ube, anyone?

zag (my older sister) was asked to buy ice cream a week ago. mom and i preferred selecta's version of chocnut ice cream or their super chocolate, or both in a half-gallon tub. when she came back with a bright yellow tub instead of the familiar gold-ish hue of selecta's premium ice cream, i knew something was up. and when she said that there wasn't much to choose from, i melted into the driver's seat and braced myself for what would come out of her mouth next.

"ito lang ang meron: 3-in-1 na ube, mango, and chocolate."

it sounded like a punch line to a bad gary lising joke. all i could say at that time was,

"ang third world naman ng ice cream na yan!"

being the be-seen-at-peligro burgis that i am, these flavors just won't do. they taste superb as dirty ice cream (why it's called "dirty" and why we still eat it are two questions i am not willing to go into) profusely licked and generously, albeit inadvertently applied to one's face and shirt under the afternoon sun. the last time these three flavors invaded the sanctity of our home was nearly two decades ago, during the only "official" birthday party i ever had.

it was my 7th birthday, and as a rule, my sister and i were accorded a "party" each when we reached the ripe old age of seven. our playmates celebrated lavishly every year - clowns (who were neither funny nor entertaining, partly because of their chilling disposition - marked by those horrible red eyes ), parlor games (pasabit, palayok, etc.), and of course, your regular children's party staples marlboro reds and pale pilsen. zag and i only had one said celebration each. and for a good reason - she spent her whole birthday telling everyone to sod off because she was pissed that mom won't let her open her gift: an illuminated-earrings-clad JemTM ("Jem is my name, no one else is the same!") doll. after blowing out seven "magic" candles (those that don't go out easily - which resulted in a saliva drenched birthday cake) perched around a 5-inch tall superman on my Goldilocks sponge cake, dessert was served.

you haven't lived in the 80's if you never tried magnolia's party serving ice cream. they're usually ordered in boxes; the number of kids in a children's party ranged from 20 to 800, a time when all married couples wanted a child to love for each day of the week (it's not yet jun-jun's turn to be breastfed, it's only tuesday). kids would jostle for position around the box, keen on getting the highly-coveted chocolate ice cream - it's chocolate or bust, the other choices were mocha, mango, and the why-do-all-lolas-love-this flavor: ube. after prying the white ridged plastic cup from a dead boy's cold fingers, one checks the color of the scoop of ice cream printed on the cardboard cover before peeling it. being the illiterate that i was, it was the only way i could be certain that what i got was indeed chocolate. every time i got mocha instead, i always thought that there was something amuck with the chocolate.

on that day, i got the last piece on the box - the cup looked lonely and unwanted inside its corrugated board cage. i think this was the first time i said the word "shit" - it had to be ube. shit. how does one begin to describe ube flavored ice cream? first, i must say that violet, plum, purple, or lilac isn't a very appetizing color. the color suggests inedible things - McDonald's Grimace or a day old bruise. and the taste. don't get me wrong, i like halaya (or mashed ube). but we have to admit that there are certain tubers and other subterranean vegetation that are not meant to be ice cream flavors. the day nestle or selecta produces potato or kamote ice cream is the day i will hang myself using my own colon.

and who could forget those little flat wooden spoons that came with the ice cream? those spoons were practically useless when it came to scooping out melted ice cream. good thing kids were smart then; the ice cream was in a cup, so bottoms up was the only way to go. kids were smart, but their aim was poor. ice cream stain was every mother's or yaya's (or the mother-yaya hybrid, when daddy is quite friendly with the help) nightmare during this pre-Ariel era.

ube. this was all that was left in the third world trio zag bought a week ago. the first to go was the super chocolate. all three of us (mom, zag, and i) worked hand in hand to get most of the chocolate out of the tub. the ice cream was frozen solid, and our spoons could only do so much - we ended up with ice cream shavings that night ("pangkayod ng melon, kelangan niyo?"). i have no idea who massacred the mango portion. but it was clear why a half-gallon tub of ice cream lasted a week in our freezer. no one wanted what remained in that yellow plastic container. but i ate it, all of it. certain sacrifices must be made. i've made my family proud. i stood up against this adversary of all things delicious, this four-letter word seldom uttered for its universal inappropriateness and despicability.

kinain ko ang ubeh. i thank you. bow.