How an Edward Jones representative had me waxing poetic (and nostalgic) about Philippine street snacks

As I was coming back from my Walk/Jog yesterday morning, this guy was also walking up to my driveway. He was dressed in a nice suit, good-looking so I did not feel threatened when he came up to me.  He introduced himself, went on to say that he is from a local investment company and that this is something that he does, walking around local neighborhoods, introducing himself, talk about his company.  I then told him that I know someone who works at the same company, just a different location, so, he did not go into any sales spiel with me and said goodbye and moved on to the next house.

I mentioned this to Jack and he said that he had already met this guy before.  I expressed to him my surprise, that someone from a well-known investment company sends out their people to knock on doors. “He’s starving!,” says Jack.

Well. good luck to him, it takes a lot of courage going door-to-door.

We don’t get people selling vacuum cleaners or bibles like what you’d see in movies.  On the weekends or early evenings, we were getting the occasional Girl Scout or Boy Scout or kids from the local high school selling entertainment books/tickets, etc. for the hockey or football or baseball team— fundraising types — they still want my money but it was for a good cause…

Which brings to mind the door-to-door people we were getting in the Philippines.  No one with a good cause generally, though they would probably call “feeding my family” a good cause.

There are the food vendors.  Starting in the morning, you would hear the low, deep, echoing cries of “Ta-ho-o-o-o-o!” A man with a flat bamboo pole across one shoulder supporting two stainless steel covered buckets makes his route to eager customers wanting their morning energy boost.  In one bucket— soft tofu, hot, made fresh, direct from the factory.  In the other bucket — warm sugar syrup in one well, chewy tapioca balls in another.  When I was growing up, customers would bring out their own glasses and cups, now, the vendor has disposable plastic cups and spoons.  There is also the inevitable white rag hanging off one bucket to wipe off the occasional spill of syrup or tofu.  You would want to present shiny, clean containers to your customers.

After the taho would be the lumpia lady.  She would knock on doors, especially at her regular stops.  She would have two wicker baskets— one with her version of lumpiang shanghai, finger-sized, fried, crispy egg rolls with a tasty filling (I found out later, the meat used was fish) and dipped in a sweet and sour sauce and the other basket with fresh lumpia, stir-fried vegetables roled in a soft thin wrapper, topped with minced garlic and a mild peanut sauce.  Both delicious. 

In the course of the day, there would be others, depending on availability — carts with boiled corn on the cob or binatog—boiled hominy kernels served with salt and fresh, shredded coconut, or green mangoes, peeled and sliced upon order and sold with your choice of salt or bagoong (fermented shrimp fry paste)…  On particular hot days, one would wait anxiously for the ice cream vendors— there’s the sorbetes cart - very colorful with the top opening to reveal 3-4 tall containers of ice cream, cheese, corn, chocolate flavors, sometimes ube (purple yam, my favorite), coconut, and then, there is the other kind, the Philippine version of a Good Humor van, with the factory-wrapped popsicles, bars and cones.  My favorite was the orange-flavored twin pops.

Your day would end with the echoing shouts of “Balu-u-u-u-t!” Balut, fertilized duck eggs, still warm, are just the thing to have for an evening energy boost.

Of course, it wasn’t just food that brought people to our door. There were Mr. Walking Bookstore (a gentleman peddling selected hardbound books on Science, Engineering, Mechanics to my Dad and later on, Computer books to my brother), the man with tools (my Dad and later my brother run a machine shop at our residence), and our share of not-so-welcome visitors — long-lost, distant relatives looking for handouts, representatives of benevolent societies asking for contributions, ex-convicts fundraising for their fares home.

I do not get that kind of variety here in my suburban American home.