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Writer in her milieu...continued Who are the food critics abroad who you feel are close to what you're doing? Well, one of my idols is MFK Fisher. I really wanted to meet her, and I had found someone who could introduce me, but then she—MFK Fisher, I mean—died. Also, early in my career, I found a book called Food in Chinese Culture. I said to myself, Someone should do something like this about Filipino food. With much less footnotes, though. Like Waverly Root—oh, I love Waverly Root! So scholarly, yet whimsical, sometimes! I also want food writing to be something you can almost taste. I want the reader to feel pleasure reading it; I want to make the reader hungry. That's where everything I learned as an English major comes in. Thus I can write about food without using only food words. I can use words from literature, from painting, from music, and so on, to bring the whole experience across. I want to emphasize the Pleasure Principle; that must always be there. You did a couple of books with Edilberto Alegre. How did these come about? Ed Alegre was interested in interviewing Philippine writers in English. He wanted to know how they began to write, how they learned how to write, who were their critics, etc. I was already doing my food column then. A sort of bargain worked itself out: I would help him with his literature research, and he would help me with my food research. It so happened that my mother was a classmate of Angela Manalang Gloria and José Garcia Villa, so I could get him an interview. He was also interested in food himself, so after doing Writers in Their Milieu, which was his project, we started doing some food projects. He's much more adventurous than I am—he can just get on a bus and go wherever it takes him, and explore. What people seem to like most about your newspaper columns is your writing style. Was it a deliberate choice to write that way? Oh, yes! Clarity is very, very important. I don't consider myself a writer, but more of a journalist—you just have to get the message across. But I must admit that after learning how to use the computer, I began to feel like a writer. You can toy with the words, polish them, weigh them...then, I began to feel, Hey, it's fun to write! But yes, I deliberately set out to be clear. My idol in writing is Horacio de la Costa. His writing is always clear, and you can't add or subtract a word. And I want to communicate with a lot of people—housewives, foodies, teenagers, whatever. Clarity is really important. I'm not even trying for style—if possible, I try to avoid adjectives. How long does it take you to write? If I eat a good meal and go home, I can write a review about it in half an hour. But sometimes I have to read up; do some research. The research can get difficult. There aren't many books on Philippine food. There are some treatises by nutritionists, and then there are essayists and novelists who put food in their work, and so I get it from there. And then I read foreign sources, of course, to get a sense of perspective. For example, if I wrote about camote, I'd look it up in Waverly Root. For Asian food, I hunt for sources in Indonesia and other Asian countries, for parallels—sinigang and kinilaw, for instance. It's very much primary research, and very rewarding. I'm using the techniques that Horacio de la Costa taught me for History, in fact. Are you satisfied with the role you play now, as a teacher? I really, really like teaching freshmen. It's so basic. Because you're not just teaching them skills, you're teaching them an entire attitude. You're teaching them values, critical thinking, curiosity... . It's not a question of lecturing. You have to draw them out, draw responses, get them interested. I remember one very bleak morning when I was feeling very blue—and I found that I had assigned 17th century poetry that day. I had to lead them into that strangeness—and guide them through that strangeness and pretty soon, they were all laughing and enjoying themselves. They say that standards are slipping. Well, I must agree that the freshmen in general I get are not what they used to be. But at the very top, the merit classes, they're just as good. It's a vocation, really. What do you think is the most important thing you can teach a freshman? To teach him where the wells of creation are. That there are things that he knows, uniquely, that he can say uniquely, to others. That's why I use their works are models. In every batch of compositions, I look for something that I can discuss in class as though it were a canonical text. I do it all workshop-style—reproduce them, give them out, and then talk about them. It works best in the merit classes, of course, but also in the regular classes—you just have to look harder. What would make you say that you have been successful with a student? Well, in a class of thirty, you're not going to have thirty successes. You'll be lucky to have one. If they develop themselves and go into things they do well—if they discover that they do something particularly well and apply themselves at it... . Some of them are quite spectacular in what they have achieved. I don't really think of myself as a mentor. Rofel [Brion] is a mentor sort of guy; students come back to him over the years, talk about their work. I don't think I develop that sort of relationship with my students. I don't see myself in that role at all. What do you yourself like to read? Fiction! I love fiction. I always carry a novel with me, especially in the car, in case there's a traffic jam. I like García Márquez and the rest of the Latin Americans. I read several novels at the same time—one in the car, one by my bedside, one in the office... . I also read plays, of course, but novels are much more fun. If I could I would read every Filipino novel ever written; though I think I've come pretty close. You don't have any children... My husband and I were both diabetics, and we both have other problems—kidney problems and cataract problems, also because of diabetes. The food reviewing is affected by this, actually, in that I am unable to eat sweets. I do try spoonfuls, though—I usually have some friends with me, so I can pick off their plates. What about legacy? What do you think is the most important thing you'll have left behind? The books, I should think. What I do in the classroom disappears, although I do want to write a book about teaching: what methods have I found have worked throughout the years, what everyone has done... I think this all should be put down somewhere, for younger teachers, for example. If a student in class is good, I tell him openly: You're good! There's a girl in my class right now; I wrote her a note telling her, You write so well, you don't have to follow anything I say. Just write what you want! Follow your own path! Maybe I missed that path. I want them to explore their own way, and just go. If I can help, sure! Once you've been my student, you have—what shall I call it?—a lifetime voucher. You can come to me for help, advice, to show something you've written. If you hadn't done what you're doing now, what would you be doing? The food writing was really accidental; I just stumbled onto it. Everyone says it's such a great job, and I agree: it's a great job. As for being a teacher, I can't imagine what else I'd be doing, really. I can imagine not writing, perhaps, but I can't imagine not teaching. I don't know why.& |
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