By Rex  Catubig

 

“I don’t like the memories because the tears come easily, and once again I break my promise to myself for this day. It’s a constant battle, a war between remembering and forgetting.” ~E.E. Cummings.

Other than his family, my brother Louie had three great loves: politics, women, and food.

It was his love of food that most bonded me with him. Though as kids growing up in a coastal barrio, we were no strangers to “bisokol” come the rainy season, he later re-introduced me to the more urbane “escargot“. Dinner at his house was always a two-hour affair: and when I visited, thick slabs of New Zealand rib-eye swimming in olive oil and topped with toasted cloves of garlic was de riguer. And there always wine to pair it with.

Weekends, his family would go on staycation ( years before it became fashionable) and I would be in tow. I got to know Caesar Salad prepared table side at the posh Hyatt Hotel. And I learned to love smoked salmon sprinkled with coriander seeds. At the same hotel’s famed Japanese resto, I developed the taste for tuna sashimi dipped in wasabi infused soy sauce.

But even if you could take me out of Calmay, you could not take Calmay off me. In one glaringly embarrassing moment in fine dining, I was asked by the waiter what kind of bread I prefer with my entree. Haughtily, I said, croissant, please. Probably both embarrassed and dumbfounded, the waiter softly said, “We serve croissant at breakfast only”. I dropped my pretenses after that.

It’s a conversation piece in the family that he would fly to Hongkong in the morning and have lunch there, then fly back the same day. During my trips with him from Los Angeles on my holiday vacations, (he would fly First class and he would insist I flew Business) we would break our flight and have a layover in Hongkong, so we could eat Chinese food.

But his love for food may have caused him his early demise. He had his first hypertensive attack when he was twenty-one. But that never slowed him down to eat to his heart’s delight.

Eventually, maybe because of his sweet tooth, he developed naso-pharyngeal cancer. And at age seventy four, with a third grandchild on the way, he succumbed after a year of bout with the ruthless nemesis.

Overall, he was a very religious person as well, and never missed Sunday mass and Holy Days of obligation, and even in dire sickness never relented on his faith. So I believe he was ready for the big Feast , where he would enjoy the company of the Lord at His banquet table.

Happy birthday, Kuya Louie Catubig!

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