Memories of Nanay & Iba

I was eight or nine years old. We were in Nanay’s kitchen in Iba, Zambales. It was the summer I told my parents not to come fetch me yet—I’d decided I wanted to spend the entire two months of summer vacation with Nanay, savoring the life of a grandchild. That particular morning, I was up as the gray heavens were being roused by the crowing of the roosters. One of the kitchen help brought in the first rolls of pan de sal [traditional Filipino breakfast rolls] from the local bakery, neatly packaged in the crisp brown envelopes that the Chinese use for newly baked bread. The local baker’s old ovens produced a pan de sal that is elusive today. Within the crunchy crust was a moist chewy bread, best eaten hot with melting fresh butter. That was my first inkling of the power of food, and that particular pan de sal is my Holy Grail. I constantly search for the perfect pan de sal. Never finding it, I discover other good things along the way.