Carpenter's Breakfast

When I was around six years old, my grandfather built a vacation house for my uncle in Baguio, Philippines. My mother, my sister and I stayed there to watch the house and eventually stayed for three years. My father worked as a civil engineer at a nearby river dam project. Instead of travelling all the way to Manila, he would make the short trip to Baguio instead. We stayed at the guest house at the back of the property, since it was built first.

I remember waking up early in the morning with a white fog mist blanketing the hills and the construction site. The smell of the mist and the dew on the grass and the evergreens was always peaceful and welcomed. My grandfather's workers, his closest friends, were cooking their breakfast. I could smell the wood burning heating up their pots and pans. They were huddled around the fire for warmth and trading stories. One would be cooking the rice, while another would be readying the fish and while a third would be getting the water for the coffee. It felt like they were boy scouts camping in the woods.

I saw that they just removed the pot, with the cooked rice, off the fire. The rice smelled so fresh and clean. They were frying some tuyo (salted dried fish) and the strong odor of fish cooking floats in the air. I knew people that say that fried tuyo smelled bad, but it smelled wonderful to me. They also have coffee brewing in a coffee pot. Now let me tell you, Pilipino coffee is so strong it could walk and pour you a cup. They also have sliced tomatoes as condiment for the dried fish.

They would see me watching from the porch and they would always invite me to eat with them. I guess, after a while they would cook an extra portion just for me. I would be listening to all their stories while sharing their food. Except for my Mom's cooking, I have never tasted food as delicious as the ones on those foggy mornings. I still eat tuyo with white rice and drink strong coffe from time to time. It always reminds me of those days when simple food taste so great.