Curling up to an old favorite
(as requested/ordered by the legendary gourmand KaI, who asked us minor bloggers to put in their favorite streetfood. I did away with the traditional fishball and chicken skin, and so it happened that my final choice made me a bit nostalgic) 
It’s not much of a story to tell, as my childhood was spent mostly indoors pitting action figure versus action figure, coloring inside the lines, conversing with Sesame Street characters, or reading any book I can find. My pasty figure and primary complex often exempted me from taguan pung, patintero, tanching, and other physically exacting tasks. Even if I get the luxury of doing so, I almost always have to have a towel placed on my back – superboy hiding his cape.
I do remember the mornings where we children get out of bed and scramble outside the front door whenever we heard that bicycle horn tooting merrily. It’s not taho, not puto, and not even binatog…
It could only mean the bote dyaryo man offering to exchange his cheese curls with any glass bottle or newspapers we have. For kids who have no idea of the value of money (also the lack of it), the bote dyaryo man was a welcome face. He doesn’t require money; he accepts what junk we normally discard.
Unless you have over a handspan of newspapers (slide in the odd Liwayway for extra thickness and pray he never notices), you’ll get measly returns, so bottles will always be favored. Magnolia Chocolait seem to command the biggest hauls, but a Royal tru-Orange litro or your favorite Tanduay long neck also works well.
And the curls, oh the curls were nothing you can buy at the grocery. They met in your mouth, and they have this tangy flavor that cheddar can’t beat. Even the crunchiness is just right.
Jack N’ Jill felt threatened by this novel idea, tried to package it into something worth buying but failed miserably. Their Beef Curry Curls (which I also liked) was okay, but I guess I shared the minority view, as that royal purple-foiled goodie soon lost shelf space when the 1980s faded into obscurity.
Unlike Universal Robina snacks, you don’t get shortchanged with shiny wrappers only to reveal Oliver Twist-like portions. Manong generously hands over a newspaper cone brimming with curls and if you’re patient, he might scoop an extra into your waiting.
Going back, the curls were just right. Unlike Cheez Curls, which were too yellowy and stuck batches of goo to your teeth. They were crunchy, and being wrapped in old newspaper gives you a decency to just get what you can finish and the urgency to finish it quick. Unlike kropeck, you don’t bite, crunch and feel air in your mouth. After eating these delicate morsels, you never go away feeling hungry for more.
Seeing the bote dyaryo man leave after filling his cart with an assortment of bottles and so doesn’t make you sad. It gives you the determination to find a better bottle, because like the sun, you’re sure to see him same time, same place. Sadly, manong and his sack of curls went away with the onslaught of globalization. Bottles gave way to hard currency, and like Voltes V, no explanation was given to the sudden disappearance of the golden curls of my childhood.
To appease the children, we had to export Cheetos, Pringles and the occasional Planters. Our kids have then grown up processed, pasteurized, and homogenized.
I miss manong, and there are mornings when I hope I get a chance to see him. I don’t mind carrying a few bottles in my trunk just in case.
However, I’m just glad to know at one point in my life, there are things money can’t buy.
Lasang Pinoy 3
It’s not much of a story to tell, as my childhood was spent mostly indoors pitting action figure versus action figure, coloring inside the lines, conversing with Sesame Street characters, or reading any book I can find. My pasty figure and primary complex often exempted me from taguan pung, patintero, tanching, and other physically exacting tasks. Even if I get the luxury of doing so, I almost always have to have a towel placed on my back – superboy hiding his cape.
I do remember the mornings where we children get out of bed and scramble outside the front door whenever we heard that bicycle horn tooting merrily. It’s not taho, not puto, and not even binatog…
It could only mean the bote dyaryo man offering to exchange his cheese curls with any glass bottle or newspapers we have. For kids who have no idea of the value of money (also the lack of it), the bote dyaryo man was a welcome face. He doesn’t require money; he accepts what junk we normally discard.
Unless you have over a handspan of newspapers (slide in the odd Liwayway for extra thickness and pray he never notices), you’ll get measly returns, so bottles will always be favored. Magnolia Chocolait seem to command the biggest hauls, but a Royal tru-Orange litro or your favorite Tanduay long neck also works well.
And the curls, oh the curls were nothing you can buy at the grocery. They met in your mouth, and they have this tangy flavor that cheddar can’t beat. Even the crunchiness is just right.
Jack N’ Jill felt threatened by this novel idea, tried to package it into something worth buying but failed miserably. Their Beef Curry Curls (which I also liked) was okay, but I guess I shared the minority view, as that royal purple-foiled goodie soon lost shelf space when the 1980s faded into obscurity.
Unlike Universal Robina snacks, you don’t get shortchanged with shiny wrappers only to reveal Oliver Twist-like portions. Manong generously hands over a newspaper cone brimming with curls and if you’re patient, he might scoop an extra into your waiting.
Going back, the curls were just right. Unlike Cheez Curls, which were too yellowy and stuck batches of goo to your teeth. They were crunchy, and being wrapped in old newspaper gives you a decency to just get what you can finish and the urgency to finish it quick. Unlike kropeck, you don’t bite, crunch and feel air in your mouth. After eating these delicate morsels, you never go away feeling hungry for more.
Seeing the bote dyaryo man leave after filling his cart with an assortment of bottles and so doesn’t make you sad. It gives you the determination to find a better bottle, because like the sun, you’re sure to see him same time, same place. Sadly, manong and his sack of curls went away with the onslaught of globalization. Bottles gave way to hard currency, and like Voltes V, no explanation was given to the sudden disappearance of the golden curls of my childhood.
To appease the children, we had to export Cheetos, Pringles and the occasional Planters. Our kids have then grown up processed, pasteurized, and homogenized.
I miss manong, and there are mornings when I hope I get a chance to see him. I don’t mind carrying a few bottles in my trunk just in case.
However, I’m just glad to know at one point in my life, there are things money can’t buy.
Lasang Pinoy 3
Comments
Great reminiscences, Iceman, and so original. Wish we had that same kind of bote-dyaryo. Excellent write-up, too, considering the time-frame you had to do it in.
Thank you very much for joining Lasang Pinoy 3, and hope to see you in succeeding events.