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After the speeches, the thank you’s, the official book launch, the picture-taking, and the first of many, many, many musical numbers, the first course was served.

 

 

It was a couple of strips of lechon with skin, on a small salad of pako. A small salad. I should warn you right off that I have the appetite and palate of a stevedore. A stevedore who knows all about Garrett Lisi and his new, simplified theory of everything, so don’t get snooty with me.

Ige noted that the musical performers were doing songs about food. Their rendition of “Bahay Kubo” was impressive, but not nearly as challenging as the version in baklese (Valer kuberch, kahit jutay…). And if they were doing food-themed songs, would we be hearing “Spaghetti”?

The second course was the tinolang manok served in a papaya half (see previous post). I thought it was bland, but that’s what all the sawsawan (dips and sauces) on the table were for. Unfortunately I’m one of those horrible people who think that food should be served ready to eat. I don’t go to shabu-shabu hot pot restaurants where I have to mix and cook my own meal. Hey, if I wanted to cook, I would’ve learned to cook. 

 

 

After another longish wait, the third course arrived: pinaputok na isda, wrapped in a banana leaf, served with steamed rice. Remind me again how so many large-grained, fragrant varieties of rice were developed right here at IRRI, but the rice sold in our markets is small-grained and untasty? Teddy Boy has the best solution: he brings his own rice when he dines out. I saw him at the cocktails—I wonder how everyone would react if his driver walked in with a rice cooker? 

The waiters came round to serve pinakbet and an excellent adobong baka. I forgot to take photos because I inhaled them immediately.

Now that I think about it, the typical Pinoy meal is extremely tasty, as if the cook had run amok with the salt, bagoong, patis, toyo, MSG. And the lard. There’s a reason the national rate of heart disease is so high. So the blandness I perceived probably indicates a healthier, more reasonable approach to cooking. You can have these dishes without keeling over from arterial blockage.

On the opposite extreme, isn’t Pinoy cuisine supposed to be “ma-lasa” (flavorful)? Our global branding could be: “It’ll kill you, but you’ll die happy.” The title of a cookbook I’m convincing Carlo to write.

 

 

For dessert we had sapin-sapin (on the left—it looks like maja blanca actually, but it was good), buko pandan, and two pieces of rather hard turon. Speaking of buko pandan, my friend Uro de la Cruz (Bubble Gang, whose writers did the Bahay Kubo translation) directed a movie called Buko Pandan. He calls it an “agribusiness movie” (Rustic settings, nubile barrio lasses and strapping lads, making out in the fields. The umclassics of this genre include Talong, Kangkong, Itlog, and Kapag Ang Palay Naging Bigas, May Bumayo). It was shown abroad with this arresting English title: Screwpine Young Coconut. 

Incidentally, Uro knows way too much about reductions and gherkins, and was quoted in the book Taste of Philippine Kitchens as an authority on tutong. He was identified as “Uro del Rosario.”

The dinner ended with strong cups of barako and a reprise of “Pinoy Ako” by Chef Seagal and the choirs. Kulinarya is available in bookstores and hotels, P2,000 hardcover, P600 softcover.