You can find Part 1 here
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J for Jollibee
Coming to J in my Filipino culinary alphabet, how could I not talk about Jollibee!?
Anthony Bourdain called it "the wackiest, jolliest place on earth". With a signature dish called Chickenjoy, and a bee for a mascot who has sick dance moves, how could it not be?
A homegrown fast food chain that's seen off the likes of McDonald's and KFC, it is wildly popular across the Philippines and the diaspora. Yes, it is cheap, and yes it is filling - but it's also tasty and fun.
I know some people are a little embarrassed that Jollibee is one of the more visible Filipino things out there, especially on the global stage ("but it's not Filipino food!"), but given the massive role it plays in the lives of many - a quick meal, a hangout spot, a place to celebrate - we can't really ignore its role in culinary culture.
It's really cemented the love of fried chicken in the country. It has its take on traditional dishes, like pancit palabok. And it has others that appeal to the Filipino love of the sour, sweet and savoury - things like Filipino Spaghetti and Peach Mango Pie (which is an elite hand pie, Maccy D apple pies pale in comparison). It may not be what Lola made, but it's carved itself a space within the Filipino food pantheon, and it could only make sense in the Philippines.
For me, I take it for what it is - a fast food chain that, like many others around the world, brings joy to many despite its faults (*cough* poor pay, poor working conditions, poor animal welfare *cough*). And come on, it is all rather uniquely bonkers, isn’t it?
K for Kinilaw
Always it has been a preference for the fresh: the savouring of the new in its pristine state; a respect for integrity, for the thing as it is. The sweetness of the fresh is the distinctive flavor of the past, quick and alive in the present. Through kinilaw we connect with the incredible freshness of being.
These words, from Kinilaw: A Philippine Cuisine of Freshness by Edilberto N. Alegre and Doreen G. Fernandez, captures some of the fundamental and primal beauty that lies behind this cooking technique. The freshest of the fresh, nowadays mostly seafood but in years gone by also meat and plants, is taken, 'cooked' ever so lightly in vinegar or some other souring agent, and then consumed right then and there.
It is a technique found right throughout the Philippine archipelago; "kinilaw exists as living lore... it may well be our national food". To make kinilaw is a way of expressing ourselves as Filipino, and to make the most of our natural environment.
Kinilaw is proudly an ancient cuisine, the discovery and creation of the seafaring, land-loving, nature-wise Filipino.
In the picture: rainbow trout lightly cured in Tarsier Spirit gin, before being finished off in a spiced and aromatic cane vinegar-calamansi marinade right before service.
L for Lumpia
When it comes to L, it surely has to be Lumpia! Ain't no Filipino party without the humble but delicious Filipino spring roll!
One of the great gifts given by the Chinese diaspora in the Philippines, lumpia has been widely adopted, and adapted, across the country. With so many varieties - deep-fried, fresh, meaty, vegetarian, savoury, sweet - catering to different needs and different tastes, it's fair to say that lumpia has been fully indigenised.
The most common ones by far are the standard lumpiang shanghai (ground pork, sometimes with a bit of prawn thrown in for good measure) and lumpiang gulay (vegetable mix), and it can be quite easy to coast through life without realising that there is a vast world of lumpia beyond them.
But visiting my wife’s hometown of Cebu, I’ve been introduced to a variety that has become one of my fast favourites: ngohiong, which are Five Spice-flavoured lumpia that are battered (yes, that’s right, BATTERED) then deep-fried. Seriously, why don’t we batter all lumpia? Aside from tasting delicious and having a beautiful crunch, I love the fact that from the name it can be deduced that it’s a relative of ngo hiang, the Five Spice-flavoured pork rolls wrapped in tofu skin that was spread around southeast Asia by the Hokkien diaspora. At some point in Cebu, the tofu skin disappeared and was replaced by ordinary lumpia wrappers, and then later on someone had the brilliant idea of battering them.
It’s a nice reminder that so much history lies behind such a simple and common staple.
M for Mango
In the UK, it's the South Asian mangoes - Kesar, Alphonso, Chaunsa and others - that predominate. As okay as some of them are (a controversial take, I know), I still yearn for the far superior Filipino varieties, like the Carabao mangoes of Guimaras, Zambales and Cebu, that I used to gorge on as a child every time we went to the Philippines.
Did you know that many Mexican mangoes are descended from Filipino varieties? A fascinating result of the colonial era Manila-Acapulco galleon trade!
Although they grow all year-round in the Philippines, their seasonal peak is usually early summer (May to July). Filipino mangoes, particularly the Carabao variety, tend to be sweet, juicy, aromatic and achingly soft and non-fibrous. Alas, that last characteristic does tend to mean that they don't travel very well (they bruise very easily), hence why we hardly ever see them, and when we do, they cost a pretty penny!
For the most part, ripe mangoes are enjoyed as they are; you can't improve much on perfection! But at the same time, much fun is had incorporating them into sweet treats and snacks: mango cakes, mango empanaditas, mango floats, mango shakes... in the Visayan region, it's common to pair fresh-cut mangoes with some type of kakanin (rice 'cake') - like the ginger-inflected puto maya - and a cup of hot tsokolate; the mix of sweet mango, scented rice, and bitter chocolate is just fantastic.
Green, or unripe mangoes, are savoured for their sourness: sometimes used as a souring agent in sinigang, kinilaw and other dishes, or eaten with salt or bagoong (fermented shrimp paste) for that sour-umami-sweet combo.
There's also a burgeoning industry of dried mangoes, which are ELITE. None of that crap, dry leathery stuff; nay, this is chewy, gummy, juicy and oh so sweet. But dried green mangoes, with their beautiful tartness? Be still my beating heart.
For the supper club, I: bake Mango Cakes, adorned with a thick, rich and slightly oozy caramelised crust; pair mangoes or mango jam (depending on my mood) with Puto Maya and Tsokolate; make Green Mango Sorbet to cut through the creamy decadence of Leche Flan.
N for Nilaga
N for Nilaga! Comfort soup for the soul. The perfect dish for #soupseason
Nilaga translates as 'stew' (being a conjunction of the Tagalog word for ‘boil’), and that's exactly what it is. Typically beef simmered in aromatic and spiced broth and stock, supplemented by your vegetables of choice - sweetcorn, beans, saba/plantains and cabbage are common - and served with rice, it's a healthy dose of hearty deliciousness.
And yet it’s another one of those things that is simultaneously quite a specific thing (a hearty and homey beef soup, as above) as well as a very broad cooking technique (anything can be nilaga). There are a number of beef/ox/carabao soups in the Philippines - bulalo, puchero, cansi, balbakwa for example - and all could theoretically be called a nilaga, though there are differentiations between them which are either major or minor, depending on who you ask (one of the joys and befuddlements of learning about Filipino foods).
Regardless of its exact make-up, nilaga’s simplicity makes it a popular choice for many Filipinos looking to stave off the sub-20c (!) chills of winter, so I think it'd do a good job here in the UK too!
O for Otap
O for Otap, the famous flaky biscuit/biskwit of Cebu!
Otap is a crispy, flaky puff pastry biscuit that's coated with sugar. It's a crunchy little sweet treat that's popular as a pasalubong, or a gift that you bring home after a trip for family and friends to show them you've been thinking of them.
I haven't found much information online or in my books about how and when otap were first made, but looking at the wider history of baking and biscuits in the Philippines is no less fascinating.
Demand in the Philippines for baked goods made from wheat was primarily driven by the Catholic Church needing to produce communion wafers for Mass; therefore wheat importation and baking over the years became tightly controlled by the colonial government. Most of the early state bakeries were, however, staffed by Chinese immigrants, and most wheat was imported from China as it was cheaper than the stuff from Mexico. Later commercial bakeries were set up by Chinese-Filipino families who could draw upon decades of experience working for the government. But outside of these and the state bakeries, it was mainly the wealthy families who were able to own and maintain expensive ovens, and hire the staff to make elaborate and complex bakes.
All of these factors meant that home baking was out of the reach of most indigenous Filipinos, that is until the late 19th century, after the opening up of the Philippines to international trade and technological innovations in the home kitchen. But it seems that it was only during the American colonial period that baking of all sorts, and particularly of the commercial kind, really took off en masse. After all, America needed a new market to sell wheat to!
And yet, the biskwit seems so deeply embedded into Filipino culture, as if it's been there forever. As the food writer Gilda Cordero Fernando wrote, the biscuit "was for people who had the time to nibble and savor it, with a cup of coffee as part of the ritual of merienda". And now, with the rise (and commercialisation?) of pasalubong culture, otap and other biskwit have a new role linking Filipinos the world over.
P for Pancit
For those of us who enjoy the #noodlelife, P is for Pancit!
Introduced by Chinese immigrants and traders, noodles are now a fixture at every celebration, particularly birthdays - the long noodles representing long life.
The name is said to come from the Hokkien pian-e-sit, convenient food, the term applied to the dishes served up by day traders in roadside stalls, quick and easy meals that what we could call an early form of fast food. Noodles, being the most popular of these dishes, thus came to be called pancit, and the businesses that served them panciteria.
There are so many varieties of pancit, from the type of noodles (e.g. canton, misua, sotanghon, bihon, miki), the cooking style (e.g. guisado/stir-fried, soup noodles), to the ingredients and toppings used to create a certain type (e.g. palabok, malabon, cabagan, habhab, bam-i).
My mum used to make pancit palabok a lot when I was younger - achuete-tinged sauce based on a funky seafood broth and lots of garlic, with toppings like calamansi, boiled egg, fried onions and smoked fish or prawns. Alas, I went through an unexplained phase of intensely disliking seafood during my later youth, so I never really fancied her pancit palabok, and subsequently was never much one for pancit in general. But now, having overcome that, and looking to recreate the flavours of my mum’s palabok, I am all about the noodle life now!
Q for Quickmelt
It's Q for Quickmelt! Bit of an odd one no doubt, but there aren't many culinary Q words in the Philippines, and it took a bit of time to decide what would be a good entry for Q...
What is Quickmelt? I'm always reminded of a Korean classmate in Hong Kong who said he didn't like cheese unless it was melted, like on pizza - and Quickmelt, in its many guises, is designed to satisfy that sentiment. A processed blend of cheese, milk solids and emulsifiers (and some other bits?), it melts quickly and evenly at a low temperature.
It is for sure an enduring legacy of the American colonialism that introduced and encouraged the widespread adoption of processed foods, but I think it also builds upon an established tradition of making soft cheeses that can be cooked without splitting i.e. kesong puti, the white cheese traditionally made from carabao/water buffalo milk. Yes, the Philippines is a tropical Asian country with a cheesemaking tradition!
Indeed, aside from more modern uses like on pizzas, buns and other similar things, you'll often find Quickmelt on more traditional merienda fare like ensaymada and various kakakin (puto bumbong and bibingka spring to mind).
As a massive cheese lover (who currently has eight kinds in his fridge), I am a bit conflicted about Quickmelt. On the one hand, I love the various 'proper' artisanal cheeses here in the UK and Europe. But on the other hand, I have fond memories of the Quickmelt ensaymada that my mum would always ensure we had whenever we went to the Philippines for holidays; you see, it was one of her favourite treats growing up.
One thing that's for sure: Quickmelt has definitely found its place in the Filipino palate
R for Rice
Kanin, kan-on, bigas, malagkit, whatever you might call it in its many forms, rice is the main staple of Filipino food. Not only is it the centrepiece of most meals, it's also a flexible and valued ingredient in a whole range of other dishes - for example, kakanin, those lovely little treats/cakes made from ground rice.
For me, the centrality of rice is demonstrated by the word ulam. Often translated as viand, what it really means is some sort of dish eaten alongside rice. The strong and punchy (and salty?) flavours of some of our foods are designed to be mediated by the presence of plain rice; without rice, an ulam is incomplete.
But I also like this quote from Amy Besa and Romy Dorotan's book, Memories of Philippine Kitchens:
Rice defines and localizes me. Growing up in Manila and living for several decades in New York, there are times when I need to figure out who I am. Every time I reach out for rice, it tells me that I am Asian - specifically, I am Filipino. The reflexive gesture informs me that the proper seasoning and flavors of the accompanying dishes can only be negotiated when eaten with rice.
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Part 3 will cover entries S to Z, Sinigang to Zamboanga