I can almost imagine the sweet leche flan on top, the crunchy pinipig, the all-too-absorbing taste of mixed sweets at the bottom of the glass. Different colors swirling to form one delicious mass of dessert. I love halo-halo. If there's one thing I'd love to eat every now and then aside from Chocnut, this Pinoy treat has got to be it.
Halo-halo reminds me of my hometown Batangas, where I spend almost all the summers of my life. We, my cousins and I, would ritually leave my grandfather’s house at three in the afternoon, and in the heat of the day, would scout the town for the nearest halo-halo store. As if realizing the necessity of such cool desserts, vendors would put up stalls at that same time, composed mainly of table and chairs along the highway. Colorful plastic cups and bottles filled with ingredients are covered with white cloth or plastic. Flies buzzed around the area and the patient seller would use a stick with stripped plastic at the tip to keep them away.
My favorite halo-halo stand in the capital was the one inside the compound beside my grandfather's house, where children of the same age would buy five pesos worth of this delectable delicacy and eat under the shade of the mango tree. The almost-citrusy-yet-sweet smell of blooming mango leaves and the gentle humming of the warm afternoon breeze were perfect with our cheap treat.
Probably realizing that the children are almost always out in the afternoon, the elders decided to make halo-halo at home. With a nod from my grandfather, I remember going to the market with my lola, buying kaong, nata de coco, coloful gulaman, sago, pinipig, and anything that we could add to our special homemade halo-halo. I recall pointing any ingredient I like and my lola would just say 'kinse' or 'bente' to the tindero.
There was even a time when we would buy a metal ice crusher and my cousins and I would try grating ice through it. I, at my age, cannot do it properly. After struggling for hours and after realizing that the little ice on my glass is melting and my hands are becoming swollen from the cold, I would eventually give up and ask my uncles to do it for me. And in a few minutes, I would be indulging in my personalized special halo-halo. Of course the taste is different, and the ambiance, and the people you're eating it with. Until now, I can't decide which one was better: the five-peso halo-halo under the mango tree or the homemade one with all the best ingredients there was at the time.
Probably by now, I can say I have tried all the ingredients there is in a halo-halo in Batangas – ube, leche flan, langka, macapuno, ice cream, mongo, sweet beans – but my favorite ingredient had always been the nata de coco. I always look forward to the chewy-ness and the sweet liquid inside its square watery body. I hate ube and its ice-cream counterpart is a big no-no. I don't like seeing the purple cream blending with the white color of the halo-halo. I like mine immaculately clean – where I can clearly distinguish the red sago from the yellow langka, and the green gulaman.
I remember eating halo-halo with my cousins in one of the old stores in Bauan. Five of us, then aged 7-10, were accompanied by Tita Belle. I can't remember much of how the halo-halo tasted like but I do remember spilled beans, melting ice cream, and some tantrums in-between scooping the dessert. We never returned to the place again.
The best halo-halo I have tried in Batangas was the one in the town of Calaca, in the eastern side of the province. It is a thirty-minute ride from Lemery, and an hour or so from Batangas City. The store is called Noche's. There is no bold sign outside, but locals knew they serve the best halo-halo in town. An opened square where the door should have stood serves as the entrance. Inside, wooden tables and chairs fill the otherwise small and dimly-lit space. A grandfather's clock ticks but the hands are tuned in a different time. Beside it, at the old wooden wall hangs a portrait of fruits in a bowl. The place is always fairly dark; it had, after all, been there since my parents were children.
Before the main door of the house is a small glass stall where the ingredients are placed. The friendly woman will ask you how many halo-halo you'll buy –- halo-halo is the only dessert in the house. From where I sit, I can sometimes see the owner grating ice through the very old circular ice crusher. The rough sound of the machine fills the place as it transforms blocks of ice into thin sleets for the glass of treat. After about ten minutes, Noche's famous halo-halo stands in front of me –- in all its old glory.
Nowadays, you can see halo-halo almost anywhere. They're no longer limited to the dry months of April and May. It's November now, and I'm eating Razon's popular halo-halo. It had become an all-season dessert that sometimes, I want to return to the days when I'd look forward to summer because of halo-halo. And I definitely miss the one I had under the mango tree.
--Photo courtesy of www.max.com.ph
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