MOCHI PINOY ROLLS
By: Iris P. Concepcion

I wonder why I could no longer find online the front page stories about the lady pilot of Cebu Pacific who was feted in an otherwise bright picture of how women professionals are treated well by this airline. It was in the front pages of both the Philippine Star and the Philippine Daily Inquirer today.

I believe that its President, Lance Gokongwei, was also succinct in supporting the "open skies" policy of the government. He had been vocal about supporting the law of reciprocity. A feature about him in Philippine Star brings a light to the opening up of competition that eventually redounds to the benefit of the riding public. I love this organization, for the record, and I am not a paid hack. I write as a customer.

I could not somehow get the article of Scott Garceau. The hacking republic paid a hefty sum of money just to look good. Well, the price of insecurity. Nonetheless, the link shall be, well, linked. I love these writers. Even in close encounters, they conduct themselves with tact and decorum. I envy their stance and fortitude. How dignified.

Moreover, the palate had been fed with tastes bursting with vast, gastronomic experience.

First off: some came from in-house culinary staples.

The others I had just accidentally squired in odd places. While waiting for a sermon one time, I entered a grocery store. Being a watchful fan of anything stacked in groceries, I saw from under one of the stalls a purple-looking roll named Princess' Mochi Pinoy Roll. It looks appetizing with a leche flan-like buchi type of filling. It only costs P18.00.

I paid P23 for it (I almost returned it when the price spiked at the counter) but the food was gorgeous enough to make me pay the extra P5.00. I guess there was a mix in the price tagging. And the maker wants to direct me to a clue.

I expected the normal face of roughness in mongo-stuffed pastries but was in for a treat.

The "espasol" outer coating is not bland nor does it taste like flour. It tastes between a fine milk and a pulverized pulvoron. I am not partial to pulvoron since it chokes my throat and it makes me cough weirdly.

I was not even biting still. When I tasted the mochi pastry, I had to mouth: "This is good!" I munched it like I have not eaten in a week. It tastes like G-spot a.k.a. the better other.

Terrific. I could not even describe it. This is a good partner to this ultra hip bakery in a favorite mall. It looks Japanese outside. I love its bakers for knowing their gag spiels. I ask for their names and they speak the names of those who have hurt them.

Dough Joe. Even the name rocks.

Those loaves of bread that are expensive are priced halved in this bakeshoppe. Its coffee bun and Hongkong bread that come out as huge as my face are enough to allow you flying in your palate senses. They do not scrimp: sausages, hotdogs, starred pizzas. You know for a fact that the guy who loves Apeng Daldal did not sleep overnight to make this dough. The sofa in front of it is homey: it is close to my heart as I found myself sitting on it one point in my life.

I do not know why this brood does not flaunt their accomplishments. They like to sell but you'd get the drift it is not for money or pride. They really like making people happy.

And G: nobody beats you in the game of breeding. That is a class act.