awful offal

I realize it's been a while since my last attempt at introspection and blog-al reflection on philippine phenomena. the past week has been pretty busy with interviews, transcriptions, failed attempts at data coding, and routine med school apps. luckily, though, in the past week, i've had had some enlightening (interview with marco santo tomas), mind-boggling (seeing inception) and hilarious (calvin and the barf cheeks) moments.

In this combination of a reflection blog and a WTF, Philippines, I'm pasting a link to my friend Krystle's blog, where she gives a good analysis of the Philippine infatuation with SAUCE.

Krystle in Manila: EFF the KETCHUP, GIVE ME THE ASIAN! (she also gives a good analysis of a philippine phenomena in semantics arising from the almighty text message)

I'll add my two centavos. As you'll see from the menu posted on Krystle's blog, I ordered a combo meal at the movies that included a 'Chicken Ceasar [sic] Salad' excited to finally get some greens in mah belleh. As the mindfuck that is Inception started, I excitedly speared my fork into the darkness of the salad bowl. To my surprise, all i picked up was a single lettuce leaf, presumably the heart of Romaine rib, completely submerged in a pool of Ceasar [sic] dressing. In addition to the dressing, though, there lingered another pungent element on my tongue, which only through further mastication I realized was anchovy. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for following a recipe, but anchovy is supposed to be a mere component, a sprinkle if you will, in Ceasar [sic] dressing, not something as ubiquitous as the crunchy crouton! After eating the single lettuce leaf, my already confused psyche, thinking I was in a Caesar salad dream with this fork as my totem (see Inception), was even more distraught to see that all that remained in the salad bowl was a sea of dressing, through which croutons, pieces of chicken, and anchovies swam.

The love for sauce and dressing and all types of greasy, oily, seemingly similar tasting condiments are EVERYWHERE. And believe me, it's not something as dismissive as a ketchup packet here and there or the awesome onion and relish dispensers at Costco. In the Philippines, the need for 'sawsawan' is as important as the dish itself. At a restaurant the other day, the woman sitting at the table beside me used her lettuce leaf to clean the gravy boat, obviously full of Ceasar [sic] dressing, to pick up every last drop.

I guess this discussion of sauce hits at an integral part of Filipino life in general: food. I've read in various places and spoken to many 'foodies' who explain that what they've had of Filipino food is not something to write home about. Not gonna lie, I myself don't really enjoy Filipino food all that much. I know, how can I say this? Do I dare blaspheme my parents' cooking and my four years of Club Filipino dinners at Georgetown?

When it comes down to it, though, as I think back on the meals I've had here in Manila, they've all followed the same formulaic recipe of a scoop of rice topped with some meat item stewed in thick sauce. Throw in some vegetables, either steamed, boiled, or also stewed in a thick, oily sauce. To some degree, I see critics' points in the unshockingly bland nature of Filipino food. I'm sure many of my Filipino friends may find some fault in these words, but I urge you, to think of Filipino food and try to conceive of a descriptive term, something that really sets the food apart from anything else you've ever had.

Now I'm not tooting my own gustatory horn, but from the Southeast/South/East Asian food I have tasted, something ALWAYS sticks out. Indian - spices of coriander and cumin (thanks Polli!). Thai - the kick of chili peppers (I see you, Fuadi!). Vietnamese - refreshing lime and lemongrass (Hi Trinh!). Japanese - the simplicity of ingredients (Little Tokyo, where you at?). Korean - the nutty sesame oil (Yechon, I miss you!). Chinese - (this can range from pungent to textural to just about anything).

But when I think Filipino, what follows the hyphen? I can't really think of something that sets it apart from other Asian cuisine or even cuisine in general. This could just be 1-month-in-Manila-Roland-who-has-had-rice-for-every-meal speaking. As for the word, I guess, saucy?

Who knows? Maybe this discussion can fit into the larger scheme of what seems to be the identity crisis that Philippines experiences, somehow as a ethnic, cultural, linguistic, comestible hodgepodge of the world. I guess what better example of this, than Filipino spaghetti. Ick, my stomach turns just at the thought. To save myself from barf cheeks, here's a link to visuals and recipe for Filipino Spaghetti. Mrs. Brower, I apologize for even calling this bastardization 'spaghetti.'

Yum. And if by yum, I mean Gross.

To end this discussion in a non-anti-Filipino sentiment, I would describe Filipino food very similar to 'soul food,' or rather the 'soul food' that I've had in the US: fried chicken and gravy, greens, mac and cheese, chitlin's, fried catfish. In the US, when we think of/eat soul food, the most common response is 'comfort food,' something we can imagine a big ol' black lady lovingly stewing up before she gives us a huge hug. Excuse the horribly stereotypical imagery I stir up, but I'm aiming to make a point, historically about the cultural similarities in Filipino and African-American 'soul food.' Let's take a deeper look. Both cultures found themselves enslaved by a world power (black slaves by Americans, Filipino slaves by Spanish/Chinese/Japanese). Both cuisines found themselves localized to certain regions because of their conquerors (the South for black slaves, Pampanga for Filipinos). Lastly, and most notably, because of their enslavement, the staples of both cuisines were consequently the remains or entrails of the entrees of their masters. Chitlin's = chicharon bulaklak, fried pork knuckle = crispy pata, ubiquitous inclusions of oxtail, okra, beans, and most importantly FAT, lard = oil.

So while Filipino food may not be critically acclaimed, nor will it bloom as the new craze in the same way pho or tapas has, I guess it's something to come home to, something that, instead of big ol' black lady, a small little manang has prepared with a smile to fill your stomach. For me specifically, I may not be inspired to grab a Filipino cookbook, but once I start chewing that spoonful of rice mixed with pig intestine boiled in pig's blood (see dinuguan - I swear it's good!), there's a little part of my me, way deep on the inside, that feels like a 5-year-old roland again, unfettered by the chains of conventional cuisine, excited even by the offal, not awful, prospects of my dad's home cooking, the sound of rice hitting the rice cooker, and the legitmately heartwarming sound of "Kain na tayo" (Let's eat). And maybe, in this hectic grown-up life i've assumed, a fork-and-spoon trip to my simple childhood is all the comfort I need to stay sane.