Knuckle-head

Paksiw is not adobo. The true Filipino foodie knows the difference. Strictly speaking, the basics of adobo are boiling in salt, vinegar, peppercorns and garlic, then frying to seal in the flavors, then returning the meat to the original liquid. Adobo is usually cooked in a wok that allows the liquid to evaporate and create a thicker consistency. A true adobo does not have soy sauce.

Paksiw on the other hand does not involve any frying and is usually prepared in a stewpot.The best ones are cooked in claypots, though there is no prohibition against that for adobo.

Both however, have the same beginnings. Adobo and paksiw (whether fish or meat) begins in a liquid of vinegar (coconut is best) garlic, pepper corns, bay leaf and some water. Which would probably explain why some people confuse the paksiws that have soy sauce as adobo.

Both are Tagalog dishes, evidently as the use of native coconut vinegar marks a traditional Tagalog dish, as does the use of gata -- though famously shared with the Bicolanos. Which is not to say that there aren't any versions from the other regions, but that is a whole 'nuther article by itself.

A final comparison involves how foreigners see these two dishes. Some Chinese think that paksiw has origins in Chinese cooking, while the French see themselves in adobo. These are statements made by respective ambassadors at various functions. Perhaps it is because soy sauce has its Asian roots, while the method of  lightly frying meat to seal in flavors is a traditional French technique.

Paksiw na pata is a household favorite because it is relatively easy to cook and may be left alone to -- pardon the pun -- stew for a while, while the cook attends to other things, like writing her legal briefs or blogging. Also, pork knuckles are relatively inexpensive and may be bought at cut rates in the market. At any rate, this recipe is my mother's, herself busy with her orthodontic practice when she raised us and remains a favorite everyday dish.

Paksiw na Pata

1 to 1/1/2 k pork knuckles
1 to 1 and 1/2 C vinegar (add as needed)
3 T rock salt
1/2 C water
2 t pepper corns
1 head garlic
2 bay leaves
3 T brown sugar
1/4/ to 1/2 c soy sauce
250 g banana blossoms
oregano powder to taste

Halve the vinegar and water, add half a head of garlic, one bay leaf, half the salt  and half the peppercorns. Add the pork knuckles and bring to a boil in a stew pot. Make sure that the liquid covers the pork knuckles. If it doesn't, proportionately add more vinegar and water. Once boiling, reduce heat and allow to lightly boil in the covered stew pot for about one to two hours. Do not allow the liquid to dry up.

The resulting liquid will be scummy. In a second stewpot, heat up the remaining vinegar, garlic, peppercorns, bay leaf, salt and water. When the pork knuckles have become tender in the original pot, transfer them to the hot second. The first mixture may be thrown away.

When the knuckles are fully cooked, remove from the liquid. Add sugar, oregano powder and soy sauce, adjusting to taste. Return the knuckles into the mixture for another fifteen minutes or until the meat has  imbibed the soy mixture. Add banana blossoms. Turn off the heat after about five minutes. Allow the paksiw to sit for a while before serving.

As with any Filipino dish, everything may be adjusted to taste.

Be our guest

Filipino hospitality is not only a tourism catchword, but a reality. Practices like communal eating means that strangers who happen on any person at mealtime automatically gets invited to eat. And guests are always treated to the best any household can offer. 

When I was young, I heard that in remote areas, one would proudly be served with canned food such as tuna or sardines. The members of the household would serve this delicacy to the guest because it is expensive and considered a rare specialty. Much later, I have discovered that this practice is still true. I had occasion to watch in envy as members of the household "made do" with a freshly killed native chicken stewed in tamarind leaves while I was honored with sardines -- a whole can all just for me. 

The practice of treating travelers or guests with honor goes back to biblical times. Severe punishment would be meted to those who take advantage of a person who is not in his home town. In the middle ages, those who waylaid and robbed the traveler was called a highway man, the precursor perhaps of the expression now of highway robbery. Later they were called brigands and the crime, brigandage. The Philippine Revised Penal Code states:

BRIGANDAGE

Art. 306. Who are brigands; Penalty. — When more than three armed persons form a band of robbers for the purpose of committing robbery in the highway, or kidnapping persons for the purpose of extortion or to obtain ransom or for any other purpose to be attained by means of force and violence, they shall be deemed highway robbers or brigands.


Art. 307. Aiding and abetting a band of brigands. — Any person knowingly and in any manner aiding, abetting or protecting a band of brigands as described in the next preceding article, or giving them information of the movements of the police or other peace officers of the Government (or of the forces of the United States Army), when the latter are acting in aid of the Government, or acquiring or receiving the property taken by such brigands shall be punished by prision correccional in its medium period to prision mayor in its minimum period.
It shall be presumed that the person performing any of the acts provided in this article has performed them knowingly, unless the contrary is proven.

At any rate, canned goods being the epitome of gustatory delights for those in the mountains, in my visits there, I have taken to giving these as gifts, wonderfully wrapped in cellophane and sitting serenely in baskets. In my next visit I plan to bring the ingredients and cook pork and beans for them. Fortunately, I found this recipe online. It tastes great. 

SOUTHERN  BAKED  PORK  AND  BEANS

 Ingredients :
 1 lb. dried pea or marrow beans
 6 c. water
 1/4-1/2 tsp. crushed dried hot
    peppers or dash of cayenne pepper
 Onion, sliced
 1 clove garlic, minced or pressed
 1 bay leaf, crumbled
 1 lb. lean salt pork, in 1 piece
 2 tsp. Worcestershire sauce
 1/4 c. catsup
 1/4 c. molasses
 1 tsp. dry mustard
 1 tsp. salt
 1/8 tsp. black pepper
 1/4 c. minced onion
 1/4 c. brown sugar

 Preparation :

1.  Pick over and wash beans.  Put in large kettle and add water.  Bring to
 boiling.  Boil hard for 2 minutes.  Let stand covered 1 hour on
 stove.  

2.  Add hot pepper, onion, garlic, bay leaf and pork.  

3. Bring to boiling again.  Reduce heat and simmer 1 hour or until
 tender but not mushy.  Drain, reserving liquid.  Skim off fat.  

4.To 1 cup liquid, add Worcestershire sauce, catsup, molasses,
 mustard, salt, black pepper and minced onion, mixing well.  

5.  Put beans in 2 quart shallow baking dish.  Pour in the 1 cup liquid and
 seasoning mixture.  

6.  Remove any rind on pork.  Cut in to 8 or more slices.  Arrange on top of beans.  

Sprinkle with brown sugar.

7.  Bake uncovered at 400 degrees about 1 1/4 hours, adding more
 liquid if necessary, until pork and beans are glazed and nicely
 browned.  

Rice for the Resurrection

It almost seems as if the Holy Week penitential traditions have been replaced by pilgrimages to places of leisure., like the Passion being turned on its ear. Arguably, however, my parents would have thought that Holy Week trips with us kids WERE penitential traditions, since my brother and sisters could not conduct a conversation in less than ear shattering decibel levels within the confines of our Mitsubishi Galant. . 

My childhood Holy Weeks were unalterably spent at home in Cubao. On Holy Monday, Lola would be host to the Pabasa (the Lenten reading of the Passion of Christ) and my Lolo's relatives would come in several jeeploads from Cabuyao, Laguna. Somehow, Lola would manage to produce enough chairs for up to about forty relatives -- mostly elderly females. 

The singing would begin at about six o'clock, with about twenty or so participants. There would be no break, even for lunch, as it should conclude no later than five in the afternoon so that my various aunts, lolas, distant cousins and assorted relatives could make the trip back to Laguna by early evening. Instead, the singers would take turns, efficiently and discretely handling the changes without missing either beat or tone, nor making it appear that there has been any change in participants. 

Come to think of it, when I was a kid looking at them, I would get confused identifying whose hand I should bring to my forehead, in the traditional greeting for the elderly. The lolas all looked alike to me. Many would be dressed in the maroon and cord garb of the devotees of the Black Nazarene. 

In fact, the figure before which these women would sing, was a small antique replica of the same dark, suffering Christ that brings hordes of devotees to Quiapo. This same figure sits on my mother's altar with the cross removed from the shoulder and gently laid on the ground, in a nod to the belief that having a cross-bearing Christ in the home would be to invite similar suffering, that one would be also a bearer of heavy burdens. 

For merienda, Lola would serve pospas, a rice porridge with chicken and seasoned heavily with ginger. What follows is not my lola's traditional recipe, but my hurried one, when I want to approximate the gingery, garlicky memories of my childhood.

Pospas

1/2 chicken chopped into cubes with the bone in

1 head of garlic, half of which is peeled and pounded, the other half chopped finely and fried until crisp

2 inches yellow ginger, peeled and coarsely chopped 

1 cup malagkit rice

chicken broth

salt and pepper to taste

scallions

turnmeric

Boil the chicken in water enough to cover. Add salt and pepper. When the chicken is cooked, reserve the broth. Sautee peeled and pounded garlic and ginger and add chicken. Add the broth. When boiling add rice. When rice is nearly done, add turmeric, which gives the porridge its yellow color. When the rice is done, serve topped with scallions and fried garlic. Serve with fish sauce and kalamansi (Philippine lemon).

Breakfast of Champs

Breakfast is my favorite meal of the day. I nearly always associate dinners with family affairs or dates and I've known some pretty painful ones. While I do love dinners with the kids, all kinds of drama tend to happen at that time. I mean check out all the soap operas. Wine tossing seems to occur in fancy dinners in all the telenovelas at least once in the entire storyline and twice if its a movie with Sharon Cuneta in it.

But breakfast, if one wakes up early enough, is the best time. Even if you eat with the kids they are too sleepy to snap at each other or pull any tricks, or they're rushing off to school or some other function thats a matter of life or death. They can't get picky.

Still, I like to have trimmings for breakfast and I thrive on traditional fare. So when one speaks of a Filipino breakfast, it usually begins with chocolate. Yeah, I love my country. There are all sorts of cultural reasons for indulging in everyday pleasures. Anyway, chocolate, either the drinkable kind made with tablea or that all time favorite, champorado. Strangely enough, in Mexico, champurrado is the traditional hot chocolate.

When speaking of hot chocolate, however, we say tsokolate e or tsokolate ah recalling Padre Salvi's code in the Noli Me Tangere where the tsokolate ah (meaning "aguada) is the watered down version given to the non-influential parishioners. The rich kind however can be further enriched either by adding a thickening agent in the form of finely ground peanuts or by simply adding more chocolate.

Tablea is made from roasted and ground cacao nuts. The province best known for it is Batangas and the variety that comes from Taal seems to me to be perfectly roasted. However, for really exquisitely formulated   tablea, I have found one of the best in the most unlikely place -- Miag-ao, Iloilo. Trust the Ilonggos with their impressive culinary culture to come up with their version of this Tagalog specialty.

But champorado appears to be primarily a Tagalog treat. Though instant versions are now available, the best kind is always the one where you can control exactly how thick and how chocolately you want the result to be. Made with sticky rice, cooked gently with constant stirring, ground tablea and sugar is added in increments until the entire mixture is thick. Sugar and milk are best added at the table for individual tastes and also to prevent the watering down of the champorado as well as to allow it to keep longer. I have heard of some of the older folk adding thick coconut cream to their mix, instead of milk. Others use the richer and creamier carabao milk.

It is usually served with tuyo or any other form of salted fish.

Kain tayo?

Snack ideas

I'm sort of fascinated at the idea of working overtime. I mean, I do it a lot, but since the office doesn't have a snack machine (I must have a talk with my partners about that), staying in the office for mealtimes such as dinner and late night snacks becomes sort a dilemma.

I have noticed that most clustered office areas are surrounded by malls and restaurants making food runs an integral part of office procedure. Twenty four hour convenience stores also make for great pit stops for emergency rations.

So of course, not all these places are created equal. Some taste better than most others, and there are the ones that put in the extra effort, either through service, better food, excellent interiors, eye-catching presentation -- even in some turo-turos. Since my law partner is such a gourmand for Pinoy dishes, we would be doing the office-going public a service if we go through these places. :)

So, starting next week, aside from the usual recipes, we will be doing the rounds of commentable fast foods, restos and turo-turo places.

Abangan!

Election Mess

By mess, I am not referring to the trash in the streets as a result of this strictly Third World election style, although that would constitute one whole blog, I am referring to mess in the military sense.

Wikipedia (ok, so its not the worlds best source, but its pretty interesting to read) says:
"A mess (also called a messdeck aboard ships) is the place where military personnel socialise, eat, and (in some cases) live. In some societies this military usage has extended to other disciplined services eateries such as civilian fire fighting and police forces. The root of "mess" is the Old French "mes," portion of food, drawn from the Latin verb "mittere," meaning "to send" or "to put," the original sense being "a course of a meal put on the table." This sense of "mess," which appeared in English in the 13th century, was often used for cooked or liquid dishes in particular, as in the "mess of pottage" (porridge or soup) for which Esau in Genesis traded his birthright. By the 15th century, a group of people who ate together was also known as a "mess", and it is this sense that persists in the "mess halls" of the modern military."

I refer to the military sense, because aside from all the battle allusions spouted by our dear candidates, the first thing one learns as a candidate is that your campaign team runs on its stomach and feeding your volunteers is a paramount consideration. Thus, campaign headquarters are or ought to be equipped with kitchens for the daily feeding of volunteers who will be at your HQ in increasing increments of time until E-Day,  er election day, that is.

In the alternative, other candidates contract out the feeding of their volunteers to outside kitchens. thus, we saw that McDonald's began promoting their big orders specials, just for election year.

The care and feeding of constituents is also the reason why the houses of old-time politicos especially in the provinces had the long tables and immense kitchens that were called to duty at all hours.

When the Spaniards began colonization, the Philippines was a society that relied on a mix of blood succession and merit. There was social mobility and general equality between genders. In the course of organizing, the colonizers assigned the cabezas based on existing leadership. So the ruling rajahs also became the political heads under the new foreign rule.

However, prior to Spanish rule, local leaders were expected not only to lead their nations, they were also expected to provide for them. This is because many of the nations or communities were family or clan based groups and were lead by a father or mother figure. Somehow, the idea of providing for their constituents carried over to the next form of government under the colonizers.

While we may have transitioned into a democracy, our people still expect politicians to provide for them, the way a father or clan leader would provide for his family. This kind of thinking is often disastrous when taken literally, so you have political leaders raiding public coffers to provide their constituents with free burial, baptism sponsorships, medicines, food, etc.

Many of the local politicians in the 17th and in the early part of the 19th century had houses that provided for constant feeding. Huge vats and ladles still seen in antique stores were used to make lugaw (a cheap form of rice porrige). Long solid narra tables was where most meetings would take place. Kitchens would have extensions for wood burning brick stoves and ovens that could handle large amounts of food at any given time.

Now that the election results are nearly all in, we can soon see which politicians did not fail the expectations to feed their volunteers. This is usually an accurate assesment of a winner.

Mother's Day Pancakes

Everyone, it seems in on a health kick. This makes me wonder why it is I still keep baking these sugar rich food, but I'll stop the day people stop eating them. At any rate, I do get pangs of conscience and so lately, I've been incorporating more whole wheat as a substitute for regular flour. So I tried them first on the one thing you can't do wrong. Pancakes.

I tested a couple of recipes first but had to greatly modify them as they were really very watery and resulted in lumpy and thin pancakes. So I had to make my own.

If served with low glycemic coconut syrup, this makes for a low sugar (not zero sugar though) breakfast treat.

1 c + 2T whole wheat flour
2 1/2 t baking powder
1/4 t salt
2 T granulated sugar
1 c milk (I use reconstituted powdered skim milk)
1 egg
1 t vanilla
2 T oil (use any oil you want, though I must warn that olive may not be well suited for this as its flavor may clash with the vanilla)
oil or butter for your pan

Mix dry ingredients together. In a separate bowl, whisk milk, eggs, vanilla and oil together. Combine with dry ingredients and mix until most lumps disappear.

Pour a ladle full of mix onto a lightly greased pan and fry until bubbles form and burst. Flip over and cook the other side.

Your first pancake will probably stick a little. But keep at it. By the time you flip it, your pan will have enough oil to resist the subsequent mixtures.