Eating my words

(Editor’s note: The author’s “Tempest in a Kaldero” column is now called “Kuro-Kuro,” which will alternate with his “Turo-Turo.”)

I received this e-mail from Clint, a Filipino doctoral candidate in food anthropology in London.

Of the many things you’re doing, what do you think is the most important aspect of your advocacy, and what can other people (including other food writers, chefs, and ordinary Pinoys living in the Philippines or abroad) do? Does our cuisine need a facelift, repackaging, better PR?

Clint

It’s like I’m a food missionary spreading the good word on our cuisine, sa salita at sa diwa. One can say I’m literally eating my words (pun intended), practicing what I preach, in both my cooking and writing. Filipino restaurateurs, entrepreneurs, and even just ordinary citizens out there should pick it up and start the (culinary) revolution.

If charity begins at home, let the makeover begin at home, too. Let’s start in our own small, private way. Serve our daily meals at home just a little better, make that extra effort. Invite friends over for dinner by serving your everyday Filipino food but in a well-thought-of presentation, using nicer dishes (not necessarily expensive), just different from the ordinary.

The OFW, who is practically in every part of the world, can start a quiet revolution as well. Invite your employer to your home, no matter how humble. And never be apologetic.  It’s the sincerity of sharing that counts in the end. 

Practically every other kid in the world has a “Filipino connection” somehow. These are the future generations of world leaders, captains of industry, and ordinary citizens alike who have shared Filipino taste buds and memories in them, if not compassion and demeanor. The latest addition attesting to this phenomenon is the appointment of Cristeta Pasia Comerford as executive chef to the US White House, the first woman and first of Filipino descent to be selected for the post.

Filipina Araceli “Lillie” Piccio served as nanny to Prince William and Prince Harry for 14 years.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the Atlantic, Filipina Araceli “Lillie” Piccio served as nanny to Prince William and Prince Harry for 14 years. It is not so farfetched to think that adobo, pancit and fried lumpia might someday replace the hotdog, spaghetti and pizza as the world’s comfort foods. It is my fervent hope, though, that the world will discover that there’s more to Philippine cuisine beyond adobo, pancit, and fried lumpia.

Taste-wise, there’s nothing to change or “upgrade” (I hate the use of this word). Don’t alter it for foreigners’ consumption. Had the Japanese cooked their sashimi just to please those who don’t eat raw food, would we have such gastronomic delights from the land of the rising sun? Likewise, did the Koreans lessen the garlic and chili in their kimchi? Our cuisine is masarap and malinamnam as it is. Just make it presentable. And do away with the balut. It’s what turns off and scares away foreigners from trying our cuisine. It’s not even uniquely ours. They have it in Thailand and Vietnam. 

Our cuisine has extreme tastes of sour, bitter, salty and sweet. But is the lack of a standardized version of dishes (i.e., adobo is a technique, rather than a recipe) a boon or bane? 

In the Filipino context, adobo generally refers to the chicken/pork stew simmered in vinegar and garlic. It is perhaps the country’s most popular dish, spawning so many variants that it is inaccurate to call it a singular dish. To say there are 7,100 recipes of our adobo is an understatement — there are as many kinds of adobo as there are households. Treating adobo as a cooking technique will give us a better understanding of its nature. It is the braising of any meat (chicken, pork, beef, quail, duck, venison, seafood, etc.) or vegetable in vinegar, garlic, black peppercorns and bay leaf, with regional variations or personal preferences of adding soy sauce (from the Chinese), atsuete (Mexican achiote or annatto), onion, coconut cream, lemongrass or turmeric. It can be made like a saucy stew, or thickened with chicken liver, or the cooked adobo meat pulled apart to be deep-fried into crispy flakes. It is this versatility that makes it the most popular and well-loved Filipino comfort food. Ergo with sinigang, a clear-broth soup dish made with a sour fruit, again depending on the maker’s personal preference, region and season in which fruit is available, or what seafood, meat or vegetable is available or afforded. Both adobo and sinigang are the great levelers — the cooking method and cooked dish that cross all economic boundaries.

I see the lack of standardized versions of certain dishes as a healthy sign — it clearly shows the sheer variety and plurality/regionality of our cuisine, or cuisines, I should emphasize. For crying out loud, we’re an archipelago of more than 7,100 islands. To call it “Filipino cuisine” is too limiting; it should be “the cuisines of the Philippines” (just like asking what Chinese, French, Spanish cuisine, etc., are). How boring it would be if we all ate the same chicken/pork adobo or the same sinigang (how can that be possible? There’s pork, beef or seafood, soured with tamarind, kamias, calamansi, batuan, alibangbang or guava.) It is but natural — imperative even — that we would have different versions of certain dishes in different regions.

Speaking of standardizing, look what’s happening to the sinigang — the popularity of instant sinigang mixes (due to convenience and economics) has standardized the dish to the point that it has fast become this generation’s standard of what a sinigang should be. A culinary school in Manila did a blind tasting of sinigang with real sampalok and the sinigang mix among its students. Ninety percent favored the latter, with many not even having tasted fresh green tamarind before. Lamentable it may be, but it’s the reality of things.

If at all, Filipino dishes are nuanced: neither too sweet, sour, bitter or salty. Why do you think the sawsawan is ever present in every home and commercial establishment, humble or upscale? Doreen Fernandez ascribes it as a way of fine-tuning the taste of the dish to that of the individual diner, unlike in western cooking, particularly French, where there’s the ego of the chef to contend with (thank God for our great, unnamed kusineros!) Sawsawan is one of those things that make our cuisine truly so Pinoy!

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Fire away your questions at Facebook Claude Tayag or e-mail claudetayag@gmail.com.