When I was a kid, I would spend summers watching Eat Bulaga (and, I'll admit, Annaluna) day after day. (Please don't judge me. This was pre-cable!) While I sat in front of the TV, I munched on a bag of individually wrapped sampaloc (tamarind candy). My aunt used to send us bags and bags of these sweet-sour-salty treats, each wrapped in clear cellophane, and I would go through them like chips. So addicted was I.
It's been years and years, and my tita no longer sends me these little flavor explosions. Those store-bought ones that come in yellow cellophane just don't come close to the perfectly balanced flavor I used to get.
Fast forward nearly two decades. On our way home from a trip to Bangkok, B and I were rushing to get pasalubong for relatives and friends. We were at the airport grabbing boxes of chocolate when we thought we should at least get something remotely Thai. So we decided to get sampaloc, individually wrapped and placed in cylindrical plastic containers. Because of conditioning, I had come to view yellow-cellophane-wrapped sampaloc as inferior to the sampaloc I used to have as a kid. But we were in a rush, we didn't have a lot of cash to spare, and the sampaloc seemed like an acceptable pasalubong.
Back home, I decided to keep one container for myself. As I tore open what was to be the first of many, many wrappers, I wasn't really expecting much. As I put the sugar-coated candy in my mouth, I felt the familiar tingle on my tongue. The sourness pleasantly mingled with the sweetness, and I was happy to discover that there was no seed in the center. And then, a surprise: Just as the soft, chewy candy melted on my tongue and coated my teeth, I got a jolt of spiciness. This was candy from Thailand, after all! The sweetness and the sourness dissipated, leaving behind a hot, hot, hot after-taste. Oh, how I loved it so! So much so that whenever a good friend flies in from Bangkok, my bilin is airport sampaloc. He gets me enough containers to last me a pretty long time.
Or at least a few days.
It's been years and years, and my tita no longer sends me these little flavor explosions. Those store-bought ones that come in yellow cellophane just don't come close to the perfectly balanced flavor I used to get.
Fast forward nearly two decades. On our way home from a trip to Bangkok, B and I were rushing to get pasalubong for relatives and friends. We were at the airport grabbing boxes of chocolate when we thought we should at least get something remotely Thai. So we decided to get sampaloc, individually wrapped and placed in cylindrical plastic containers. Because of conditioning, I had come to view yellow-cellophane-wrapped sampaloc as inferior to the sampaloc I used to have as a kid. But we were in a rush, we didn't have a lot of cash to spare, and the sampaloc seemed like an acceptable pasalubong.
Back home, I decided to keep one container for myself. As I tore open what was to be the first of many, many wrappers, I wasn't really expecting much. As I put the sugar-coated candy in my mouth, I felt the familiar tingle on my tongue. The sourness pleasantly mingled with the sweetness, and I was happy to discover that there was no seed in the center. And then, a surprise: Just as the soft, chewy candy melted on my tongue and coated my teeth, I got a jolt of spiciness. This was candy from Thailand, after all! The sweetness and the sourness dissipated, leaving behind a hot, hot, hot after-taste. Oh, how I loved it so! So much so that whenever a good friend flies in from Bangkok, my bilin is airport sampaloc. He gets me enough containers to last me a pretty long time.
Or at least a few days.























