Tropical Fruits of the Philippines that are not so known in Belgium

A long time ago (or so it seems), during the period when K and I were still sustaining our LDR (long distance relationship) through Skype, I paused to get some juice out of my refrigerator. As I would usually drink mine straight out of the box (one of the great pleasures of living alone), K asked me what kind of juice it was. I nonchalantly replied, “guava”. His next question was something I never expected… "What is that??"

I had never imagined that somebody in the world would not know what “guava” was.

And then came...


Batad Rice Terraces, November 2009.

We met an Italian and a Frenchman there. That day, I decided to start my “guava” foreigner survey: "Do you know what a guava is?"

They both answered: "No."

I was shocked then and sometimes, I still get shocked now. Today, I will write about Common Unknown Fruits that I had introduced to K (through Google this time, not Skype) many moons ago.


First up, Guava ofcourse!

Guava

This fruit is very tempting to eat, especially when ripe…just watch out for the worms! They possess the uncanny ability to blend right in. Yum! Yum!

Another version of the guava is what my cousins and I call the “Guapol” (Guava apple). Don't ask me why we call it Gaupol. Beats me...

Guapol

Atis or in English, it is known as “sugar apple”. I like this fruit. It is soft (even the shell) and is generally sweet but you just have to be careful with the seeds. If you swallow it, legend says the branches grow out of your ears and nostrils.

Atis

Cacao. This fruit is what they use when making chocolate (nothing sort of the Belgian kind). It's the chocolate we use to make "champorado" but that's another story. Surprisingly though, this fruit is one that I find sweet and delectable. It can smell like chocolate but it definitely doesn’t taste anywhere near it. :)

Cacao

Durian. As this fruit is quite heavy (not to mention, spiney!), I cannot imagine being in its way as it falls from a tree. Although I have never heard of such incidents happening, we most certainly don’t want to be the first!

This fruit tastes like heaven, but smells like hell. I remember being on plane from Davao to Manila and it just reeked of durian. Though I don’t mind the smell of this fruit but too much can be really overwhelming. Blech! *shudder*

Durian

Jackfruit. Much bigger than durian but more pleasant in smell, the jackfruit’s fruit can be sticky on the hands. Still sweet like most tropical fruits, its crunchy meat is surprisingly something I do not go out of the way to eat. Just wash your hands well after eating as the smell can stick to your fingers.

Jackfruit

“Galangan” as we call it in my dialect, or "Balimbing" as it is more popularly known. Poor guy. For the latter, I have no idea why it is named as such as in our language, "balimbing" means someone who swings both ways (not gender wise but takes both sides).

This fruit is usually sour and thus, better dipped in some soy sauce with vinegar and salt or eaten with salt as a stand alone. We don’t usually find these in markets but I can eat a lot of this from the short tree at my grandfather’s place.

Galangan

Iba, or more commonly known as "Kamias".

It has been a loooooong time since I have eaten this fruit. We really don’t eat it much as it is so sour it’ll make your face look like the Grinch’s. But sometimes my aunts make it into jam and it becomes quite yummy.

Iba or Kamias

Lanzones. A summer fruit with opaque insides, together with most of the rest, when choosing this fruit, one must note that the more black ants on the fruit stand the better. It means that it is much sweeter if that is the case. Just be careful with the small seeds in the middle as those can be quite bitter.

Lanzones

Lomboy. This appears to be berries on really tall trees. Best eaten with salt, this fruit is not the sweetest (more of an acquired taste actually) and makes your mouth purple. Old people dry up their leaves and make it into filter-less cigarettes. *cough*cough*

Lomboy

Mangosteen. Admittedly, I haven’t eaten a lot of this fruit as it may either be quite rare or my family is just not so fond of it. But it tastes and looks more like the star apple (or vice-versa) of which I’m more familiar with.

Mangosteen

Manzanitas. Now THIS is one of my favorites. But it is quite small, like half of my thumb, but ofcourse it doesn’t taste at all like the half of my thumb (come to think of it, I will never know really!). It is always sweet when it’s ripe and it comes in reds, oranges, and yellow-oranges. When I was little I loved climbing up the manzanitas tree. I just had to keep a close lookout for the “til-as” or hairy caterpillars. Itchy!!

Manzanitas

Rambutan. This tastes like lychees actually and I am very fond of lychees--in cans! Hehe This fruit is quite sweet but the reason why I don’t like eating it is that the flesh gets in between my teeth and that makes it very annoying for me, especially when the outer covering of the seed sticks to the flesh after you bite it off. Arrrrgh!

Rambutan

Santol. Fibrous but still sweet. You have to be a really good climber to get fruits from this tree. I wonder how our parents managed to allow us to climb up those trees. Or did they even know about it? Hehe

Santol

Sineguelas. Usually sold in plastic bags during the summer, I used to eat this as if I were eating junkfood. Sweet, crunchy and even great when overripe, this is one of the fruits that I truly miss eating.

Sineguelas

Star Apple. I dunno why this fruit is called as such as it is not shaped like a star and moreover, it has no semblance to the taste of an apple. Hmmm...

My grandfather has a large, old starapple tree at his house and people who have a “3rd eye” say that there is an enchanted castle far bigger than the tree on it. On a less freaky note, the fruit is fibrous and sweet and meaty. I like it but I don’t love it. It’s not really something I would go out of my way to eat. No offense to the "little people".

Starapple

Tambis. When I was a kid, I used to climb this tree the moment we arrived at my grandfather’s house. I got to know most of these fruits through my grandfather’s trees. Tambis is also crunchy and best eaten with salt or vinegar. My cousins and I loved vinegar with lots and lots of chili.

Tambis

Chicos. It's supposed to be Chico for singular but I dunno why we've always called it "Chicos" (but definitely Tambis is for both singular and plural). I love this fruit: It is soft, sweet, and oh so satisfying!

Chicos

Guyabano. Hmmm...the best juice flavor for me (alongside guava). I'm not that fond of this fruit that looks like a cross between a durian and a jackfruit, but turned to juice, it is impossible for me to resist it!

Guyabano

All these fruits that I grew up with, are those I never imagined that K has never gotten acquainted with before we met. Guava. Seriously, Guava?? It’s one of the most ordinary and common fruits! It’s so ordinary, they don’t even sell it often at the marketplace really. We don’t even consider exporting it!

Funny. But then again, I’ve never eaten a peach that wasn’t in a can either…until I first came here.

Though I still prefer the canned ones… *wink*

I Love KFC

I don’t deny it. Kentucky Fried Chicken (KFC) is my favorite fastfood in the whole wide world. For an environmentalist that is quite disgraceful, I know. But as everybody is entitled to their own simple pleasures in life, these 3 letters have just always been one of mine—K.F.C.

The other weekend, after long months of searching, I finally got a taste of good old Kentucky Fried Chicken—or so I had hoped.

Ever since I was a kid, I have had only good memories of KFC. Having grown up in Los Baños, a town that was not yet invaded by fastfood chains the likes of KFC, eating their chicken became quite a treat. Being the first child and the center of my parents’ universe at that time, during some weekends, I remember the three of us would go to Manila for just a day, shop at Harisson Plaza, and come back home with one big bucket of KFC, lots of gravy and extra coleslaw! Things couldn’t have gotten any better than that.

When we moved to Dumaguete there was, yet again, no KFC yet. But my family and I survived. Cebu City, an island approximately 3 hours away, had KFC.

Fast forward. In my mid-twenties and 3 siblings later, I decided to go and work in Manila.

The first time I went back home to visit, I remember going to a KFC branch close to my apartment the night before (at that time, I finally lived in a place where there was a great abundance of KFC. Hmmm…come to think about it, that may have just been the subconscious reason why I moved to Manila in the first place. Hehe) and ordered one bucket of KFC: 6 original and 6 hot and spicy with extra gravy, and a large coleslaw.

In the cab on the way to the airport the next day, I held that bucket with pride. On board the plane, I put my bucket of KFC on the luggage compartment with dignity. All that time, I knew the effort was all worth it and besides, it wasn’t a can of Rebisco cookies anyway, was what I told myself. I was bringing with me the three key ingredients to happiness = chicken + gravy + coleslaw.

When I got home, the look on my siblings faces reminded me of how I felt when my papa would come home from a trip to Manila, bringing with him a bucket of KFC. I felt happy.

Before I moved to Belgium, not having a KFC branch was one of my main concerns (that and the absence of “Ivory” brand soap—mind you, these issues at that time seemed to be a matter of utmost importance. hehe). It ended up getting so bad that I joined the “Bring KFC to Belgium” group on Facebook. Really pathetic. Friends started suggesting places that had KFC. These places mostly ended up being a country or two away…so you get the picture.

Finally, our American friend, S, mentioned that there was a KFC somewhere in Lille. Lille is on the border of France, approximately 45mins away. One late afternoon, K proposed all of a sudden to pay Lille a visit with a knowing look on his face. Without any hesitation, I flat ironed my hair, put on some make-up and perfume, wore a nice outfit and got this close to jumping up and clicking my heels with delight. It was the moment I had been waiting for.

Either K was a very good sport or he was just subconsciously pressured into doing so, he ended up unexpectedly changing into a long-sleeved polo shirt, black jeans, and dress shoes for our most awaited and long overdue KFC dinner date. I admit, I don’t normally dress up to have dinner (more so at KFC?!@#%) but this was a momentous occasion for me. After months of being KFC deprived, I forgot that I didn't speak French and wanted to look special when ordering my hot and spicy, extra crispy chicken, gravy, and coleslaw with Mountain Dew, if they had that in France.

So we started on our journey to happiness. We were off to Lille! I was so excited that not even the cold could freeze my spirits.

When we arrived at Lille I grew very anxious waiting for our trusty GPS (we call her “Sophie” for no particular reason) to bring us to THE place. Finally, there she was. Nestled in a corner of what seemed to be the highway….waiting for me all this time, calling out to me…there was my KFC outlet.

I couldn’t wait to get out of the car. I was giddy with excitement. At the entrance I even wanted to have my picture taken! But alas, in all the preparations, we had unfortunately forgotten our camera—again!! Besides, K already started giving me “the look” so I decided not to push him to take my picture using his phone. Hehe

While we were waiting for our turn, I searched the menu over and over again until it finally dawned upon me: Oh my gosh! There was no rice!!!

How can I eat KFC without rice?!?! Stupid me! I should have brought a Tupperware of rice with me! I should’ve known! But it’s okay, Jacki. The important thing is the yummy chicken, dipped in gravy, together with their heavenly coleslaw, isn’t it? Yes, Jacki. That’s what is important. You can live without rice for one meal.

Finally, it was our turn and having gotten over my earlier disappointment, I eagerly told K what my order was so he could translate it to the waitress.

“Bizwa fushwa boozhoo wee zhoo”, was what I deciphered from the lady behind the counter.

K asked me, “What type of gravy do you want?”

I said, “Ummm…there is only one type of gravy in KFC. I want THE KFC gravy.”

Then K spoke to the girl again. While this was transpiring, a weird, sickening feeling started to creep up inside me.

K turned to me again, “She says they only have sauces. She doesn’t know what gravy is.”

I almost turned pale, “Gravy, you know, it’s brown. I mean...it’s gravy!”

I finally realized that they just didn’t have any gravy. Never had and maybe never will have.

My heart sank.

I grudgingly said, it’s okay. I’ll just have coleslaw then.

K spoke to the girl.

Again the, “Bwoozhoo zhini amtwoh zhizu.”

“They don’t have coleslaw either.”, K told me hesistantly.

I wanted to cry. So much for happiness. I just started staring off into space and didn’t even mind that they didn’t have any Mountain Dew. Well at least they had chicken, right? Ugh, no wonder KFC Stockholm went bankrupt.

The first couple of pieces of crispy chicken wings were eaten in stunned silence. They became a vague memory. Suddenly, something just clicked inside me (no, it wasn't one of the loose screws). I realized that I should still be happy. There I was sitting inside KFC in a small town in France, eating my favorite chicken in the whole wide world, with the man I love, who drove all the way to another country--literally, just to cater to my craving. There was a lot to be happy about and our KFC experience just made up another wonderful memory to add to my own.

I have vowed to simply wait until I come home to my country to eat KFC. After all, I have lived without it before, I just have to live without it again.

Although I will never go back to Lille for KFC, the experience just reminded me again that in life, it doesn’t really take much to be happy--it shouldn't. For me, it can be something as simple as a set menu from KFC.