PICKLED PLEASURES Pickles are created by immersing fresh fruits or vegetables such as cucumbers in an acidic liquid or saltwater brine

Filipinos love pickles

, which are at the top of the list when shopping for supplies in preparation for a special meal or feast. The pickles we love are sweet. Whether they are whole, sliced, or chopped in a relish, pickles always mean cucumber. The most popular, chopped sweet pickles are always mixed into salads, whether tuna, chicken, potato, egg, or tossed greens. I am a sucker for pickles and order whatever pickles I see on the menu. But sometimes the best choices are not listed. They are reserved for regulars, as was the practice of bartenders in two of the best bars in Manila—the NPC bar and Taboy’s 5 Litros. Like most good things they now exist mainly in recollections of a fading generation. The National Press Club used to have a restaurant and bar on its third floor. Famous for many dishes, the restaurant was always full despite being for NPC members only. It served breakfast, lunch, dinner, and snacks in between. The bar was open for as long as there’s a member drinking. This meant that Dave, the bartender, rarely got home before sunrise, what with mahjong, poker, and balut sessions among editors who left their news desks at midnight after closing the city edition of their newspapers. Dave looked after the NPC bar and the club’s members. He knew where they lived, worked, and played. He’s the man to call when someone misses work. He was specially protective of young aspiring writers, generous with advice and introductions to senior club members who could give the young ones a break. What I remember most about him is the large glass jar of pickled eggs occupying center position at the bar. The NPC pickled eggs were larger than the ordinary eggs. Dave used only duck eggs delivered several times a week from Pateros. He boiled and pickled them himself, using a recipe he never wrote down. He did not use any measuring cup nor scales, relying only on instinct. What he was meticulous about was using only vinegar from tuba (coconut sap) or from nipa (sasa). His salt was from Pangasinan, courtesy of a reporter who went home to Dagupan every weekend. Those devilled eggs provided sustenance and much-needed protein to struggling cub reporters and freelancers. They were dirt-cheap and always available. Over the years, the NPC changed. There is no longer any restaurant in the premises. Dave is gone and so are most of the editors who practically lived at the club. The bar, over the years, went through a lot—its area was reduced, then it got transformed into a function room for meetings and small press conferences. And the pickled eggs? I could be one of the handful still around to remember them. When not at the NPC, journalists used to drink and play cards at Taboy’s 5 Litros, a small bar on M.H. del Pilar in Ermita, where I first discovered pickled pig’s feet. Named after its owner, Taboy’s 5 Litros was a hole-in-the-wall drinking place with red light bulbs and a bar that sat only six. The few non-journo women who drank there had red lips, rouged cheeks, and black-lined eyes to match their short skirts and padded bras. They seemed to my young eyes old enough to have welcomed the American liberating forces at the end of World War II. Their look changed on Wednesdays and Fridays—hardly any make-up, wearing long skirts, and demure blouses. Devotees of Our Lady of Perpetual Help and the Black Nazarene, they spent those days in Baclaran and Quiapo. Like fairy godmothers, they adopted us new writers as if we were the children most of them never had. We reciprocated. They became the aunts and older sisters we had temporarily left behind while in pursuit of our dreams. Taboy was the perfect barkeep. He knew everyone and introduced new faces to regulars. Politicians and newsmakers came, befriended the media, and gained newspaper space or broadcast airtime. It was often standing room only but nobody minded. As alcohol flowed, food was served from various sources. In those days before fastfood joints and online food deliveries, Taboy’s relied on Chinese panciterias and some potluck dishes brought by journalists. A perennial hit was kinilaw na dilis prepared by Inday, Ilongga wife of Manila Chronicle’s Ernie Granada. Depending on the seasons, it was made of deboned small dilis or the larger twakang. When she was in a good mood, she sent kinilaw na tambakol (tuna). Taboy himself prepared special dishes when he was expecting VIPs. On one such night, he did not know how many people the VIP would come in with, so the pulutan dishes had to keep for a few days in case fewer than expected showed up. That’s when I first tasted pickled pig’s feet. It was love at first bite. First to hit my tastebuds was the tangy chewy skin, then the smooth tender layer of meat and tendon. A mild but complex blend of spices and herbs filled my mouth as I chewed. Although served cold, the pieces were greaseless. It became my favorite bar chow. I tried to find it everywhere I went, but encountered it only in Germany and in German-themed bar/restaurants in big cities. Sometimes what I ran into was head cheese, which is pig’s head prepared the same way, served sliced with mustard and dill pickles. Taboy’s bar is no more. Almost all the journalists who frequented the place are now chasing leads in the ever after. The bar girls are where they are getting just rewards for their religious devotions.

Taboy is most likely still playing his left-handed guitar as he welcomes old friends entering the Pearly Gates.