Anniversary Weekend at Abe's Farm

My husband and I recently reached the 15th year mark as Mr. and Mrs. Yeay, us! So we celebrated by having an out-of-town weekend in the middle of the week. I love it when we do that, because that means we get to have two weekends in one week! Always fun.

We headed for Abe's Farm in Pampanga, a restaurant cum bed and breakfast place we've heard so much about.

As is the norm, the Mrs. slept through most of trip as the Mr. channeled Kimi Raikkonen and tried to beat some imaginary world record. Our Trooper zipped through NLEX, creating a psychedelic, impressionistic, moving painting of the rice fields, swamps, and trees surrounding the highway. I knew this even as I slept with my mouth wide open. I know it's true love because my husband still loves me even after watching me, the world's ugliest sleeper, sleep. Ooops. A.D.D. alert. I won't apologize anymore for digressing because I always digress anyway. What I'm trying to say is, don't ask me how to get there. When I travel, it's like entering a time machine. I just close my eyes and then I'm there.

Just check out their homepage http://abesfarm.com.ph/ for directions.

I woke up as we neared Magalang, Pampanga. I always love the approach to a town. It's a predictable, comforting pattern. You first go through the suburbs, where progress is constantly changing the landscape, old homes and rice fields giving way to the sprouting of gated subdivisions. Then you pass through the busy bayan (town center) with it Jollibees, and post-war market buildings, and all sorts of enterprise and merchandise. Then as you go deeper into the more parochial parts of town, things quiet down and the roads get a little rougher, the sights greener, the structures fewer and farther in between. And you can even roll down your car windows to breathe in that unusual smell -- they call it fresh air.

I never fail to appreciate it when we pass a tunnel of trees that almost completely shade the road, branches interlocking overhead as if embracing me in a warm welcome.

We followed the signs. Then, finally we saw the farm's gate, where a man ushered us into a large, shaded parking lot loosely paved with river stones.

Abe's Farm is owned and operated by the LJC Group. Whenever I think LJC, I think: squid tactics. binukadkad na pla-pla. Claude's Dream. Abe's chocolate eh. These menu items have been in the Metro's culinary scene for ages that they've become comfort food for me, and I dare guess for others too. These are also the dishes that told me that going to Abe's Farm in Magalang, Pampanga would be worth the trip. Because if all else suck, at least, the food won't disappoint.

But we discovered that's at Abe's Farm, it's more than just the food, there are many other reasons to visit.

The calm. Within the walls, you feel you're far, far away from civilization. You're surrounded by dense foliage, muffling the sounds of the outside world, covering you, making you feel like you're one with nature, even though, I admit, I'm not the one with nature kind of girl. There's no rush. Paths meander; it's never about getting from point A to point B in no time. People seem to walk around and talk in whispers, as if reverential of the country quiet.

The charm. The brochure described the place with the phrase tropical art deco. It's that. Plus architecture and decor that fuse our rich Filipino heritage and Asian aesthetics. The architecture of the main house and the varied cottages do not disrupt nature one bit as they are low rise, unassuming, and finished in indigenous materials. Divans, solihiya lounge chairs, and four poster day beds decked in cotton canvas slip covers and batik pillows are scattered in various places inviting you to sit and read, or slumber, or just sigh and soak in the sounds and scents of provincial life. The air is of unpretentious luxury.

The romance. We arrived just before sunset, settled into our rustic cottage, and by the time we left it to go the spa, the dim of dusk and the sprinkling of outdoor lights have turned the place into a romantic garden of brick lanes and cozy tryst spots.

In the rooms, there are no hi-fi, no wi-fi, no TV. Just a bed. And a tub for two. This absence of high tech pleasantly forces you to go high touch instead. To converse. Or to read in bed together, something I find strangely romantic. And to just share silent space, as old married couples find comfort in doing.

The luxury. Okay, I admit it. Even though I love my creature comforts and backpacking does not make me a happy camper, I'm quite easy to please. Just put a muslin netting over my bed, and I'm easily impressed. I know it's just for effect, because the air-conditioning and glass walls and doors keep the mosquitoes away. But it just adds a touch of opulence, comfort, sexiness to an otherwise rustic ambiance.

The spa is housed in a cottage similar to ours. My full body massage was glorious. And painful. Just the way I like it. When the therapist asked if the pressure was fine, I requested for her to make it harder. She obliged. She kneaded my holiday-weary body so hard, I almost wanted to shout, Uncle. The next day I was black and blue. And if I weren't already married, I might have proposed marriage to my therapist, so I can have a lifetime of spa bliss.

Then dinner. Ah, back to food.

Rice with dilis and tausi. Squid tactics. Inihaw na tadyang. Pako (fern) salad. Chicharon bulaklak. I thought we ordered too much. Yet, at the end of the meal, all that was left was the rice, which we asked them to serve with our breakfast the next day. The tadyang was a bit too crispy for me. I want it crispy on the outside, but tender, juicy, beefy inside. This one was crispy all throughout. Other than that, everything was perfect.

We washed all that with merlot, and we brought an order of leche flan to our room.

Because this is in the province, where the townsfolk turn the lights off early, service ends at 8PM.

So off to our cottage.

Insert 60s style hazy fade outs and sound effects to indicate a long time lapse because the censors cut the good parts in the bedroom.

We woke up excited to cap our weekend. LJC style breakfast awaited. We pre-ordered the night before.

We first built up an appetite walking around the grounds; checking out the Ifugao huts and the swimming pool; and admiring the orchid collection.

Moving around the main house, I wished we could stay longer to laze, to just lie on daybed and read.

We broke our fast with tapsilog for me and tocilog for him. Darn! I forgot to order chocolate eh. But the coffee was a delicious picker upper anyway. We wolfed down our breakfast because we were excited to visit the museum.

The museum is a relocated, reconstructed house, and is a great example of adaptive reuse as a means of preserving traditional architecture and decor. It also makes Abe's Farm more than just a bed and breakfast place as it gives it a story, history, charm, and romance.

In size, it's not much, which means it's not overwhelming and you can tour the place in minutes.

But because I am fond of minutiae, the museum was a wonderland of details that clue you in on Abe, his family, his art, his lifestyle. This museum is certainly another good reason to make the trip to Magalang.

We eventually tore ourselves away from Abe's farm to meet a friend who manages a business at the Clark Economic Zone.

Aside: I was amazed to discover that U.S.-based companies that restore old cars actually find it cheaper to ship the vehicle and parts to the Philippines, where local workers have been trained to do restoration work, and then ship back the finished goods to the U.S. Whew! Long sentence.

Lunch. I've been hearing about Zapata's (now Iguana's), the Mexican restaurant known for its margaritas. And I was glad to learn that the buzz was not all hype. That was mighty good Mexican food and an awesome margarita.

We managed to coerce our friend, one bottle of beer at a time, to extend her one-hour lunch break, but we eventually had to bring her back to work with her promising to grill some steaks for us pretty soon.

Because our car was coded that day, we had to stall -- first by passing for some Paning's butong pakwan (watermelon seeds), and then having an early dinner at Marquee Mall, an Ayala Mall in Angeles.

Aling Lucing's sisig, Susie's pansit luglug, Susie's tibok tibok (similar to maja blanca, but uses carabao's milk) -- our mini Pampanga food tour, all consumed at the food court beside the supermarket.

I almost don't know how to end this post, in the same way, that it was hard to end that weekend in the middle of the weekend. So, because the 15th year is merely a milestone in a what I hope to be a long, long marriage, I will not just say The End. Instead, I end with To be continued...

Abe's Farm, Pampanga Office

Phone: +(6345) 865-1930

Mobile: +(63915) 595-5501

I Ate Lechon Five Times and Lived to Tell the Story of Bale Dutung

n.b.: I wrote this piece several months ago. Then, somebody asked me to submit it a travel magazine, requesting me not to post it on my blog before publication. Now, I'm finally allowed to post it on my blog.

My Bale Dutung story started a few years ago when I first heard about it from a friend. Like rumors of a magic island, the stories told of a rustic, art-filled, awesome place in Angeles, Pampanga, a place where one dines on culinary wonders whipped up by food columnist, artist,and chef Claude Tayag, a place where only a few can enter. One can’t just go alone; a party of at least ten is required. You also need to reserve way in advance. Because the owners do this only once or twice a month. If at all. If they’re not busy traipsing around the country or the world, sampling gourmet delicacies and exotic street grub. And you need to break the bank and bring enough cash, about P1,800 per person. More if you’re buying pasalubongs and copies of their books.

I knew I had to try this place. But organizing a trip seemed like a complicated, expensive production number.

Through the years, I’ve read articles and blog posts about Bale Dutung, seen pictures, heard more stories; and my desire to visit grew. Then I read Claude Tayag’s book, Food Tour, a delectable compilation of stories of food, culture, travel, and art. And I knew I wanted to meet Claude Tayag, who has made a career of doing the things I love to do. And I really had to visit this place. Watching Claude serve Tony Bourdain an extremely telegenic rendition of kare-kare, I resolved to make this pipedream happen.

And as proof that dreams still happen, we finally had our Bale Dutung experience. After a flurry of email and text exchanges with our hostess, Mary Anne Tayag, a group of 14 friends and family members trooped to Angeles on a drizzly Sunday morning.

We entered a gated subdivision that did nothing to prepare us for the surprise of entering a place that seemed more likely to be found by the foot of a mountain, by the edge of a rainforest, or somewhere remote and slightly magical. A big pond surrounded by outdoor art pieces greeted us. We walked around taking it all in, and then a lovely lady appeared, serving us a welcome drink spiked with muscovado ice.

The lovely lady was Mary Anne Tayag, who has elevated party hosting to an art form. She tried to memorize all our names and almost succeeded. What she did succeed in doing is making our Bale Dutung experience one of the best dining stories of our lives.

Before the pigfest ensued, the chef came out of the kitchen dressed in a crisp white shirt and batik pants. He explained that Bale Dutung means House of Wood. Claude regaled us with the story of the house – the story of how he built it from scratch and from scrap.

He explained the long, painstaking process of gathering recycled materials from old churches and structures damaged by the Pinatubo eruption and subsequent lahar catastrophe.

He talked about his collections of antique kitchen implements and how they opened their home cum gallery cum dining wonderland to people who appreciate good food and good art.

He then left us to do his magic in the kitchen, and Mary Anne took the helm in the dining room. Also dressed in casual ethnic chic, she was the epitome of the stylish, gracious host that I want to be when I grow up.

The appetizers were not even on the menu we agreed on. Just some of the many pleasant surprises in store for us that day; my favorite surprise was the refreshing face towels dipped in baby cologne and frozen overnight; such a thoughtful detail for guests who've traveled far to get there.

The meal began with crackers served with a trio of dips: Taba ng Talangka, Balo Balo, and Pesto. We attacked this first dish so voraciously the servers had to wrestle the dip bowls away from us to ensure we didn’t stuff ourselves prematurely.

Because as we were soon to discover, the degustation that was about to follow was going to stretch our stomachs to the limits.The next course was another off-the-menu surprise. A sotanghon dish that belied the accusation that carbs are heavy. Barely there vinaigrette dressing made this a light, refreshing starter. More starters were served. The Ensaladang Pako was the first dish that was part of the official menu. Mary Anne told us that the now-fashionable pako(fiddlehead fern) was actually ordinary fare, growing profusely in every home garden, usually served to the household help.

The Inasal na Manok was served with a tiny scoop of Claude 9 Talangka Rice. This was followed by the Piniritong Lumpiang Ubod, its flavor made interesting by the mustasa leaf wrappers and the Claude 9 Oriental Sauce. Another surprise dish, the talangka topped sushi ended the round of starters. We felt pretty satisfied by then. Our appetites were whet for the feast. But we had no idea that so much more food was in store.

We chose the menu that included Lechon served in 5 different ways. The first way was the more traditional serving of the lechon skin. It was a little embarrassing how our carnivorous family assaulted the golden red skin. Crispy perfection as it should be. It was served with an unbelievably good liver sauce that would have been a tad too sweet if not for the generous amount of garlic slices.

When the pig has been stripped of its epidermis, the rest of the gorgeous carcass was carted off for the next porky installments.

Second way: Fried Lechon Flakes na Binalot sa Tortilla. Basil leaves and kimchi make this a more sophisticated, zestier variation of the pritchon. By this time, we were feeling the tightening of our jeans, and we were surprised that we were just about to have soup. The sinigang featured the lechon’s third incarnation.

It was a tough decision to make, but I eventually decided that way 4 was my favorite. Inihaw na Tadyang na Lechon served with Ensaladang Talong – it sounds as good as it tasted. It’s very hard to find words to describe the dishes and the experience because at about this time, our brains could no longer focus on the verbal as every vital organ was focused on properly digesting this amazing, and not yet finished, meal. The wine, which they allowed us to bring in with no corkage fee, had nothing to do with the dazed out, intoxicated feeling. We were drunk on food. And the beauty of our surroundings. And the entertaining stories.

And that little pig still had one more number for us. I swear to you – I am one with an almost finite appetite, teased by my friends for having an esophagus that reached up to my knees. But I met the feast that could forever ruin my reputation as a gourmand. I was so full I just let the fifth way, the Inasadong Pata ng Lechon, glide through my tongue just so I can taste the flavor.

We were so stuffed we were relieved when they called a break from the eating. This time, we would feast our eyes and our souls as we toured Bale Dutung. This place provides more than just eye candy. Art, antiques, a dash of kitsch, and even more stories made us forget about food for a moment. I am amazed at Claude and Mary Anne’s graciousness for opening their homes to us, entertaining us, and giving us so much more than what was promised and expected.

The tour burnt enough calories to clear some space for dessert, old-fashioned coffee, and pandan tea. A medley of macapuno, ube, yema, and carabao’s milk, Paradiso was truly paradise for the taste buds. And Mary Anne capped the meal with another surprise dish, the Tibok Tibok, a pudding made of carabao’s milk.

Yes, I ate lechon in 5 ways. And I survived to tell you this story and to tell you that Bale Dutung should be in every foodie’s bucket list.

More photos here: ttp://islandhopper.multiply.com/photos/album/38

VFW (Veterans of Foreign Wars)

379 Pinatubo Street, Clarkview Subdivision, AngelesCity, Pampanga

Based on one past dining experience at this place, I had high expectations. Obviously from the rating, the expectations were not met. The tuna chowder on the pic was the one saving grace and added one star to the rating. The rest of the meal was underwhelming. The pork sausages had a funky, no-personality taste to it. And the buffalo wings were sad, really sad. My husband ordered chili, and I was envious of his food. To think, I hate chili beans.

It was also irritating to have a lot of the service staff come in late, disheveled, go into the washroom, and emerge with their hair dry and make-up on. It felt like I was watching a waitress vendo machine.

After having said all that, I might give this place another chance when I'm in the mood. Maybe the veterans were just having bad WW2 flashbacks.

Cioccolo

Royal Garden Estate, Friendship Circumferential Road, Angeles City, Pampanga

I'm hardput to remember a Valentine's night out with my husband. He'd buy me the best floral arrangement his money could buy and make sure it's delivered where and when there would be the highest concentration of people to witness the delivery. He'd give me some expensive bauble, he'd treat me to a spa treatment even if I didn't need one, just don't make him be out there with those pathetic, soppy couples out celebrating the cheesiest occasion invented by man.

But this year, we had a candlelit dinner at an Italian restaurant. Okay, it was a business meeting with 2 other couples, but still.

Cioccolo serves more than just Italian food though. And most of us had non-italian dishes. We started off with deepfried balut, which to me was the best dish of the night. It was also the only dish that didn't take an hour to be served. Okay, the menu described my order as 10-hour roasted ribs, but I didn't know that was to be taken literally. The dishes eventually arrived, and at least they were good. Or we were just too hungry that even the soles of our havaiannas (yes, casual attire is welcome) would taste scrumptious. The ribs were tender and the barbecue sauce just right. My husband ordered grilled lengua; I've never had grilled lengua before and didn't even know that was done. It was good; made mental note to try that at home.

Cioccolo serves a variety of coffees , including Jamaican coffee, Illy, and alamid (I gasped a little when I saw someone drowning the premium alamid coffee with copious amounts of creamer - you gotta go black!). In this day of roll your eyes up and go to heaven desserts, their Oreo cheesecake was just okay.

Even if the place was huge and the diners many, the place still had that warm, intimate feel; thanks to the well designed lighting and the fine furniture. My seat afforded a view of artfully arranged, gigantic cabbage roses, which surprisingly were fresh and real. If you're ever in the area, this place is worth a try, valentine's day or not.

Subdelicious

Fields Avenue, Pampanga

Subdelicious sounds like a really bad name for a restaurant. It sounds like the food is just this short of delicious. A totally unfair description of the food. Because the buffalo wings are really good. Something I always look forward to when we go to Pampanga. If we hear of anyone going to that area, we tell them to try out the wings. Even the locals did not know about it, and my husband has invited lots of them to the place. We were one of those happy consumers providing them free word of mouth advertising.

You can order the wings mild, regular, or spicy. Of course, we went for the spicy, which is tempered by the blue cheese cream dip. The restaurant is known more for its hoagies and submarine sandwiches, but I didn't care much about the Philly Cheese Steak Sub; not bad, but I prefer my beef rarer and sliced thicker.

It must be a happening place at night with the billiards and the jukebox. That lunchtime, though, there were just a few of us enjoying the place and the buffalo wings. We were on our last pieces... this after telling my husband that the 20-piece order was too much. And then, my husband accidentally dropped one onto the floor. And this is where the jukebox music suddenly jumps and screeches to a halt and the happy dream scene is over. Because seconds later a mouse runs from under my booth chair and grabs the piece of chicken. Of course, I let out a mini-scream, and just got as far away from that booth as possible. I tried not to make a scene and just waited for the bill to be paid. At this point, I was agonizing, thinking maybe I should just ignore the mickey sighting, and just give them a positive review because I really liked the food, and I didn't want to be nasty, I mean after all Ratatouille has opened the minds of people to rodents touching their fine cuisine. But the nightmare didn't end just then. The manager started asking, more like interrogating my husband about why I was taking pictures. Like this is the first time in history that people have taken pictures in restaurants. I don't want to bore you with the exchange, but I was trying to explain that I was promoting their restaurant so my friends would try them out, but she was mouthing all these obnoxious lines like, "We're all Filipinos here, okay. When QTV and GMA filmed here, they asked permission. We're not stupid; that is a professional camera." I really didn't, and still don't, understand what the fuss was about. It's not as if we can steal their secret recipes by taking photos. We were not doing anything wrong and this woman was blabbing on and on doing more damage to her restaurant than to us. In exasperation and disgust my husband mentioned the mouse, and this woman had the temerity to say with a straight face, "That's normal. All restaurants have rats." Okay, I'm trying not to get upset as I write this so I'll stop the happy reminiscing. Bottom line, I'm going to miss those wings because I'll never ever go to that place of substandard sanitation ever again. I'm not going to stop you from going, though. Just make sure that if you go, you don't drop any food on the floor, sit with your feet on the chair, and be ready with a mayor's permit if you want to take pictures.