job and voice

At first glance, Aling Teresa’s small food cart in Manila looks like any other. But as soon as you taste her isaw (grilled chicken intestines) or balut (fertilized duck egg), you realize why people line up every night to eat here.

“I’ve been selling street food for 25 years,” she told me while flipping skewers over hot charcoal. “At first, it was just to feed my children. Now, people call me ‘Tita Teresa of Manila.’”

Her humble beginnings were filled with struggles—long hours, harsh weather, and a constant battle to keep her business running legally.

“Before, street vendors like me were ignored. Now, we’re recognized as part of the food culture of the Philippines,” she said proudly.

She recently gained national attention when a famous food blogger featured her isaw, calling it “the best in the city.” Soon after, international tourists started coming to her cart, eager to try authentic Filipino street food.

“I never imagined foreigners would eat my food,” she laughed. “Now, some even ask for recipes!”

But despite her success, she remains humble.

“I just want people to enjoy my food,” she said. “Street food isn’t just cheap food—it’s the flavor of our culture.”

As I bit into a perfectly grilled skewer, I realized she was right. Food, no matter how simple, has the power to connect people, tell stories, and create legacies.

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