Patis and bagoong

One of the habits of Filipinos is to have a dipping sauce when eating almost anything as a viand. Usually it is patis or fish sauce, and sometimes it is bagoong or fermented salted krill or shrimp. Patis is the liquid that is extracted in the making of bagoong, so one exists with the other. Similar to how Malaysians and Singaporeans use sambal, we Filipinos use patis and/or bagoong. These condiments also are mixed as an ingredient in popular everyday dishes like sinigang or as a pairing condiment.

But did you know that Italians also have a version of this sauce called Colatura? The late chef Margarita Fores introduced me to this Presidia product from Slow Food communities in coastal areas of Italy (www.slowfood.com). At 20 euros per bottle, it is a prized condiment that one can use to flavor even paksiw (fish stewed in vinegar) for a special umami flavor.

In Korea, I found several kinds of fish sauce used in soups and as a dipping sauce for grilled pork as I discovered in Jeju Island. If you order the popular Sundubu Jjigae soup, chances are there is some fish sauce in it, too.

In Southeast Asia we also find patis in Vietnam and Thailand, two of my favorite regional destinations for food. But did you know that in Vietnam, they have numbers on their patis labels. I was introduced to the N-60 version by good friend and foodie Marlene Monfort and we bought sampler bottles by the dozen to gift friends with. “N” apparently is the nitrogen content or score and the higher the better. We saw a brand with several number codes – 40, 50, 60 and we soon found out 40 can be used for cooking and 60 is best used as a dipping sauce, thus the smaller bottles as they are to be used sparingly.

Our Slow Food Manila community held a patis and bagoong taste workshop where we brought patis and bagoong from various places to pair with the standards – binagoongan pork, pinatisang pata, tidtad, a Pampango dish like a white, rather than black, dinuguan, Bicol Express, kare-kare  and pancit Malabon.  Before enjoying these with our authentic tinawon rice from Ifugao, we first displayed all the patis and bagoong sample bottles. Using crudités of turnips, cucumber and green mangoes as vehicles for tasting, we sampled each patis and bagoong and noted the differences in viscosity and saltiness for patis, the clean flavors of homemade bagoong and the overall taste profile of each sauce. You can call it a masterclass or geeking out on these native ingredients. Every sauce could stand on its own and tasted by itself or on a fruit or vegetable slice. Each community member proudly introduced his or her favorite and the source or provenance. We had patis from Lingayen, Malabon (the usual brands you may know) and our imports from Thailand and Vitenam.

The bagoong samples were mostly homemade, but we had a “patislabo,” an unfiltered bagoong still in the process of settling, thus the murky, cloudy liquid was malabo or unclear. We also had a bagoong Balayan (a Batangas coastal town) or bagoong made from fish and not alamang (shrimps). This is best mixed with a little vinegar as a dip for steamed local vegetables.

What we found interesting is “patis flavor” being sold now in lieu of real patis. The process of distilling bagoong to gather real patis and then filter it several times must have become so expensive that manufacturers have found a cheaper way. Now they just use fish extract and sugar to produce a “patis-like” sauce that can salt your soups, but it is far from the real McCoy. So buyer beware. Until we have a law that prescribes the protein content or nitrogen content of patis, you have to know where your patis comes from.

It could also be that manufacturers have competition from other Asian brands (due to zero tariff between borders) and without a similar scale of production, they resort to just diminishing the fish or shrimp part to produce a cheaper sauce. Interestingly, one of these “patis flavor” bottles was marked “Only to be sold in the Philippine market” which means it may never pass Vietnam or other countries’ standard for fish sauce. Lamentable that even our lowly patis has to be diluted into just a “flavor” so it can stay cheap.

Just like balsamic vinegar of Modena which has strict standards of provenance, we can advocate for naming the origin of our patis to preserve its quality, before it completely gets forgotten. I grew up knowing Rufina, Tentay and Lorenzana brands because we lived near Malabon. We would even have access to the “first drop” of Rufina, which is the purest, saltiest and darkest of them all, because my brother knew the owners. At our taste test, Chef Jen Gerodias brought an unlabeled Lorenzana patis which I asked to keep, to compare with our Rufina stash and my favorite N-60 from Vietnam. These are the secrets we like to keep but share with good friends – our patis finds all over Asia, and also Italy.

Much ado about patis you may say, but if we are not aware of these details we could lose this industry someday. We have to step up and ask government to put rules and numbers to attest to its authenticity, protein content and purity.

Patis and bagoong may also be called the poor man’s viand, as some people can live on just patis and rice or bagoong and rice. But in our cuisine, patis plays a very significant role. And we need all the laws we can use to preserve it. Even Geographical Indication (GI) as an intellectual property can be applied for with the Intellectual Property Office of the Philippines (IPOPHL). We can get patis from Malabon, bagoong from Balayan and Lingayen and more towns who may lay claim to having good patis. But do not ask for patis in Negros, as you will get toyo or soy sauce. If you want the fish sauce, you have to say “Rufina.” Funny, is it not?