We would never have dared if not for the sentimentality over a long-held ancestral property, a robust U.S. stock market, and the unwavering encouragement of our children. But once the deal was sealed, someone had to do the heavy lifting of becoming the kapatas—project head, operations manager, designer, accountant, decision maker, disciplinarian, and crisis-absorber. That someone, inevitably, was me.

For Filipinos, no party or feast is complete without the centerpiece: lechon, a spit-roasted pig. A whole roasted pig is an imposing sight, serving not only as a surefire way to impress guests but also as a subtle marker of the host’s social standing. It’s common for guests to ask, “May lechon ba?” (Is there lechon?) even before confirming their attendance—a positive answer nearly guarantees an enthusiastic RSVP.

Watching my German friends sip sinigang and navigate fish sauce was like witnessing a delightful culinary adventure—one spoonful, one laugh, one curious glance at a time. They may have started a bit wary, but by the end, they were pros, balancing broth with rice and embracing the bold flavors. That night, they didn’t just eat sinigang; they got a taste of what it means to eat like a Filipino.