Knowing Filipino Food: Palapa, the sofrito of Mindanao
My introduction to the cuisines of Mindanao, and hopefully yours too
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You may remember in my last post that I mentioned a dish that was new to me: Sinina. A festive dish from Maguindanao, on the southern island of Mindanao, it sees beef or goat simmered in coconut milk with a variety of vegetables, aromatics and spices. For someone who is not familiar with Maguindanaoan cuisine and doesn’t know what the key flavours that make up the cuisine are, it can be a bit hard to imagine what this dish might taste like. Ang Sarap describes it as “like a cross between the Filipino Kaldereta and the Malaysian Beef Rendang”, which helps a bit… unless you don’t know what those are like either…!
Peruse the ingredients list, and you’ll come across something else that is likely to add further mystery to the dish: palapa. Ang Sarap’s recipe doesn’t really explain what this is, other than to instruct you to make a pounded paste of spring onions, ginger paste and chillies. What is it, what is it meant to be like, what is it meant to taste like? And what does it bring to this dish that makes it an important component?
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I first came across palapa back in early 2019. I had been asked to cook a dinner for Conflict Café, the once-annual dinner set up by the charity International Alert to raise awareness and funds for their peacebuilding initiatives around the world. That year, they had chosen to focus on their work in the Philippines, particularly in Mindanao; specifically, the Bangsamoro, the Muslim heartland of the country that is mainly known, unfortunately, for its decades-long conflict revolving around land, wealth and religion.
International Alert began working in the Philippines in 1988, supporting the peace process between the Philippines government and the National Democratic Front of the Philippines. Alert then established a country office in the Philippines in 2009 to work on the interconnection between violent conflict and exclusion in Muslim Mindanao. At the time, a ‘final’ peace agreement with the Moro National Liberation Front (MNLF) had been signed, and negotiations were ongoing with the Moro Islamic Liberation Front (MILF). Still, the situation in Muslim Mindanao had been volatile, marked by clashes between the government and MILF rebels, and disputes between neighbours, families and clans.
Our work on galvanizing support for the peace processes, conflict monitoring, the shadow economies, conflict-sensitive economic governance, and restorative justice is in response to addressing enduring and newly emerging drivers of violent conflict, such as violent extremism, that continues to impact communities even with the signing of peace agreements.
The request from International Alert was hot off the heels of the bloody and devastating Battle of Marawi between the Philippine army and Islamic State-affiliated militants, which had left a vibrant and proud town, the capital of the Maranao people (the ‘people of the lake’, the lake of Lanao), in ruins. It had been suggested in the early planning discussions that alongside my more-established favourites, I do a dish that represented the cuisine of Mindanao, perhaps something from the Maranao people.
Of course, I replied; doing a dish to pay tribute to Muslim Mindanao would be very fitting for the dinner. I did say though that my knowledge in that area was *extremely* limited, but that I would do some research. That research would lead me to the popular Maranao dish, piaparan, and its key ingredient, palapa. Indeed, it was hard not to read about the two: well-known Filipino influencer, Erwan Heussaff, had just released a video featuring them, prompting a flurry of interest in a delicacy not often seen outside of Mindanao.
In essence, palapa is a spicy and aromatic pounded paste/mix of sakurab (a local breed of spring onion/scallion), chillies and ginger, pounded together with other seasonings and ingredients, depending on the version you are making (for whilst it is first and foremost a Maranao thing, other neighbouring ethnic groups also make use of palapa). Without sakurab or an equivalent, however, there is no palapa.
Reading more about palapa reveals that it is the base of many dishes across the region, sometimes in different formulations depending on the intended usage: a marinade for meats and fishes; the sautéed ingredients that infuse a dish with their flavours; a cooking addition to adjust the developing tastes of a dish to preference; a condiment to finish off and personalise a plate of food.
One of the few Maranao cookbooks published in recent years is named Manga Tutul a Palapa by Assad Baunto. It was released not long after the Battle of Marawi - Baunto writes in the introduction that “Marawi is probably lost but our food is not” - and is an ode to the culture, cuisine and people he loves deeply, all bound together by palapa (the title of the book roughly translates as ‘Palapa Stories’). To say that palapa is important is perhaps an understatement.
(Side note: Manga Tutul a Palapa is out of print, and finding copies is like searching for hen’s teeth. If anyone was able to source me a copy, I would be eternally grateful)
The most well-known dish to utilise palapa is perhaps piaparan. Meaning ‘shredded coconut’, it usually sees chicken (but other meats or seafoods can do too) simmered with palapa and turmeric in coconut milk, before being fried with shredded coconut and more turmeric. The coconut-coated chicken is then served with rice, with the coconut milk broth on the side as a separate soup, with various vegetables added in. It is highly-spiced from the chillies in the palapa, complex from the palapa aromatics, earthy from the turmeric, creamy and coconutty; it is fantastically delicious.
Of course I had to feature palapa and piaparan in my Conflict Café; after much experimentation and tweaking over several months, I eventually settled on making a young jackfruit piaparan (piaparan na langka), cooked down until thick and able to be served in lettuce leaf cups. Whilst I loved the soupy chicken version, I wanted to make something vegan that was accessible to all the diners, lighter and snackier, interactive and tactile, and also meant less work for me; the dinner was for 56 people and was cooked out of a crappy and cramped borrowed kitchen across a road from the venue, after all! I think that people enjoyed what they had, and I hope that they learned much as I explained the dish, where it came from, why I made it, and also how mine differed significantly from traditional versions.
It was important to me that I stressed the provenance of palapa and piaparan. The Maranao, along with other Muslim Filipinos (collectively known as Moro) have been marginalised a lot in wider Filipino society; as a non-Muslim Filipino, I didn’t want to add further to that, particularly when there is no commercially-available ‘proper’ and ‘authentic’ representation of the dish in the UK that I could defer to. Having never tasted piaparan in its original context either, I had doubts in the back of my mind as to whether I was even making it properly…!
On reflection, it is a bit of a shame that I and my diners were first introduced to Maranao food through the lens of conflict, strife and dispossession, ironically reinforcing the idea of Mindanao as the danger island of the Philippines at a dinner all about promoting peace. Ah well.
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But hopefully that’s changing. Given its prominence in the regional cuisine, it’s perhaps no surprise that palapa and the various dishes you can make it from it, seem to be the leading the charge for the increasing popularity of Muslim Filipino food, both in the Philippines and in the diaspora.
In the Philippines: Quiapo Muslim Town in Manila is starting to become a bit of a foodie destination; Cathie Carpio is publicising her in-depth research into Mindanaoan cuisines, whilst Angelo Comsti includes various dishes in his Also Filipino cookbook.
In the US: piaparan features as a recipe in the cookbook I am a Filipino (Nicole Ponseca and Miguel Trinidad); whilst Tom Cunanan of Bad Saint introduced palapa in a salad and as a condiment.
Here in the UK: piaparan, both chicken and young jackfruit forms, is a staple on my menus; Mae of Food with Mae has also cooked it at some of her pop-ups; Tintin of Swilipino featured piaparan as the main in her meal kit with home delivery service Dishpatch; Budgie Montoya started experimenting with palapa for his restaurant Sarap.
And I think it’s well-deserved. I’ve come to call palapa the sofrito or even mirepoix of Mindanao, reflecting the flexibility and utility of those preparations and the way that they impart deliciousness to dishes. But also, in my mind it helps - at least for the Western audiences that I explain it to - to underline the heritage, sophistication and craftsmanship of Maranao and other Filipino cuisines akin to European cuisines that are often seen as more prestigious. Our cuisines are just as good as any other, and we need to remind ourselves of that.
So here’s a palapa recipe for you guys to play around with. It’s my light adaptation of Tom Cunanan’s fried palapa condiment from his Bad Saint restaurant in Washington DC. It’s spicy, salty, sweet, aromatic, umami-laden; it can be thrown on anything and everything that needs a little boost, much like Japanese furikake. But for a more traditional usage, why not make beef sinina, or piaparan na manok, and sprinkle some on top?
Let palapa be your gateway into the cuisines of Muslim Mindanao, as it has been for me.
Fried Palapa Condiment, adapted from Tom Cunanan
Makes a decent-sized batch that can feed you for a month, depending on how often you use it
16x Thai birdseye chillies / siling labuyo
1.5x heads of garlic
2x inches of ginger
1x bunch of spring onions / sakurab
6x makrut lime leaves
6x dried shiitake mushrooms
2x cups of grated/shredded coconut (can be found in the frozen section of many Asian shops)
3x tbsp of granulated white sugar
2x tbsp of coarse sea salt
Finely mince the chillies, ginger, garlic and spring onions
Thinly slice the makrut lime leaves
Grind the dried shiitake mushrooms into a powder; a blender can help with this
In a large pan, over a medium heat fry the coconut until it starts to brown; once this happens, stir frequently to prevent burning and to ensure that all of the coconut browns equally. This can take around 20 minutes
In another pan, over a medium heat fry the chillies, ginger, garlic, spring onions and makrut lime leaves in a little vegetable oil (or coconut oil if you have it) until the mix becomes fragrant
Add all of the aromatics, sugar and salt to the toasted coconut, and continue frying until a deep golden brown colour develops. This can take around 10 minutes
Chill before serving. Can last for several months in the fridge if stored in airtight containers