A chef’s laboratory

We had the good fortune of trying Filipino ingredients as presented by a very progressive chef and his team one summer evening. As you enter the restaurant, what greets you are jars and glass bottles of fermented fruits like batuan and tamarillo, vinegars curing with dates written on masking tape, local wines like tapuey (rice wine) and coconut, and buro powder.

As you sit and are offered cocktails, you realize this is not the usual fare. The imported wines are only served by the bottle because it may be better to try a cocktail with Filipino names like Dalisay and Alapaap. Most if not all are prepared with Pinoy exotica – kamias habanero foam? Egg whites? Fermented tomato sago? I chose the bourbon whiskey-based one called Mestiza, which is a spirit closer to my usual scotch, than a clear alcohol like vodka or gin.

The chef does trial and error as he makes his own playbook of flavors derived from old food storage practices like fermentation or what we more commonly know as buro, and my recollection of this cooking or food preparation method is burong dalag (fermented mudfish), which only a few of us siblings took a liking to. Our mother, another exotica fan, would store this in the pantry and when “cooked” in its fermentation medium would sauté it in tomatoes, onions and garlic. Served hot and gleaming in its pinkish hues, it was perfect with hot rice and fried fish and wrapped in fresh mustard leaves. That is my pleasant memory of fermented food.

While enjoying our cocktails we admired the “experiments” around us – it reminded me of our laboratories in college where you have jars of specimens floating in unidentified glass bottles. These ones though looked and sounded more familiar as we know them in Slow Food (www.slowfood.com) circles of preserving biodiversity and saving fruits which are endangered – kamias, batuan, tamarind, santol, sampinit and sineguelas! I was smiling as I took photos for my file of what this innovative or radical chef collects and experiments on.

The biggest surprise was how he uses these fermented fruits, vinegars and oils. When we asked how he dreams of these new flavors, he simply and humbly said “trial and error.”

So you can imagine how much time and effort it takes to perfect a dish. When I introduced myself as being a part of Slow Food, the chef acknowledged that we are on the same mission, because people may soon forget the tastes of our fruits and local flavors like patis, calamansi and toyo, vinegars from all kinds of fruits and how they can mix and match with local meats and vegetables.

The chef and his team travel the country to discover these gems of local fare – I admire how he has found a particular Kalinga rice called sinapon when I thought I already knew enough heirloom names – jeykot, diket and the rest. He uses this rice to serve with a beautiful pork dish but the rice was simmered in a fish broth (lapulapu head).

Think chicken rice except this is fish. And the richness of the pork was complemented by the rice, round like Spanish bomba or Italian arborio, but our very own. It makes you proud to try these flavors of fermented carrot glace, upo and patis, okra and guava. It’s a party in your mouth along with the heirloom Kalinga rice served to tame the rich flavors of the meat.

The first dishes were all new to me but I so loved the flavors. Imagine grilled banana heart with a manibalang green mango, pomelo, buko vinegar and watermelon and dikay leaf. I cannot find an English translation for manibalang. And that is how Pinoy cuisine becomes unique. We have words to describe stages of ripeness in a mango, as we have for coconut.

Coconut can be described as buko (young) or niyog (mature). But in between, you can have mala kanin (like rice) and several other stages named after their texture or consistency between buko and niyog.

He also played with a sweet ensaymada (brioche) and made a caramelized coating that you pair with a whipped local goat cheese from Malagos called La Regina, which is aged to his specifications. This is served in between the three first dishes and the last two entrees as the “bread” course. It is a wonderful palate changer and prepares you for the main events, which are the chicken dish followed by the aforementioned pork humba.

What a nice substitute for sorbets that continental cuisine does in between courses to cleanse the palate. This bread intermission prepared my palate for more flavors.

Now, you may ask, why is the chef experimenting with these unusual flavors? That’s his signature. Rather than have consistent sauces or mixes come from a commissary as many restaurants claim to have, this chef concentrates everything in this laboratory.

This special undivided attention to detail makes you actually taste what they prepare each day with a lot of time and effort, rather than mixed ingredients coming from a central kitchen. I appreciate the time and effort and the creativity to use all these “slow food” ingredients.

He is correct that unless we preserve these unusual fruits, they will soon be forgotten by the young and most Filipinos. Imagine appreciating ampalaya oil, which to my surprise tasted like olive oil. Imagine macopa or tambis and oil from its leaves being a flavor accent for a Kalinga red rice flan dessert.

I take my hat off to chef Stephan Duhesme for his innovation and his original ideas to further our advocacy for appreciation of truly Filipino ingredients. You may think, “Why bother?” But it serves not only as a creative outlet for him and his team, but a way to refresh our memory that good food and great flavors are just under our noses.

More importantly, he helps us to take pride in Filipino ingredients and the gastronomic possibilities around locally-sourced food.