And I waited so long

We take for granted that something so commonplace as itlog maalat is, as Jenny put it, always “in season.” “You mean those things grow on trees?” I shot back, irked. And yet to hear the local vendors tell it, the last they had salted duck egg was “in Mampor’s time.” Who’s Mampor? That’s shorthand for “way before you were born; let’s drop the subject and move on.”

Well, I couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Another friend vaguely recalled seeing maalat at some sari-sari store, so we spent the better half of an afternoon going around in a potpot (a foot-powered cab) on a round of his neighborhood. The trip laid a proverbial egg, PFI. Scoring shabu would have been easier, and don’t think I’m joking: it’s that kind of area.

That was two months ago. Now you see those purple eggs everywhere, as if they were never gone. “Look at that,” Jenny says. “Maybe they’re finally in season after all.” Turns out they are locally sourced (Barangay Maria Clara, if you must know), and with that additional piece of welcome news, I finally get to make golden-sand chicken.

It’s simple. Take a kilo of chicken legs and have those chopped into bite-size pieces, about 5-6 to a leg. Season with 1 teaspoon each of salt, patis (fish sauce), and white pepper with a tablespoon each of granulated garlic and onion powder, then marinate at least 4 hours. For batter, mix 3 parts flour to 1 part cornstarch. Dredge chicken pieces in flour mixture and fry until golden. Set aside.

Meanwhile, slice salted eggs in half and scoop out the yolks. You need 6 of those. Save the white parts — sayang naman — for porridge, maybe, or to top salad with (pakó comes to mind). Mash the yolks with a tablespoon of condensed milk or honey, then melt 2 tablespoons of margarine or salted butter in a wide/deep pan and stir in yolk mixture (it will froth). Season to taste, then add fried chicken pieces to pan and toss until evenly coated.

That’s the straightforward recipe. But you don’t have folks like mine. Their complaint? “Sandy.” Hello? Golden-sand chicken? Never mind. On the next round, I pureé those yolks with a cup of water and strain out the offending solids with a cheesecloth. Let the purists cry out in horror; I cook to make these people happy. Verdict: drop this one from the menu and move on.