Easter has come and gone and i did not seize the opportunity  to make another one of my dad’s signature creations.  i have never seen pancit prepared the way my dad concocted a way for our Easter eggs to magically transform into this perfect blend of dad, celebration, and innovation.

the best part is how the pancit rendered rainbow-like when the partially-stained egg whites would mix with the noodles.  there is nothing filipino about the ingredients in this pancit and that’s what makes it so genius.  he used to call it “pancit lug-log”, which refers to the use of egg yolks and egg noodles but this version is far from what would be considered pancit or lug-log.

1lb cooked and cooled spaghetti noodles (not chilled, but freshly-cooked!)
1/2 lb freshly-cooker crumbled bacon
1 doz diced hard boiled eggs
Shallots and garlic sautéed in oil to your liking
Fish sauce, salt, and pepper to your liking
1/4 c sliced green onions for garnish

Directions:
Toss all ingredients and save the seasonings and garnish for last. It’s like a salad-pancit-eggy-bacony-garlicky taste of the town my dad grew up in -
General Trias, Cavite.  It is also known as “malabon” and has become a food destination for pancit aficionados, especially “Pancit Malabon”.

I was traveling in Tulum, Mexico last year when I read of his passing. I became stricken with sadness and recorded what came to mind.

He let me dream a little, when I was inspired to write about a fictitious layover if he were to ever stop in Guam. I hope in heaven he gets to enjoy that fiesta plate. By watching, reading, observing Bourdain, I learned many things:

Food is a lesson and a story, and there are souls behind the meals we are gifted with

That a journey to even the desolate could be transformed by the food we eat.

That there is a deep story behind every cook: why they prepared the meal, where the ingredients came from, how they learned to cook, why they chose this profession, what inspires a cook to create or what motivates one to cook. The story doesn’t end when the cooking is done but long after the food is eaten there are conversations and experiences that we carry with us.

That you don’t have to be a chef to cook. And that what makes a cook is not just the act of cooking.

That we wanted to follow his footsteps where we travelled and obsessed over his reflections. That there is reward in the footsteps of a foodie.

I ugly-cried during the Philippines episode of parts unknown, drawing pride in the inherently-Filipino tendency to nurture those that are not our own, love even when we work tirelessly, and bond over food that doesn’t look presentable by industry standards. And that jolibee is badass.

And most of all,  his reflections helped me recognize in my dad that his ability to build unique flavors and labor over our family meals for all our lives inspired each of my sisters and me to not only love food but to want to constantly recreate it. It is how I came to thrive in adulthood, nurture my relationships, bond with my sisters, and stay inspired as a creative mind and entrepreneur.  My dad is neither chef or a cook by profession but his ability to do such things show who he is and we are who we are because of his skills in the kitchen.  This is an intangible role separate from father, husband, or provider and now I seek these same qualities in any potential life partner.