Banana borgir

By Munding Salao

“Mahilig sina si Munding … sa mga KAKANIN”
Ehhh … I hate that word. How dare you diminish such marvelous Filipino delicacies into just one word that sounds like a mere dietary novelty, just because it does not impress you the way ridiculously expensive pastry products do? I see these as top-tier, gold-standard Filipino food! Puto. Suman Latik. Ibos. Puto Lanson. Bibingka. Bichubichu. Baye-baye. Bichokoy. Okoy. Banana Borgir. These are foods for the gods.

To top it off, these kinds of foods were made in the traditional manner and are not something that has been heavily processed, containing suspicious chemicals and preservatives, and exposed to whatever heating machines and packaging machines would raise the eyebrows of health scientists and purists. No. Our Pinoy pastries are cleaner and healthier. And they are a better match with coffee. For me, a good day at St_rb_cks is when I slip in a Puto and Suman Latik to go with my brewed black coffee. I would sometimes stretch out my neck and argus-ify my visual range while driving, in hopes of catching a Bichokoy vendor before heading out to buy coffee. I would feel luckier if I could find somebody who sells Banana Borgir, because not too many vendors sell them anymore.

To the unfamiliar, Banana Borgir is like Banana Combo, which in other regions is called Maruya. It is ripe saba bananas in a batter of flour, milk, and eggs. But instead of being sprinkled with sugar, Banana Borgir has ground beef, beans, and sometimes tiny diced carrots. Often, they put some sauce in it, and it comes off tasting like lumpia prito. It’s actually Banana Burger, but I lovingly call it Banana Borgir because it is how it sounds when the vendors sell it. Its native identity, and how it is pronounced, is what sets it apart from the usual Americanized commercial fast food. I miss it, and it always feels like the Holy Grail when I find somebody selling it.

I remember lazy summer afternoons when I was a kid, when the “Three O’Clock Prayer Habit” would be shown on TV, and while waiting for the 4 p.m. cartoons felt like forever. I would be waiting for this old lady who sold these delicacies. Si Manang. Many of us forget their names, but they always leave an impression. An avatar of a fond memory of a simpler life that we miss so dearly.

From afar, I would hear Manang’s voice: “Mahhh-eeeeesssss! (pause. deep breath) PutoLanson-Suman-Bichubichu Mah-eeeessssss!!!” I’d jump off my ass and not care if I could not find the other half of my tsinelas. I’d run out to buy these wonderful treasures she was selling, from Tinanok na Mais to Monay bread. She approached like a fairy grandmother because the sweat on her face and her arms gave her a mystic glow under the pre-global-warming sun. And on her head, she carried the cube-shaped buri basket like a royal, magical crown that housed a plethora of heavenly delights. Excited and drooling, my stomach felt like a void that needed to be filled. I bought the tinanok na mais. Four pieces of corn cob in one plastic. I opened it; it was still steaming hot. Hot, wet, viscous. Malapuyot, masarap, naga-asu-asu. I like the big, long ones, but I prefer the thick, large ones, the ones marinated by their milky, salty, sticky wetness. Aside from mais, what else? She offered, “Noy, may Monay ko di, ma-init-init, kag ga basa-basa pa.” Indeed, Monay is best with St_r margarine, which is perfect with some hot tsokolate. I surrendered my few pieces of coins and had myself a sumptuous afternoon treat. Tomorrow, Banana Borgir and Suman Latik na naman. See, this is why tambok ako.

I never knew whatever happened to Manang. We still see many Manangs like that in different barangays and different villages, and we get a glimpse of them passing by streets as we drive by. For many of them, the buri baskets have been replaced by those Unitop plastic containers and plastic baskets. And as time goes by, I don’t see a lot of them anymore. It’s sad. In this age when our city has become more metropolized, I worry about the Manangs who help preserve Filipino culture by selling these treasures. I just hope that many of us will still choose to patronize them, amid all their competing odds. I’m sure many of us would like our children to feel the joy of waiting to buy Suman Latik from Manangs on sleepy afternoons, like we did. We want our children to be proud of how good Filipino pastries can be. We don’t want them to be Manul because they’re not familiar with Ibos, Okoy, or Kalamay Hati. Ikaw? Have you ever tasted how good a Banana Borgir is? Enough reading. Brew that coffee and go find some.