Food, glorious food

With the close-open-close-open (hopefully open again soon) situation at the Strait of Hormuz, things will remain uncertain for a while yet. Today’s big-time rollback of pump prices may be the last for now, as world oil prices jumped again after Hormuz was closed over the weekend and US naval forces attacked and seized an Iranian-flagged cargo vessel in the Arabian Sea that defied an American blockade, with Iran immediately warning of retaliation.

US Vice President JD Vance is once again leading a “high-level delegation” to Pakistan for talks with Iran, although as of Monday Tehran has said it “has no plans for now to participate.” Hopefully the talks push through and something positive comes out of this second round.

We plan our lives by the week, not just because of price movements at the gas station but also price movements at the palengke when we do our weekly marketing. The DTI and manufacturers have promised no price increases on basic commodities like sardines and bread and instant noodles, but in the wet market, prices of fresh produce creep up each week.

The high cost of fuel has put a severe strain on produce, especially vegetables, that have to be transported from farms to the markets in urban centers, leading some farmers to just letting their crops rot in the fields or giving them away to whoever cares to get them. Something should seriously be done about logistics (not those ghost or substandard farm-to-market roads) to get the bounty of our land to markets and then to kitchens – rather than filling our markets with imported onions and carrots and the like. Our agricultural policy is really skewed when I have to ask my suki to point out which are the locally grown vegetables and then to sometimes be told, “Wala pong local, ito lang imported, maganda naman (there’s no local, just imported, but they’re nice).”

The idea of home gardens and backyard or vacant lot farming is happily gaining popularity. Fruits are the gift of summer, and I’ve been enjoying mangoes and kaimito (starapple, which sadly is nearing its season’s end) from my friend’s garden in Mandaluyong (yes, Mandaluyong, in the concrete jungle that is Metro Manila). The other night my neighbor shared mangoes from Zambales, which ripened on the tree and are absolutely yummy.

We recently feasted on adobong puso ng saging (banana heart) harvested from a vacant lot nearby that we have dubbed “Tata’s Farm,” where Manang plants anything and everything from malunggay (moringa) to mulberry, calamansi to kamote, gabi (taro) to luyang dilaw (turmeric), siling labuyo (bird’s eye chili) to saba (plantains).

Mango trees heavy with fruit temptingly overhang onto sidewalks and streets, so much so that it has become an industry where folks with their makeshift sungkit – a long pole with a wire hook and small bag at the end to catch the fruit – harvest the fruits and, getting more than they can eat, set up a stall on the sidewalk and sell the excess. Now that’s enterprise.

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April is Filipino Food Month, and you don’t have to be a gourmet or gourmand or foodie to celebrate Filipino food. Masarap, malinamnam are untranslatable affirmations of Filipino food. Fancy fusions and trendy twists (the latest gimmicks of “in” restaurants seem to be putting flowers on the food and having the server deliver a “lecture” as each dish is brought to the table, perhaps in pursuit of a coveted star rating?) aside, basic Filipino food hits the palate just right.

There is a lot of discussion on exactly what is Filipino food and even attempts to “standardize” Filipino food, for example to determine an adobo that can be called our national dish. That is pure folly, since there are as many variations of adobo as there are cooks who make this braised pot of deliciousness. Why, even in our family, what can be called Chinese adobo – tau yiu bah – varies: how my mother used to do it and how my uncle’s cook would do it (served every single meal, or my uncle would throw a fit) and how my Manang now does it are different in many little ways but still basically the same dish. Which is, in truth, how a dish is enriched and developed – same-same but not same, as they say.

That goes for much of Filipino food, one dish or delicacy done in a hundred different ways. Back from spending Holy Week in Iloilo, my friend Barbie gave me a wonderful book, “NAMIT! Celebrating the Culinary Tradition of Iloilo Province” published by the Provincial Culture, Arts, History and Tourism Office. Unlike the usual cookbook, Namit! presents Iloilo’s rich traditions and varieties of kakanin, local delights sold in markets or streetside stalls in the different towns of the province’s five districts. With ingredients like rice, corn, coconut, root crops common throughout the province, how they are used and how they are cooked mark the subtle differences such that a rice cake from one town would be different from that of another town.

For example, the ibos (rice cake wrapped in coconut leaf) in Leganes has strips of young coconut meat; while the ibos in Cabatuan has haliya (coconut jelly) and the ibos in Balasan uses cassava.

Namit! not only introduces us to the numerous delicacies but also to the people who make them, generations of cooks who take ordinary ingredients and, with a lot of love and family tradition, turn them into mouth-watering delights.

Having been designated in 2023 a UNESCO Creative City of Gastronomy (over the objections of other cities and provinces with their own notably rich culinary traditions), Iloilo exemplifies the depths and variety and richness of Filipino food. From north to south, across islands and provinces, Filipino food is alive and well, thriving and waiting to be tasted. We just have to come to the table with an open palate – and a hungry tummy!