For He's a Jollibee Fellow

I have to admit, I have always been a little frightened of Filipino food. It has nothing to do with my compulsive habit of rescuing dogs and the fear that I would be eating a pup formerly known as Kuro. Yes, yes, the thought always crosses my mind that the mystery meat in that lumpia purchased outside of K-mart may bark at me but it really stemmed from the appearance and reality of what the dish was made of.

As a small kid, I would dread those days that my Dad went downtown to buy himself some Filipino food. There would inevitably be something in the fridges that looked like it came out of Andrew Zimmern's lower colon. You know, Bizarre Foods taken to the next level. Lumpy, metallic-smelling grey colored bowls of fried blood (with the occasional stray clot of blood ball or an errant vein) were enough to make me avoid opening the fridge all day long. Worse of all were the trips to buy balut! Imagine having one of those jars of genetic oddities hawked at the Carnival freak show plopped right next to a carton of milk - totally stomach churning. I would inevitably have a nightmare on those days that my Dad left the balut container uncovered and a milky in-utero chickie eyeball would be staring at me.

Sometimes, I really wonder if my Dad's totally un-Japanese skin tone comes from some deep, dark secret from generations past. Perhaps we weren't from Fukuoka at all but really from Ilocos Norte.

Since those small kid days, tales about Filipino feast have continued to make my stomach churn. From my Uncle's story of going to a BBQ at his friend's house in Kalihi (of course) where he enjoyed a dish of fried pork chops that were actually fried Poochie to my BFF GB's tale of the plates of sashimi served at her brother's wedding that turned out to be raw goat! In my Uncle's case, he should have been forewarned since he and his friend were both Farrington grads. However, my BFF was stunned as she is 1/2 Filipino yet her family was horrified to see Billy Goat Gruff on the pupu list.

In spite of my great fear, I decided to venture out to Waipahu to pick up dinner from Jollibee, well known fast food chain offering finger lickin good fried chicken to native Filipinos. My "I gotta be the first one to go there" localness won out over my "I'm terrified to eat anywhere West of Moanalua" townieness. I also dreaded the long line of customers which have apparently been the norm there since they opened. The twins were not willing to embrace my cultural safari and stayed in the car, windows locked and eyes filled with terror the entire time. All they said was, "Just buy normal food."

I walked in and aside from one white guy, I was the only non-Filipino in the place. No joke. Just me and this haole guy - not a military haole guy like I'd expect on the Westside but a white guy married to a Filipina. Now I know how Oscar the Grouch felt that first time I took him to J-Town and walked away. Total fear of a brown planet. I am pretty sure I was the only one with the deer in the headlights look on though as everyone else was snapping photos of the place, of themselves next to photos of the Jollibee or of their food.

The line was LONG - about 50 people in front of me but it moved incredibly quickly. A worker presented each of us with a menu and then took our order which you took to the cashier when it was your turn. I would say I waited no more than 5 minutes. I did okay ordering the "normal food" - chicken, spaghetti, corn, mashed potatoes and gravy - but there was a culture clash when I ordered pilakbet. I asked the worker, "What is this?" He goes, "Pilakbet". I go, "What is THAT?" He goes, "Pilakbet, you know pilakbet". I go, "Uh, I don't know what that is," He goes (realizing that I only LOOK Ilocano but am not), "Oh, like pancit with shrimp." After all that, I felt compelled to order that too.

The food came out incredibly quickly and everyone there seems to be on happy juice. Seriously, very very happy. Like they had all been smoking pakalolo or something. Maybe that is the secret ingredient in the halohalo? Total came out to $75 for an 18 piece bucket of chicken (includes gravy), large mashed potato, large corn, family sized spaghetti, family sized pilakbet and a halohalo. Kind of pricey when you think about it but as I only head out to Waipahu maybe once every two years, I figured it was like a staycation meal.

Took the food over to my parents house, not expecting a very good response (esp. once my mom heard how much I had spent). However, nobody had anything negative to say about the food - except that there was SO MUCH of it to eat. I picked it up on Monday and we are only about 1/2 finished today (Weds.) My Dad is already planning a return visit post-New Years. Here is a dish by dish review:

FRIED CHICKEN - crispy like the old Pioneer chicken but not a lot of taste on its own. You have to pour the gravy on it and then it zings! If you are a white meat person, you are out of luck because they only have drumsticks and thighs. The 18 piece bucket was actually three six-piece buckets (3 thighs, 3 drums). You can order spicy or regular. As I thought everything came in one bucket, I ordered all regular but will try the spicy next time. No finger licken seen but lots of bones (and best of all, no eyeballs).

GRAVY - it tasted like KFC's gravy but not as salty and no herby-essence at all. Reminded me of brown gravy that had been really watered down. That sounds totally unappetizing but it was really good.

MASHED POTATOES - a little firmer than KFC's but again, not as salty. Kind of had a buttery taste to it and this was my favorite thing from Jollibee. I didn't eat the chicken, just ate the flakes of crispy batter on a bowl of taters and gravy. Yummy and heart-attack inducing.

CORN - Even though it was drenched in butter, these were a no go for corn-crazed Mad Cow. He said they were too "squishy" which I interpreted as Mad Cow speak for "FROZEN!"

SPAGHETTI - When I first met Oscar, his favorite thing to cook for himself was that ghetto favorite, spaghetti and catsup. Seriously, not even government American cheese, just spaghetti with catsup on it. Sickening sweet but something that Oscar continues to wax nostalgic about until today. The Jollibee version had the same kind of sweetness to it's meatsauce but toned down. If you aren't expecting that jolt of sugar though, it is kind of jarring. There was a mix reaction to this - the kids did not like it but the grown ups did. An additional bit of strangeness was the sliced hot dogs in the mix.

PILAKBET - Uh, only Dad ate this (Diva took a shrimp off but that's it) because it had a funky smell to it. Not funky as in bad or spoiled, more like funky as in downtown Chinese herb shop smell. Dad said it was good and took some for his friend who likes Filipino food. His friend liked it so much, he is going out there tomorrow.

HALOHALO - Again, this was restricted to Dad and he liked it even though it melted on the way home in traffic from Waipahu to Manoa. It started off incredibly pretty - reminded me of that Eminem and D12 song Purple Pills with the lavender ice, flan and multicolored cubes of stuff. By the time we got home, it was just one big purple slurpee.

Overall, it was good but not something I'd drive all the day out there for again. Maybe if they'd move into town, I'd go. There are plans to open a Red Ribbon Bakery of which the people around me were tormenting the poor worker taking orders about so it must be worthy of another Westside trek. On the other hand, I'm not a big Ube or Pandanus fan so maybe not.

I did notice that there were no dogs anywhere in the vicinity though.....

Bah, Humbug

I don't know what it is with me but I just cannot get into the holiday spirit.

The total unspirited doldrums started before Thanksgiving and I believe it was transmitted to me via the hundreds of Black Friday flyers that filled my mailbox and fell out of the newspaper like a daily avalanche of paper. I tried to fight the urge to look but alas, gave in to the lure of the sales. While I did not need a 50% off can of turkey Spam, for a moment, I considered joining the rest of the crazed Hawaii folk eating a turkey bento in line at Walmart from Wednesday.

I take it back, the malaise actually started at Halloween because Christmas decorations were popping up next to the bags of candy. Seeing Santa next to a Spongebob Squarepants costume was jarring and way too premature a sighting for me. I guess it really bothered me on a subconscious level because I just cannot bring myself into a jolly, holly spirit.

I am ashamed to admit that the family actually went shopping on Thanksgiving Thursday. I told myself this was okay because everybody else would be doing it but when we got to Waikele, the shops were pretty empty. Please Sir, can I have a heaping spoonful of guilt on top of my lump of indifference?

It only got worse when I caved into the Diva's momentary lapse of sweetness and actually went to Ala Moana on Black Friday. Not early in the morning like the crazed hordes (yes, I can name names but I won't because I asked a bunch of you to buy stuff for me), but after lunch like the semi-nuts regular folk. I thought it was a good sign that I got a great parking spot where I usually park (behind Macy's out in the sun) but I was wrong. After unsuccessfully trying to squeeze my uh overly fluffy body into the Apple Store, I settled on a brochure from the salesperson in the front who had a look on her face of utter terror - like a lone mango tree being approached by a flock of starving mynahs. It was just not worth sacrificing life and limb to save $43 on an I-Pad.

The Diva didn't even get that far. She would be 1-2 shops away from the store she wanted to go to and would stop in her tracks to make a hasty retreat.

Chanukah didn't make things much better. While I always enjoy watching the kids light their candles, the minute the flames are struck, the inevitable question that escapes the lips of my delightful triad is, "WHERE'S OUR PRESENT?" usually followed by grumbling about having to read the Diary of Anne Frank play by the twins. Throw in having a sore arm and smelling like Tokuhon b/c I had to grate 3 pounds of potatoes and latkes and that is enough to bring on the whole Scrooge vibe to any Mama's already black heart.

I realized then that what is really getting to me is the whole cliche of commercialism over sentiment. Christmas is no longer a religious celebration, a time for bonding with family or a season of giving - it has become one extended Zooper Sale. Think about the conversations you have had with people since Thanksgiving? I bet the ones about the great bargains you got at Best Buy or what you ordered online on Cyber Monday are much more numerous than the ones about going to Church or visiting your parents. I can't condemn anyone though as I too am one of the credit card bearing lemmings jumping blindly and madly into the sea of holiday debt.

As I circled the Nordstrom parking lot yesterday, I tried to remember when this whole shift in consciousness had occurred. In the Neaderthal ages when i was a kid, I don't ever remember spending hours in December nagging my parents to buy me something, particularly something that I knew they could not afford. The answer to a request for something insane would have been simple, "No" and that would be that. Unlike the present where the response to a "No" can vary from "We'd have money if the Mad Cow would quit school" or "Can't you get another job?" or "Just charge it" or the ever popular, "Oh, I'll just tell Grandma to buy it for me."

When I think back to holidays when I was a kid, I cannot remember a single present that I received for Christmas. I vaguely remember wanting a doll named Velvet something where you pressed a button on her tummy, pulled her ponytail and it would grow but beyond that, I have no recollection of any of the stuff I hauled in. Instead, I remember a year where Santa fell off the chair at my Uncle's house b/c he had substituted his cookies and milk with a six pack of Primo beer. I remember catching bugs with my cousins at my Grandparents house as we listened to my Grandpa's radio blaring Christmas songs with a running commentary by J Akuhead Pupule. I remember seeing the real "Rudolph" at Ala Moana and getting a sticker that said "I met Rudolph" which became my prize possession. I remember the awe I felt, like travelling to another planet, when my Grandparents took the whole family to see Danny Kaleikini at the Kahala Hilton (okay, that one is kind of a consumer fantasy).

I wonder what my children will remember about the holidays spent in our home? Will they remember Tiger eating the reindeer poop that was deposited on the steps last year by Santa's crew? Will they remember when Alvin and the Chipmunks made a surprise visit to the Chongs' Christmas party? Will they remember the year that New Years Eve was cancelled because I was in the hospital but the five of us had a nice quiet celebration (instead of our usual housefull of people) as I recouperated at home?

Now, I know this feeling would totally turn around if Santa leaves me another scruffy dog in my stocking!!!