Once upon a Christmas time

As a child I would always request that Christmas decorations be put up by the time my birthday came round on Nov. 9. I loved the smell of the old carton boxes and of the dusty plastic of disassembled Christmas trees — a mixture of heat, slightly molten plastic pine leaves and an itchy rustling when putting them all together. That scent was even more prominent once the lights were put up. Ours were always white lights and my mother had this obsession of wrapping each branch with them so the tree would glow from within and would look like an endless universe of twinkling stars.

There are ornaments we’ve had for years and most importantly, this old plastic Santa Claus doll — whose poor hat and hair had fallen off long ago and was re-glued over 20 times — would sit under our tree holding a bell, when once upon a time he used to walk and dance to the tune of Jingle Bells. I would often sit under that tree, mid-afternoons when people would be napping or busy doing grownup things, and squeeze and shake the boxes that had my name on it. A soft box that went pfft pfft, meant it was clothes. Boring. And a hard box that rattled meant it was toys. I would then inspect and decipher which ones were taped with the cheapie local tape or the fancy 3M magic tape that came off easily. And those that would let me, I would secretly peek at what was inside, my senses heightened by the excitement of it all, enveloped in that familiar smell of plastic pine.

My foreign friends would laugh at me if they knew that Christmas to me was the smell of a dusty old plastic tree. That’s life in the tropics. I can hardly remember when was the first time I truly smelled pine, but it’s most definitely not a perfume that screams Christmas to my nose. Perhaps this is why we Filipinos associate Christmas with food more than anything. It’s truly the center of our celebrations. As a child, Christmas was about bananas wrapped in bacon then fried to a crisp. I would hop off to the kitchen, dressed in my “smocking” dress with little pine trees or poinsettias on it, and steal a few straight from the fryer. You’d have to chew and blow at the same time. “Chomp, phhhhhh, chomp, phhhhh.” My palate was often burnt before even touching the main course.

Noche Buena always had my Lola Zubiri’s bacalao — layers of potatoes, piquillo peppers and cod in her signature Spanish tomato sauce that had just as much soft sweet onion as tomatoes. The Pyrex dish looked festive on its own with depths of bright red and that extremely important, glistening orange tomato oil coating the yellow potatoes and white fish.

Christmas lunch was with my mother’s family and Lola Fernandez had her famous kare-kare, soft and tender, made with, as she would always note, “imported oxtail, ha.”

On some occasions there would be paksiw na lechon, strangely enough alongside a real whole lechon. But it was always a welcome treat for me. Truly one of my favorite dishes and not something I get to have often. It’s never quite as good unless it’s in my Lola Fernandez’s house next to a steaming mountain of Calrose sticky white rice served in that funny brown capsule-like container with golden flowers on it.

More than the food, Christmas is about the company we share it with. Because nowadays I never get my darn beloved fried bacon-wrapped bananas anymore, but it is always spent with my family and extended family. There is always that moment amid all the chaos where things slow down like a revolving movie set, as if I’m there but not quite, observing everyone and everything around me. The laughter, the happy shrieks from the excited kids, the delirious sound of ripping wrapping paper, the hugs and kisses … it’s like I’m an omnipresent narrator in the story of my Christmas. Tears always well up in my eyes with an immense joy and feeling of being truly blessed.

Married now, with a bun in the oven, my husband and I are combining our traditions as well as making our own. This is our second year to host Christmas cocktails on the evening of the 25th, with lots of pica-pica and raclette, bringing together family, close friends and our expat straggler buddies who can’t be home with their families. This time, since the menu is under my control, they all get to have bacon-wrapped deep-fried bananas.

A few other foodie Christmas memories

Chef Him Uy de Baron of Nomama Ramen: “Christmas when I was younger was a busy time for my family. My family went into the food business and converted the pelota court and the back lot into a modest manufacturing space. We did Christmas hams and so I’d wake up to the smell of scorching sugar being glazed with pineapple. It starts November and peaks a good two days before the 25th. Of course I’d constantly ask if I could nuke the hams with the blowtorch but got denied and was assigned to boxing the noche buena favorite. It’s something I can still recall well today, especially when I see ham. The house was abuzz with work and filled with an aroma only glazed hogs can give.”

Carmela Villegas of Casa San Luis: “My favorite Christmas memories would have to be when I would go home for the holidays when I was studying abroad. I would always look forward to this time of the year. Christmas lunch was always a feast. My lola would start prepping a week before and served our favorite dishes. Staple finds at the table were Elarz lechon, my lola’s pochero and paella and a dessert bar that could compete with five-star hotel buffets. There is just so much I can write about Christmas in the Philippines, but I can sum it up in two words: family traditions.”

Angelo Comsti, food stylist, writer and author of From Our Table to Yours: “My family loves to spend the holidays abroad, yet even if that bears a lot of new memories, adventure and interesting eats (The Lunch Lady in Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam, from our last trip), I still go back to thoughts of a simple Noche Buena at my late grandfather’s house in Sumilang, Pasig. The whole family sat around the table, snacking on ham and queso de bola, ensaymada that had been slightly toasted, and hot chocolate made of tablea, which my lolo lovingly prepared. It was stripped of anything fancy; still it holds much value to me as we simply enjoyed traditional Christmas food staples and each other’s company.”

JJ Yulo of Pinoy Eats World: “Funnily enough food-wise, my childhood memories of Christmas revolve around ... Russian salad. As a wee one, I remember seeing this weird bowl of food on our Christmas Eve table. It looked mushy, and it was colored Barney the Dinosaur purple. Gross. At around 8 or 9 and a bit more adventurous, I mustered enough guts to try it. It had chicken and green beans and potatoes and carrots, tossed in dressing. The purple tinge came from diced beets. I loved it. I ate this with my lola’s frescas — a brioche-like bread in a shape that reminded me of a barrister’s wig. Go figure. That, to me, is Christmas in a bite.”