My Papa Adrian’s severely traditional ways as a father were buffered by his kind and selfless heart. No barkadas. No revealing clothes. No scooter rides around town (scooters were a thing in our hometown). Most important of all, no boyfriends.
These were just a few of his broken-record reminders for my sister and me. But every morning, he would tickle us awake. He would randomly serenade us with romantic Spanish songs. He would persuade us to do our chores in his playfully deceptive way. “Do them like you are just playing games with your sister,” he would tell us. And that actually did the trick.
He would read anything and everything to a degree that bordered on addiction. We would ask him random questions and he could give instant answers. He was our Google back then. Sadly, he passed on when I was just 18.
But three decades could not blur my fondest memories of him one bit—most especially his cooking.
Papa’s kitchen
The kitchen was Papa’s space. He probably spent more time in the kitchen than he did anywhere else in the house. He was a good cook. To be honest, he cooked better than Mama did. The fact that my taste buds still vividly remember the flavors of his cooking is enough evidence: alugbati sauteed in garlic and butter, homemade meatballs from scratch, and, of course, his famous cholesterol-raising Visayan dish, pork humba.
But among his catalog of dishes, habichuelas tops the list. Sometimes, I still hear his affectionate voice in my mind asking what the family wanted for lunch or dinner. More often than not, habichuelas was the unanimous answer.
Habichuelas is a warm and hearty white bean soup cooked with pork, tomatoes, chorizo Bilbao and potatoes. It is a Filipino-style dish with Spanish roots. It can be served alone. But who are we kidding? We all know it is best served over steaming rice.
Papa was a man of few words, and he never told us how or where he learned to cook. But his thrift in words was compensated for by his actions. And that was how I learned his recipe. Not by listening, but by observing.
As a teenager, I never really cooked. Maybe because Papa was always there cooking for us. The kitchen was his theater, and I was always just a spectator (at times, an assistant)—especially when habichuelas was showing.
First, Papa would put a Julio Iglesias tape in the cassette player, pour himself a glass of rum, and then prepare all the necessary ingredients for his presentation. My single role was to hand him the ingredients, utensils and other “props” he needed. I just savored every moment I spent with my father in the kitchen—a retreat from my petty teenage problems at the time.
Lesson learned
One important principle I learned from his cooking that I was able to adapt not only in the kitchen, but also in life, is to clean an area of the counter right after every task. And so he never left onion and garlic skins, potato peels, or empty cans lying around. Looking back, I realized how our kitchen sessions were more than just about cooking. They were priceless father-daughter bonding moments, where many life lessons were shared.
Fast-forward to years later, I got married and had a son, Iñigo. That was when I started to cook.
Indeed, some passions are found later in life, especially when these are fostered by real purpose. In my case, it was to provide my son with all the nutrition that was required of a growing boy. More than that, I wanted him to feel his Lolo Adrian’s love, his morning tickles, his Spanish songs, his good nature, and even his archaic and conservative ways—through habichuelas. It does not sound logical, but sometimes, food and emotions transcend logic.
Also, each time we visit family in our hometown of Dumaguete in Negros, I never fail to cook habichuelas. I take delight in seeing them happy and satisfied, knowing they have just experienced Papa Adrian’s love—especially the younger generation who never got the chance to meet him.
Now a single mom, I still cook for my son, who is now an adult. I guess my purpose now is to provide him with all the nutrition that is required of a full-grown man—I suppose only until he finds himself a wife. But I don’t think that should stop me from cooking for him. He is my son, after all. Ah, I’ll cross the bridge when I get to it.
So here I am sharing with you the recipe of my beloved Papa Adrian. I hope you will like it and cook it for your families, too.
Habichuelas
400 g white beans
500 g ground pork (or cubed pork or ham)
3 pcs chorizo Bilbao
5 pcs (big) potatoes, sliced in four equal parts
1 onion, chopped
10 cloves garlic, minced
3 pcs tomatoes, diced
Salt and pepper, to taste
1 tsp cumin
1 tsp oregano
Olive oil
Water
1 can chicken broth
Tomato sauce (optional)
Boil the beans with water in a pot until they are soft. Add hot water when necessary.
Heat oil in a separate saucepan. Saute the garlic, onion, and tomatoes. Add the pork and continue cooking. Stir in the chorizo Bilbao, stirring for three minutes.
Combine the rest of the ingredients with the boiled beans including the potatoes. Over low heat, simmer the beans and potatoes until cooked. The dish should be covered with water and broth. Serve hot.
For those who love spicy food, you can add a dash or two of hot sauce to your bowl of habichuelas.
¡Buen provecho!
The author is a graduate of Bachelor of Laws and Bachelor of Nursing, and works as supervising legislative staff officer in the House of Representatives. She lives in Quezon City.
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