451. ACHARA ART: Relishing our Artistic Pickling Tradition

Picked Me Pink: ATSARA, pickled vegetables, presented artfully.

The Philippines share many food preserving traditions with its Asian neighbors, the most popular being pickling fruits and vegetables. Our term for such preserved condiment is “atsara / achara”, from the Indian “achaar”, a generic term for anything pickled. India’s stamp on our regional cuisine is evident as well in Malaysia, Indonesia, Singapore and Brunei, where the condiment is called “acar” or “atjar”.

Just about any fruit or vegetable can be pickled, depending on the country’s produce. Indian prefer green mangoes, lemons, carrot, chickpeas. Pickling, like its allied processes like fermenting, preserving by sugar, and drying is a way of extending the shelf life of food, and ensures availability of out-of-season fruits, vegetables and other produce.

ACHARA Atbp, from "Filipino Heritage:The Making of a Nation" 

Papaya is the most common choice in Southeast Asian countries, including the Philippines. The pickling medium also varies—Japanese and Korean kitchens use salt, rice bran, miso (fermented bean paste), and mustard, while Indian cooks use mustard or sesame oil.  

Our local achara, made from green papaya laced with carrots, pepper, onion and optional raisins, is sweet and tangy. Its table uses also vary—as a side dish, dipping sauce, flavor breaker from the sameness of food, or relish to accompany longganisas and fish. I know at least one person who eats atsara as salad!

 MARMALADAS y CONSERVAS:  Orange, Pineapple, Kundol, Papaya

But it is in the manner of presentation that the Philippine achara is truly distinctive.While the pickling process is relatively simple--- upon boiling the fruit ‘n  vegetable mix, the pickling syrup takes over—and in a week’s time or longer, the atsara is ready to eat. It is the preliminary preparation of ingredients, however, where the creativity of local cooks found full expression. Grating the papaya is easy enough, but artistic cutting of the other achara ingredients requires a higher level of skill and attention.

Before placing in bottles for pickling, the vegetable and fruit pieces were delicately cut and carved with intricate designs—carrots were fancifully shaped into flowers, cucumbers became foliage or rosettes, and melons scooped into balls.

FRUITY FRETWORK, Sunday Time Magazine, 1966

This vegetable and fruit carving tradition harkens back to the ancient ages in Japan, where it began and known as “mukimono”,  then spread to the Malay region where the practice was adapted in local kitchens. The art thrived in some countries like Cambodia and Thailand especially, but not in the Philippines where, even before World War II, papaya carving was already a dying art.

Food technologist (and later, war heroine)  Maria Orosa, of The Bureau of Plant Industry, sought to revive the art by gathering trainees to learn the skill. Most of the talents came from Bulacan. One, Mrs. Luisa A. Arguelles of Meycauayan was a master carver of not just papayas, but kundol, candied orange and camote. She carved silhouettes of people’s profiles, various font styles, and figurals from peels and flat fruit pieces. Another, Mrs. Presentacion de Leon used locally-invented carving tools to make elaborate fruit and vegetable pieces that were shaped like balls, curls and petals.

ROSES AND THORNS, Vegetable Carving, STM 1966

Once the boiled in the pickling solution, the mixed fruit-vegetable achara is placed in wide-mouthed jars and the carved vegetable pieces are arranged and coaxed into positions to form  pleasant scenes and words (e.g. “recuerdo”, “ala-ala”, “amistad”). The bottles or jars are then sealed and let to stand on display on the aparador platera for all to see. The merits of these bottled achara lie not only in the decorative folk artistry but also in the rich flavor of its varied contents.

Aside from the papaya-based achara,  green mangos, kamias, radishes, and santols were also pickled in brine water. Filipino homemakers—from big cities to rural barrios—learned the art of pickling and preserving early—informally or home economics classes. Proof of their kitchen wizardry was when a group of Filipinos, mostly from Pampanga, won merit awards at culinary contest held at the 1904 St. Louis World’s Fair.

FRUIT AND VEGETABLE CARVING TOOLS, Sunday Times Magazine, 1966

Among those recognized was Atanacio Rivera de Morales (buri palm preserves ); Isabel Mercado (preserved limoncito); Irene Canlas (preserved melon); Maria Guadalupe Castro (santol jelly); Rafaela Ramos Angeles (santol preserves) and Justa de Castro (kamias fruit preserve).

Imported pickled cucumbers in bottles were available in the Philippines in the 1930s under the Del Monte (Achara de Pepinillos) and Achara Libby’s brand. Local attempts to commercialize production of similar products began when American Mrs. Gertrude Stewart arrived in the Philippines in 1928. Living here, she was disappointed to find recipes in magazines calling for ingredients not found in the country so she created new recipes integrating local produce.

From vegetables and fruits--to blooms, petals,  and flowers!!

In 1959, Mrs. Stewart was contracted by Estraco Inc, a distributing company, to supply pickles, fruit preserves and marmalade products for their new food division. Thus Mrs. Gertrude Stewart Homestyle Foods was born. Her greatest contribution to the food industry is the utilization of native Philippine fruits like the duhat, bignay and sayote that she used to create mock maraschino cherries.

CUT ABOVE THE REST. An expert fruit and vegetable carver

Today, the bottled achara has become a familiar offering in pasalubong stores, food stalls and even big groceries and supermarkets, supplied by small to medium sized home industries. Packaged in bottles labeled with catchy brand names, the commercial atsara may still hold the same taste appeal, but for sheer visual attraction, nothing can match the presentation of atsaras of yesteryears.

Though some might dismiss this pleasing bottled arrangement as purely culinary, the art of fruit and vegetable carving/cutting is part of our cultural heritage, a charming form of folk art where food becomes the art itself.

For to fashion a santol into a multi-petalled dahlia flower, to create stars out of carrots, green papaya into curlicued leaves, mangos into palm fronds, to carve sentiments of love and names of beloved on a pomelo, constitutes a skill worthy of an artistic genius.

SOURCES:

All About Achaar, the Indian Pickle: Recipe and Tips, Written by MasterClass

The Folk Art Issue, The Sunday Times Magazine, May 1963

The Food Issue, The Sunday Times Magazine, 1966

“Let’s Preserve our Preserves”, The Sunday Time Magazine, 12 March 1961 issue, p. 32

“Conservas”, The Tribune, 25 Nov. 1933, Rotogravure Section, p. 3.

Homefront section, The Tribune, 10 Dec. 1943, p. 27

 

450. BOBOTU: More Connected with Indonesian Bobotok than with Mexican Tamales

I  SAY BOBOTU, YOU SAY TAMALES...

My earliest encounter with local kapangan was not with the readily available puto (both lason and kutsinta), the common kalame and suman, but with bobotu—the banana leaf-wrapped treat with a rather unusual taste and an even stranger name.

It was always made at home during the yearly fiestas of my town, prepared by Ati Bo, my dad’s former nanny who came to live with us and her family for the rest of her life.

Exposed early to the making of the bobotu, I acquired a taste for its delicate “malinamnam” mix of spicy-salty-peanutty flavors, so different from other kapangans that were mostly sweet.

A week before the fiesta, Ati Bo would recruit extra help from Arayat, her original hometown. The women would efficiently turn the back of our home into a dirty kitchen, cleaning and bringing out implements like the kawa (vat),  the stone gilingan in which to ground malagkit rice to a paste (galapong), and the coconut kudkuran.

My favorite part of the process takes place on the long bangku (benches) where the bobotu was “assembled” efficiently . One lays a line of cut, fire-softened banana leaves on the bench, while another plops a dollop of the cooked bobotu mix on the wrapper with a sandok.

 She is followed by another worker who tops the mix with the right amount of rich, orange spiced sauce—made pretty much like the one used for pancit palabok. The next helper deftly arranges slivers of chicken (or sometimes ham), slices of hard-boiled eggs, and crushed peanuts on top of the sauce. The final step is steaming the leaf wrapped bobotu, but I prefer eating it some hours after, when the consistency is firmer to my liking.

Documenting bobotu makers with Bryan Koh, culinary writer

The sheer number of ingredients explains the bobotu’s distinctive taste, making it more than just a kapangan to me. It can very well be an ulam (viand) or a meal in itself. But what about the name—Bobotu? When did people start calling it “tamales”?

For as long as I can remember in the early 1960s, we only called it “bobotu”—and by no other name. I started hearing the term “tamales”  more frequently to our bobotu, from mostly Manila friends and outsiders. Maybe “tamales” sounds more “sosy” (classy) than bobotu, for those with more refined tastes. Even ambulant vendors have been hollering "Puto!! Tamales!" when they make the rounds of the nieghborhood. During a 2012 food research trip with Singaporean culinary writer Bryan Koh in San Fernando, Pampanga, kapangan makers there differentiated the tamales from a bobotu. Tamales, they say, is a more special version because it has more toppings!

I have also heard stories about it being a Mexican import, introduced here during the time of the galleon trade. Sure, our amigos introduced us to the avocado, the camachile, and the guava, but I still have yet to see references about “tamales” in the Philippines in written works or old documents.  I have always thought that given the use of basic ingredients, and the fact that the Asiatic region has an ancient established culture of leaf-wrapped cooking, the “bobotu” of Pampanga must be known even before the Conquest.

I can only offer a few conjectures. Could it be that the Spaniards saw the banana-wrapped bobotu and noted some similarities with the corn husk-wrapped “tamales” of Mexico, their Nueva España of central America—and began calling them as tamales (of the East) , too?

Or just maybe, it was the Mexicans themselves who saw our “bobotu”, which triggered memories of their homemade “tamales”.  Could there have been a case of reverse adaptation where the Mexicans made tamales here, substituting local ingredients, like our rice, for their corn? Did the Mexicans turn the bobotu into tamales? Or did the Filipinos turned the tamales into a new bobotu as a way of resisting what was alien to their palate?

Just a few years back, an origin story alleging how the delicacy came to be called “bobotu” circulated in the local culinary circle. In pre-women’s suffrage days (i.e. before 1937), it was said that women huddled together and voted to cook “bobotu”, while their menfolk were out casting their ballots in the town elections. The dish they cooked was reportedly, “bobotong asan”.

I heard this story few months after the folk song, “Eleksyon Ding Asan”, collected by Dr. Lino L. Dizon in San Fernando, saw print in a popular Singsing magazine.  I am inclined to believe that the overly-imaginative storyteller learned of this song, borrowed the plot about fishes involved in the electoral process, to cook this yarn of a tale.

“Bobotu” sounds Malayo-Polynesian to me, so I proceeded to locate the word and its variations in Bahasa, Javanese, Malay dictionaries and on-line translators. This led me the Javanese word “botok / bothok”,  defined as “a traditional dish made from grated coconut flesh, which has been squeezed of its coconut milk, often mixed with other ingredients such as vegetables or fish, and wrapped in banana leaf and steamed.” The key words: “coconut flesh”, “coconut milk”, “banana leaf”, “steamed”, leaped out from the page, as they are associated with preparing “bobotu”.

It goes on to describe its consistency ( “It has a soft texture like the mozzarella cheese and is usually colored white.”), cooking and serving suggestions (“To add flavor and nutrients… use additional ingredients as...tofu,..catfish,..salted fish..egg… salted egg…shrimp..minced beef”).  Like in Pampanga where we have “bobotung asan”, Indonesia, too, has “bobotok lele” , steamed banana-wrapped catfish laced with spices, tomatoes, and peppers.

Botok was so popular among the Indonesians that it has become a generic term for any dish made by wrapping various ingredients in banana leaves, then steaming them.

Now the clincher:  The plural form of “botok” is botok-botok, which, when contracted becomes another alternative name with a familiar ring-- “BOBOTOK”! Have we found bobotu’s nearest of kin?

Of course, there are telling differences too. “Bobotok” doesn’t make use of rice dough—it is in fact, served as a viand, to be eaten with rice. On the other hand, the Mexican tamale uses a masa of corn flour, while Pampanga’s uses rice flour. Tamales are filled with a mix of meats, beans and cheese, wrapped in corn husks, while bobotu is topped with achuete-based sauce, meat, eggs and nuts, wrapped in banana leaf. And, as mentioned earlier, they taste a world apart.

It is interesting to note that in South Africa, another dish inspired by “bobotok” is served in many homes where it is called “bobotie”.  According to Jakarka Post writer Theodora Hurustiati, bobotie was “first introduced by Javanese slaves, brought to South Africa through Cape Town by the Dutch East India Company in the 1600s”. Apparently, a large number of workers from Southeast Asia were recruited who practiced their cooking traditions as one Malay-speaking community. Indeed, good food, like good news, travels.

I’ve always known bobotu as bobotu, so I will always call it bobotu, not tamales--never mind if the English bard maintains that “a rose by any other name would smell as sweet”. Tamale never tasted anything like bobotu, anyway.  Bobotu originated in this part of the world, with a name that is clearly Malayo-Polynesian, not Mesoamerican. The Spanish/Mexicans may have contributed the word tamales—their sole influence-- but not the origin of a kapangan we know ever since as bobotu. We could say merely that they built on the Philippines’ leaf-wrapped cooking tradition that is aligned with the well-entrenched Asian gastronomic culture.

 SOURCES:

Bobotie's Melting Pot, https://www.thejakartapost.com/news/2013/11/10/bobotie-s-melting-pot.html

 Tamale Digest. https://tamaledigest.blogspot.com/2014/05/filipino-tamales.html

 Vegegable Dish: Botok. https://www.tasteatlas.com/botok

 Anchovy Botok Recipe, Nutritious Home Cooking Menu, https://endeus.tv/resep/botok-teri-menu-masakan-rumahan-yang-bergizi

*381. Piece of Cake: KAPAMPANGANS' SWEET TOOTH

My parents’ little wedding cake was baked and decorated by an unknown bakeshop, but it was pretty enough to be featured in a cooking section of a 1949 magazine. Our love affair with sweet treats spans everything from local kakanins to European and American-style cakes and pastries, that Kapampangan bakers have also come to master. 

 When my father and mother got married in 1949, their reception featured a nicely baked and decorated wedding cake. It was all white and trimmed with sprays of sugared flowers, topped with toy figures of the bride and groom. Though just a modest-size cake, it looked so exquisite, worthy enough to be featured in a lifestyle section of a newspaper. My mother clipped that article and pasted it on her wedding album, alongside their cake-eating photos. We had that album for years, until it fell into tatters—including the magazine clipping.

Thank God, I still have the cake photos to remember that “sweetest”day of my parents’ lives. Kapampangans have always had a taste for sweets—thanks to our robust sugar industry. From our clay ovens and open hearths, our lolos and lolas cooked “kakanins’ that were all-sugar based—kalame, tibuk-tibuk, mochi, pastillas, bibingka. Later,”hurnos”or ovens of clay or bricks were introduced, that enabled Filipinos to do some baking—pan de sals, panecitos, araro (arrowroot) cookies, saniculas.

 During the American Period, especially in the 20s and 30s, well-off Kapampangan families sent their daughters abroad to learn new skills in fashion,couture, and of course, culinary arts. The era also introduced her to new contraptions for the kitchen—the modern oven—which further helped her to create an assortment of confection: soft mamons, fluffy ensaimadas, and cakes of all kinds, following American and European recipes. With their baking wizardry, many of these women even became entrepreneurial.

 One such grand dame was widow Salud Dayrit Santos (b. 7 Feb. 1883/d.1970), who became an expert in whipping up international dishes under the tutelage of Paris-educated Rosario Hizon-Ocampo. But “”Imang Salud” took most pride in her pastries made to perfection: Petit Fours, Empanaditas, Nougatine, Mazapan de Pili.

 But it was her ‘’ensaimadas’’ that were to die for. She baked them with care, slathered with Brun butter, and dusted with grated queso de bola. Her rich-tasting creations were soon snapped up by friends and neighbors. Today, Imang Salud’s granddaughter, Meliza Santos, is carrying on the tradition, baking ensaymadas using her apu’s heirloom recipe. Branded with her name, Imang Salud Ensaimadas are today, sold in select places like the Legazpi Weekend Market.

 Ocampo-Lansang Delicacies in Sta. Rita, is another homegrown business—modest by standards—but very popular in the Kapampangan region, all because of its two products—turrones de casuy and sans rival. It was started in 1920 by Felisa Lansang, who learn to make the sweet treat from a recipe learned from Spanish Dominican nuns.

 At least two Hizons are credited for building successful business based on their baking know-how. The Hizon’s Cakes & Pastries on Bocobo Street in Ermita, Manila was founded by Inocencia Hizon, a widowed single mother who worked as a department store clerk at Aguinaldo’s, Escolta.

 Family lore has it that the now-famous ensaymada recipe was given to her by an anonymous woman. Inocencia baked dozens of ensaymadas using the recipe, and engaged the help of her sister to peddle the pastries in offices, which, to her surprise, were all sold-out. This encouraged her to put up a bakeshop which she named simply as “Hizon’s”, on Raon St.

 Today, Hizon’s has branches in Pasay, Greenhills and Makati, run by daughter Milagros Ramos Roasa. The shop is also famous for its taisans, apple pies and ube cakes, but the ensaymada remains a sentimental favorite.

 Amalia Hizon of Mexico, together with husband Renato Mercado, put up a little cake shop called Red Ribbon that drew praises for its cakes and pastries. They put up the first shop in 1978 along Timog Ave. in Quezon City. In a matter of years, the cake shop gained a substantial following, and in 1984, it opened a U.S. outlet. It was no wonder then that Jollibee Food Corp. acquired the business in 2005. 

Another name to reckon with in the field of baking and pastry arts is Emelita Basilio Wong-Galang. The exigencies of an early marriage prompted her to study cooking, taking lessons from her mother-in-law and heeding the kitchen wisdom of her Chinese-born father, Jose Wong (Ho Keng Gip), who worked as a cook in Pampanga hotels and restaurants--including Orchid's canteen-- before setting up his much-patronized Royal Bakery in Angeles City.

 In 1980, Galang put up the first culinary school in Northern Luzon—the Emelita W. Galang Culinary Arts Studio Inc., which today, offers such courses as cake decorating, chocolate artistry and other confectionary arts.

Of course, Kapampangan cookery is also part of her school’s curriculum. Whether you are craving for a puto or petit fours, mochi or meringue, sanikulas or sans rival, pan de sal or pound cake-- the versatile Kapampangan woman of the house can make them all, to your heart’s delight. With her deep and extensive kitchen background…even baking is a piece of cake!

*367. Good Times, Great Eats: SPIC 'N SPAN

SPIC TO ME. A 1950s advertisement of Spic 'n Span, one of Pampanga's premiere and  popular restaurants founded by Pilar Mendez-Gomez, widow of Vicente Gomez of Angeles. 

 “Let’s have ice cream at Spic ‘n Span!” 

Whenever my dad was in the mood for treating us kids, he would holler those words, and we would all respond with squeals of delight at the prospect of having a good time over at Angeles’ most popular haven of refreshment.

 Long before McDonald’s and Jollibee, there was Spic ‘n Span, located along the national road in Balibago, Angeles City, near the Mabalacat town boundary. It was not exactly a fastfood restaurant, but it billed itself as a “cocktail lounge and restaurant”, catering to banquets, wedding receptions and parties at popular prices. But to us, Spic ‘n Span represented everything that was cool, clean and refreshing, a break from our humdrum routine and a special time for family to bond and recharge.

 In fact, it was the latter that became the guiding light of the Spic ‘n Span founder, Mrs. Pilar Gomez, in the successful management of her restaurant business, elevating it as one of Central Luzon’s best.

Pilar Mendez was born in Paco, Manila on 2 October 1899, the daughter of Manuel Mendez, a Tabacalera executive, and Benita Bautista of Victoria, Tarlac. Of Spanish stock, Pilar grew up speaking Spanish, and was educated at Sta. Isabel College and St. Scholastica College.

 Just a few years into college, she met Vicente “Centi” Gomez (b. 24 Nov. 1889), the son of Esteban Gomez and Josefa Pamintuan of Angeles. Esteban was the first-born of Nicolas Gomez (aka Fray Guillermo Masnou, cura of Angeles) with local lass Patricia Mercado.

Their short courtship culminated in their wedding on 19 Mar. 1920. Their children—11 of them-- would come in quick succession, and to help fend for the family, Pilar set up a small restaurant in 1945—“Linda’s Nook and Drive In”, which was to become the forerunner of “Spic ‘n Span”.

 In 1953, her husband, Centi, died leaving the widow alone to run the restaurant business. Her devotion to her family spurred her in steering Spic ‘n Span to greater heights, which eventually became one of Pampanga’s finest and well-known restaurants and caterers. For over two decades, Spic ‘n Span would serve hundreds of thousands of food-loving local and international guests (it was a favorite watering hole of Clark Air Base personnel), cater to countless wedding receptions, graduations and other milestone events. 

To hone her knowledge in the food industry, Pilar enrolled as a member of the Hotel and Restaurant Owners Association of the Philippines, and joined the delegation for observation tours to Japan and Hongkong.

 In all these years, Pilar managed to preserve the unity of her family despite time and distance. All but one (Pilar Ines, who died in infancy) would finish their education and move on to other fields of endeavour: Esteban (Commerce, La Salle), Pacita, Angel (Mechanical Engineering, Mapua), Hermelinda, Floriana (H.E., Sta. Paul) , Vicente Magno Jr. (Commerce, La Salle), Manuel Benito (Mechanical Eng., La Salle) , Pilar Vicenta (Secretarial Science), Benita Paula (Bachelor of Arts) and Salvador Senen (Bachelor of Arts, La Salle).

 Spic ‘n Span’s heyday would continue on till the 70s, and so did our regular after-school hours stop. On the long drive back to Mabalacat from Angeles, we would drop by for a scoop or two of my favorite chocolate ice cream—which was what my dear father could afford in those days.

By then, the area had become crowded, and alternative eating places, like A&W Drive-in (Open 24 hours! Angeles’ newest and most fascinating!), Shanghai Restaurant, Kentucky Fried Chicken and even Didi’s Pizza, had started burgeoning in far more spacious and developed locations. In a few years, Spic ‘n Span was no more.

 Mrs. Pilar Mendez would pass away on 21 October 1983, but her legacy lives on in the happy recollections of satisfied customers like me, who regularly had a dose of wholesome fun at her special place that brought hospitality, excellent taste and warm service together under one roof" Spic 'n Span!!

*336. GAMIT-KUSINA &OTHER KASANGKAPAN

SO YOU THINK YOU CAN COOK? School girls learn the art of cooking and baking uisng more modern kitchen implements and gadgets, in this home economics class. 1920s

In large Philippine homes—there’s a kitchen and then, there’s a dirty kitchen.  While a kitchen is where Mother displays her fine chinaware, gleaming copper pans, bowls, trays, sleek toasters and pantry cabinet, the dirty kitchen is where she and her househelps toil away in front of sooty clay stoves, enveloped by smoke, heat and odors emanating from frying pans and trash cans.

Such was the house that I grew up in—and nowhere was it busier, smellier, more chaotic--than in our dirty kitchen. For here, all sorts of implements, gadgets and strange instruments abound—for cooking, broiling, boiling, grilling, grinding—all designed to help a new homemaker become a top-rate cook.

The basic tools of cooking rest on a narrow, sturdy table called “dalikan”, made of bamboo or planks of wood, with the top, covered with an iron sheet. Here, one can find kalang uling (charcoal clay stove), which rests on 3 stumpy legs (“tungku”). Under the “dalikan”, one can find chopped firewood, used to start a fire in the kalan, with the help of a tsupan (a metal cylinder used to blow air and stoke a fire) and a “sipit” (a pair of thongs to move pieces of wood and charcoal around). A charcoal-fed  “pugun” or a clay/earth oven, was permanently set in the kitchen for baking breads.

On top of the “kalang”, one can use different pots and pans, depending on what you are cooking. Before the advent of rice cookers, the basic “kuran” with a lid is used to cook the perfect rice. It is also used to cook favourite viands and soups like “adobo, tinola and sinigang”. The metal “kawali”, made of cast iron, is ideal for frying, with the help of an all-purpose “siyansi”.

To boil water, one uses a kettle (“tekwan”) of aluminum, copper or brass. I still have my late Ingkung  brass pan with a rounded bottom and a wooden handle used for boiling water and eggs. He called it “pohiya”, a term that nobody seem to use, except us! Another brass container was the tsokolatera, a small pitcher where homemade chocolate was prepared. A wooden batirul was hand-turned to whip up a frothy, hearty drink.

Those craving for grilled foods like “ningnang babi, bangus o balasenas” had to use a “parilya” (a gridiron of thick wire) over live embers . Basting was done using a brush made of bamboo stick and banana leaves. Large-scale cooking once entailed the use of steel vats—kawa—which came in extra large sizes, good enough for a pig to fit in. I still see a few “kawas” these days—only in landscaped gardens, where they are used for accents.

Raw ingredients were either crushed or powdered in a stone “dikdikan”  or "daldakan", which consisted of a small mortar (asung) and a pestle (alung). Ground rice was turned into sticky  galapong using a stone “gilingan”, that had a hole on top into which rice and water was fed. A handle was turned manually around and around until the galapong emerges from a spout and is collected for making kakanins—sampelut, bibingka, sapin-sapin, bobotu.

Native trivets, we call “lakal”—made of bamboo, woven to form a ring, on which a pot can be made to rest. Placed over one’s head, the “lakal” helps an ambulant vendor  steady an “igu” or a “bitse” (woven winnowing trays) filled with local delicacies, while she goes walking around the neighbourhood.

Food was served on plates (“pinggan”) made of enamelled tin or cheap ironstone imported from England. Special viands for a crowd of hungry guests were put in deep “pasung Intsik”, which had the shape of flower pots, but without holes. I remember these glazed pots which we brought out from our “lansena” for use only during fiesta time. they were dark brown in color with a light brown band at the top, decorated with stylized dragon designs.

To scoop anything from a container, there’s the sanduk bican (scooper/ ladle) fashioned from a coconut shell. When holes were drilled onto the ladle, the sanduk becomes a “panyalak”or a sieve. Water dippers made use of almost the whole shell, fastened to a long wooden handle. Back then, any visitor can cool his thirst off with a free welcome drink. All he had to do was to take a water-filled dipper filled from a big clay jar –banga--that stood in front of houses. Cockleshells were often thrown into the banga to maintain the clarity of the water.

Other clay jars in a household include the narrow mouthed  ”oya”, “balanga” (for storing dishes), “gusi”( glazed pot with handles), “tapayan”( a water jar outfitted with a faucet). These often were set on the “banguerra”. Uneaten food or leftovers were stored in a paminggalan, a small pantry cabinet with slats to let air in.

Today, a wide assortment of high-tech kitchen gadgets have been invented to improve kitchen efficiency and convenience: from electric mixers, juicers, steamers to  microwave ovens and grillers. But for yesteryear's homemakers,  nothing beats the fruits of hard labor--whether it is turning a gilingan with sheer muscle power or pounding rice for hours--for it is believed that this is the only way that she can fully bring out life's many flavors.

*332. Hands on the Future: LEARNING THE INDUSTRIAL ARTS

OUT ON THE FARM. Young farmers pose for a pcture before the Domestic Science building of Mexico Elementary School. Ca. 1920s.

In revamping the curriculum of Philippine schools, emphasis was given by American teachers to subjects called Industrial Education (for boys) and Domestic Science (for girls).

To improve the basic motor skills of children, schools started offering vocational and manual training, teaching boys handicrafts, carpentry, weaving, toymaking and gardening.

On the distaff side, girls were trained on home arts that included sewing and embroidery,  marketing, cooking and house cleaning (yes, there is a systematic process in waxing and buffing floors!).

I was one of the hapless students of the 1960s who took up this required subject at Mabalacat Elementary School, which was quite an ordeal to finish. First, I was never handy with tools, and second, I hated gardening under the hot sun. I was eventually exempted from the subject because of my fragile health, but relief would not come easily; I was cross-posted in the Home Economics class of the girls where I ended up peddling snacks from room to room.

 Students have no one to blame but Harvard graduate Fred W. Atkinson, who, in 1902, was appointed as General Superintendent of Public Instruction in the Philippine Islands by Gov, Gen. William Howard Taft. The 35 year old former high school principal quickly reformed the school system—imposing the use of English as the language of instruction, the importation of teachers (known today as Thomasites), and of course, the integration of industrial and domestic arts in the elementary level curriculum.

 As was expected, the importance of the subject was lost on Filipino parents who sent their children to school—in the first place--to save them from a life of hard, manual labor. Unpopular with teachers, Atkinson was dismissed and was assessed as a failure. He was replaced by David Prescott Barrows who included the education-deprived barrios in his goal to develop a ‘cultured peasantry’. He re-skewed the emphasis on academic subjects, like Reading, Writing, Grammar and Spelling. He argued that manual training will only chain Filipinos to a life of peonage.

 But of course, Industrial Arts continued to be taught in primary schools all the way to the 70s and 80s. Manual training subjects became less and less laborious, in the case of needlework and drafting. Garden plots gave way to new school wings and Home Economic buildings were either knocked down or adapted for re-use as spare classrooms, until the subject of practical home arts was no more.

 My manual dexterity has not improved a bit in my use of a simple coping saw and hammer. Nor am I exactly a green thumb today. But for sure, the training has given me a better appreciation of the skills and efforts of people who use their hands for a living—from the anloagues, pandays, masons, cocineras, modistas and bordaderas of yesteryears to the talented Kapampangan furniture makers, culinary masters, potters, parol makers, and landscape gardeners of today. In their deft hands, they shape the future of our commercial, industrial and agricultural progress.

*274. OF DOGS AND UNDERDOGS

I'LL BE DOGGONE! A little girl poses with her prized dog, a Japanese spaniel, an imported breed that must have cost her family a lot. The local aso had always played been a special part of the Kapampangan household--taking on many roles as a playful pet, a trusty guard and a loyal companion. Ca. mid 1920s.

He barks incessantly, he yelps non-stop. He can’t keep quiet, his howls can irritate a whole neighborhood for hours, making him a trusty guard. Impervious to fleas and scabies, he is a hardy breed, uncomplaining when hungry and as resilient as the Kapampangan master that owns him.

A typical Philippine dog is described as a short-haired, moderately long-nosed canine weighing anywhere from 25-35 pounds. It is either tan or black in color with a white streak on the chest and “white stockinged” feet. Ears are often erect pointing a bit forward but with a slight flop. Its face features a wrinkled forehead, black nose and black eyelids. Its tail curls up in “C”.

However, a more pleasant-looking dog breed called “Sampaguita” was known in the Islands in the 1930s. A certain Mrs. Norma Lim, then president of the Philippine Ladies Kennel Club, had such a long-haired white dog. This local dog is believed to be the forebear of the slightly smaller Maltese, a theory supported by the American Kennel Club whose book notes that “the foundation stock of the Maltese in England came from Manila, not Malta”.

No matter how he looks, the lowly ‘aso’ will always be a special part of our lives, as well as our popular culture. Our language, customs and traditions are full of references to our best friend. “Manğaso” is a term for hunting with dogs, a traditional practice in the old days. “Miaso” is to go hunting using the dog(s) of another person—as in “Yang miaso I Juan keng aso ng Pedro” ( Juan went hunting with Pedro’s dogs). The hunt or the hunted were called “asuan” and “inasuan”. It is interesting to note that a Bagobo pre-Spanish epic celebrated the excellence of trained hunting dogs in its verses.

Related terms that have come down to us include an “aso-aso”, a dog collar outfitted with bells. It also refers to a similar noisemaker tied to a dog’s tail, when one was in a playful mood. The resultant jingle-jangle was described as ‘calangcang’. A man who has gone off his rockers is often referred to as “mamulang asu”, a mad dog—complete with bloodshot eyes and frothing, snarling mouth. Among Aetas, having ‘ipan asu” (canine teeth) was considered a mark of beauty, so Aeta maidens filed their teeth to a point and blackened them to achieve that ideal.

Then there’s “dugong-aso”—a pejorative term used to describe Kapampangans as a dog-blooded—traitors of their own race. This is in reference to that time in our history when Kapampangans were aiding Spaniards and Americans in their campaigns against Filipinos, capped by the capture of Aguinaldo with the help of Macabebe soldiers.

The custom of dog-eating is often associated with Kapampangans, but people from the Mountain Province were enjoying dogs on their dining table even earlier. Victor Heiser, Commissioner of Health wrote in his journal that “in 1905, on Benguet Road, I often used to see Filipinos bound for the Saturday dog market in Baguio”. This has led at least one writer, Sonia Lampson, author of “The Observer’s Book of Dogs”, to describe our ‘aso’ as a “Philippine edible dog, a favorite tidbit at the feast”. Dog meat is believed to warm the body, but can also give one a doggy odor. Black dogs, many maintain, are supposed to taste better. They are often cooked calderata and adobo style; its liver is made into “kilo” (kinilaw) with garlic and onions, perfect with swigs of Ginebra 'marka demonyo'. A more unusual serving is dog tapa, prepared the same way as beef tapa.

Certain beliefs and notions about dogs persist in many Kapampangan towns as well as in other parts of the Philippines. For example, a dog is said to become fiercer if he is tied. Also, an open wound can be disinfected with a dog lick (which unfortunately was not the case with actor Fernando Poe Sr., who died of rabies after being infected in this manner by his pup). It is also believed that dogs can tell if a person has eaten ‘azucena’ (aso + cena = dog dinner) through a snarl or a growl.

Looking at dogs in our history, you could come to a conclusion that they are indeed, a breed apart. In all kinds of weather, “Tagpi” will stay by you and reward you with loyalty. Beaten, bruised or starved, he will continue to come home. More than just a pet, he will remain a faithful companion, quick to defend, easy to please. For that, they deserve a bit of kindness—and a bow-wow!

*267. LET'S EAT OUT!

PARTY PEOPLE. A party reception held at the nationally popular Carbungco Restaurant which was ran and managed by a Kapampangan, Ambrosio Carbungco of Floridablanca. Dated 30 April 1947.

Kapampangans’ love for food is so much evident in the many creative dishes that have found national approval and acceptance. This has paved the way for the establishment of commercial eating places and restaurants all over the province and even in the city of Manila, founded by enterprising Kapampangans who have parlayed their love for cooking into profitable businesses, long before fastfoods became the standard of a typical Filipino dining out experience.

Pre-war restaurants ran by Kapampangans include the famous Carbungco Restaurant. It was put up by Ambrosio Carbungco of Floridablanca, a former chef of Casino Español. It had a branch in Manila as well as in Antipolo, where the restaurant became a favorite stop of local tourists. Carbungco Restaurant also took city and provincial orders for banquets, picnics and weddings, offering prompt and efficient service every time.

Opposite Cine Palace along Ronquillo St. in Manila, one could drop by for a quick chow at Panciteria Ramon Lee. Lee, who hails from Sta. Ana put up his noodle restaurant which he touted as “the place where all friends meet friends”. The Panciteria was well known for its best-tasting, economically-priced Chinese dishes, whipped up under the supervision of an expert Cantonese cook and most economical prices. Lee also handled the catering of banquets and lauriat parties, served either outside or within city limits.

At nearby Sta. Cruz, at 1726 Azcarraga St. (Recto) was another favorite haunt of foodies ran by a Kapampangan proprietor, Gregoria Villanueva of Sasmuan. Star Restaurant, so named because it was just across Cine Star, took pride of its all-Filipino origins, in the face of American-ran diners like Dixie’s and Plaza Lunch. Its advertisement proclaimed: “Bandi yang Filipino, pamañgan bale, Malinis, Maniaman at Mura. Subucan ye”.

San Fernando, being the province’s capital town, was the hub of the best eating places where whole families can go out and have their fill of their favorite dishes and snacks. There were excellent roadside restaurants that one could visit, like the Panaderia y Panciteria of Andrea David de Nuqui strategically located near the railroad station. Nuqui’s unique carinderia also housed a sari-sari store as well as a beauty parlor, which promised “courteous service, excellent cuisine at moderate charges”. In 1933, Nuqui bagged its biggest commission yet, by becoming the official caterer of the 1st Pampanga Carnival Fair and Exposition. Also around the town were smaller popular haunts like the Carinderia, Cafeteria y Panciteria of Emerenciana Dizon, located at Felix del Pulgar St. and Magnolia Rendezvous.

The war slowed down the country’s restaurant businesses, but in the years of rebuilding, many more restaurants started sprouting again all over Pampanga. Still existing today is Everybody’s Café, which started as a 2-table affair put up by couple Benito and Carmen Santos on Consunji. The cafeteria was a hit among Americans as well as the locals, and in 1965, it opened a more spacious branch at Del Pilar. It now also has a branch in Angeles City, serving the same sumptuous dishes like paku salad, betute, buru, kare-kare, bulalo and sisig it has become famous for.

In Angeles, the only pre-war bar that was still in existence in the 1950s was the Star Bar along Henson St., which featured orchestra music. But like Esquire Club (put up by Paz Pamintuan and husband Frank Von Heiland), Star Bar catered more to adults and American servicemen from Clark. Family-oriented restaurants included Dely’s Kiosk, Selecta Café (both on Rizal St.), San Miguel Canteen (beside Pat Theater), Esting's Cafe (at the side of Marte Theater), Angeles Jaycee Canteen (on Plaridel St.) and Hi-Way Kiosk, the last two, both managed by Mrs. Gloria Tinio. Another popular spot was Spic ‘n Span, “The Symbol of Satisfaction”, famous for its excellent food at reasonable prices. Spic ‘n Span, located in Balibago, accepted professional catering of banquets, club meetings and private dinners.

Today, Kapampangan eateries are finding stiff competition from quick-service restaurants and international fast food chains. But it is heartening to know that once hole-in-the-wall Kapampangan establishments like Razon’s, Kabigting’s and Nathaniel’s---are doing well despite the coming of these giant burger-and-fries joints. Bright lights, fun giveaways, adorable mascots may give these stores initial appeal, but in the end, there’s nothing like familiar, home-cooked meals prepared and served the Kapampangan way to comfort a hungry tummy. That certainly is the best part of eating out!

*256. Pampanga Towns: APALIT

APLIT APALIT! An Apalit Garden Day booth for a local provincial fair, showcasing the town's famous products--including its well-known woven buri hats. Ca. 1926.

In the pre-Expressway days, Apalit seemed like a faraway place, especially to one who grew up in the northernmost town of Pampanga. Like Mabalacat, Apalit is a bordertown located south of the province, next to Calumpit, Bulacan. I remember stopovers at this rustic, old town en route to Manila in the late 60s, to buy pasalubongs like espasol and putu seco--native delicacies which Apalit was famous for—sold alongside blades, knives, bolos, metal garden and farm implements.

Nowadays, the native pasalubongs are harder to find, but the blacksmith industry is still very much around, evident in the foundry shops that sell all sorts of metalware, blades and knives being the most popular. It is a legacy left behind by an early metalsmith from Barrio Capalangan of this town—Pande Pira—the first known Filipino maker of cannons (lantakas) who, because of his talent, was employed by Gov. Gen. Miguel Lopez de Legaspi.

But before earning a reputation for its excellent smiths, the place was known for its lush forests of apalit trees—enormous Philippine hardwood trees of the narra family that became the landmark for traders and visitors who regularly visited the settlement along the banks of Rio Grande de la Pampanga.

The town counts many pre-colonial founders including the great Malangsic, who, together with his nephews Tawi and Pangpalong (or Macapagal) established Sulipan and Capalangan, as recorded in the Balagtas Will. Also recognized are Capitañgan, elder brother of Tawi and Pangpalung and husband of Lady Bayinda and a certain Agustin Mañgaya in the 16th century. So strategically located was Apalit that it was one of the 11 most important communities of Pampanga by the 16th century, its relative prosperity fueled by the riverine trade and commerce.

It was in 1582, however, that Apalit was formally established by the Spaniards as a Pampanga municipality during the term of Gov. Gen. Gonzalo Ronquillo de Penalosa. It was composed of just four encomiendas then: Apali (Pale), La Castilla (Poblacion), Cabambangan and Capalangan. The early settlers included the Samontes, Candas, Catus, Cortezes, Vergaras and the Yangas.

The Apalit Parish was created in 1597 with Fr. Perdo de Vergara as its first prior. But it was Fr. Juan Cabello who constructed the church in 1641. The annual fiesta days marked by a fluvial parade for patron "Apu Iru” was begun by Capitan Pedro Armayan Espiritu in 1844. The church was destroyed by an earthquake in 1863, but it was rebuilt by Fr. Antonio Redondo from 1876-83, with materials and services donated mostly by the generous Apaliteños.

Apalit’s history is replete with many memorable events and personalities that rivaled those of imperial Manila. Puerto Sulipan, for instance, was the place to be during the time of Capitan Joaquin Arnedo-Cruz and his cultured wife, Dona Maria de la Paz Sioco. Their magnificent home was the venue for high society parties, attended by the country’s who’s who. The Arnedos even hosted a banquet for Grand Duke Alexis of Russia. The opulence of the feast and the sophistication of his Kapampangan guests left the international royalty amazed. No wonder that Sulipan is known for having the best culinary connoisseurs of the province.

At the height of the Philippine Revolution, Apaliteños, led by the Arnedos, offered refuge and aid to passing Katipuneros in pursuit of the retreating Spanish forces. The town, however, fell to the Americans on 27 April 1898. During the American rule, the boundaries of Apalit were revised in 1920; some sections of land were given back to San Simon, thus decreasing its area.

Through the years, the achievements of the sons and daughters of Apalit have further enriched Pampanga’s hallowed history. The names include: Don Macario Arnedo, son of Capt. Joaquin and a four-time governor of Pampanga, business magnate Don Ernesto Escaler, industrialist and PASUDECO co-founder Atty. Augusto Sioco Gonzales, Malolos Congress representative Dr. Joaquin Gonzales, distinguished anthropologist Dr. Ricardo E. Galang, educators Bienvenido M. Gonzales, Bro. Andrew Gonzales and Bishop Federico Escaler SJ, Amb. Hermenigildo B. Garcia, WW II patriot Col. Ricardo Galang, former Q.C. mayor Adelina Galang Santos de Rodriguez, top bank executive Dominador Pangilinan, Central Bank governor Amando Tetangco, Jr. , outstanding physician, Dr. Antonio Quiroz, Movie-radio personalities Bert Leroy and Orly Punsalan, culinary master and SEA Games Gold Medalist Gene Gonzales, master carver Nick Lugue and Philippine Military Academy 2011 topnotcher Edward Angelo Buan Parras, among others.

Today, the town of Apalit is comprised of 12 barangays: Balucuc, Calantipe, Cansinala, Capalangan, Colgante, Paligui, Sampaloc, San Juan Nepmuceno (Poblacion), San Vicente, Sucad, Sulipan, Tabuyuc (Santo Rosario), Sampaga and Alauli, and is home to over 100,000 people. The community boasts of a dozen or so banking institutions, shopping malls, restaurants, modern residential villages, oil refineries and a large fuel depot, flourishing side by side with its traditional farming, fishing and local industries.

Not even the problems wrought by the Pinatubo eruption could slow down the pace of progress of this once ancient town—now seemingly quicker, livelier. “Aplit…Apalit!”, is the town’s battlecry—nothing could be more apt for a border town in a rush to take its place among Pampanga’s finest communities.

*241.CREATURE COMFORT FOODS

CUT AND BASTE. A woman prepares a bayawak for what would be another exotic Kapampangan adobo dish. This picture's provenance is attributed to Pampanga, ca. 1911. Many years ago, a roadside restaurant was put up along the highway between the Bamban-Mabalacat boundary, that specializing in exotic delicacies: dishes made from deer venison, wild fowls and snakes. It created quite a stir when it opened, catering to a niche market with the taste for the strange, the bizarre and the unusual. Indeed, Kapampangan cooking has often been described as a cuisine of extremes. In times of plenty, a cook will spare nothing to come up with the most lavish creations using the finest ingredients he can find—from lamb chops to imported turkey, quezo de bola, olives and expensive canned creams. But in times of profound want, he will eat anything that’s available out in the field, the forest or even his own backyard--be it something that crawls, croaks, slithers and flies. True, Kapampangans have made dishes out of bugs, insects, mollusks, beetles, woodworms, amphibians, snakes and reptiles. But these creatures also appear in the food specialities of other countries, prized for their taste and valued for their nutritional benefits. Arabs, like Kapampangans, feasted on sun-dried locusts—but they served theirs with milk. Jamaicans and Native Americans ate roasted beetles. New Guinea natives supplemented their diet with lizards and mice. Vietnamese restaurants offered snake dishes in their menu, which were believed to enhance male virility. At the Chatuchak weekend market in Thailand, I have seen some large species of cockroaches sold by the glassful as some sort of a protein food. Closer to home, Igorots, like Kapampangans, also ate dog meat---there was even a lively dog trade in Baguio in the early part of the 20th century. However, it is on the Kapampangans that the dogeater label got stuck, a reputation that has become permanent—and quite legendary. In Macabebe, a sweet and spicy dog stew known as “Kubang Asu” is a favorite pulutan of beer guzzlers. Similarly, the Stone Age Tasadays of Mindanao ate tadpoles and frogs, but I am pretty sure not in the same manner that the finicky Kapampangans prepared them—stuffed with ground meat and spices, then deep-fried. My father used to recount how he relished “ebun pau” (turtle eggs) which were collected by the dozens under mounds of sand near rivers and streams. When boiled, he said, the eggs had a soft toothpaste-like consistency, almost runny and with a taste that's creamier, more 'malinamnam' than chicken eggs. Rarer than these amphibious treats however, are the reptilian delicacies, which are challenging to prepare and perhaps, even more daunting to eat. Topping the list is the ‘barag’ (monitor lizard) which also goes by the name “banias” among Kapampangans. “Ali ya manenaya ing barag keng burak nung ala yang panenayan tugak" (The barag will not lie in wait in the mud if no frog awaits him), so goes a Kapampangan saying. But the barag’s patience can also be his undoing, with the hunter unwittingly becoming the hunted. Barags were captured with live baits of chicks, frogs or birds. Thus trapped, they were slit by the neck, skinned, disemboweled, beheaded and chopped into small pieces for cooking. Barags were often cooked like caldereta or adobu. The meat is first marinated with soy sauce, garlic, vinegar, salt and spices then boiled with water until the liquid dries up. It is then stir-fried with oil and is served as a main dish or as a pulutan. The taste is said to be akin to that of chicken, except more flavorful. All these Kapampangan exotica have been met with a mix of delight and disgust, shocking the faint of heart and fascinating the adventurous few-- which just goes to show that, taste—like beauty—is relative, an acquired preference brought about by circumstances of culture, history and the whims of nature. Kapampangans, however, have brought their own special flair in cooking these creatures, turning them into unique, delectable treats. Today, a few of these dishes have gone mainstream, like the adobung kamaru and tugak betute. Who knows, the pest that you see crawling under your house today may be the next big thing on your plate. One man’s vermin, may yet be another man’s viand. When that happens, you will most likely have a creative Kapampangan kusinero to thank for.

*237. ATBU, ATBP.

SACCHARINE SMILE. A country girl shows of her healthy sugarcane crop that's ready for harvesting in this posed picture. Pampanga's sugar industry powered the provincial economy and made it a force to reckon with during the American regime. Ca.1912.

Give a child a fresh stick of atbu (sugarcane), and he will keep quiet for the rest of the day. For some reason, munching on a piece of sugarcane-- ‘mamangus atbu’—has a calming effect on us kids. Maybe because it took much skill, so we had to focus on the laborious task at hand, using just our teeth to strip off the bark, chewing on the tough cane fiber to extract the sweet juice, and spewing out the sapal (husk) later. Biting the hard, tasteless node off, we then move on to the next juicy part, until we finish the whole footlong sugar cane stick.

Mamangus atbu was a true test for teeth and gums, but the mouthsores I occasionally got were worth my sugarcane taste experience. I’ve always preferred the purple sugarcane variety, cooled in the icebox for an hour before munching. These, I would find readily available in the makeshift stalls lining the way to my elementary school. Another way to get ‘atbu’ free is to run after hauler trucks or bagun (cargo trains) en route to the mills and try to pull a stalk from its harvested sugar cane load.

As my lolo was a modest hacendero with some rice and sugarcane fields, we grew up with the sight and smell of sugarcane. It was a staple product around the house, and I remember using arnibal (thin muscovado syrup) to sweeten our coffee, prepared by my ever so frugal mother. But I guess this was the same familiar scene in many Kapampangan households where, for a time, sugar held such prominence in the province’s economy.

In its heyday, especially from 1925-1927, Pampanga led Luzon in sugar production, with the Del Carmen Sugar Mills leading the way with an output of 45,000 tons annually, followed by Calamba with 16,000 and San Fernando, just slightly behind. Pampanga Sugar Development Company (PASUDECO), controlled by the Philippine National Banks, would later be expanded, becoming the fastest growing Central among all bank Centrals and further improving its output.

Interestingly, of the four varieties of cane originally cultivated in the Philippines, once came from Pampanga—the Pampanga Red or Encarnada de la Pampanga, which produced canes smaller than the other varieties: Cebu Purple (Morada de Cebu), Luzon White (Blanca de Luzon) and Negros Purple (Morada de Negros). Nevertheless, this hardy cane plant had excellent purity and yield, topped only by Cebu Purple, and cementing the province’s reputation as a major sugar producer for the country and the world.

The pleasures of sugar from our “dulce caña”, of course, we enjoyed at every opportunity. Parents could easily fix a quick treat for their kids by boiling extracted sugarcane juice in a vat until it turned into molten molasses. A dollop is ladled into a basin of cold water, turning the molasses into a brown, gooey, malleable mixture called “inuyat” which we ate with our hands. With rice drowned in carabao’s milk, “inuyat” becomes an instant ulam (viand)!

A fancy Makati restaurant once offered sugarcane juice coolers in its menu, matched with a fancy price. But we’ve been drinking ice cold sugarcane juice ever since I can remember--and it certainly didn’t cost that much! Maybe bartenders can take a tip from Kapampangan farmers who squeezed cane juice into their alcoholic drinks for a perfect happy hour treat after a day’s hard work.

Goodies made with cane sugar can be had cheap at every corner sari-sari store. We developed cavities eating five centavo ‘balikutsa’, a kind of sugar taffy so sticky delicious. Another favorite is the panutsa, which technically speaking is solid brown sugar sold in ‘baos’, but it has come to mean a kind of peanut brittle mixed with coarse brown sugar and sold with brown paper linings. The same unrefined sugar also found its way into our fiesta desserts like “yemas”—milk pudding balls encased in caramelized brown sugar. In Arayat, a centerpiece in every feast or banquet is the ‘samani’—in which white peanuts dipped in caramelized brown sugar are used to construct an edible sweet basket, a virtual eye candy to foodies of yore.

Of course, it’s not just us that benefitted from the amazing ‘atbu’. Leftover ‘sapal’ was fed to pigs and hogs. To make an instant feeder and a perch for pet insects like ‘uwang’ (rhinoceros beetle), a length of fresh sugar cane was tied on both ends and hung on the porch.

It used to be so common to see cut sugarcane for sale-- piled high like pyramids on fruit stands and sidewalk stalls, especially during the summer months. Nowadays, apples and grapes, it would seem, are even easier to find. Maybe so, but those fruits—so way beyond our reach-- never impressed me the way a stalk of ‘atbu’ could—it’s always ready to eat and ready to please—the sweet stuff that many a childhood pleasures are made of.

*236. OF STREET FOOD AND PEDESTRIAN TREATS

MEKENI'S MININDAL. Street vendors entice passersby with their native delicacies spread out on their bilaos: ebus-wrapped suman and bobotu (tamales). Today, one can still find these 'kakanins' in market stalls around Pampanga, ready to be enjoyed anytime, anywhere. Ca. 1912.

A result of the ongoing renaissance and awakened interest in Kapampangan culture and traditions, is the resurgence in popularity of our favorite pedestrian ‘kakanins’. Once peddled by itinerant bilao-carrying vendors, our traditional kalame, tibuk-tibuk, suman, mochi, biku, cassava (kamuting dutung) cake—and many more--have become staples of local market stalls and mainstream food shops like Susie’s Cuisine, Delynn’s, Razon’s and Nathaniel’s, earning raves from foodies who even travel to the province to seek out these delectable native treats.

The character of our Kapampangan cuisine is defined by the products of our main industries-- rice, sugar, and to some extent, coconuts. It is no wonder then that most of our concoctions from the kitchen utilized these ingredients and their derivatives, resulting in filling rice-based treats with varying tones of sweetness that continue to delight us to this day.

Kalame (kalamay) is perhaps the most ubiquitous all-purpose food of Filipinos, made from malagkit (glutinous) rice, coconut and white sugar. The rice is first ground in a gilingan (stone grinder) to make galapung. This is a backbreaking chore, and I remember, it took two workers to operate our gilingan—one to “feed” the opening on top with malagkit rice, and the other to turn the grinder’s handle. I still have our stone gilingan, now family heirloom, incised with a date (1911) and the name of the original owner (Dr. Melecio Castro), my granduncle.

The basic kalame may seem easy to prepare, but it involves stirring the mixture constantly for up to four hours to achieve a smooth, sticky consistency. Kalame variations include ‘kalame ube’ wherein purple yam is added to give it a distict ube color and flavor. Rarely made these days is ‘kalame kulubasa’, in which mashed squash is used, giving the kalame a deep yellow color. The kalame is generously topped with ‘latik’, made from sugar and coconut milk extract.

Every town market it seems, has a stall hawking kalame slices served on banana leaf—it is that commonplace. It can be found in school canteens, on fiesta tables and birthday parties, and is freely given away by neighbors during. In Concepcion, Tarlac, a kalame variation made of galapung and gata is called ‘tocino’ by the locals.

Bibingka needs no introduction as it is equally popular as kalame, available all year-round, but more in demand during the Christmas season. Made from galapung, milk and gata, bibingka is cooked in clay dishes and browned with live coals placed on top and below the cooking dish. Special bibingka is made from pure galapung (no flour extenders please!) and enriched with ebun buru, keso de bola slices, dollops of butter and grated coconut.

I used to hear a folk song about the tasty brown kutsinta, which went “Puto kutsinta, malambot, masarap, malata!” (Puto kutsinta, soft, delicious and delicate). Pampanga’s kutsinta is created from the same ground malagkit rice, coconut, brown sugar and homemade lihiya (lye)--wood ash and water solution—and molded in tiny Chinese porcelain cups. Its white counterpart is the fluffy putu lasún, and I often wondered why it should be named like that, as, “lasún”, without the accent, means poison. These native delicacies are best eaten with fresh, grated coconut.

Tibuk-tibuk is another treat closely associated with Kapampangan specialty foods. I don’t think we ever called this delicate coconut milk-based dessert by its "ultra-sosy" name—“maja blanca”—we always called it tibuk-tibuk, in reference to the palpitating sound of the simmering gata (coconut milk) -sugar-carabao milk mixture as it cooked. We never added corn kernels or used cornstarch to hasten the cooking of tibuk-tibuk; instead, we allowed the mixture to thicken at its own pace, through even, constant stirring over low fire. Tibuk-tibuk is always served cold and garnished with latik—not toasted grated coconut which I often see in fancy hotels and restaurants.

Suman is cooked malagkit rice wrapped in ebus (a kind of palm leaf) strips. To give the plain, salty taste of suman more flavor, it is eaten with mangos or dipped in sugar. Suman bulagta, on the other hand, is cooked and wrapped in banana leaves, from which it acquires its greenish color. It is best eaten with latik and sprinkled with sugar. I recently visited a food shop in Tiendesitas which sold ‘haute’ sumans—laced with chocolate, macapuno, monggo and ube. The lowly, suman has finally come of age—but I still prefer mine plain and cheap, thank you.

Bobotu is another minindal favorite known to most Filipinos as “tamales”. But it does not taste anywhere near its Mexican counterpart. The mixture is prepared from giniling rice, coconut milk, sugar, salt, pepper and atsuete extract. The cooking bobotu involves many steps—after cooking the mixture in low fire with constant stirring, small portions are poured on a banana leaf, in which shredded chicken, shrimp or pork meat, egg slices, crushed peanuts and atsuete juice are added on top. The banana-wrapped bobotu is then steamed for about 20 minutes. Cabalantian in Bacolor is noted for making the tastiest bobotu in the province. Alas, some unscrupulous bobotu sellers add more banana wrappings to make the bobotu look more appetizingly plump.

Sampelut (or Ginataan to Tagalogs)—a thick sweet porridge made from gata, sugar and made chunky with slices of sagin saba, kamote, gandus, nangka and bilu-bilu (rice flour balls) can still be found offered by food stalls in rural markets, but is better made at home. I never liked sampelut because of its laxative effect, what with its high coconut content, but my sister swears by its rich, lip-smacking taste, a halo-halo of sorts but without the ice.

A visit to the local market yielded many more kakanins of my childhood, including the sticky ‘pepalto’ (palitaw), which is covered with fresh grated coconut, white sugar and anise. Less visible is the ‘mochi’-- fried dumplings filled with sweet yam or ube filling. ‘Sapin-sapin’—that multi-layered, multi-colored rice cake is, in itself, a feast for the eyes, a super sticky cake laced with ube and other flavorings. Espasol is another sweet delicacy which my Ingkung used to buy in San Fernando and Bulacan. The finger sized espasol pieces are dusted with roasted rice flour to prevent the pieces from sticking and wrapped in characteristic brown paper.

Before, I could easily find ‘maruya’ or banana fritters being sold by the side of the Sto. Rosario Church, so I think one could still find them in the city. I was less successful in my search for ‘putung babi’, pan de sal halves filled with potatos (or kamote) and minced meat, then fried in batter. They were my favorites in grade school, regularly offered by ambulant vendors.

A Kapampangan will never go hungry with the fantastic array of native delicacies available for his instant delectation. All he has to do is go out the street, locate a native peddler, and pick a kakanin from her bilao of banana-wrapped goodies. There’s always one treat there that is sure to please you—on and off the street!

*232. Tastes Like Heaven: PAMPANGA'S SANICULAS

SAINTLY SWEETS. Saniculas cookies made with the imprint of San Nicolas de Tolentino, the miracle healer. Legend has it that he revived the sick with blessed bread mixed with water, hence the "panecillos de San Nicolas", or simply 'saniculas' in Pampanga. Every time my parents go to San Fernando to attend to business matters, they would go home with my favorite pasalubong: packs of saniculas—those crumbly, arrow-root based cookies imprinted with the image of a saint—or so we were told. So, when I ate one, I would carefully nip the edges of the cookie and save the center for last—the part with the stylized figure of a man in relief. This, they say, is San Nicolas, the Great Miracle Healer. San Nicolas de Tolentino, the cookie’s inspiration, is an Augustinian Recoleto who was gifted with the power of healing—through his blessed bread soaked in water. He is depicted wearing a star-dotted habit, holding a cross or a palm in one hand, and a dish on the other, with a partridge bird perched on the rim. This is in reference to a legend in which a bird served for eating was restored to life after feeding on his dish. The Macabebe priest, Fray Felipe Tallada, wrote about this wonder worker in the first Kapampangan book published by the Augustinians in 1614. The town, in fact, has San Nicolas de Tolentino as its patron, his fiesta marked on September 10. The celebrated miraculous bread, known as “panecillos de San Nicolas”, is known simply in Pampanga as “saniculas’. There used to be a ritual blessing of the cookies before they are distributed, although this tradition is now rarely practiced, saved for some Recollect parishes like San Sebastian where saniculas are still blessed during Masses. The cookie itself is made using age-old techniques and ingredients like arrowroot flour (uraro), eggs, lard, dalayap (lemon rind) and coconut milk. Mrs. Lillian Lising-Borromeo, Pampanga’s culinary historian who still makes “saniculas” from heirloom recipes, insist on using homemade pork lard, instead of ordinary margarine to give the cookies better aroma, taste and texture. The “saniculas” wooden moulds which are used to impress the dough with the distinctive imprint are interesting kitchen artifacts themselves. They are often commissioned from Betis and Bacolor carvers, and although the designs vary, the moulds always have the abstracted figure of the saint in the center, surrounded by floral, vegetal and curlicue patterns. Kapampangan cooks treasured these uniquely-designed wooden molds, which commonly came as single blocks. Some have back-to-back designs, but most are often carved with the owner’s initials. As fine examples of folk art, “saniculas” moulds have also found their way in antique shops. The shapes of ‘saniculas’ may also vary, and Atching Lillian—with her expert eye--could even determine the Pampanga town where the cookies were made, from their shape alone. Masantol churned out round ‘saniculas’, while Sta. Ana favored harp-shaped cookies that echo the calado transoms of old houses. The “saniculas” of San Fernando and Mexico are leaf-shaped, with pointed ends. The shaped dough, laid out on a tray, are then ready for baking in the oven. In the olden times, a cooking contraption fed with live coals and very similar to a bibingkahan was used. Dough scraps were used to make smaller cookies called “magapuc”. Today, it is heartening to know that my favorite ‘pasalubongs’ are still being made year-round in the aforementioned towns. Recently, I drove all the way to Mexico to buy a box of “saniculas” specially made by Atching Lillian. Wrapped in paper, the delicate, crumbly cookies with the signature image of the saint are a delight to eat, especially with hot chocolate. And ‘saniculas’ continue to work wonders—healing hunger pangs, satisfying cravings and nourishing the body with their wholesome, heavenly, homemade taste. Praise the saint who started it all!