Two More Gabis

I asked the lady at the market store what the difference between her two gabi were, and she just muttered something along the lines of (translated): "Aaaah, they are different, one is a bit more slippery, I'm not sure which one, but they are different, but kind of the same."



She peeled them off and rubbed with her finger, but could not tell the difference. I bought a whole bunch to propagate, and add to the growing population of gabi in the garden.



There were longer ones (on the right) and short, round ones (below, beside some turmeric). I bought about seven pieces of each.



Upon examining at home, I found that the longer variety actually was pinkish underneath the skin.



And came out with more apparent dots than the round one when sliced.



Planted in underneath this seedling rack, so that excess water will drip onto them. You may notice that they are labeled with broken pieces of clay pots ("Pula haba" or "red long" and "Puti bilog" or "white round", together with their planting dates. Note that the Filipino language really has no common word for pink, so that to say pink you must say mapula or somewhat reddish, veering towards red, in the red family.). Further observation in the following weeks.

Updates! Transplants, Weather, Skull

(Found a rodent jaw^) Okay! I need to do these "dump them in the bag" updates because I like to look back at past months and track progress and changes.



I recently transplanted a chico seedling (above) that I bought at the AANI market. I planted it among the weeds and grass, so I first put a kaing in place and mulched the bottom heavily with paper, stuffed with leaves (like this), and stuck the tree in. The dried coconut is there so that the chickens won't have the urge to jump in and mess it up.

I did the same for the cacao, only this time I put the bark of palm trees to deter chickens.



Our first marigolds are blooming! My dad used to think we had them, but we actually had cosmos flowers. They smell so good in a rank way, kind of like being cute-ugly, perhaps.



I just remembered my gisol or lesser galangal. I stuck it under the cotton plant way back and just sort of forgot about it. I transferred two small plants into pots until they recover from being weak and I will plant them out and propagate.



And it has been a ginger week indeed, as I have received two other kinds of plants from the family, and have found the identity of luyang itim. Another celebration resulting in breaking the root apart and transplanting them with room to grow, by the turmeric (larger one in the back) and the kamias tree. More on the identity later, that's it for now.

Broken Pots as Labels

One labeling strategy is to write on broken pots with permanent markers. Like I did for a couple of Batanes gabi that I planted in and wrote about previously. You often tell yourself you will remember where you got the plant, but really, you are bound to forget once you have a lot of varieties in.

Tenga ng Daga (Auricularia polytricha)

I have a soft spot for tenga ng daga or tainga ng daga mushrooms, because of their charming name (means "rat's ears") and, in addition, because they once grew on my bathroom door. They have made brief appearances here and here on this blog. In English, they are known as cloud ear fungus, black wood ear, or tree ear. They are called bukni in Cebuano.

I have, in the past, collected them mostly at the stage where they still do resemble ears, like the photo below.



Only during the past month's rains and floods did I get to collect those that look like the dramatic hem of a flamenco dancer's skirt-- one with an overzealous seamstress.



Outside my window is the side of the house, one area that is always moist, mosquito-filled, and full of branches. Early this year, we began pruning the eucalyptus, mahogany, is-is, and balete trees, and their branches dumped by the wall. These branches have now compacted a little bit, retaining enough humidity to welcome the tenga ng daga, which grow well in the heat but can survive a little bit of cold.



I have also removed some from rotting things like stools and benches. I was sorry to delay a bit the decomposition of the broken furniture, but confident that they will get there soon enough. If the sun comes up and your mushrooms dry up, worry not, as I have seen them seem quite dried up and dead when the rains stop, then start to come alive and grow plump once it starts pouring again.




In the Philippines, we often eat them as relatively chunky pieces, like the Chinese. In Japan, a close relative is sliced neatly into strips.These mushrooms have a quality accurately described by many sources as cartilaginous, providing some kind of crunch followed by an interplay of tiny squeaking and... jellyness against your teeth. I say tiny because the mushroom is quite thin, and you are likely to notice the crunch aspect more, but move it around with your tongue while it is still whole, and you will see what I mean. Anyway.

Most of the tenga ng daga that we eat comes dried from China, and some say Indonesia. I have not come across fresh ones being sold here. They are cultivated commercially on sawdust. We have the capacity to forage and cultivate much more. I am, at this point, a bit too lazy to get into mushroom cultivation, as it seems very technical and maselan to me. I get "wild" ones just fine.

The mushrooms are supposed to be good for circulation, for menstrual problems, sore throats, and more.

Underutilized Plants

I dream of a food revolution in this country. Of new tastes, old wisdom, practicality, and appropriateness to place.

I was previously growing less than half of the vegetables I eat (and I am vegetarian, so that means, all my food aside from rice), but since the discovery of edible weeds (kulitis, above, is one), it has gone up so drastically that I am smiling like a fool all the time. We don't really know what we've got, and we're so used to eating what the groceries (even wet markets) shove us, that we ignore what sprouts effortlessly from the ground.

I'm in a bit of constant study now (explaining less posts) of these wild plants, and learning something new everyday. Old books, interviews, historical text, listening for "Kinakain ito sa amin." ("Where I am from, we eat this.").

I am convinced this will help us, a country of colonization, Americanization, appropriation of dictated-by-other romanticized cultural associations, sweeping and empty "Pinoy ako" declarations, have an identity borne of our own land. How many of us actually know our own land? How can we know about the culture it informed-- and create a unique culture informed by it-- if we don't have the faintest clue what springs from it?

What "invasives" are naturalized and why? What do they like about our country and what can we learn from their adaptation? I have interest in this because ethnically, I carry the bloodlines of naturalized "invasives"-- a constant occurrence in nature.

I don't always get to type it out, but that is what interests me these days. Garden on.

The Stinger Returns

And so we meet again, stinging little mofo. I was hacking leaves off as mulch from a madre de cacao tree, whistling along smiling about how much the higad population has subsided when I saw this fat, motionless, vicious little caterpillar. About the length of my thumbprint (and I do have quite the average size for an adult American, though I am not American), and with attractive green stripes.



I poked it around with a stick, its spines are quite tough and are not little hairs at all, but cold-hearted spines with black tips. These get left in your skin and produce a very unique pain that is associated with jellyfish-- beyond typical higad itch. This one looks so much like a marine animal that it makes sense to sting.



And it has four black dots on its ass, most probably dud eyes. I know it is the tail-end because as I was examining it, some "frass" or caterpillar poop came right out. It must be really juicy and tasty, to have all this protection.



Here are some similar types that I've found on the net. Not exactly it, but it has the spiny stuff which is so new to me. I look forward to discovering the nuances of the spiny family of stinging bastards. I mean this in the best way possible. I took the bugger and transferred it far off, so it may develop into a moth in peace.

Stinging Rose Caterpillar
Saddleback Caterpillar

Flower Vendors in Old Manila

An old photo with flower vendors in front of an unidentified Manila church. Look closely! What are the pots made of? I'm guessing they are folded old layers of banana trunks or banana leaves, tied around the midsection to prevent them from falling apart.

(Photo was posted on the Old Manila group on Facebook.)

Anahaw Straws

Outside the length of the garden wall is a vibrant, dense community. This means we get a lot of things thrown, whether on purpose or by accident, over and into our lot. I should really document the lot of it: endless slippers (not pairs), doll parts, balls of all sizes, "ice water" plastic bags, and more.

Above is a quite beautiful but non-biodegradable formation made with drinking straws. It reminds me of an anahaw leaf. I wonder what it was made for, and how-- in distracted moments of conversation, or for some kind of purpose that I cannot fathom at the moment.

July Higads

During this time of the year, and somehow with the rains, come the onslaught of itchy, hairy caterpillars (higad) of many shapes and sizes. They are under leaves, over leaves. They are most bastardous when they are eating low plants (ankle-level) because your feet get itchy. This itch can persist until you are wearing shoes and sipping soup in some fancy restaurant. Or just wearing shoes in general.

Higad season is happening right about the same time as last year. Some suggested chickens would help, but they don't eat the crawlies. Someone told me that cows die from eating higad, but that sounded like speculation.

Luyang Itim: The Wonder Years

One piece of the luyang itim ("black ginger") I'd collected awhile back has now grown into a teenage specimen. I still do not have any information about it, though. I admit that while I planted some roots in places I do not remember, I left most in some corner of the house for a long time, and they grew a bit without being in soil. I was impressed by its will to live (and a bit guilty about the neglect), and planted it in a pot a couple of weeks ago, and now it is about two and a half feet tall (including leaves).



I removed it from the pot and the roots were screaming to be transplanted. I placed it by the gabi outside my bedroom window, because it seems to do well without much sun.



I still do not have any information about it, but will probably have a better chance at identifying it (scientific name and all the uses in other cultures) when the flowers come. One detail I've gathered is that it has a maroonish stroke down the middle of the leaf. I will probably try eating it one of these days.

One potential lead I found, on a recent trip to Anilao, Batangas: there is a factory, or some walled compound, with "Luyang Itim" painted in large letters on its gate. That is probably the name of the sitio/barangay. I will be sure to stop by next time I am in town to ask the folks about it.

Empty Lot Farming in Alabang

The upscale subdivision of Ayala Alabang is undergoing a wave of empty lot suburban farming. Rising food prices, resurging interest in home cooking/quality of life and media attention about gardening have no doubt contributed to this pretty delightful way things are going.

Ayala Alabang is a gated "village" covering 700 hectares of what used to be rice fields and rural areas on the fringes of Metro Manila. It has large lots and wide roads, and it is virtually impossible to live there if you do not own a car. There are many empty lots which could serve as mini-farms to provide food to its 27,000 residents. People are not allowed to have storefronts that serve the residents, which results in everyone leaving for outside malls and groceries, sometimes in other cities.



Over the years, I have seen increased farming of native and low-maintenance plants in empty lots or in small and odd spaces. These are usually tended to by the household help or drivers, who posess typical Filipino rural skills in diversified and organic backyard farming. I consider them as heroes who are gifting us ignorant city folk with knowledge of appropriate land use and indigenous plants. Our household helper was responsible for teaching me the basics of plant identification, propagation, and culinary use. I cannot stress enough how important this knowledge is, and that we are open to tapping into this vast resource base brought to us by urban migration. It will also make their lives better, having real conversations with the people they live with.



Anyhow, on to the gardens. Many plant easy-to-maintain herbs like lemongrass and basil. Greens like saluyot (jute) and alugbati (malabar spinach), and hardy okra, which thrive even in neglect, are common. Below is a beginning plot of green-stemmed alugbati:



It is interesting to note the spreading of seeds and plants through blocks, and you will observe patterns. Some blocks have kadyos, others do not.



To digress onto a somewhat related tangent (read on), in Alabang, it is usually only the household helpers and drivers who have any form of "neighborly interaction". The homeowners keep to themselves, for the most part. When the sun is not so hot (late in the afternoon, or after families leave in the morning), the helpers gather outside one or two homes, chatting with each other, sitting on the sidewalk or driveway. Other than these times, they talk to each other while opening the gate for their bosses' cars, throwing the garbage out.



(While I was walking around yesterday, there were two helpers talking loudly from opposite sides of the road, about dog troubles. Possibly he had eaten a poisonous insect, the older one speculated, maybe he should eat sugar. But he wouldn't eat anything, the other objected, and was then advised to mix sugar in water and let him drink it.)



It is probably during these idle times that helpers and drivers tend the non-gardens (I call them this because the green spaces inside the house are usually filled with ornamentals which they do not use for food or medicine), hence their choice of low-maintenance plants. Some have improvised watering devices such as old bleach (oh my) jugs with holes on the bottom for gradual release. It is probably also during their daily "helper community sessions" that they mention and exchange seeds/cuttings. Most of the plants do not have seeds available in the grocery and can be propagated only by buying a small plant or taking some for free from someone else.



Some lots are more openly and ambitiously farmed. The one below probably produces enough vegetables to feed one household, with a diversified lot of sweet potato, okra, corn, papaya, beans, and much more!







(I took some of the beans above for seed. I took lots of plants that day.)

If you are from Alabang or anywhere and want to start a little urban farm, you can email me at yapakyakap (sa) gmail (tuldok) com and we can get a little conversation going. I have given some advice to a few readers, and would be glad to meet up if you are close by to exchange ideas and seedlings.

Some posts on urban farming in my city (I would have actually name it suburban or peri-urban farming if I wrote it today.):

Urban Farming in Parañaque
Urban Farming in Parañaque, Part II

Living Post

A living post of malunggay supports a trellis in an Alabang empty lot. Nothing is climbing on the trellis. Cassava is poking through.