My sister Cynthia’s version of our Aunt Mareng’s asado: On Dang Mareng’s birthday yesterday, we prepared 6 kilos of chicken and pork asado. Cynthia’s version looked and tasted so good that it started a frenzy.

It took three of us to carry Dang Mareng this time. She asked us to help her sit on her mobile tin “throne.” On separate occasions, two cousins, who had thought she was bedridden, caught our dear old aunt walking briskly from her bed to the kitchen when she thought no one was around. Wondering where she was, my brother found her in the bathroom one day taking a shower! Despite all this, we let her be. Not only because it’s her birthday, but because Dang Mareng is quite special to us.

The only girl among seven siblings, Dang Mareng, now 76, never married. She took care of her parents, her siblings, and their children, including us. She worked hard all her life. She raised chickens in her own backyard, sold ice, eggs, softdrinks and other things. She did the usual household chores and more. She made curtains and pillow cases.

She chopped firewood. She fetched water from the poso (manual water pump) and carried the heavy pails using a tambayok, a pliant bamboo pole with chains on both ends to hold the containers. She once took me walking at sunrise to the next town to pick vegetables at a relative’s garden in an open field. She had brought me to some of her regular market trips. I remember how dark it always was I thought it was just 2 in the morning.

Dang Mareng cooked a lot. She used to feed us kids fistfuls of rice mixed with her legendary asado. I remember clearly as it made its way into my mouth: a heavy ball of white rice coated in brown sauce, shreds of pork, and flecks of red sweet pepper, tomatoes and oregano. I also remember how stressful it felt trying to chew and swallow fast whilst keeping myself from choking. I suppose at the time it also tasted so good that death-by-asado was perfectly OK

Birthday girl flanked by her cousins, pamangkins (nieces & nephews) and apo (granchild).

I can’t recall the last time I had Dang Mareng’s asado (and where I was in between). It’s as though one day she just stopped cooking altogether. Maybe when she lost her kitchen to the Pinatubo flooding. Or maybe she just grew old. I recall how she kept asking to be brought back to her old house. The family would not allow her because the place was no longer good for her current condition. She was a strong woman, used to moving about and doing stuff. Based on my conversation with her in the last few years, she is now utterly bored.

She may still walk when no one’s looking, but I suppose it’s perfectly OK if she has decided that it’s our turn to dote on her. (She likes it when we feed her or make her sip water using a straw.) It’s sad but also OK if she can’t and will never cook asado ever again.

My siblings and I have attempted to relive her asado by coming up with our own adaptations. We may brag about it, but ours really never came close. To me, the magic comes from many things: how she chopped fresh tomatoes and sweet red pepper to a fine pulp; the earthy taste imparted by her black balanga (clay pot), the sound the spoon made when we’d wipe out the leftover with more rice and scrape the pot clean. When all these mingled with the scent memories of her old kitchen, of her plastic tablecloth, her cool tapayan (water jar), her wooden chopping board, of calamansi juice and celery leaves, it just makes it all unforgettable.

As she lay down on her cool papag (wooden bed) one day, I decided to get the famed recipe once and for all. She squeezed her eyes shut, but spoke rapidly — lucidly enumerating all the ingredients, exact measurements and manner of cooking. It felt as though my Dang Mareng was back in her own kitchen, cooking once more.

Peace be with you, Dang Mareng!

Dang Mareng’s Asadong Babi (Pork Asado) Recipe
(as dictated )

1 kilo pork kasim (shoulder)*
10 calamansi (local lime)
½ cup toyo (or ½ ginebra bottle)
3 red onions, finely chopped
6 ripe red skin tomatoes, finely chopped
3 cloves garlic; crushed, chopped
2 medium sweet chile pepper, finely chopped
bay leaves
samput-samput (dried oregano stems and leaves)

In a pot, mix ingredients altogether except for bay leaf and oregano. Cover; boil until pork is tender. Take out pork from the mix then cut into big cubes. In a separate pan, fry meat until it turns a little brown. Toss meat back into the mix. Simmer (medium heat) until all the “juice” (katas) comes out,” oil comes to the surface and the sauce thickens. Add bay leaves and oregano; keep covered. Turn off stove; let rest. Serve and enjoy every mouthful!

*Substitutes: beef or chicken