MY PAPA’S SOURSOP TREE

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Every time I see a soursop, locally known in the Philippines as guyabano, I remember my Papa.

He had such a green thumb. 

Gardening was his passion. Our front lawn was filled with ornamental plants, while the backyard was planted with fruit trees. 

Among all the trees he grew, the soursop was my favorite.

I was told that he had wanted to study agricultural engineering in college, a career that was not considered prestigious in his time. Orphaned at a young age and lovingly raised by his grandmother, he was encouraged to follow in the footsteps of his cousins and become a lawyer or a doctor, because those were the professions most admired by society then. To please his grandmother, he eventually enrolled in law at the reputable Ateneo de Manila University.

After World War II, he brought his wife and two children to his mother’s hometown, where their clan was well established. A generous piece of prime property in the best part of town was set aside for him. There, he bought a tractor and managed the vast rice lands he had inherited from his grandmother.

The soursop tree stood in our backyard, the only one among many chico trees. From the kitchen window, it was impossible to miss. 

Beneath it, Papa built a chicken coop.

After school, when I wanted a snack before dinner, I would climb the tree and eat the ripe fruit right there among the branches. 

Then I would hear the seeds dropping onto the iron roof of the coop below. That sound has stayed with me through the years, as clear and real as it was then.

It is one of the sweetest memories of my childhood—as sweet as the soursop I used to eat from my Papa’s tree.

BLUEBERRY PANCAKES AND BACON

I decided to have Pancakes and Bacon again for breakfast. Another cloudy and rainy day seemed to call for comfort food. This time, I made Blueberry Pancakes!

I’m posting this because I lost the photos from my last pancake post. So here they are! Notice that the blueberries were chopped, unlike the traditional way of adding whole blueberries to the batter. Take a look at the photo showing the inside—you can see the little pieces of blueberry throughout the pancake.

Today I couldn’t help taking a photo of the Bacon while they were cooking. I love to watch them curl as they turn crispy. 

Now, following my last post, you may be wondering: Did Jim go out driving around or walking?

Yes! He went out for a walk but was caught in the rain after only 1,500 steps. He couldn’t help himself, even though Celine and I had decided otherwise. 😂

They say the weather is fickle, like women. But Celine and I were decisive! We knew that drizzle could turn into big drops without warning.

Back to the pancakes—oh yes, here’s also a photo of the Manuka honey from Cheska, a pasalubong from her trip Down Under. 

Another indulgent breakfast! I’ll make it up for lunch and dinner today.

DRIED DILIS FOR BREAKFAST—A HUMBLE FOOD, ELEVATED

Dried baby anchovies, locally known as dilis, are on Jim’s breakfast plate today, together with dried hasahasa and plain scrambled eggs.

Cooking dilis to perfection is something I would never delegate to my maid. Timing and focus are crucial. Cook them a minute too long and they become bitter; take them out of the skillet too early and they won’t be crispy enough.

These dilis came from Tess, one of the tasty fares from her hometown in Samar. Once, I turned them into an appetizer, inspired by what the Thais do in Bangkok—cooked until crispy, then made into a sweet, salty, and spicy snack. Many of our friends bring them home as pasalubong for family and friends.

When I was young, dilis was considered a poor man’s meal. Today, with creative chefs everywhere, this humble little fish has been elevated into something extraordinary. You can even find it served as part of the appetizer offerings in Japanese restaurants.

Btw, I am staying faithful to my regular breakfast today: oatmeal and scrambled eggs with tomatoes, onions, and malunggay leaves. No indulgence today—my health comes first. 

Our fruits remain the same: papaya and a few blueberries.

Sometimes, it’s amazing how a humble food from our childhood can find its way onto a much more sophisticated table—and still taste just as good. 

ARYA’S COLLEGE GRADUATION

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Today, my heart is overflowing with pride as my granddaughter, Arya, graduated from college with honors. To celebrate this wonderful milestone, her parents hosted a family dinner at Brasserie on 3, Conrad Manila. 

Milestones like this have a way of opening the treasure chest of memories. It seems only yesterday that Arya was born, just as I had turned sixty and retired. The timing was perfect, allowing me to devote precious hours to her during her earliest years.

Three times a week, she spent entire days with us until she started school. By then, we had formed a bond that no one can ever take away. Those first three years may now be just a blur to her, but they remain vivid in my heart—days filled with little adventures, laughter, and love. As she grew older, I would share stories from those days, and she would smile with such delight, listening to memories we both would cherish forever.

And now, here she is—a mature young woman, ready to spread her wings and face the world. I know I cannot shield her from life’s challenges, but I pray that she will always be happy, safe, and guided toward the path meant for her. May she never forget that she is deeply loved, valuable, and wonderfully special.

Dear Arya, may your dreams take you to beautiful places, may your talents open doors of opportunity, and may kindness and faith always light your way. Believe in yourself, for we certainly believe in you. Wherever life leads, know that you will always have a family: your Dad and Mom, Papa and Nana who love you and will be cheering you on every step of the way.

Congratulations, Arya! We are so proud of you. May this be only the beginning of a life filled with purpose, joy, and countless blessings.

MY LITTLE BELL PEPPER HARVEST

I decided to pick them before they dropped on their own. They may not have grown as large as the mother fruit from which their seeds came, but bell peppers they are just the same!

Their size may be modest, but they bring me outsized joy. There is something deeply satisfying about planting a seed, tending it with care, and being rewarded with a harvest—even one that fits in the palm of your hand. These tiny peppers are proof that in the garden, as in life, good things do not always come in big packages.

I’m quite proud of these little fellows, and to me, they are perfect.

SAMPAGUITA, SUNSHINE and SUMMER

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Sampaguita, sunshine, and summer—together they make up one of my most treasured childhood memories.

The sun was already high at barely six in the morning, lighting my path and wrapping me in the warmth of a summer day. 

Along the way, I spotted sampaguita bushes laden with sweet-smelling blossoms. Their fragrance instantly carried me back to my childhood.

I paused to take a photo, plucked a tiny flower, and breathed in its familiar scent. In that powerful moment, beautiful memories came rushing back so vividly that I was completely lost in them, forgetting for a while where I was.

Then I heard my Spotify playlist softly playing in the background, and little by little I returned to the present.

What a joyful gift that moment was—a reminder of how a simple flower can open the door to a lifetime of cherished memories.

A MANGO SEASON FAREWELL

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This may be the last harvest from my mango tree this season, and I suddenly realized I hadn’t even taken a photo with it! So today, with a grateful heart, I decided to pose beside my generous mango tree—the true star of the picture.

What a season it has been! The tree produced more mangoes than I could possibly enjoy on my own, so the harvest happily found its way to many hands. Mangoes were shared with friends, immediate neighbors, my sister and her visiting friend, bank employees, the ever-accommodating staff at Mercury, the cheerful gang at my favorite beauty salon, my seamstress and her coworkers, and my trusted meat and vegetable vendors.

Carrying heavy bags of mangoes here, there, and everywhere felt less like work and more like spreading little bundles of sunshine. Each bag delivered came with smiles, conversations, and the simple joy of sharing nature’s abundance.

As I bid farewell to this mango season, my heart is full of gratitude—for the harvest, for the people who received it, and for the happiness that comes from giving. Here’s hoping my faithful mango tree and I can do it all over again next season!