I think one of life’s little mysteries that I’ll never tire of unpacking is how we evolve as we age.
A shy, awkward pre-teen somehow becomes a confident, chatty adult. A holiday we once counted down to every year eventually becomes something we’d rather avoid altogether. Or a dish we couldn’t bear to eat somehow turns into something we crave every other month.
Well…except for the first two.
I may appear confident and chatty, but that’s mostly a carefully cultivated disguise for the shy and awkward person I still am. And holidays? I’ve always loved them.
Food, though…that’s a different story.
As a child, I used to scrape the icing off cakes because I couldn’t get past the mushy texture. Today, I appreciate a good frosting — especially the light and airy kind.
I also used to looooove Vienna sausages and happily ate them straight out of the can. Nowadays, I walk past them in the supermarket without so much as a second glance.
And tofu? I didn’t even consider it edible. Now? I’d happily stuff my face with any well-prepared tofu dish.
Including the star of today’s post: the wonderfully humble taho.
Growing up in Singapore, there was tau huay — or soybean pudding, if you prefer. Much like cake icing, the silky texture didn’t appeal to my younger self. I also suspect I subconsciously associated its whiteness with milk, which, to this day, I still can’t bring myself to drink on its own.
During our frequent trips back to Manila, I’d watch relatives enthusiastically tucking into cups of taho while I politely looked the other way.
I’m not entirely sure when my relationship with tofu changed, but I’m awfully glad it did.
These days, one of my favourite Manila morning rituals is finding that the taho vendor outside our condominium gates.
From as early as six in the morning — weather permitting — kuya stands patiently on the sidewalk with his large aluminium container filled with warm, silky tofu. I imagine he stays until he sells out, which I suspect doesn’t take very long.
Maybe I’m biased, but between Singapore’s tau huay and the Philippines’ taho, I’m sticking to my roots.
No disrespect to Singaporeans.
Both trace their origins to Chinese immigrants, but somehow Filipinos elevated the experience by adding arnibal, that rich brown sugar syrup, and tiny chewy sago pearls.
Genius.
And if you happen to be in Baguio, where strawberries are plentiful, you’ll even find versions topped with sweet strawberry syrup or jam instead of arnibal.
As if taho needed improving.
The best part? Kuya charges just ₱50 for a large cup.
For that price, you get a warm, comforting breakfast that’s rich in plant-based protein, calcium, and soy isoflavones — those heart-friendly compounds that may help lower LDL (“bad”) cholesterol when enjoyed as part of a balanced diet.
Yes, the arnibal and sago pearls make it a little less virtuous.
But that’s like eating cake without the icing.
Technically, you can. But why would you?
Unlike circus politics, system inefficiencies, and hair-splitting traffic in the Philippines, I’m glad my taste has evolved.
Whenever I’m in Manila, I know I can always find comfort in a humble cup of taho.
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