Adobo, a soy-based stew
Crispy Pata, braised then friend pork knuckleFilipino food gets a bad rap back home, and I must say that I don't believe I've ever actually tried it, having heard that it was all guts and offal. Turns out it is a bit earthy, not quite the stuff of Thai refinement of Chinese indulgence, but it does stand on its own merits for flavor and character. It was explained to me that the Philippines never had a real royalty, having been fairy primitive right up until the Spanish conquest -- no royal court means no professional gourmet chefs.
Local food of course exists aplenty, but I never really got a chance to explore the city on my own, and so all of the local meals I ate were in the company of my Filipino colleagues. They of course insisted on taking me to eat in various modern shopping complexes, to have (albeit authentic) replicas of the cuisine of their people -- eaten in the comfort of air conditioning and the company of other Filipinos and their foreign guests. At one restaurant, we actually ran into Imelda Marcos and her retinue, which kind of made the whole thing worth it.
The national dish is, of course, Adobo, a pork and chicken stew actually reminds me quite fondly of some of the dishes I used to make when I started cooking. The thin broth is mildly flavored with garlic and soy sauce, but mostly retains the character of whatever was braised in it. The best rendition I had came served with handfuls of garlic cooked in the skin. The picture I took does not do it justice.
The only bit of offal I actually ate in the end was something called Sisig, an appetizer designed to be eaten with cold beer on a hot day, made of small bits of pork jowl and liver, grilled and then fried and marinated and served complete with bits of bone left in for texture. The fat and carbonation disguises the humble ingredients nicely. It's a dish much better suited to be eaten on plastic stools squatted by the side of the road rather then in frigid air con next door to a Balenciaga store, but I was able to let my imagination do its work.
As in all of Filipino culture the Spanish influence is basically completely gone, except in the names, where it lives on fiercely. "Crispy Pata", was a brilliant rendition of a braised pork knuckle, breaded then fried before serving to give it texture. (Pata means leg in Spanish). I was thrilled to see it served with a pickled cabbage -- basically a sauerkraut, which makes it very similar to what loyal readers will recall was my favorite Luxembourgish dish -- Judd mat Gardebounen. I'm guessing this is a coincedence.
I apologize for the dismal pictures, taken with my phone. I'll be back to the islands on another trip next month, and will redeem myself.
Local food of course exists aplenty, but I never really got a chance to explore the city on my own, and so all of the local meals I ate were in the company of my Filipino colleagues. They of course insisted on taking me to eat in various modern shopping complexes, to have (albeit authentic) replicas of the cuisine of their people -- eaten in the comfort of air conditioning and the company of other Filipinos and their foreign guests. At one restaurant, we actually ran into Imelda Marcos and her retinue, which kind of made the whole thing worth it.
The national dish is, of course, Adobo, a pork and chicken stew actually reminds me quite fondly of some of the dishes I used to make when I started cooking. The thin broth is mildly flavored with garlic and soy sauce, but mostly retains the character of whatever was braised in it. The best rendition I had came served with handfuls of garlic cooked in the skin. The picture I took does not do it justice.
The only bit of offal I actually ate in the end was something called Sisig, an appetizer designed to be eaten with cold beer on a hot day, made of small bits of pork jowl and liver, grilled and then fried and marinated and served complete with bits of bone left in for texture. The fat and carbonation disguises the humble ingredients nicely. It's a dish much better suited to be eaten on plastic stools squatted by the side of the road rather then in frigid air con next door to a Balenciaga store, but I was able to let my imagination do its work.
As in all of Filipino culture the Spanish influence is basically completely gone, except in the names, where it lives on fiercely. "Crispy Pata", was a brilliant rendition of a braised pork knuckle, breaded then fried before serving to give it texture. (Pata means leg in Spanish). I was thrilled to see it served with a pickled cabbage -- basically a sauerkraut, which makes it very similar to what loyal readers will recall was my favorite Luxembourgish dish -- Judd mat Gardebounen. I'm guessing this is a coincedence.
I apologize for the dismal pictures, taken with my phone. I'll be back to the islands on another trip next month, and will redeem myself.
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