods, what will?
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