Casa San Pablo - Lunch

I never had any second thought about getting the full-board package at Casa San Pablo. I was there for relaxation and rejuvenation, so I didn’t want to be out in the city looking for food during mealtimes. And it’s most economical, too. The overnight charge includes breakfast, but for just an additional P200 per person lunch and dinner will be included. That’s an unbeatable deal, considering a hundred pesos per meal per person when eating out these days will not get you anywhere near something decent.

And it certainly will not get you anywhere near what Casa San Pablo serves for meals. Served family-style, on huge platters and in arrangements that stimulate lively conversation, each meal is a nourishing and soul-comforting experience.  Nothing fancy there – whatever is available and bountiful at the market that day, coaxed to life using time -bound recipes from lola. So it’s not fiesta fare, but home-bound food you grew up eating, that you miss, and crave, when you’re away.

Unlike most hotels and inns, check-in time at the Casa is 11AM, and check out time is 10AM the following day. So when you get the full-board package your three meals start with lunch and end with breakfast the day after.

Refreshments begin with this cool, refreshing, power-booster of a pink drink upon check-in. Danica the receptionist waited until we all finished our glasses – the kids asking for seconds – before telling me what the welcome drink was made of, wrongfully thinking we wouldn’t take it if we knew. Other guests must have balked upon learning, and prospective guests may, too, so I’m not broadcasting it here, so the secret remains with me and with those who have been to the Casa. All I can say is, it’s a common ingredient across these isles, and I can easily replicate it at home.

Our lunch proceeded with warm macaroni soup sporting a green cap of what looked like pesto, but which turned out to be blitzed malunggay leaves. I forgot to ask if it’s fresh, because I’ve cooked enough malunggay leaves in my lifetime to know that the leaves turn dark green with heat, and these are still bright green. I’m thinking maybe they’re the powdered kind. The soup also tasted of chicken cubes.

After the soup, though, and after the minor shortcomings, it was all homey and country-style. There was lemon-grass scented roasted chicken, cooked through but still moist, and almost adobo-like. 

And there were thin slices of tambakol in a thin gata, the banana leaf wrapping perfuming each steak. I don’t buy tambakol  at the market for I rarely find them fresh, and I get queasy with the red flesh. But the steaks we had for lunch tasted like they were freshly caught, with no hint of lansa. I could not detect ginger in the dish, as is common in many ginataan to cut the fishy taste. Here it was not needed, and it was one of the most delicate fish steaks I’ve had. Skill, and home-cooking expertise, was evident in the preparation and execution of this dish.

A side of ensaladang talong – grilled and peeled eggplants that were diced along with some tomato wedges, in a sweet vinaigrette – paired nicely with both chicken and fish.

Rounding the meal off was ginisang kangkong, which tasted differently from the ginisang kangkong we have weekly at home. There was something aromatic in there, without the somewhat acrid, though very subtle, note that I’ve come to associate with kangkong. I was enjoying it so much I forgot to ask Danica what was in it. Perhaps it was just the freshness, and the waters from which they grew are not as polluted as in Cavite, or elsewhere.

The only available drinks were softdrinks, which my family does not consume. I found the kitchen short in this aspect. Don’t people in Laguna drink local fresh fruit juices? Or herbal teas? But a pitcher of the pink drink can be ordered, so I was appeased. And there was free-flowing purified water, too, which was enough.

Dessert was an entire llanera of the smoothest, chewiest ube halaya on earth. I’m not sure if malagkit, maligat properly translates to chewy, so if it does not then it is not the right word. Not sticky, either, though it does stick to your gums and molars. However short my vocabulary is, it does not diminish the qualifications of this halaya. Or perhaps it leaves me speechless. I suspect powdered glutinous rice was mixed in it, to make it so malagkit. We finished it off, and the kids were eyeing the remains of the entire llanera a couple at the next table was not able to finish (it seems one entire llanera is served per room), so I sent them out to ride the bikes. 

Related Post
Casa San Pablo
Casa San Pablo Dinner
Casa San Pablo Breakfast

Alugbati

This is one of five endemic leafy vegetables promoted by the FNRI to be a regular part of the Filipino diet, as they have been found to be extremely nutritious and are mostly organic.

When the family moved to Cavite I felt I was in abject deprivation. This was in view of the vegetable selection in the area. I was as far as I could be from my hometown for all it seemed. The kamote leaves being sold were red, the string beans were unbelievably long, pale and so wrinkled they looked ancient. And of course there was no baeg, no sitaw shoots, no heirloom tomatoes, no black beans!, and it was mission impossible to find a decent drop of bagoong.

But as I adjusted and got to know the public market better I began to feel a sense of adventure. I was in Tagalog country, and it was an opportunity to explore. So with this attitude I began to see the distinctions of a Tagalog market. Where there were empty spaces where I felt should have been my Pangasinan staples, there were other corners presenting new ingredients I haven’t cooked with before. And spread before me were an array of plant parts that I certainly haven’t eaten before.

One of these were the ruby-stemmed and succulent-leaved alugbati  vine tops being sold alongside rogue kamote, kangkong  and saluyot. It was funny because when I asked the vendor how the tops were cooked she said she didn’t have an idea, but that they get bought by the end of the day so they must be edible.

I learned from a DOST-FNRI seminar that these leaves come from one of the five endemic organic plants that are packed with nutrients.* Of the five I grew up eating only one, so I resolved to swiftly remedy my parents’ neglect. I don’t blame them, though, since most of the other four weren't really regarded as food in my province, and our diet featured prominently other much more nutritional leaves (hello, malunggay and saluyot). 

The first time I ate alugbati (libato, malabar spinach, Basella rubra) was in a kind of pinakbet – okra, eggplants, tomatoes and alugbati boiled in salted broth – served at our office canteen, so I wrongfully concluded alugbati was an Ilocano vegetable I didn’t know about.  So that was how I first tried to cook it at home. Even without the DOST seminar I couldn’t overlook it during my weekly marketing, for they are ever present no matter what the season was.

But it did not become a favorite. The flavor isn’t pleasant – very earthy, pervading the entire dish. The alugbati turns mucilaginous when cooked, though not as evidently phlegmy as saluyot or okra. It also loses its magenta hue, becoming nondescript brown like most Ilocano veggies.

One rainy weekend there was a dearth of vegetables at the market, but there were bunches of ever attractive alugbati. The vendor told to me to buy some to cook with albacora (tuna albacore), which were plentiful that time. Ever eager to try new dishes and bearing in mind that DOST touts them as a superleaf I followed her instructions, with happy results.

Albacore steaks are seared both sides in a pan. Then sauté garlic, lots of onions and a heaping  handful of sliced ripe and juicy tomatoes. Then mix in the alugbati tops that have been trimmed of the tough lower stems. Let cook until wilted, season with salt and pepper, then add the albacore steaks. Cover and let cook for 2-3 minutes or until the sautéing juices have been absorbed by the steaks.

It is a delightful confluence that albacore tuna and alugbati are both accessible at the Cavite public market. My weekly meal repertoire became enriched, in variety, flavor and nutritional benefits. For this dish I love to cook again and again. The sweetish acidity of the tomatoes downplays the earthiness of the alugbati, which in turn tames the tomatoes’ sourness. The addition of the high-protein, low-fat tuna packs it all in and transforms it into a rounded, one-pot meal.

But the story of my discovery doesn’t end here.  One Saturday a lola sat beside my son at the waiting area of the public market while I finished marketing. When I came to collect my son and the fruits of our labors that day, the lola asked me if I was a Bisaya. I was confounded, for it was my first time to be asked that question. She proceeded to explain that she noticed the alugbati leaves protruding from our bayong, and thought that we were Bisaya like herself. She went on to say that alugbati is planted everywhere in the Visayas, and they frequently eat it mixed with stewed monggo (with gata), or sautéed with ground pork and tomatoes.

My alugbati menu suddenly lengthened, and that fateful weekend I planted in my little garden patch the stems of the two bunches of alugbati that we had bought at the market. I went to Facebook, and friends in the Visayas and Mindanao confirmed that the vegetable is common enough where they live. 

So now I know that that first alugbati dish I ate was a kind of Bisayan utan. We tried it again just last night, with alugbati tops from my garden, but this time we had the vegetables sautéed with home-made bagoong alamang and left out the ampalaya since we ran out of it. It was as good as it could be. Like pakbet, but the alugbati flavor took the place of the bitterness of the ampalaya, so it wasn’t as sharp. It was so good I had to set aside some to bring to the office for lunch the next day.

I again took to Facebook, and my Pangasinense friends retorted that they knew alugbati as, along with kangkong, good fodder for pigs. Lucky pigs, to be so nourished. I hope the nutritional benefits get translated into enriched meat, so I won’t have to pity my friends. 

*Alugbati purportedly contains phytochemicals and anti-oxidants, and is rich in Vitamins A, B, and C, iron, carotene and nitrates, and a good source of soluble fiber.  It is used to treat headaches, inflammations, acne, and burns and scalds, and used for catarrhal infections, hemorrhagic diseases. It is said to be a galactagogue, as well as used for fertility and other sexual issues.

The Philippine Organic Super-Leaves

Kamote

Spinach Amaranth

Related Posts

Kipil

Lugadang Dilis

Kasilyo

Tamales

Paksiw na Labong sa Dilaw

Mirroring other organizations in the metropolis, the staff in the agency I work for is a heterogeneous assemblage representing most regions in the country. This inevitably results to a cornucopia of regional delights for everybody after long holidays. More commonly, though, the regional spread is repeated every day, at lunchtime.

While I used to scoff at the elders for bringing home-cooked lunch during my early years, I have joined the fray, so to speak, ever since I gained access to a home kitchen. I realize now how much I missed during those years of eating out every single meal every single day. For lunches at the office prove to be a veritable tour of the home kitchens scattered across Luzon, Visayas, and Mindanao.

The variety of the food that I encounter is as multifarious as the 7,000 islands of the Philippines. I bring my own lunch from home not just for the economic and health-wise benefits of it, but also for the chance to eat it with others. The moment someone opens his lunch box I am all eyes, and ready to ask ever so many things. What is that? What is it made of? Is that a regular feature in your home in the province? Who cooked it now? How does it taste?

The last question always elicits a generous offer of a portion, which I have been leading to all along, of course. After the tastings, conversation naturally revolves around what we ate during our childhoods, provincial favorites, comfort food, so that I learn so many things as well as get ideas on how to introduce more diversity into my own home-cooked meals.

This is a result of one of those lunches. Labong or bamboo shoot is definitely a conspicuous ingredient of rainy season meals, but I only know three ways of cooking it – sinagsagan with saluyot, boiled with chicken or pork, and atsara/adobo, all rainy season staple dishes in Pangasinan. This one, brought on several occasions for lunch by a colleague who hails from Majayjay, an elevated municipality lying at the foot of Mt. Banahaw in the province of Laguna, is a variation of the atsara/adobong labong.

But while atsarang labong is eaten as a side, this one is main course. It is called paksiw precisely because it is such – julienned bamboo shoot stewed in previously boiled vinegar spiced with garlic, ginger, fresh turmeric, black peppercorns, sliced onions, siling haba. The sahog is either tilapia – bangus is probably good, too, though I haven’t tried it yet – or pork. The lemony hue from the dilaw makes it look very appealing.

It tastes familiar – like atsarang labong or adobong labong, but it has that unmistakable earthy, curried flavor of the luyang dilaw, and the richness of the sahog. It is not cooked dry as the atsara, but a little pickling broth is left over, begging to be spooned over rice. The sourness requires a sprinkling of salt. Or fried tuyo. As I didn’t have tuyo when I made this, I just had a saucer of salt on the table, but substantiated it with tortang talong – eggplants charred over open fire, peeled, mashed, dipped in beaten eggs, then fried with chopped garlic and onions.

So now my rainy season labong repertoire has been enriched. There are other ways of cooking labong elsewhere, I know, but I’d like to hear about, and taste, it from my lunchmates first.
          _______________________________________________________________________

Mix half a cup or less vinegar with 1-2 cups of water, peeled and sliced thumb of ginger, sliced onion, smashed three cloves garlic, peeled and sliced turmeric rhizomes (about three pieces), a pinch of whole black peppercorns. Put this in a cooking pan (preferably a kaldero) and bring to a fast simmer for 5 minutes. If using pork, mix in and bring to a boil until tender, adding water if it is starting to dry up. When the pork is almost cooked mix in a cup of parboiled labong.* Cook until the labong is soft. Season with rock salt to taste and put in the siling haba. If using fish, put in at this point, and cook until the flesh has turned opaque. Serve hot.

          _______________________________________________________________________

* Bamboo shoots are usually sold at markets julienned and parboiled, for longer shelf-life. If the labong is fresh, boil first before storing in the ref.


Related Posts
Saluyot tan Labong
Labong Atsara
Chicken Tinola with Labong
Luyang Dilaw
Dinilawang Atsara
Dinilawang Alimusan
Paksiw
Laing sa Santol

Inggisan Kamatis

We have vegetables most meals. But for breakfast it kind of doesn't fit, like it's too serious so early in the day. Though I know it doesn't have to be, and it's just psychological. 

But we do have fresh fruit, first thing in the morning, so our empty stomachs get to absorb most of the beneficial natural vitamins. And because tomatoes are supposedly fruits, they usually accompany  rice breakfasts. The sour-sweet juiciness greatly complements smoked and other deli meats, and pairs perfectly with fried marinated fish, or smoked or salted and dried,  that are normal Filipino breakfast fare. 

Tomatoes pair even better with vinegar stews adobo and paksiw. Their mild sweetness plays with the intense sourness (plus saltiness in case of the adobo) of the dishes, and provide a layer of flavor that teases the palate. 

We usually just slice fresh tomatoes and mix them with bagoong alamang, or salt if that's not available, in a salad. If there's salted duck eggs that's sliced and mixed in, too, but in place of the bagoong or salt. But they say that unlike other fruits, tomatoes are much more beneficial cooked than fresh. And one simple step takes the tomatoes to another level, at the same time maximizing their potential. 

There's nothing simpler than sauteing tomatoes. It's the first thing I learned how to cook. It's just peeling garlic and crushing them to release flavor, then putting them in hot oil to stir fry. Then slice onions and mix them in. I slice the tomatoes and separate the seeds, but other people like the seeds, so it's optional. The tomatoes are stir-fried along with the garlic and onions, then seasoned with salt and pepper. Cooking time depends on how you like the tomatoes - whole, wilted, melting or disintegrated - taking from a minute to ten. 

This is already good to eat, but to make the dish richer beaten eggs are added in and incorporated. Now this can go two ways. Either just an egg or two is mixed in, just to enrich, the tomatoes retaining dominance in taste and visuals. Or add four or more to make an omelet. For the latter the sauteed tomatoes is mixed into  beaten eggs before it is poured in a frying pan and allowed to set, or stirred around to get large soft curds. 

Adding other ingredients to this egg-tomato dish can take it along many different directions. Herbs, perhaps, or leeks, or green leafy vegetables like pechay or cabbage. Maybe even sardines. For us, though, in Pangasinan, we add a thumb of ginger peeled and sliced thinly, which goes into the frying pan before the garlic. It brings a  bit of heat, and spice, and a sort of comforting angle to the dish. For you see, it evokes home-cooking, that which was made by lolas and mamas and yayas who evoke the nurturing zone of childhood.

So I never forget to buy tomatoes during my weekly market jaunts all through out the year, that I have a line graph of its price per kilo year-round here in my head. It's at rock-bottom now, so I've been buying more than we need for a week, which we saute and freeze for the time when the price escalates, which is when the typhoons hit. 

Related Posts

Pangasinan Tomatoes

Radish-Tomato Salad

Chili Flakes Kimchi

Koreans arrived in droves during the last quarter of the previous century, and many shops catering to them sprouted, first in Metro Manila, then radiating out towards the cities in nearby provinces, then to the cities down south that served as entrypoints to tourist destinations, particularly in Cebu where there is a direct flight connecting the two countries. 

So we were introduced to Korean culture. And even before the burgeoning of the restaurant scene by the 1990s, Korean restaurants have already been part of city landscapes. I remember Korean Village in Ermita (haven't been there recently, don't know if it still exists, or even if Ermita itself still exists), and the adjacent old houses turned into restaurants along Burgos in Makati. I remember in particular one restaurant along Kalayaan Avenue in Makati, which I never ventured in, but was pointed out to me as serving boiled dog in soup. As if I'd be interested.

It took less than a decade for Korean stuff to be assimilated into the Pinoy consciousness. This length of time is a blink compared to the time it took for us to assimilate things Chinese, with whom we have been dealing with for more than a thousand years.

The level of assimilation of Korean versus Chinese isn't on the same level, however, at least in as far as food is concerned. For most of the Chinese traders who reached our shores were Cantonese, who have fairly benign cuisine. As Korean food is liberal in the use of spicy heat, its robust integration into the ordinary day-to-day meals of Pinoys is limited. Filipino food is not pervasively hot, and our use of spice is relegated to a few dishes, and only to cut richness, or remove lansa from raw seafood.

Me, I have no problem with spice and heat. So I embraced the cuisine with the same enthusiasm as I give to anything new. I sometimes even prefer it over Chinese, as it comes across as simpler, with a "cleaner" taste, just like Japanese food. And because much of it involves fermented "sides," which is probiotically-rich, I have welcomed it into my home as well.

I started with introducing the cuisine to my family. A Korean restaurant was where the hubby and I first dated, actually. Then I regularly bought kimchi for eating with grilled bangus, other seafood and meats at home.  My elder daughter was enamored of it, and consumed pouches and pouches of the stuff.

I had been content with buying pre-made kimchi, for I thought to let the experts keep their trade. But when I read over David Lebovitz' kimchi recipe and discovered how easy it was to do, and how cheap it would be to make your own considering the amount of the fermented vegetables we consume, I took matters into my own hands.

So kimchi has been the flavor of the house this year. David had trouble hunting for Korean chili powder in Paris - I didn't bother, though I'm sure it is available in most supermarkets. I have this big, big jar of dried chili flakes that has been occupying valuable space in my refrigerator for a long time, so I thought to turn into something more productive.

The chili flakes had a second life, and didn't in any way differentiate my kimchi from the kimchi made with legitimate chili. And I got to know that the Chinese pechay that has long been a part of Pinoy meals is called napa cabbage.

I like to use the small, green ones that are about half the size of the regular, so the leaves are not so long. Making kimchi is just a matter of peeling, slicing, steeping in a salt solution, mixing everything together, and letting it ferment. The fermentation can be as short as a day, two to three days at the most. Storage is advised to be two weeks in the refrigerator, but I make big batches and keep them by the back wall of the ref to keep them from fermenting too much.

The benefits? Besides the practical side, I get to have a say in the salt content and the heat level. I can have more of the radish and the ginger, too, if I choose. And we can have kimchi anytime. And I redeem myself in the eyes of the kids, for I have made it a rule that processed food should be consumed very rarely, if at all. Since the kimchi I used to buy came in a pouch it appeared processed to them. Now they are proud that we make our own. What's more, it is an excellent alternative, sweat-inducing side to adobo.

Please find the recipe here. Mine replaces the Korean chili pepper paste and Korean chili powder with dried chili flakes of roughly half the aggregate amount, but feel free to use more.   

Related Posts

Black Sesame Treats

A Home-Cooked Asian Meal

Enoki

The full name of this mushroom is enokitake (Flammulina velutipes), so I guess the more popular name enoki is just a nickname. It goes by the label golden needle mushroom in English, and the unpronounceable jīnzhēngū (nickname jingu) in Chinese, paengi beoseot in Korean (no nickname), and trâm vàng (kim châm) in Vietnamese. No local name, as it is not endemic in the Philippines.

The English name is apt, as these are very tiny, slim fungi, like pins. The wild ones are reportedly pale brown, like mushrooms found in the country. Cultivated enoki are ivory-colored, looking very dainty.

I've only ever eaten enoki - the cultivated kind - wrapped in grilled bacon in  Japanese restaurants, or as a part of shabu-shabu, until recently. I used to see them in the fresh vegetable section of local groceries, sealed in plastic bags, but always bypassed them because they sold for the price of gold. 

But starting last year small bags were selling for as little as Php30 per 100 grams in the major supermarkets in Metro Manila (SM, Metro, Landmark). At Carvajal alley in Binondo I was able to buy 250 grams' worth for only Php50. All of them had been imported from Korea.

So I've been eating lots of enoki lately. And I'm happy because cooking at home I can forgo the bacon. What I usually do is mix the mushrooms with vegetables commonly planted in Baguio for a sort of chop suey - Chinese pechay (napa cabbage), chicharo (sweet pea pods), thin slices of sayote fruit, and chopped celery and leeks and lots and lots of minced garlic for flavor. The stir-fry is then splashed with dissolved flour or cornstarch for a thick sauce.

Like other mushrooms, enoki is rich in anti-oxidants and protein, so this chop-suey is actually a complete one-pan meal. But I'd like to roast it with other mushrooms for this roasted garlic mushroom sauce. I found small pearl mushrooms -also imported - at the grocery last night, and they would be fun to mix together, probably with fresh button mushrooms, too, if I can find them, though they are mostly available canned.

I'm sure enoki would be great with the dishes I commonly cook local mushrooms in, with papaya, or sayote tops, or in soup. So I'm all set for a meatless Holy Week.

Related Posts
Anthill Mushrooms
Bamboo Mushrooms

Spinach Amaranth

This is one of five endemic leafy vegetables promoted by the FNRI to be a regular part of the Filipino diet, as they have been found to be extremely nutritious and are mostly organic.

Supposedly known as edible spinach or yin tsai or Chinese spinach (Amaranthus gangeticus), it is different from the more popular Baguio spinach, which has thicker leaves and stems. The amaranth has paper-thin leaves that go limp and wilt in just a few hours, the stems just a tad thicker, like that of the saluyot. The short sprouts are uprooted, so the leaves come to the market still sporting muddy roots.

I've only just seen several bunches at any one time being sold in the Cavite City public market, and only by just one or two vendors. I haven't come across it in the vegetable section of the several supermarkets I frequent, but large bunches of it is available in Divisoria. My lola in Frisco used to buy lots of it from the Balintawak market.

It is not sold year-round. Just a few weeks a year, and one time it appeared just once, then disappeared never to be seen again. I've been buying it for several weeks now, though, so it must be in season.

Before I came to Metro Manila I never knew about this spinach, though I bought Baguio spinach when I went to the mountain city. We didn't eat it, and as far as I know it wasn't sold and eaten in my hometown. I only came to know about it when it was served at the Frisco home of my lola, mixed with monggo in lieu of the more traditional malunggay.

When I attended an organics seminar conducted by the Food and Nutrition Research Institute of the Department of Science and Technology and learned that, apart from malunggay, there are five local organic greens that are super-packed nutritionally, and that this spinach is one of them, I kept a look-out. So I've been having it ever since whenever I can find it.

And I've just realized I've foregone Baguio spinach in favor of it. It's cheaper by the kilo, since it weighs far less, and it's more accessible when in season. There seems to be no difference in taste, and even in texture. I think what I buy is the white, round-leafed variety.

I've heard some people mix this with sinigang, that ubiqiuitous Filipino soured broth with meats or fish. But I haven't tried it yet. I have difficulty parting with tradition - I have kangkong with sinigang using meats, or kamote tops with fish. I also ever use malunggay or ampalaya leaves in my monggo.

Maybe that's because I like to eat spinach by itself. Sauteed with lots of crushed garlic - as much as a whole head - until wilted to a dark green. For crunch and an additional dose of garlic breath, I sprinkle the sauteed spinach with minced garlic fried to a crisp. Season with salt to taste, but it's not necessary, especially if it's going to accompany some fried or grilled fish or meat.

It can be served hot from the pan, or cold with a generous douse of sesame oil, and some sesame seeds as well.

I think the sauteed spinach and the popular "green soup" or spinach-seafood soup served in many Chinese restaurants, which I order every chance I get, use this variety.  

---

Amaranth is a rich source of calcium and Vitamin A. It also has phosphorus, Vitamin C and traces of the B vitamins thiamine, riboflavin and niacin. It is a good supplement food for growing children and lactating mothers. Patients suffering from fever, hemorrhage, anemia or kidney problems are given amaranth for its medicinal value.

---

The Philippine Organic Super-Leaves
Kamote

Alugbati

Related Posts
Mung Bean Stew

Friday Monggo

I attended Ash Wednesday mass at my kids' school, and as expected, the homily was lecture-like. Since the captive audience was composed mainly of elementary and high school students, the lesson for the day was very basic, delving on the rules for Lent.

Far from being boring, I found the lecture enlightening. I attended non-sectarian schools my entire life, and even though I was active in our local parish church from Kindergarten up to high school graduation, there were many things missing in my haphazard Catholic education, which came from unstructured, irregular  catechism classes. 

One of the revelations for me was that in the Philippines all Fridays throughout the year are Lenten days, and so are subject to abstinence from meat. So now I understand why there is always monggo every Friday in every canteen, eatery and karinderia I've eaten, been to or passed by. I previously thought it is carrying a bit too far, outside Lent.   

For monggo is the ultimate symbol of penance and abstinence. It is considered lowly, and is sold cheap, but like the bread and fish in the parable, it multiplies when cooked to feed countless mouths. 

It is also very nutritious. Monggo stew is a hearty, filling one-pot meal that's good any day of the week. It has become a favorite that I actually consider it a treat to eat come Fridays.  

This is how to cook monggo. Wash and drain the beans, then put in a large pot with water. Monggo beans is usually sold in packets of 250 grams. This needs about 3-4 liters of water for cooking, and is good for about a dozen, even more, people when cooked.

Cover and bring to a boil for approximately one hour, checking regularly to add water as needed. When the beans are soft and have split or the green hulls have separated from the seeds, add preferred vegetables and/or leaves. Season to taste. Bring to a boil until the added vegetables have cooked as desired. Remove from heat.

Peel several cloves of garlic and crush with a flat, wooden ladle or the handle of a big knife. Peel a small onion and slice thinly. Wash 3-5 medium tomatoes and slice into quarters or smaller. 

In a frying pan heat some oil, then saute the garlic in it, stirring until a bit brown. Add the onion, and fry until translucent. Mix in the tomatoes and stir. Let the tomatoes cook until wilted and soft. Transfer everything in the pan to the pot of cooked monggo, stirring well to incorporate. Ladle into a bowl and serve. 

That is the basic way of cooking it, and from there it can be taken to a multitude of different directions. In Palawan I've eaten monggo with banana blossom cooked in gata. In Pangasinan we add bagoong and a thumb of peeled ginger to the cooking monggo, just like how we cook all our vegetables. 

If using meats - fatty slices of pork or chopped chicken - they are added halfway through the cooking time of the beans. If meat is added in Pangasinan we season with salt or patis but not bagoong. When not using meat, since it's usually for Lenten Friday, we season with bagoong then add a piece of grilled bangus just before turning off the heat. Some people like adding crushed chicharon on top when ready to serve, though I don't favor it because I like chicharon crunchy, not waterlogged.

Outside of Lent I like adding left-over grilled meats - lechong manok, most frequently - to any stew. I even keep the bones for making soup stock. When using, I usually add the grilled meat right after cooking, and mix this into the stew.

Almost any kind of vegetable can be added to the stew. Ampalaya is the most common, probably to keep with the penitential theme. As is ampalaya leaves. We frequently combine ampalaya fruit, deseeded and sliced thinly, with malunggay leaves. A grand-aunt liked her stew with the local spinach. My in-laws added bagbagkong when in season.

Whatever mixture it is, it would be prudent to remember some things when eating monggo. Cook the beans thoroughly to avoid indigestion and even constipation. There is no need for pre-soaking. It would also be wise to serve it only during lunch. Store cooled leftovers in a clean, tight container in the ref and serve the next day reheated. When the leftover stew has formed little bubbles, throw it away.

And lastly, the best kind of beans for stewing is the one with tiny fuzz all over, like sprinkled with a fine dust. They cook to a thick soup.  

Related Posts
The Three Forms of Monggo
Baeg
Black Bean Stew
Papait
Bagbagkong
Bataw
Sigarillas
Katuray

Ampalaya Salad

When it is cold and wet I crave for something salty. And because it's been raining every afternoon since Christmas, compounding the cold evenings, I remembered the tuyo - salted sun-dried fish - in the ref, and resolved to have it for breakfast. 

We ate the fried salty fish with ampalaya salad. Raw ampalaya, halved lengthwise and deseeded, the inner white pith scraped away, then sliced thinly. Mixed with rock salt for a few minutes, then squeezed to remove the bitter juices. 

The ampalaya is then put in a bowl of sliced native kamatis and doused with cane vinegar. The entire thing perfectly balanced the saltiness of the tuyo. It goaded one to eat a lot of rice, too, to drown the saltiness and bitterness.

It is ampalaya season in Pangasinan now. Kaing upon kaing are offloaded in market sidewalks, and sold for just Php20 a kilo. That's three to four long pieces, or five medium-sized ones, which is more than enough to last a family for a week.

Ampalaya is a regular feature of our diet, from when I was still a child, because of its health benefits and my family's predisposition to diabetes. So eating ampalaya was but a natural inclination for me, although I think that's true for a lot of Pangasinense children, at least in my time. 

The region's cuisine has bitterness as a prominent accent, be it from vegetables or meats. So that I know that the author of the children's folk song bahay kubo is not from Region I. In fact, what is known as the Ilokano parya - the 2-3-inch dark green ones with peaked ridges very close together - is reputed to be the bitterest of their kind - ampai-pait. Conversely, the "albino" ones, with shallow ridges, are supposed to be not bitter at all.  

I can't speak for the younger generation these days, but since my kids eat what we have on the table, they have grown to tolerate ampalaya. My older daughter, who never ceases to amaze me when it comes to food, even likes it. We have it sauteed with tomatoes then folded in beaten eggs. Or with crab meat. We mix it with balatong or monggo, also sauteed with tomatoes and fortified with malunggay leaves. 

They say an ampalaya's bitterness depends on the cook. Aga makaluto, kwan da. Although I think it's just a matter of technique, like employing the mentioned salting prior to cooking. But for me, who has SM tendencies, where's the fun in eating something bitter when it isn't bitter at all? 

But cooking prowess aside, it is said that an ampalaya is best eaten raw. Raw and just sliced, not immersed in salt with the juices squeezed out. It is in the bitter juices where the almost miraculous powers are. Heals and empowers the pancreas and the liver. It is also an accepted folk remedy in my province for hypertension. It is said to strengthen and enhance production of red blood cells. 

So it might be bitter to eat and swallow, but there's nothing bitter in looking forward to enjoying life for a long time yet. 

Related Posts

Amapalaya con Kani

Chili Garlic Oil

Many little things like to sprout at the back of our kitchen. Guavas, tomatoes, squash, saluyot, papayas that grew to six feet. The narrow patch of soil becomes a repository of the dregs of what we regularly consume. Eager to show how alive the things that I lug back from the market are, they shoot out curly young leaves, unburied, unwatered, unminded. And in the blink of an eye they are bearing fruits.

There was a small shrub of sili, from which we sometimes gathered some young shoots, for tinola or sinuwam. But not regularly, as it was still a trifling, and slow to thrive. But suddenly it was five feet tall, slender branches reaching sideways and burgeoned with dark green leaves. And bitty buds.

The buds developed, taking over every square inch of each flimsy branch. The tender young plant breathlessly flaunted its fertility, proliferating with hundreds of miniature reproductions of itself. In the mornings it came alive with mayas fighting over the young fruits, and I was agog to discover these birds had the same level of heat appetite as mine.

I was loathe to harvest the sili, for they were so small. I wanted to give them time to grow a bit more. One day I told the househelp to gather some leaves for tinola, and she proceeded to strip the plant of its fruits. I was aghast, and in a frenzy to come up with what can be done with the sili. The househelp reasoned we might as well make use of it rather than let the birds exclusively feast on them.

The next day the storms came, and the sili plant was reduced to thin bald twigs. Poor thing, it stood there, swaying with the howling wind, and it was like those claw-like trees in horror movies. But I wasn’t horrified, but glad, that we got to the fruits in time.

The fruits quickly went to rot, though, with the cold and wet days that followed. So I swiftly went to work with them, making chili-garlic oil to heat up the chilly nights. Following instructions from an office colleague, I had a bottle of hot, garlicky seasoning that went well with almost anything. Dinners were finished with sweat copiously flowing down our throats, our tongues tingling.

Now I can’t eat properly without it. It’s typically mixed with the bagoong-kalamansi or toyo-kalamansi dip for siomai, grilled and fried meats, fish and seafood. But I go beyond that. I spice up sinigang with it, and use it to enliven arroz caldo. It even goes great with misua. Even paksiw and tinola and adobo are not spared. And my husband begs for a few spoonfuls to bring to drinking bouts with buddies. So that my bottle is now in dire need of replenishment.

The downside is, I get garlic breath. I brush to the point of abrasing my gums and smoothing my tongue, but no relief. But it's nothing that a small square of dark chocolate cannot cure. All the more valid reason to indulge.

I am eyeing the sili plant closely. I fervently hope it recovers fully. And this time I will be fighting with the birds.

---

Chili Garlic Oil

a handful of chiles (about 20 pieces)
5 heads garlic
½ to 1 cup cooking oil
 disposable hand gloves

1. Peel each clove of garlic, and pound finely in a mortar.
2. Wash and dry the chiles. Using gloves, slice thinly, discarding the stems.
3. Put a half cup of oil in a thick-bottomed wide pan and heat over medium fire until smoke rises. Add the garlic, spreading them over the pan to a thin layer. Let cook, stirring occasionally so all bits are frying evenly.
4. When the garlic is starting to color but not yet brown, scrape the sliced chiles including the seeds into the pan and mix. Stir occasionally.
5. Fry until the chiles have wilted and the garlic have almost crisped up and golden brown. Add more oil if the mixture is drying up. Do not overcook, or it will taste bitter.
6. Let cool in the pan, then transfer to a small glass bottle and cover tightly. Keeps well for about two weeks at room temperature, longer in the refrigerator.
7. Be sure that hands and all equipment used in preparation and cooking are washed thoroughly afterwards.

---

Related Posts
Siling Labuyo
Turmeric Bloom
Papaya Efflorescence

Utong na Kamote

This is one of five endemic leafy vegetables promoted by the FNRI to be a regular part of the Filipino diet, as they have been found to be extremely nutritious and are mostly organic.

I expect there would be unwanted traffic for this post because of the title, and it is just a continuation of the laughs I got when I went to Manila for college and talked about this vegetable.

The title means kamote tops, or the young shoots of the sweet potato. In Pangasinan we distinguish this from other kamote varieties by the term kamote waklay (Ipomoea batatas Linn.).

Kamote tops was one of the few vegetables I embraced willingly as a child. It was omnipresent - grown in the front, side and back of every house and just about anywhere there's a small patch of available soil. Consequently, it couldn't be found at the market, and it was just laughable to think of buying some kamote tops when it could be got everywhere.

It was mild in taste, though a bit rough on a child's tongue because of the thick but tender stalks. We always had it in sinigang na bangus - milikfish in soured broth. The sourness came from tomatoes, or pias, and the kamote shoots enhanced it due to an inherent slight fruity tang. It was the unequaled backdrop for the bangus, with its milky-sweet flesh and rich belly.

 When I got older I was able to partake of the tops simply steamed, then dipped in bagoong Pangasinan squeezed with kalamansi. This accompanied grilled or fried fish, and rounded up a simple and rustic but exceedingly nutritious meal with hot boiled rice.

However, I only recently discovered that putting the tops in a soup is actually the optimal way to eat them, since the nutrients leach into the liquid. I've been advised that when steaming, the liquid should be drunk, so I mix it with our daily juice. 

All my life I've only ever known the "puti" variety, as what the all-green kamote leaves are called in Metro Manila and its environs. It was only in Cavite that I came to know the red, or red-violet kind. Bicolano friends tell me the opposite - it is only this variety that they know.

The red-violets can be very pretty. The young shoots come out in rogue, then turn green as they mature. Sometimes I come across all-red tops at the market, and they are quite striking.

I was told that the sanguine kind is more nutritious, but I find I like the puti variety I grew up with. The red-violet stains the broth...

...and dyes the fish an unappetizing blue.

Kamote leaves are one of five, aside from malunggay, organic, endemic leaves that are bursting with nutrients and have natural healing powers. I eat most of these bionic five, but  have just discovered some of them. I will be featuring them all in the next posts.

---

Steamed Kamote Tops

2 bunches kamote tops

boiling water

kalamansi

bagoong

1. Wash the shoots to remove dirt and grime. Trim mature leaves and tough stalks. 
2. Bring half a pot of water to a boil.
3. Put the cleaned kamote shoots into the boiling water and let cook uncovered for about 2 minutes.
4. Using a slotted ladle, remove the shoots from the cooking water. Let the water cool and set aside, to be mixed with tea, iced tea or cold fresh fruit juice.
5. Serve with a dipping  sauce of three tablespoons bagoong squeezed with the juice from a couple of kalamansi.

---

---

The leaves of the sweet potato are rich in Vitamins A, B and C, iron, calcium and phosphorous, and along with the tubers, are a good source of complex carbohydrates and dietary fiber. They are considered antioxidant, antimutagenic, antibacterial, antidiabetic, and also hemostatic, with spleen invigorating properties.

The kamote plant does not only benefit humans. It is one of a few believed to have the capability of regenerating nutrients in the soil.

---

 

The Philippine Organic Super-Leaves

Spinach Amaranth

Alugbati

Related Posts

Sinigang na Bangus

This is an entry to the July cooking challenge of the Kulinarya Cooking Club, of which My Expat Mommy and I were hosts. Our theme for the month was Pang-Habang-Buhay,  to give emphasis to vegetables and fruits we should be eating often, and in conjunction with the observation of Nutrition Month. 

The entries to Pang-Habang-Buhay:

Tina's Bulanglang (Pinay in Texas)

Elizabeth's Ampalaya Guisado (Asian in America)

Adora's Stir-Fried Green Beans Adobo (Adora's Box)

Theodore's Som Tam (Chef By Day)

Peachy's Kinalabasang Hipon (The Peach Kitchen) 

Ogg's Tofu

Iska's Ensaladang Okra at Dilis (ISKAndals)

Erwin's Wild Cod Fillet in Sour Broth

Joy's Fruit Halo-Halo (Joy's Misadventures)