Wow! That’s the first word that came out of my (salivating) mouth when I stepped inside an enclosure that resembles a garage with steel grills from outside, but looks, smells and tastes like food heaven inside. The second word I uttered was: “Wow!” For some strange gastronomical reason I had the urge to dive into the sea of kakanin. If I did and got sued for it, I would definitely raise the defense of insanity brought about by sensory overload.

You think I’m exaggerating. I’m not. Here, take a look –

Ah, now you see. And that’s just half of it. I felt bad because I wanted to eat it all, only I’d probably die the next hour from diabetes or some gluttony-related illness. I also wanted to post all the photos I took, with the number of photos directly proportional to the food I wanted to eat, but it will probably swamp and slow down this blog.

It felt like winning the lotto and the price is one year supply of various kakanin. Ok, I don’t really know how it feels, winning the lotto I mean, but if it feels exponentially way better than the joy of seeing all those kakanin, then it must be beyond description.

Suman, sapin-sapin, biko, puto, minatamis na beans, minatamis na garbansos, leche flan, fruit salad, kutsinta, cassava cake, biko, jalaya or halaya (ube), tikoy and a whole lot of kakanin. I thought I’d see those only in in Dolor’s kakanin or Mommy’s Governor Pascual Avenue in Malabon (by the way, anyone knows the English term for “kakanin“?).

In Spanish, puto means something else (male prostitute). Puto, in Filipino, means rice cake usually eaten as dessert. In Rosalie’s, the puto (the Filipino version) was stacked one on top of the other, side by side with the suman. There are a number of varieties. Puto cheese. Puto with salted eggs on top. Puto malagkit (is that the name of the little white, sticky puto?). The sweet kakanin goodness was too much to handle on the spot, so we bought a ton and brought it all home.

Maybe next time I’ll know how to handle the shock.

All we asked for was to buy a variety of suman that we call “pinipig“, although that’s our term for something which almost certainly has another name. This suman is colored green and the banana leaf used to wrap it isn’t steamed. In other words, the banana leaf wrap is fresh, in contrast to the usual suman, like Tita Lynns. It has brown stuff sprinkled on one side. This is one of my favorites.

Our friend, who lived near the area and who was with us when we watched the Philippine Hot Air Balloon Fiesta in Clark, offered to bring us to the “source” of this type of suman. The long and winding roads led us to a place somewhere in Marilao, Bulacan (a fact I later learned). I thought her car had a problem, for she stopped in a strictly two-lane road, in front of a house. She waived reassuringly, saying that this is “it”. So I turned on our hazard lights and also parked.

And the rest is described above.

Where is this place and how to get there, you ask? Well, I don’t know how to get there. The name of the store is Rosalie’s Bibingka (Puto, Suman, atbp). All I know is that it’s somewhere in Marilao, Bulacan. If you happen to be in the area or if you intend to search for this kakanin heaven, call them and ask for precise directions. Here are the numbers: (044)711-5724, (0920)246-6030 and (0921)951-7187.

If you go to Rosalie’s Bibingka and have the guts to dive into the sea of kakanin, I won’t blame you.