Moriones unmasked

My first and only trip to Marinduque was way back in 1981, staying in Boac and visiting Mogpog for a day. I was on a mission to witness firsthand the famous Moriones festival, and naturally, I was there right smack in the middle of Holy Week. Jumping ahead of my story, I succeeded in my objective, producing enough Moriones paintings that resulted in an exhibition six months later at the Galerie Dominique (long defunct), run by Nikki Coseteng at her Wack-wack residence. 

My lasting impression of Marinduque, though, boiled down to three things: a near Titanic-fated ferry ride from Lucena City, suddenly swaying from side to side about 200 meters to the Balanacan Port in Mogpog. They had to transfer us into much smaller bancas to get to the port, though I must hasten to add in an orderly fashion (thank God it was daytime and the warm seas!). Water had gushed in through a gaping hole in the hull, we were told once on terra firma. The second was the searing heat being the height of summer, and lastly, having a glass of halo-halo with peanut butter in it, topped with corn flakes no less, sold by a roadside vendor under the shade of an acacia tree. Never again, I swore; not even the lure of that quirky halo-halo would make me want go back there.

The Morion unmasked: Beneath the fierce masks are the gentle and peace -loving people of Marinduque. Watercolor painting by the author done after his first trip to the island province way back in 1981.

Until… several weeks ago, I got an e-mail from Nana Ozaeta, editor of Food magazine, asking if I was interested in accompanying her staff as their photographer to Sta. Cruz, Marinduque. I readily agreed, since Nana had mentioned that her in-house nutritionist and recipe tester, Cecille Esperanza, would be our guide, being a native of the province. I found this information too invaluable to pass up, and besides, I wanted to do “field research” (read: eating adventure) in an area not yet included in our Linamnam book, and what better opportunity than doing it with a local. Selective memory serves me well, too, having but forgotten that near-Titanic mishap long ago.

As we completed the three-hour, butt-numbing, uneventful (not to mention the three-hour car ride from Manila) ferry ride from Lucena City’s Dalahican Port, a tarp caught my attention once we got off in Mogpog, boldly announcing its warm felicitations to one of its prominent sons who was appointed to a national government position, that read: “Mainit Na Pagbati!!” How “hot” can one greeting be, I asked myself.

It’s more fun to be crowned king in Marinduque: Putong (a.k.a. tubong) literally means “coronation” or “to crown.” It is a welcome ceremony given to first time visitors and guests, performed by tourism students of the Marinduque State University, wishing us good health, good luck and long life, rendered in a song and dance number. This is an age-old indigenous tradition found only in this heart-shaped island province, renowned to be the home of the most hospitable people in the country.

From the port, it was another 45-minute ride before we got to our final destination, Sta. Cruz town, traversing mountainous terrain through well-paved winding roads, past lush greenery and scenic Amorsolo-like terraced rice paddies, and an occasional peep of the Tayabas Bay and several islands in the horizon.

Once we got to Sta. Cruz, we were dropped off at the residence of Lilia Rellin, where we would be lodging in her guesthouse built by her children when they come visiting from Manila. Sometime soon after, manna from heaven arrived, sent by the town Mayor Percival P. Morales. As we hadn’t had anything decent since we left Manila at 6 a.m., we were really famished and looking forward to a hot meal. Though it wasn’t an elaborate spread, it arrived still warm and was cooked well, served al fresco under the canopy of a giant mango tree to boot. The veggies in the chop suey were al dente, and the chicken dish was tender and very flavorful. Hmmm, whoever cooked tonight’s meal knows his stuff, I said to my traveling companions. Judging from our first meal, the prospects for the next several days were indeed as bright as the full moon that evening.

The following morning, we were brought to the municipal hall to meet the good mayor. After some brief introductions and pleasantries, we were whisked away to Sikatuna Resort Hotel in Barangay Tawiran, some 20 minutes of rough road away from the poblacion. When we got there, a large group awaited us headed by Jeanlie Mendoza, the pride and joy of Sta. Cruz, being the reigning Mutya ng Marinduque, surrounded by an all-ladies’ coterie prettily dressed in pink and blue native long dresses. They were flanked by several centurions, members of the Sta. Cruz Moriones Association. I was speechless and completely caught by surprise by what transpired next. 

Out of this world: This ambrosial treat (P300 per) was what sent Ka Ambrosia “Ambo” Reynoso’s 10 children to college. Its skin is crisp and light, with its meat literally falling off the bones and melt-in-the-mouth fat and tendons. Ironically, sales will peak this coming Holy Week with the hordes of returning residents and tourists coming for the Lenten break, and more sales to bring back with them to Manila.

As we were made to sit on chairs placed in the middle of a large hall, the pretty ladies formed a line in front of us and started to perform the putong, a song-and-dance number to welcome us. What struck me during the whole 20-minute performance was that their direct eye contact and smiling faces never wavered, conveying a more sincere, warmest, heartfelt welcome than I’d ever experienced in my life, culminating in our crowning (albeit with paper crowns) and fresh flower petals and coins tossed in front of us (the coins we collected afterwards are not supposed to be spent but kept for good fortune, we were told). The performance didn’t appear to be just another staged number they routinely performed. The “mainit na pagbati” I saw back at the port wasn’t enough to describe the whole experience. It was napakamainit, or rather, the most pinakamainit na pagbati ever. Translating init into English as simply “warm/warmest” doesn’t do justice to this very stirring welcome ceremony. It was truly the “hottest,” most heartfelt, most fun welcome anyone could receive.

Manakla or crayfish sautéed in garlic by chef Ed Rey.

After the putong, a lavish lunch was served by the resort’s swimming pool. It was prepared by chef Eduardo Rey, a town hall handyman by day, who’s also on call to cook for the mayor’s guests and official functions (he cooked the previous night’s dinner — no wonder). In his younger days, he had worked in several five-star Manila hotels as a chef, but decided to return to his birthplace to raise a family. Chef Ed prepared typical Marinduque dishes of kare-kare (not the peanut-based oxtail stew that everybody is familiar with, but more of a dinuguan or blood stew with banana heart), native chicken adobo sa gata, bigoy or red-eye crabs cooked with coconut milk and malunggay leaves, steamed capiz, pork humba, manakla or crayfish sautéed in garlic, and pancit miki. Right after lunch, I emptied the pockets of my cargo pants and jumped into the pool. The mesmerizing sight of the crystal-clear blue water coupled with the sweltering heat could make one do crazy things indeed.

By late afternoon, we were back at the town hall plaza and walked back towards our guesthouse. We passed through a back alley, walking across the Holy Cross parish church (built in 1714, the oldest in the province) and the Nazareth Catholic school next to it, where the students were praying the rosary just before dismissal.

“Sweet and sour” is what this pig’s intestines stew is called, simply named after the way it is cooked, stewed in a sweet and sour sauce. It is one of the more popular dishes served by Helen Palermo, one of five karinderias at the Sta. Cruz wet market offering a spread of what every Sta. Cruzan hanker for. Don’t fail to ask for the tinaphang pata soup or smoked trotters boiled till soft tender, much like the smoked bulalo.

Along the way, we stopped by Ka Sayong Parreño’s miki (wheat noodles) factory, where, fortunately, a production batch was ongoing, giving me a good chance for a photo op. On the next street was Rejano’s Bakery, famous for its arrowroot biscuits.

A little further on was octogenarian Ambrosia “Ka Ambo” Reynoso’s home, where she sells her out-of-this-world crispy pata, as we were to find out that evening. She started her home-based cooking business in 1977 when her husband Tirso had a stroke. He was a kusinero de campanilla or a cook hired for fiestas and special occasions. Ka Ambo has very strict standards in choosing the right pata (not more than 1.4 kilos each, she says) from young boars to the female gilt that hadn’t farrowed yet (virginal li’l Miss Piggies, I kidded her.) Actually, a visit with her was scheduled for the next day yet, but since she saw our motley group pass by from her modest walk-up veranda, she invited us in, eventually leading to an impromptu dinner of her famous specialty. One by one, several of her 10 children and some grandchildren joined us, having come from work before heading for their respective homes. We were made to feel like members of the family, under the warm embrace of a “mother goose” attending to familial duties done with much caring and love. In the hour and a half we were there, we also witnessed the brisk takeaway orders. 

Bigoy or red-eye crabs are caught in the wild. Popularly known as adik-adik in Infanta, Quezon, after a red-eyed drug addict, I was told. Usually cooked adobo with gata or coconut milk.

On our last day, we went around the town’s wet market, followed by a mid-morning (segundo or second breakfast) at Helen’s Eatery then visited the arrowroot processing plant owned by Mita Rejano, same owner of Rejano’s Bakery. From there, we drove up to the highland Barangay Labo, past the former Marcopper mines (what an ecological disaster and eerie sight) where Cecille is from. A late lunch was waiting for us prepared by her parents. 

Sta. Cruz is a first-class municipality, a clean hilly town. Small town living is most evident where most everybody is related, or at least knows each other. Children walk to school, as do the employees to their workplaces. Sta. Cruzans speak a Tagalog dialect, with a more gentle and somewhat charming intonation. I couldn’t help but recall a speech that my kumadre and neighbor, Dr. Arlyn S. Villanueva, had made on the occasion of her installation as president of Holy Angel University in Angeles City many years ago: “It was in Holy Angel where we all matured into young adults, and imbibed the middle-class values of honesty, hard work, devotion to family, and a sense of obligation to serve our community… who sought the Filipino dream, not of fabulous fortune or fame, but rather of a decent life, with a good job and a wonderful family, with time to worship God…” (Italics mine.)

Bowled over: Marinduque’s version of the Batangas bulalo has the shank smoked first over coconut husks and then covered with banana leaves to seal in the smoke, and then boiled with sour adwas (libas in Visayan) leaves and gabi (called singapur or San Fernando hereabouts). It has been a common practice in the whole province of smoking (called tinapahan) meat cuts used for nilaga to be smoked first as a means of preserving it before the advent of refrigeration. (Dewey Hotel and Restaurant. Brgy. Maharlika, Sta. Cruz, Marinduque. Tel: 042-321-1421.)

It was truly a most memorable trip, getting more than I bargained for. Behind those scary, fierce-looking Moriones masks lie a gentle, kind and big-hearted people. They are perhaps the friendliest and easiest to get along with (the town boasts a zero crime rate). It is so easy to embrace their local culture and history.

Indeed, Sta. Cruz is classified as a first-class municipality, and the next logical step, I guess, is to aim for cityhood. I am reminded of a famous quote by Adrian Zecha, founder of the world-famous Amanresorts: “The reason we are big is because we choose to remain small.” To the Sta. Cruzans, do remain small, for you are already big.

Marinduque’s kare-kare is not the peanut-based oxtail stew that everybody knows, but more of a dinuguan or blood stew with chopped banana heart.

As to that quirky halo-halo I had a lifetime ago, well, nobody had heard of it. It might have been a fluke, or just a hallucination for having stayed too long under the sun chasing after the Moriones.

Known as araru/uraro locally (obedience plant, Maranta arundinacea), the arrowroot is a large perennial plant cultivated for the starch obtained from its rootstock or rhizomes. When boiled, it is eaten as a staple like other tubers (i.e kamote or sweet potato) being pure carbohydrate in composition. It has the texture of apulid or water chestnuts and is high in fiber.