We came, we ate, and ate.
That is well illustrated by Balong as he cleaned his piece of authentic chicken inasal [native chicken] at Bacolod City's iconic Manokan Country.
Bacolod City is an accidental trip, a sudden U-turn to help kill the two days before our scheduled flight back to Manila, and pillared on its culinary landmarks of inasal, pala-pala, and the rising star that is the Calea Pastry Shop.
It was also my chance, long anticipated, to finally update my beginner's portfolio of the San Sebastian Cathedral, the Negros Library, and the American-era provincial capitol which with that pala-pala experience of a long time ago are the only photographs I have of the City of Smiles.
But really, what we need is to get hungry and get hungry fast for that pala-pala lunch and a brisk stroll in the capitol grounds is not enough for that.
Nearby Talisay City beckoned so we took off for its Spanish-era Church of St. Teresa de Avila, old and empty, and the now famous ruins of the Lacson Mansion where we were entertained by James who regaled us with funny anecdotes about the girl with the huge ribbon who inherited the house, the doctor that took four days to come, and many more worthy of a stand-up comedian more than a guide.
But we came for the pala-pala so we went to Ading's despite being still half full of the inasal from breakfast and closed my eyes to the exorbitant prices as the wife ordered a half kilo each of tinolang ulo ng maya-maya, grilled scallops and blue marlin, and chilli crab, so much [or are we half full?] that we took the left-over back to Iloilo City for dinner, my wallet protesting such gastronomic thievery [the price not the food], but happy with the image of Bulan sucking every bit of meat from a piece of crab.
Dessert is still to come and there must be space for that to happen, so we thought pretending to shop at Bongbong's would help, which we did, and ended with a box of piaya and napoleones and biscocho.
And finally Calea where the cheesecakes lined up in a striptease dance, seducing stiff stomachs to starvation, and we voluntarily succumbing to an alibi that a cup of coffee is best paired with a slice of mud pie, a blue berry cheesecake maybe, and another cheesecake for the road.
I farted all the way from Bacolod to Iloilo, maybe 5 kilos of discreet fart, and the ferry passengers must have been peeved trying to figure out who the farter was, except for the wife who is quite familiar with that unctuous smell, and Bulan and Balong who never cared because they slept the whole of the trip.
Bacolod is just another Visayan city with not much to see actually.
But like the rest of them, it was a great eat...
That is well illustrated by Balong as he cleaned his piece of authentic chicken inasal [native chicken] at Bacolod City's iconic Manokan Country.
Bacolod City is an accidental trip, a sudden U-turn to help kill the two days before our scheduled flight back to Manila, and pillared on its culinary landmarks of inasal, pala-pala, and the rising star that is the Calea Pastry Shop.
It was also my chance, long anticipated, to finally update my beginner's portfolio of the San Sebastian Cathedral, the Negros Library, and the American-era provincial capitol which with that pala-pala experience of a long time ago are the only photographs I have of the City of Smiles.
But really, what we need is to get hungry and get hungry fast for that pala-pala lunch and a brisk stroll in the capitol grounds is not enough for that.
Nearby Talisay City beckoned so we took off for its Spanish-era Church of St. Teresa de Avila, old and empty, and the now famous ruins of the Lacson Mansion where we were entertained by James who regaled us with funny anecdotes about the girl with the huge ribbon who inherited the house, the doctor that took four days to come, and many more worthy of a stand-up comedian more than a guide.
But we came for the pala-pala so we went to Ading's despite being still half full of the inasal from breakfast and closed my eyes to the exorbitant prices as the wife ordered a half kilo each of tinolang ulo ng maya-maya, grilled scallops and blue marlin, and chilli crab, so much [or are we half full?] that we took the left-over back to Iloilo City for dinner, my wallet protesting such gastronomic thievery [the price not the food], but happy with the image of Bulan sucking every bit of meat from a piece of crab.
Dessert is still to come and there must be space for that to happen, so we thought pretending to shop at Bongbong's would help, which we did, and ended with a box of piaya and napoleones and biscocho.
And finally Calea where the cheesecakes lined up in a striptease dance, seducing stiff stomachs to starvation, and we voluntarily succumbing to an alibi that a cup of coffee is best paired with a slice of mud pie, a blue berry cheesecake maybe, and another cheesecake for the road.
I farted all the way from Bacolod to Iloilo, maybe 5 kilos of discreet fart, and the ferry passengers must have been peeved trying to figure out who the farter was, except for the wife who is quite familiar with that unctuous smell, and Bulan and Balong who never cared because they slept the whole of the trip.
Bacolod is just another Visayan city with not much to see actually.
But like the rest of them, it was a great eat...
No comments:
Post a Comment