I know I could not match her expertise. She was the best there was. She devoted so much love with the bread we love. All those times that she was sifting, beating, kneading and molding and baking, her heart beat for passion. Her skillful hands would glide smoothly with the dough kneaded against the “duwang”, a wooden kneading basin generously oiled. The routines of her hand were even as they were following a rhythm.
Dong, always remember to meet the right consistency when you knead. Not too soft, not too dry, not too oily and of course not rough. You’ll know when you get there because you can feel it. The oil would really help a lot in the kneading process, but not too much of it as it will cause bubbles.
Still, I do not understand. I have worked with her especially with bulk orders. But when I am the one kneading the dough, I would not know when the right consistency is achieved. When doing the “luli” or molding, I had the hard time making the bigger ones. However, she was all the more encouraging that my work will improve over time. There is so much skill to employ and so much patience to spare.
Torta was Nanay Bebie’s forte along with her ensomada and graciosa. They were made from an original recipe she inherited from her mom. We call them Pan Bisaya referring to an old and traditional way of making bread baked from pugon or clay oven. She and her siblings had their own story to tell of putting the recipe by heart and sharing it to their children.
Nanay was right. It was more than a pen and paper thing. Writing a recipe of her torta was way difficult than demonstrating the procedure. She wants us to memorize the recipe and the procedures by heart. She wants us to understand that there are things that cannot be written but can only be kept in one’s mind and heart. There are no secret ingredients. There are no secret tools. There are no secret oracions. All that we were told was to WATCH, LEARN and PRACTICE.
I must admit Torta would be one of the most cherished memories I have of Nanay. For two things: first, that of its distinct taste (unlike the commercial breads we can buy at the bakery) and second, the experience that I had with her in making them.
Out of the blue, one Saturday, I got up, took the basket to Queens, bought ingredients, went home and prepared the materials. I had to wash the molds, the duwang, clean our little improvised pugon, brought out sifter, the spatulas, scrapers, beater, ladle and all.
Signaling my brother I said, “Karon, maghimo tag torta!”
Ok. Nananghid na kang Nanay?
Humana! Now na!
We were supposed to be making only a few pieces just to satisfy the want of it. But not realizing the events, we were able to make almost a hundred of them ~ just like the usual amount Nanay would make in one baking.
I was hyperemotional. The first batch of molds came out from the oven. My brother and I were quite apprehensive of the outcome. We could not wait to taste it.
Payter! Nakuha nimo ang timpla ‘Nyo.
My brother was smiling.
Kuwang sa masa, kuya. Pero duol na.
One more bite and we are closer to the bone!
Tatay was quite emotional too when he found out of the reminiscing experience we had that day. He likewise appreciated the taste. And like he always did with the past tortas Nanay made, he would only eat the top sugary part. The rest will now be eaten by me.
So much of it, we could not help but share some of it to the neighbors and all those who missed the torta. How emotional it turned out when the gesture reminded some of them of Nanay.
This was our first attempt to relive the torta, almost a year after Nanay’s passing. We just want to keep the baking tradition. Not much for business, but more importantly for the memory of her.
Salamat Nanay.
