Suki

On my first year of living in Toronto, I was exploring my new neighborhood when I came across Banahaw Food Mart. Before I had even bought anything, the owner started to make a connection. “Are you a new arrival? Have you found a job yet?”, asked Mrs. Palma. She then scribbled a phone number on a slip of paper and told me to call a person who was looking for people to hire.

I learned then that a Filipino store here is not just a place to buy merchandise. It's a social hub where Filipinos connect and help each other. Since then, Banahaw has been my 'suki'.

For Filipinos, the 'suki' is a very important relationship. It applies both to the regular customer and the regular vendor. To be a 'suki' is to be in a position of trust. It means that the customer expects that he or she will get the best quality at a fair price. And the 'suki' vendor knows that he or she can count on the customer for regular patronage.

Just today, I went to see the new owner, Leila, to buy some food. There was a Filipino lady there looking for a babysitter. Leila thinks she can help.

Through Banahaw, one can send door to door remittances to the Philippines, buy airline and concert tickets, order party trays of pansit and lumpiang shanghai, as well as get your daily dose of Filpino favorites like puto, bibingka, chicharon and sapin-sapin. There's always adobo, bistek, tilapia, pinakbet and menudo on the menu. You can even order a subscription to TFC and get Filipino TV programs or read fresh chismis in the complimentary tabloid.

I know I don't give Leila that much business. But the importance we give to each other is huge. They celebrated their third year of business recently and had a 'customer appreciation day.' I arrived after a long day at work just to get some dinner. But I didn't have to spend a cent. Leila had lechon, pansit, a cake and a drink just waiting for me.

Only a 'suki' can give you that kind of treatment. And it's priceless.

The Sultan of Samosas

It's amazing how food can transport you to a specific time and place in your life.

When I bit into a samosa from the Sultan of Samosas on O'Connor drive in Toronto, my mind instantly travelled to Manama, Bahrain in 1986. Our office was staffed mostly by British and Indians and was located near a soukh.

After lunch, we had a “teaboy” serve us coffee and tea. Our “teaboy” (most recently referred to in Slumdog Millionaire as a chaiwallah) was actually a man named Harry Das whose only job was to bring us coffee. Occasionally, Paul Ross the art director would come around to collect change and put it into a collective pot. Harry Das would then run to the soukh and buy a bagful of samosas.

At first, I didn't know what to make of samosas . Its skin texture reminded me of chinese spring rolls and its triangular shape brought to mind a Philippine firecracker called “trianggulo”. Inside that little treat was an explosion of flavors only possible with South Asian cooking. Wrapped inside a samosa could be a variety of fillings: curried vegetables, spicy beef, spinach and cheese, lentils, etc. And like peanuts, there's no such thing as eating just one samosa. You'll be tempted to eat until your mouth can't stand the heat anymore.

For sure, samosas are available everywhere in Toronto, even at coffee chains. But only the Sultan of Samosas makes them the way I remember and love: compactly wrapped, freshly cooked, crunchy, packed with flavor. They even give you free dips with a choice of tamarind or yogurt flavor.

The Sultan of Samosas has been recognized as Toronto's Best in samosas, a reputation so richly deserved.