Of mice, Manila and mmm chicken tinola

The things that push us in and out of our comfort zones

The first time I remember going to the Philippines, I was 12.

Stepping into the roiling heat of Metro Manila, swept up in a humid mix of diesel, garbage and sewage, my mind swirled. Everything looked different: homes made of plywood and corrugated tin; bicycles loaded with miniature bananas; sputtering scooters loaded with entire families.

I remember getting to my grandparents’ house, the same place where my mom grew up in the inner-city district of San Andres Bukid. It looked like a tower. A fortress made of concrete blocks rising from a sea of tarps and litter. Each of those concrete blocks, I’d later realize, was set in place by my mom. By the money she sent back after moving to the U.S. and becoming a nurse. The money that quite literally set her family apart from their neighbors.

She built that house. From 9,195 miles away.

I saw (and hid from) dozens of family members that first evening. I ate the Toblerone bar I got on the plane. I wandered into my grandparents’ bedroom, the coolest and darkest in the house, and I didn’t emerge for two days.

I wasn’t just tired, I was in shock.

My sister and brother, both younger than me, had little trouble adjusting. They ran outside come morning and tended to the chickens in the patch of dirt that was the backyard, while I sat in bed crying, begging to go home.

Late the next morning, still in the same clothes I’d flown in wearing, I watched my mom and titas hang laundry out the window, and I saw something that would change everything for me.

A mouse.

It skittered across the windowsill, and I skittered out of the room. I ran into my grandfather in the kitchen. He eyed me skeptically then ladled a bowl of chicken tinola and rice. I slurped it up like a starving preteen. He made me another. And a third.

A day later, after shopping in the local markets and the malls in Makati, after getting hugged and kissed and showered in candy by relatives, this place I feared became a place I loved.

I think about that mouse a lot. About all the metaphorical mice in our lives. The things that push us out of our comfort zones, that stretch us and change us. The pandemic gave me so many mice. Mice that forced me to play the role of teacher, of counselor, of travel-cancellation-refund manager.

Whenever I’m in a rut, I try to conjure that mouse. When I’m really, really in a rut, I’ll text my mom for her chicken tinola recipe. I’ll go to the store for ingredients — ginger, bok choy, chayote — but sometimes I’ll just grab a Toblerone from the candy aisle and call it a day.

Chicken Tinola

Ingredients

1-2 tablespoons oil (peanut, canola or olive oil are fine)

2-3 cloves garlic, minced

1 small onion, chopped

1 finger of ginger, grated

3-4 chicken thighs

3-4 chicken legs

2 tablespoons fish sauce (can substitute soy sauce in a pinch)

4-5 cups water or stock

2 chayotes, peeled, seeded and cut into wedges (green papayas are great if you can find them; I’ve also substituted potatoes)

1 cup bok choy, chopped (real chicken tinola calls for malunggay leaves, which my mom grows in her yard, but you can also substitute spinach)

black pepper and salt

Directions

In a large pot or Dutch oven, saute garlic, onion and ginger over medium heat until fragrant and translucent. Add chicken and brown the skin on all sides (you may need to work in batches). Add fish sauce and stir to coat the chicken. Add water/stock and bring to a boil. Reduce heat to simmer, cover and cook 30-45 minutes.

Once the chicken is tender and falling from the bone, add chayote and more water/stock if needed. Cook for 5-10 more minutes until the chayote has softened (cook longer if using potatoes). Add the bok choy and cook till tender. Season with ground black pepper and extra fish sauce/salt if desired.

Serve hot with a bowl of warm rice.