Country Cooking: Philippine Regional Cuisines

Country Cooking

Philippine Regional Cuisines

Michaela Fenix

Country Cooking: Philippine Regional Cuisines

By Michaela Fenix

Copyright to this digital edition © 2014 by

Michaela Fenix-Makabenta and Anvil Publishing, Inc.

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Woodcuts on the cover and inside pages by Manuel D. Baldemor

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ISBN 9789712730443 (e-book)

Version 1.0.1

To the three men in my life

Yen, Federico, Horacio

who let me wander all over the country to do my thing, volunteering their own discoveries, appreciating what I bring home to taste

Contents

Preface

Since I grew up in Manila, the earliest and the closest to country cooking I’ve experienced was in my maternal grandmother’s urban kitchen. Josefa Reyes Malixi or Lola was known for her culinary magic, and it was lucky that my sisters and I had to stay with her while my parents were seeking a cure for my father’s ailment in the United States.

Outside Lola’s kitchen, chicken and turkey were slaughtered, plucked of feathers then washed in boiling water. Her kitchen door was where the man who owned the carabaos roaming outside her fence would deposit the rich milk from those docile creatures; she would pour the milk into her morning coffee. That coffee was where she dunked her pan de sal wiped with butter. A sip from her cup is one of my most pleasurable childhood memories.

The only time Lola’s kitchen was quiet was during the household’s afternoon nap. The buzz was almost constant because Lola fed not only her grandchildren but also my lolo, her unmarried children, and the daily stream of kin who wisely timed their visits close to lunch or dinner.

Children weren’t allowed in her kitchen while the cooking was going on. But on special occasions, when more hands were needed, little girls were recruited. The job was always the most boring work: a constant stirring to produce the thick gooey halayang ube (purple yam jam) or the mayonnaise made from scratch. The exercise would include a little slap on the hand for doing the work too slowly.

It was an unwritten rule that Lola was never to be asked about recipe measurements or techniques. Like all good cooks, she knew just how much of an ingredient was needed, and adjusted the amount after just one taste. My godmother, Nora Daza, said she was never successful in extracting recipes from Lola, especially the lechon that Lola cooked in the oven. Years later, Lola did allow my more cooking-astute sister to learn from her the fine art of deboning chicken and making galantina (stuffed chicken roll).

And when she learned I was writing about food, she did deign to tell me that the secret of her fish paksiw was to make sure the vinegar was cooked before putting in the fish.

As children, we always knew that the table was set when we heard Lola summoning diners with "Vamos! Until I took Spanish lessons, I thought that was Spanish for Let’s eat."

Lola’s specialty was her tinolang manok, stewed native chicken that still had unhatched eggs (called sapola, according to writer Krip Yuson) inside its body. There was also that excellent fish paksiw. Seafood was always present on her table because she was from Bataan where her family—the Reyeses and the Navals—had extensive fish farms.

It was in my Lola’s hometown of Balanga, Bataan, where my other early country cooking experience happened. This citified girl spent one summer, one fiesta, and an aunt’s wedding in the house of my Lola’s brother, Tio Toning. At the house extension at the back, I witnessed the preparation for the fiesta and the wedding.

They called that place the dirty kitchen and I thought the name logical at the time because it was sooty and dark. There, I watched with fascination how food was cooked in both clay and heavy pots. The only time the place was illuminated was when the cook blew through a bamboo tube into the embers, coaxing more heat from the pieces of wood used as fuel.

This urban girl grew up witnessing and tasting country cooking. Work and plain curiosity have brought me all over these islands, as far north as Batanes and as far south as Tawi-Tawi.

From my Lola’s kitchen, other kitchens have been opened up to me and culinary secrets have been revealed. It is a privilege and a pleasure to be writing about these here.

This piece appeared as my first Country Cooking column for the Philippine Daily Inquirer.

Acknowledgments

Doreen Gamboa Fernandez, Gilda Cordero Fernando, Felice Sta. Maria, Cora Alvina, Nora Daza, Claude Tayag—for their writings.

And to the many sources and hosts who explained through words and cooking the flavors of their regions, provinces, and hometowns. Some of them are mentioned in the essays. Many of them who were not are:

India Legaspi (Aklan); Myrna Segismundo, Dindo Montenegro, Ely and Paco Montenegro, Remedios Alano Abalos, Rowena Makalintal (Batangas); Sonny Tinio (Bicol and Nueva Ecija); Cohara members (Cagayan de Oro and Camiguin); Rene Guatlo, Nick Rodriguez, Dr. Joven Cuanang, May de Dios, Fernando Gose, Joy Alcantara, Becky de los Reyes, Gloria Castillo, Dr. Avelina M. Marcos, Dr. Ofelia Pastor (Ilocos); Ida Marquez Lim Siason, Monina Ascalon, Lori Arancilla, Victor Facultad, Elen Jison (Iloilo); Ma. Clara Makabenta, Aurora Escober, Ambrosio Villasin, Inday de Guzman, Butch Larrazabal (Leyte); Leonora Mercado Concepcion (Malabon); Patching Alunan Puentevella, Reming Sugon (Negros Occidental); Carolina San Juan, Nitz Magno (Palawan); Claude and Mary Ann Tayag, Doring Tayag (Pampanga); Marissa Bondoc (Pangasinan); Gel de Rivera (Pateros); Milada Dealo, Glady Arguelles, Carmelite nuns of Infanta (Quezon); Chit Sison Nachura (Samar); Sisters of the Medical Mission, Linda Chiou, Cocoy (Tawi-tawi); Agnes and Sonny San Luis, Long Perez, Larphy Ignacio (Zamboanga).

Introduction

The beginning of this romance with local cooking was when I was contracted to write a book on regional cooking. I made it clear that I wasn’t going to be an armchair traveler. It was really because I didn’t know enough of the subject matter and I didn’t know which books could help. For three months, I went to nine provinces interviewing cooks, imbibing the atmosphere. These experiences are featured in Philippine Cuisine: A Country’s Heritage, a project of the Monterey Corporation. While it wasn’t sold in bookstores but given to clients and top executives, it was a book that started my interest in regional cooking. Even if the project stopped with that one book—when it was supposed to have been three—this preoccupation of mine continued.

And in my many years of writing about food for publications like the Daily Globe, Today, and the Philippine Daily Inquirer, readers were most responsive when the cuisine of their town, their province, or their region was the subject matter. When the editorship of FOOD Magazine was offered, I insisted that regional cooking be included among its sections. My interest by then had turned into advocacy—letting my own people know about our cooking, letting them in on the variety and the flavors, and how cuisine is really part of our culture.

This book is a compilation of articles, including the essays in the Monterey book. The span of twenty years had necessitated rewrites, and because I kept on traveling, new information had to be added. Yet there are some places I hadn’t really been to, having merely experienced the cooking at food festivals held in Manila restaurants or tasted what friends brought from their hometowns. That means there are still regions I have yet to explore, and that prospect makes me feel excited about the adventures waiting out there.

Some of the chapters here involve several provinces in a region or several towns in a province. Some chapters are about just one city or town. The places are alphabetized—the only logical arrangement, since every place is important even as the time of the visit isn’t.

Some recipes were actively sought out, others freely given. Yet there is space for only one recipe from each place. My sources have been so generous with their know-how, their time, their insights. They have welcomed me into their kitchens and fed me. That’s what is perceived to be the best part of this job but it’s more than that. The discovery, the people, the stories are what matter most.

When I set off on that first research, my sources were puzzled at my interest. There has been so much interest in regional cooking these past years, what with the mushrooming of restaurants serving our local cuisine, and domestic tourists going around the country eating dishes in the very places where these originated. Technology has made the sharing of information and impressions instant. But there is need for data that has been chewed, absorbed, then connected to what we are as a people. I hope this book is that for you, armchair traveler or not.

Aklan

A chicken standout amidst all that seafood

Aqua Fresh. Quite a good name for a seafood restaurant (and soap). We had planed into Kalibo on a delayed flight in the afternoon and were raring to sample what was expected in the Visayas—fresh produce from ample aqua resources. So from the center of town, we were driven to the next town of New Washington to this eatery with a fishpond replete with marsh plants at the back and, across from it, the sea with its strong waves bathing the parked vehicles along the shore with its spray.

As in all seafood restaurants, it’s the griller that is the center of attention. Most of what you choose will be cooked there, fed by charcoal and manned by the best griller who knows exactly how much heat is needed and just when the food is done. That way the squid is still tender, the fish is still moist.

After choosing squid and blue marlin to be grilled, we were to have sinigang and kinilaw of pasayan (shrimps), steamed kasag (crab) and, what looked quite exciting to try, binacol, a Western Visayas chicken soup.

My companions had a good laugh when I did my research routine and asked what pang-asim (souring agent) they used in their sinigang (in this Visayan province, they use that term instead of tinola). The answer—Knorr sampaloc. But, of course, our hosts were quick to correct that notion by saying they do use batuan, small round sour fruits still unfamiliar to Luzon folks.

The shrimp kinilaw was sweet and it spoke well of the freshness of the ingredients. It had coconut milk and some bits of salted black beans. The next visit to the place, we looked for this dish and we were thankful there was still one order left.

The binacol was fragrant with tanglad (lemon grass) but was spicier than the Negros version probably because of the ginger. The chicken was native, a bit tougher but infinitely tastier than its non-fertile cousins.

We were fanned by breeze while we ate and more than cooled by our drinks. When the soft drinks and beer were brought in, the beer naturally went to the men. The waitress was a bit bewildered to see an exchange of drinks being done, the beer to the women and the colas to the men. Little did she know that the men were allergic and the women probably addicted.

Meanwhile, we were being entertained by the karaoke singers in the other hut, musical ability and English diction combined. One of them kept us in suspense with his I did it my . . . and here we waited for that final stumble, but he disappointed with his perfect way.

Next day, there was a chance to go to market. Nearing lunch, we were offered fresh seafood but we wanted to try the variety of shells such as the orange meat of the litob, the rounded tuway and the elongated bayuyan. We asked our host to just steam those and to prepare the seaweed they call laba-laba that looked like green flowers. We couldn’t resist the lechon by the kilo (P120 per kilo), the skin with bubbles that indicate crunchiness. No, the saleslady said, they don’t use any aromatic leaves like lemon grass or sampaloc, only salt and onions. It was heavenly that it made one forget some of its deadly cholesterol qualities.

At lunch, as promised by the then Aklan governor Joven Miraflores, the inubaran was there: native chicken in a soup of coconut milk with ubad, the pith of the saba banana chopped finely that it looked like rice grains. We must ask for the recipe.

Of course having imagined how many calories we were to burn, we thought of swimming and walking along the long stretch of white Boracay beach where we were scheduled to go in the afternoon.

A swim later in the afternoon in Boracay’s unbelievably cold waters was not done for the exercise but to be able to say that, yes, I did swim in Boracay’s clear and cold waters while singing in my head, I did it my . . . way.

Boracay that first time was ihaw-ihaw and German dishes of sausages and potato salad. The biggest thing then was an English breakfast, which was really just bread, jam and butter. I had hoped I would find more Filipino cooking, especially what I had on the main island, in the province of Aklan.

Inubaran was what I looked for on that first Boracay visit and every visit thereafter. But it was only at the Boracay Tropics Resort when I tasted it again.

Owners Bert and Cely Sarabia prepared a spread for lunch and what good fortune that they thought that there should be some cooking of the place.

Bert Sarabia is from Kalibo, and he reminisced about the cooking in his hometown. Binakol, he said, is chicken steamed in its own juices inside a bamboo that is cooked over charcoal. Tanglad or lemon grass, a bit of salt and probably chili are all that’s needed for the flavoring and aroma.

The suman served to us by his wife Cely at breakfast and was, thankfully, still there at lunch, was only cooked in his barrio, Old Buswang in Kalibo. The suman is made of malagkit rice mixed with liquefied panocha and cooked for hours. The Sarabias must have asked the cooks to make an exception for their guests that weekend as the suman is usually cooked only during Christmas.

Cely Sarabia also informed me that there was now an Eco Park Bakhawan, this time in the barrio New Buswang in Kalibo. It made us hopeful that Aklanons knew how the fence-like sea trees filtered the water, served as fish and crab sanctuary, and preserved the border between sea and land.

Boracay boasts of good cooking but you usually hear of Italian pizza and gelato, Greek, Portuguese, or Spanish food. Try looking for Filipino food and you get the usual ihaw-ihaw, which isn’t something to sniff at and is an important part of our cuisine.

But there are so many other dishes cooked away from the grill. We need to inform the many foreign tourists who troop to this white-sand paradise about our flavor preferences and how we cook our excellent ingredients. And if we can tell them about Aklan and our country through the food, that’s better than any brochure or tourist guide.

Inubarang Manok

Serves 4

1 chicken, preferably native

2 pieces niyog (mature coconuts)

1 tablespoon and 2 cups water

3 tablespoons oil

3 garlic cloves, peeled and chopped

1 onion, chopped

Lemon grass, washed and leaves wrapped around the bulb

1 piece ubad (banana pith), trimmed and chopped

1 finger chili (red or green)

Salt and pepper, to taste

Clean the chicken, and cut into serving pieces.

Grate the coconut flesh. Add a little water to the grated coconut. Squeeze out the cream, about one cup. Set aside.

Add another 2 cups water to the grated coconut and squeeze out the milk, about 2 cups. Set aside.

Heat the oil in a wok. Sauté garlic and onion. Add the chicken pieces, coconut milk, and lemon grass. Bring to a boil, then down to a simmer until chicken is fork tender.

Add the chopped ubad and stir. Add the finger chili. Continue simmering for about 2 minutes.

Add the coconut cream then let boil without stirring.

Reduce heat to a simmer. Season with salt and pepper. Stir, taste, and correct seasoning if needed.

Transfer to a serving bowl. Serve hot.

Angono

Minaluto: the local buffet

Pavarotti stood near the doorway. It looked like the great tenor anyway, that papier mache higante (giant figure) in a formal black suit. My American guest was amused and later would pose beside it for a picture.

We were in Angono at my favorite spot, Balaw-balaw. This is where I like to take my foreign visitors and balikbayan friends for some local color, art, a place away from maddening too-urbanized Metro Manila, but not too far away.

The more exotic of the entrées, snakes and wild boar, are nice to muse over but guests would rather pass. The best order, something that every diner will like, is the minaluto, a mix of grilled meats, vegetables and seafood with rice flavored with adobo and generous bits of meat right in the middle of all that bounty. It comes in a bamboo container, very native to look at and very fiesta as my guests put it.

But I wanted to let my guests taste what Angono is known for and what Balaw-balaw can do apart from grilling. There just had to be kanduli, fair cousin of the hito (catfish). Dalag, too, mudfish inappropriately named because it doesn’t have even a speck of mud in its innards when caught. Another is the town’s specialty, fried itik (duckling), which can be bought at any food stall in Angono’s street corners (and in the outlying areas of Rizal towns such as Taguig and Tanay) available usually in the afternoon presumably because this is the favorite pulutan, food for drinking bouts.

The kanduli or catfish eel had to be tasted in sinigang sa miso. The soup came piping hot and very sour the way Tagalogs like it. Did I see one guest squint his eyes? The kanduli is a major part of Angono lore and old folks remember how the lake once teemed with this white fish, when fisherfolk used to catch gabundok (mountains) of these. Unhappily, the fish is hard to come by on some days (yes, because of pollution and over-fishing) and what little is caught are not as fat or as huge.

Nilasing na hipon is a great way to start both the meal and conversation. The name amuses because the image is of shrimps drunk on some spirit and then swirling about in stupor. Guests settle down to the explanation that the marinade used is gin and that after the intoxication process, the shrimps are too weak to protest being coated in flour spiked with some salt then deep-fried. The result is a delicious aperitif that can also go well with rice midway through the meal, better flavored if dipped in vinegar.

With or without guests, burong dalag will always be ordered on these infrequent excursions to Angono. My guest thought he would give it a taste if only a wee bit. The general turnoff starts with one whiff of the strong aroma and unaccustomed diners will plead, Maybe next time. The fermented rice sautéed in the trinity of garlic, onion, and tomato is for me always the highlight of my visits to Balaw-balaw. Besides, that’s the name of the dish, balaw-balaw.

While waiting for our dessert (halo-halo and mais con hielo), my guests listened to my version of Angono happenings. Time your visit, I said, during Holy Week and you get the chance to witness the Easter Sunday Salubong rites. Describing doesn’t do justice to the spectacle of pretty girls (called the capitana and tenienta) reciting old poetry in singsong cadence, doing their unique dance called bati (greeting) to the music of the town band led by National Artist Lucio San Pedro before he died, and the folk decor of the puso (a flower shaped like a banana heart) which is opened by papier mache roosters pecking at it to reveal a little girl singing the Regina Coeli as she descends on a swing and removes the mourning veil of the Virgin Mary meeting her risen son, Jesus.

Every year Balaw-balaw owner, artist Digon Vocalan invites friends to breakfast. When he passed away, we visited anyway just to see if breakfast was still served. Cely, Digon’s widow, welcomed us at the entrance.

The buffet was slowly being filled. Arroz caldo in a huge pot was beside the condiments and toppings selections, all placed in a carved container. There was adobo, tocino