A highlight of my childhood in the small, sea-side town of Ormoc were the parties that were held in Deposito–the farm, where the sisters and brothers of my maternal grandfather lived. Two of these great-aunts, twins in their nineties, still live there. Back then we would gather in the main house, and the chairs and tables covered in red or green checkered mantels would spill over outside into the shade of an ancient Santol tree. It was one lunch under that tree, when I was old enough to really remember, that “the salad” forever endeared itself.