Happy birthday, Dad
I remember you in all the food we shared.
My dad is a man of routine and familiarity.
When I was a kid, whenever he’d come home from work, he would either have donut holes for me or french fries. We’d eat the fries together on the front yard or I’d open up the fridge and I’d see that glorious box of Dunkin Donuts, waiting for me to dig in to.
Every academic milestone was celebrated at a restaurant called Max’s. There used to be one in a neighbouring suburb, easy for us to get to on the way home after a day watching me and my sister get recognition for doing a good job for the year. We would order the classic fried chicken paired with banana ketchup, lumpiang ubod (fresh spring rolls made with sauteed palm heart filling with a garlic peanut sauce), and sometimes the occasional chop suey. Years later, the restaurant introduced sizzling tofu and it quickly became a staple part of our order.
I loved Sundays as a kid. It was our time to be together as a family but more importantly, as a kid who was always either in school studying or at home studying, it was the only day of the week where I knew we would be going out. I would anticipate where we would go after church. Was it to the groceries? Are we eating beforehand? Where are we eating?
The places we ate at would vary over time but it would always be one key place that would be consistent for years until we would go somewhere new and it would now replace our consistent Sunday lunch place. It used to be Wendy’s back when it still had the classic salad bar in the middle of the restaurant. My parents would so eagerly go through it, small plate in hand. My mum always coming back with macaroni salad and my dad, an assortment of bits and bobs.
“Eat this. It’s healthy,” he would say.
Then the new SM near us opened. We started to get our groceries there after church. We discovered Greenwich, a local pizza store by the same owners of Jollibee. Across from it was National Book Store, where after eating the same type of pizza that my dad would buy from Greenwich, I’d spend most of my time looking through all the books and stationery imagining all the things I would buy if I had the money. Sometimes, if I find a book I really like, I would look for my dad in the grocery store, aisle after aisle, and when I find him, tell him about it and ask if I could get it.
Then there’s the good old trusty Jollibee. Every Filipino has a nostalgic Jollibee story. I have so many but the one that’s associated to my dad the most is how we’ll always have the same burger steak order every single time. It was our favourite. I would always stand beside him while waiting in line, then once we get to the counter, I’d listen to him list off our order and I’d stare at the person behind the counter and smile. As I got older, we’d switch positions, and I’d be the one ordering and he’ll be beside me watching.
In 1998, Wendy’s was discontinued in the US. Reports say that franchises found the salad bar hard to maintain. By 2006, it was completely removed from all locations. Sometime in 2014, it made a short-lived return in certain stores in Manila but disappeared again a little after the 2020 pandemic.
Max’s is still there. Even during the times I would go back to the Philippines, I’d see it packed to the brim with families celebrating big and small wins. During the few times I’d visit, we always made it a point to still go. In 2023, days after we buried our dad, we went to Max’s in his honour—to celebrate his life and his memory. We ordered the same chicken, lumpiang ubod, chop suey, and sizzling tofu.
In Sydney, there is a food joint called Burger Point. It offers the same Jollibee classics like the chicken and spaghetti. In the last year or so, they added burger steak on the menu. I order it every time.
I still crave for Dunkin Donuts munchkins.
I miss my dad and everything we shared. Filipinos are known for their love of food but what makes it more meaningful is the stories built around them. Food is only food if just consumed; it transcends into something powerful when it’s tied to love and family.
I miss you, Dad. Happy birthday.
Food was always an integral part of our Sundays, and of our family.
We eventually ventured out to trying new restaurants when my sister and I got older.
Going to Max’s will never be the same without him.