Lunches with Cedie
It was November of 1986, and Mom and I had gotten home from an extended trip visiting relatives in the States. I had graduated in February that year by default, as People Power ushered in a new sense of being in the country. I had dutifully submitted my thesis and that summer, I was pronounced done with college. With a new halo on the country, this starry-eyed dreamer was set to join the work force.
I read through the Sunday papers for options (very old school, no online job sites). I applied for PR jobs at hotels and banks, took the tests, but no luck. But the universe conspires. I tagged along with Mom as she visited her brother, Jose “Pepe” Diokno, at his New Manila home. That particular day in November, Geny Lopez and Jake Almeda Lopez were also there to visit. Tito Pepe wasn’t doing very well, health-wise. They were talking about the old days and in passing, both gentlemen quizzed me on what I was doing, and I said I was looking for a job. I was asked for my number, and I left it at that.
By the end of January, I got a call from Margot Fragante, Mr. Lopez’s secretary who was a classmate of my mom at Assumption. I was told to come to Benpres, the offices of the Lopez Group at the Ortigas Business District. That day, my fate was sealed. I joined ABS-CBN in February, and there I made myself a home.
I came in at the time when ABS-CBN just was a few months on the air, the offices occupied the warehouse of a once-gleaming Broadcast Center, now shared with the government network. It was very much a DIY setup, secondhand furniture and equipment but filled with positive energy.
I was to report to Hermie Ocampo, personnel manager (the term HR came much later), for my orientation. I still didn’t have a unit to report to, as much was in a state of flux. I only knew Pia Lopez-Baños, who worked at Merchandising (Corporate Communications today), and she would ask me to have lunch at the old pelota court-turned-canteen. I was introduced to Cedie Lopez Vargas, who took charge of purchasing. She knew of my sisters I believe, as she, too, went to Assumption. Perhaps I looked lost, but Cedie would check in with me, and even lent me a broadcasting book to skim through while I waited for my assignment. I began work with Public Affairs, headed by Cheche Lazaro. After my stint there, I was sent to News under Larry Ng, where I earned my chops doing news production.
From left Daphne Oseña, Kai Rodriguez, Yay Crucillo,Randy Estrellado, Tonton Lanuza, Ann Dineros, Juno Henares, this writer, Selina de Venecia, Ronan de Guzman, Nene Pestaño
From that moment in March of 1987, Cedie and I became, I would like to say, lifelong friends. We grew close during the network’s cowboys and Indians days. We lived through a major earthquake, coup d’états and a huge fire. To this day, we sit around and talk about those fun-filled days of wanton recklessness. And when we tell a hilarity, she would say, “That’s right!” From the early days as “kids” in the warehouse, Cedie and I always spoke of what the future would be like. Our careers took on the role of guiding us through the challenge. Cedie has a gift that allowed her to dissect events and provide guidance. She was extremely circumspect. I would, as I still do today, ask her for advice. The tone was meticulous and metered. She would dispense this sage-like view, helping me through the quagmire of a new corporate citizenship. There was always a pregnant pause before she spoke, ensuring that the words spoken all tied in together.
Of course, meals were integral to us. I would drive us to SM North to eat at the newly minted French Baker, take out char kway teow at Rasa Singapura (now closed) or if we wanted to feel special, Fil Benitez’ Tamarind Grill on Tomas Morato for raclette was as swanky as it could get. And, well, help order Chinese at Peach Blossom on North Avenue.
Friendships that last a lifetime are rare. Picking up where you left off feels magical. This is the story of my bestie, Cedie Vargas, and me.
Over time, the lunch group grew. We were part of what we humorously called the Kitchen Cabinet. We held court on a white table at the newly refurbished third floor executive offices, long before ELJCC and 9501 were built. We no longer had to venture out of the complex. We also didn’t have the time to have longer lunches. It was a far cry from the pelota court-turned-canteen day of the late ‘80s. Membership loosely coalesced into a motley crew of executive staffers—assistants, secretaries and managers. There were Yay Crucillo (with Freddie Garcia), Miles Vizcarra, Maricar Landayto, Gabby Lopez and managers like Randy Estrellado (now the boss of Maynilad), just to name few.
But to us, Cedie was our “manang.” She was given a barstool to sit by the head of the table in reverence, as if watching over the tribe. Those lunches were always filled with idle banter—yes, the Maritess of the era—about things happening in the network. It was time well spent for a breather. By the early 2000s, ABS-CBN was like the mythical phoenix, rising from a moribund state, slowly regaining its moniker “The Philippines Largest Network.”
As I went through the paces and finding myself through new assignments, I continuously asked her caution of steps to take. My first real break was when I was tasked to develop what was called International Ventures, the seed that formed what is TFC today. From the early deals to launching TV Patrol in the Bay Area in 1992, I would find myself sitting with her at her office. I was very insecure of my abilities. Cedie would always encourage me. “Monch, I think you need to accept it as it comes” was a common thread.
And we continued our lunches and one of the most delightful meals we had together was Beef Wellington at her home in Wack Wack. I had never had it before and the warm puffy pastry wrapping a carefully seared tenderloin and mushrooms brings me back to the fond memories of our friendship.
Cedie was taking a more active role in the evolving Lopez Group, a powerhouse of that era in telecommunications, utilities, and real estate. I, on the other hand, continued to run point for TFC in the Bay Area, keeping our ragtag team together and, like the Swan Principle, looking calm but paddling like crazy underneath the surface. I took to cooking (and drinking, too), and one of the dishes that reminded me of a calming trance was that Beef Wellington Cedie served me years ago.
Was it the puff pastry? Or the lightly seared beef? The Wellington is very much like my journey. Like the dish, my challenge to get Filipinos to subscribe to a new cable (this was before streaming and satellite) was so intimidating, so complex, it might as well be a black hole. At first glance, it seems like a simple enough concept: a lightly seared piece of tenderloin wrapped in a blanket of pastry. But oh, how deceptive appearances can be! Margie and I worked together to create our Wellington. She did the duxelles, the chopped earthy mix of sauteed mushrooms made to a paste to ensconce the tenderloin.
Once the beef has been secured, the real fun begins. Margie would then embark on a delicate dance with pastry dough, shaping it into a perfect, flaky cocoon. This task is not for the faint of heart, as the dough is as temperamental and as moody as she was. I lived through a delicate balance of entrepreneurship (meaning making calls without asking Manila for permission) and being a corporate citizen (playing by the rules). I recall Cedie telling me to trust my instinct. It’s just like cooking—the Wellington must be baked at the perfect temperature for the perfect amount of time. Too hot, and it’ll be overcooked and dry. Too cold, and it’ll be undercooked and raw. It’s a delicate balancing act, a high-stakes game of culinary roulette. Trust me, we burned quite a few. I burned myself figuratively in the process.
But it never tasted like that first bite I had at Wack Wack. We stopped making the Wellington, and focused on paella, which I have taken as one of my better recipes.
Like the hit-and-miss of that Wellington, I had my own rite of passage with The Filipino Channel—the pressure to deliver on the promise took its toll.
At ABS-CBN cocktails, over a few drinks, Cedie and I would recall what we did and again where we were going. After close to 30 years, the pressure wore me down and was caustic; I retired. Again, Cedie was there helping me on how to chart a life that tumultuous, it came to an abrupt end.
Lost in the moment, I gave Cedie a call, and she said, “Monch, why not work on Casa Mercedes? Your mom will be very happy.” Again, she was right. And that I did, and the dour, retired media executive turned to the fan man. The rest is bazaar and fair history. And I thank Cedie for that advice.
I cherish moments that ignite passion, and as I continue to write, meals are taken to mark a moment. And that Wellington moment remains steadfast. Over a few weeks ago I decided to head to Gordon Ramsay at Newport World Resorts to see if cobwebbed memories come to fore.
The 80-seater serves all my favorite things. A delightfully dry martini, done with a twist. David Herve oysters from Normandy, pleasantly plump — sweet yet briny, remains a wonderful starter. A well-seasoned beef tartare, handchopped with an egg yolk confit and gherkin follows next. But I didn’t go there for that. It was the elusive Beef Wellington, Ramsay’s piece de resistance.
Gordon Ramsay’s Beef Wellington is a luxurious MB7 wagyu fillet—an elegant dish that showcases his signature flair for flavor and presentation. It is everything that I enjoy in a good dish, and like many things, it reminds me of a wonderful journey.
We don’t often talk about the Wellington, Cedie and I, nor do we linger to revery. Our conversations are for the now. She is now a grandmother, a museum director, a Lopez Group executive, a champion of arts and culture. We look forward to our jaunts at Artefino, and always remember where we started. It’s really about shared experience. A far cry from the pelota court canteen, and char kway teow.
Lunch alone at Gordon Ramsay was like a flash back. With every morsel, I recalled a snap shot of the years we all worked together, and perhaps it’s time to try making the Wellington as we did in San Francisco years ago, now far more experienced. More tempered, and like what I learned from Cedie is being circumspect. The puff in the pastry was more a metaphor of trial and error, imbued with good advice. Perhaps, a drink is in order, a chilled rosé, while the sunsets, and a Wellington fresh out of the oven for dinner. That is the true sense of friendship.
