I don't know if I've mentioned this before, but I spent the first few years in my life growing (or not growing) in the good ol' U.S. of A (Which probably contributed to my picky palate). I was six years old when my family and I moved back to the Philippines after a five year stay in America.
The day after I had arrived, I still remember the first meal that my grandmother prepared for us. That images of that dish is still ingrained in my memories, to this very day, simply because what I saw scared the living crap out of me. It was a big bowl of black slop, with little bits of animal parts I couldn't make out floating around. I asked my yaya, "What is that?" and she answered, "Dinuguan.". I looked up at her and asked, "What's Dinuguan?". Never one to B.S. me, she got straight to the point and said, "Pigs blood". I made a face and answered, back, "Yucky!". My mom called me to come eat lunch, and I said, "I don't want to eat the blood of a pig!" and run up the stairs and into my room. Seconds later, my brother followed me into the room. I went up in tears, because in my six year old mind, I was afraid that moving to a strange land such as the Philippines meant being forced to eat food made from the blood of an animal and other exotic dishes.
Two minutes later, my mom and dad came into our room, saying that I shouldn't have stormed off, and I should apologize to my grandmother for insulting her food. I was in tears and said, "I hate Filipino food!". That moment, my grandmother entered the room with a tray in her hands, and a warm smile. I didn't have the guts to tell her that I didn't want to eat the food she brought, but thankfully, I didn't need to say anything. She walked in the room, and said, "Richie, you don't have to eat the dinuguan if you don't want to. I prepared this for you.".
I was half expecting to see an animal's head perched on to a plate, but instead, I found two plates (for me and my brother), with six slices of Spam, a cup of rice, and a bit of ketchup on the side. Needless to say, we tore into the plate like ravenous cheetahs having a field day with the carcass of a gazelle.
Later that evening, at around dinner time, my dad walked into with a bag of food. I won't lie to you. Whatever was in that bag, smelled really good. He said, "Hungry?". I was being bullheaded, and I just replied, "I don't like Filipino Food.". He dipped his hand into the bag, and pulls out a sandwich unlike any other I had seen before. "Its a flying saucer". he said of his strange, round, sandwich. He went in for a bite, and I gotta say, it looked really good. My dad continued to pretend that he didn't notice me watching him, and continued to focus on the TV. He then pulled out another sandwich from the bag and said, "All yours.". I hesitated for a minute, but in my mind, decided that sandwiches are considered American food.
I was pleasantly surprised with what I found inside after my first bite. It was definitely new territory for me. It was very meaty, but the flavor was something I had never experienced before. It was only after I had finished my last bite that my dad took the empty sandwich wrapper from me, to throw in the trash, and with a smile said, "That was called "Adobo Flying Saucer". It's made with Chicken. A very popular dish in the Philippines.". I was a little annoyed that I had been had, especially since my Filipino food boycott was still in full effect. My dad, with a laugh, said to me, "See? Filipino food isn't so bad, right?".
The days following, my dad would bring for me take out food at least once a day, introducing my brother and I to basic Filipino food staples, such as their Chicken BBQ, Liempo and Pork BBQ.. All from Aristocrat.
More than 30 years later, I found it ironic that my journey into exploring Filipino Food would continue where it all began: At Aristocrat restaurant, whose standards in food and service still stands tall, till this very day.
