“Bernadette Arroyo. She’s my cousin and the runner-up from my year. She said she couldn’t be the judge because she was coaching Joy.”
When the Calendar Crew put the pressure on me to accept the position, I tried to redirect them and have Bernadette take on the responsibility. She cared about the pageant way more than I did and should’ve won the year we competed together. She wasn’t happy about having to admit that she’d already volunteered, and they’d turned her down.
“Oh. Well, coaching involves training a specific candidate to win, so that’s more of a conflict of interest than your family employing a contestant. Though I don’t remember talking to a Bernadette about being a judge. We were pretty adamant it be you.”
Ouch, no wonder Bernadette’s pride was hurt. This woman must’ve dismissed her with barely a glance, considering how she couldn’t even remember her. “Why? I mean, I get that she didn’t win, but she would’ve taken my place if I hadn’t been able to fulfill my duties. Plus she’s a nurse. She’d be a great role model for these girls.”
Valerie shrugged. “That was probably the mayor’s call. I introduced quite a few changes to the rules and events and vetoed the judge who was chosen after you first turned us down. I insisted the last position be filled by a female professional, and the mayor said it had to be a former winner since that was tradition. You’re the only one still in Shady Palms who fits both criteria, so we were at a bit of a stalemate. It was either you or no one.”
I wasn’t quite sure how to take that. “I thought the previous judge dropped out. Why did you replace them?”
Rob, Sana, and Valerie all seemed to have a sudden need to drink from their previously untouched water glasses instead of answering my question. Interesting. Before I could push further, Joy arrived with our meal.
After serving us and checking if we needed anything else, she left to go wait on some new customers and we dug into our food. The weak air conditioning in the restaurant was no match for the ninety-degree heat outside, and combined with the big bowl of steaming sinigang that Sana and I were consuming, I was soon dripping with sweat.
“This tastes so familiar!” Sana said. “That sourness . . . is it from tamarind?” When I nodded, she grinned, the dazzling smile lighting up her whole face. “I knew it. My family’s originally from Trinidad, and we use it in a bunch of dishes. This soup is new to me, but somehow it tastes like home, you know?”
She attacked the soup and rice with new vigor, and so did I, both of us patting sweat away with the paper napkins on the table.
Rob noticed this and frowned. “I don’t understand how you two can eat soup on such a hot day.”
I snorted. “What, do you think people in hot climates never eat soup?”
Sana added, “Why do you think so many tropical countries eat spicy food? Sweating is healthy and helps us cool off. Removes toxins from the body, too. Though it does do a number to my hair,” she said, dabbing at her edges.
“I’ll stick with ice cream to cool off, thanks. Or an ice-cold beer. Speaking of which, with the way I drink, no amount of sweating will detox me.” He chuckled at his little “joke.”
Joy came by to refill our water glasses. “If you want something cold, you should order Lola Flor’s special halo-halo for dessert. It’s so good!”
At the pageant group’s confused looks, I said, “Halo-halo literally means ‘mix-mix.’ Think of it as a combination of shaved ice and an ice cream sundae. It’s one of my favorite desserts and my grandmother makes almost every component of the dish herself instead of relying on jarred or canned ingredients.”
Everyone agreed that sounded wonderful and ordered the dessert, including Sana, who said, “I’ll probably regret it come yoga time, but it sounds too good to pass up.”
Large fountain glasses arrived at our table, layered with sweet beans, caramelized saba bananas, jackfruit, palm fruit, nata de coco, and strips of macapuno topped with shaved ice, evaporated milk, a slice of leche flan, a healthy scoop of ube halaya, and a scattering of pinipig, the toasted glutinous rice adding a nice bit of crunch. This frosty rainbow confection raised my spirits every time I saw it, and both Sana and I pulled out our phones to take pictures of the dish.
She laughed. “This is almost too pretty to eat, so I wanted to document its loveliness before digging in.”
“This is for the restaurant’s social media pages. My grandmother only prepares this dish in the summer, so I need to remind our customers to come while it lasts.”
“How do we go about this?” Rob asked, looking at his rapidly melting treat in trepidation.
“Up to you. You can mix everything together like the name says so that you get a bit of everything in each bite. Or you can tackle it layer by layer. I’m a mixing girl, but you better figure it out fast or you’re going to be eating dessert soup.”
We all dug in, each snowy bite punishing my teeth and making me shiver in delight. I loved the interplay of textures—the firmness of the beans versus the softness of the banana and jackfruit mingling with the chewiness of the palm fruit, nata de coco, and macapuno. The fluffy texture of the shaved ice soaked through with evaporated milk, with the silky smoothness of the leche flan matched against the creaminess of the ube halaya and crispiness of the pinipig. A texture eater’s (and sweet tooth’s) paradise.
“This is so strange,” Valerie said. “I never would’ve thought of putting all these things together, especially not in a dessert. But it works. I mean, I don’t love the beans, but they’re certainly interesting. And what are these yellow strips?”
“Jackfruit. When ripe, they’re yellow and very sweet and fragrant, so they make a nice addition to lots of Filipino desserts. They were also in the turon I brought to the meeting earlier. Unripe jackfruit is green and used in vegetarian recipes, usually.”
The rest of the meal passed in inane chitchat—anytime I tried to get Valerie or Rob to talk about themselves, the conversation devolved into a bragfest with the siblings trying to outdo each other with their various academic (on Valerie’s part) and business (on Rob’s part) achievements. Sana seemed used to this and spent the rest of the time alternating her attention between her dessert and her watch, probably wondering when she could finally escape. Rob graciously paid the bill at the end, and neither Sana nor I bothered fighting him for it. Considering how much the Thompson family was worth, he could afford it.
When Joy came to clear the table, he grinned and slipped her a thick, folded set of bills. “Great job, sweetheart. Your recommendations were top-notch.”
Joy gave him a tight smile and slid the tip into her apron pocket. “Thank you, sir. See you later tonight for the kickoff event. I hope you all have a great day.”