Fondue and risotto taste better on mountaintops

TWO weeks ago, Rea

Gomez and I were

discussing our

preparations for our climb

of Mt. Pinatubo, when

she was taken aback by

my food preparations for

the climb.

I told her I had to swing

by the bakery to buy a baguette, and then cut it up and freeze

that a couple of days before the climb in order to give it the

proper aged taste for the cheese fondue I was bringing up.

She said she thought she would be eating pork and beans out

of a can for a couple of days. That took me aback.

Mountain-climbing is hard enough by itself. Why should we

punish ourselves even more by eating the barest of foods? Not

when the same pans and portable stove that we carry up with us

can produce full meals.

Pinatubo did not turn out quite as I expected it. First of all, Rea

was not able to make the climb, so I did not have an audience

for the gustatory show I was to put on.

In Manila, I hang around with such good cooks that I often feel

like I don't know what I'm doing. It is only in the isolation of the

mountain that I can feel like I am king. Unfortunately, without a

partner to share the food with, it can be lonely at the top.

For that climb, we also did not have to bring all of our gear up

the mountain. After the five-hour drive from Olongapo through

Zambales to the foot of the west face of Mt. Pinatubo, we set up

camp right beside our cars.

I had packed lightly, because I thought we were to carry

everything up the mountain, but when the other people in the

group started unloading their charcoal grills for their steaks,

sausages and fishes, I knew this did not quite count as alpine

cuisine.

Don't get me wrong, I'm saying I would rather carry my 50-lb

backpack up the mountain all the time. It was refreshing to be

able to climb the next day encumbered only by my water and

camera equipment. It's just that unless you carry it all by

yourself, there is little to brag about.

Generous water source

My previous climbs this year were more the mix of hardship and

extravagance I am talking about.

Last February, we climbed Mt. Pulag, the highest mountain in

Luzon, a five-hour jeepney ride from Baguio. Starting from the

Kabayan drop-off point to the ranger station, it was a serious

trek, where we had to carry all of our necessities for four days

on our backs, save for our water. A generous La Ni?a meant we

had drinking water to our hearts content, and we did not have to

practice the normal water thriftiness required in a mountain trek.

The first campsite was by Elet River, a wonderful water source

that has an Indiana Jones-style cable bridge and pools of cold

fresh water to bathe in. Unlike the water in Pinatubo that is

heated by a volcano, the stuff here causes goosebumps and

shrinks other parts of the body.

But such a plentiful water source meant it was easy to prepare

water-heavy dishes like pasta. Rice, or risotto in my case, was

reserved for the higher altitudes when getting water was a

chore, because rice soaks up a good portion of the water and is

thus much more efficient than spaghetti, which any good Italian

cookbook says needs ridiculous amounts of water to cook

properly al dente.

For a sauce, I used a host of fresh vegetables I had brought

from the organic market in Greenbelt. I saut?ed eggplant,

zucchini, tomato, mushrooms, asparagus and broccoli in a pesto

mix (essentially chopped basil in Parmesan).

There was hidden agenda to using up all the bulky and heavy

items first, like pasta noodles and real vegetables, because the

trek was not too much up hill. The second and third day climbs

were like doing four hours on a Stair Master with weights, so

every load off the pack was a blessing.

Water on the second day was a bit of a hassle, because we

didn't load up too much from Elet River as water was really

heavy, and the water source in the second campsite looked like

a wet puddle on a dirty road. It was nothing our portable pumps

with filters can't handle, it was just that getting to it was not a

pleasure.

Sunrise over Pulag

Here I made my first

risotto, nothing to be

proud of, just a mix I

bought at Healthy

Options. Still, after the

hardest climb of the trip,

almost anything tastes

like you ordered it from a

fine French restaurant.

My friend Junboy

Leonor brought along

vegemeat sausages that served as my ulam. The fake stuff

keeps without refrigeration much better than the real stuff. My

other friends also had some instant risotto packages, one of

them from Santi's no less.

Raffy Ladao also opened up a Rosti package, basically

precooked sliced potatoes that were ready to be recooked with

only some butter. I took a lesson from him and have now copied

that on my successive treks.

The climb on the third day led us through what is called Elven

Forest, where the short trees were covered with moss and the air

was so moist we can almost drink it, to the grasslands at the

summit where the view cannot be beaten.

I'm no professional mountaineer, though I've done my share of

mountains in the Philippines, but I'm confident to say the view

from Pulag is difficult to beat anywhere. Especially the sunrise

the next day.

We woke up at 5:30 a.m. to the light of the sun just under the

horizon, illuminating the clouds that spread out all around us

like a tranquil sea. (There are advantages to being on the

highest point in Luzon. Then God paints the sky in every

conceivable color as the sun creeps out of its cotton bed.)

The meal the night before was hearty, and we tried and used up

most of what was left in our packs. I cooked the remainder of my

spaghetti, with fresh garlic and a mushroom tomato sauce I

moved out of its heavy tin can. A cup of hot chocolate put me

to sleep in the cold night that had all of us wearing parkas and

looking like we were on an expedition to the South Pole.

Sumptuous omelets

Breakfast on the last day was not too much of a priority,

because the climb down was comparatively easy, our packs

were light, and it was difficult to get the glorious sunrise out of

our minds.

Dexter Ledesma used our laziness to show off his Teflon pans

by cooking us sumptuous cheese omelets, which he

demonstrated with just a slide on his skillet with no hassle. For

the rest of us, cleaning our pans with toilet paper and a minimum

amount of water was quite a hassle. I have since taken his lead

and purchased Teflon for myself.

Of course, not all people climb as we do, unable to give up our

creature comforts. But we have to pay for these by carrying

heavy loads.

Dexter, who is also a caffeine addict, carries up his coffeepot

along with freeze-dried ground beans from Starbucks. For him,

instant coffee will not do.

Tony Castro, our leader, treads the opposite path. He cooks in

his tent all his meals, comprising mostly of instant noodles and

oatmeal. Why the Spartan diet? Because it is much lighter and

easier to prepare.

And Tony likes to epitomize the self-sufficient climber. Besides,

he still goes out of his tent and hovers about ours when we

cook our food.

And why is there no meat described in this article, the astute

among you may observe. Meat is the first thing to rot on the

mountain, and most of it has to be thrown out on the third day.

Besides, the author of this article is a vegetarian. You decide if it

is any sacrifice.