When I was a kid, I had a fierce love for bibingka. My Mother used to take me to church a lot during the Christmas season, and the sellers of bibingka and puto bumbong would be lined up outside all day long. The smell wafting through the church doors was irresistible, and it would not be a rare sight for me to tug at my Mother’s skirt to signal that I wanted some bibingka. As a child, I knew Christmas was around the corner when a bazillion bibingka and puto-bumbong sellers suddenly pop up out of nowhere and line our usually empty school sidewalks.
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