Written by applepeddler

Right now my niece has just come home from a trip to the doctor. She’s been complaining of body pain brought about by fever for the past two days now, and everyone’s worried because her immune system is a tad weak compared to your average healthy kid. Ysa’s fast asleep beside me, and I am constantly checking her temperature since she already has cough and colds. The adults are no exception to what seems like an epidemic caused by the sudden change in weather: the two yayas both have colds, my cough sounds more like a bark now, and everybody else is sniffing.

On days like this, nothing beats good old comfort food. And on this cloudy afternoon, there’s nothing I want more than my Lola’s arroz caldo, which we all fondly call “Lugaw Magnolia”.

“Lugaw Magnolia” is a labor of love. It all starts with the rice. Cupfuls of pearly white “malagkit” rice are soaked in water overnight and will stand witness as Lola wakes up at 4:30 am to go to the market to purchase the rest of the ingredients:  handpicked, fresh pieces of plump chicken meat; ginger, white onions, garlic and saffron; spring onion and calamansi. These are simple, rather uninspiring ingredients that at first glance do not betray the promise of a wonderfully aromatic dish. But in the hands of my Lola, simple becomes wonderful; she cooks the dish perfectly.

After preparing all the ingredients, minced garlic is sautéed in a pan with oil until golden brown, and then set aside. In a large cast iron pot, Lola then sautés the chopped white onions and the slivers of ginger until the former become translucent and sweet, and the scent of the latter fills the air. The meat is thrown in, then, and half-cooked. Fish sauce is added, too, and the whole concoction is left to simmer for a few minutes, just until the fishy smell is eliminated. The “malagkit” is then mixed in, along with just the right amount of rice wash or water and pinches of saffron; and this is where the magic happens.

In most arroz caldo recipes I’ve encountered, at this point the whole thing is left to simmer for 2-3 hours, or until the desired texture of rice is achieved. For Lola, though, it is a crime to do such a thing. “Stirring makes all the difference,” she told me that night she made me privy to her secret. Constantly stirring the pot may be exhausting, but it renders her arroz caldo thick, almost creamy – and that’s what sets it apart from all other arroz caldos I’ve tasted.

When I was a kid I preferred Lola’s “Lugaw Magnolia” without the usual accompaniments – i.e., thinly sliced spring onion, fried garlic bits, ground black pepper, a dash of fish sauce, and freshly-squeezed calamansi. As I grew older, though, I discovered that adding them (save for spring onion – I still don’t like how it overpowers the flavor of the dish) creates another layer of flavor that perfectly complements the arroz caldo. But don’t get me wrong here – I can still finish off a huge bowl of “Lugaw Magnolia” sans the condiments.

Lola still cooks her famous “Lugaw Magnolia”, but not as often as before. It amazes me, though, that even after all these years – despite all the other exemplary dishes I’ve had, and despite the fact that I get to taste her dish only once or twice a year – whenever it’s raining or 4 in the afternoon looks and feels like evening, I crave for only one thing: Lola’s “Lugaw Magnolia”.

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On an EPh-related note, these days do not forget to give in to your craving for comfort food every so often. Comfort food is food for the weary mind and the soul that feeds off of gloomy days. It can save you from the melancholy that comes with weather like this, and hopefully, from using up your GCs.

What’s your comfort food?