Burnt Lumpia: Filipino Food | Filipino Recipes | Culinary Hijinks

Abalone Kinilaw

I have this vague childhood memory of a cousin, or an uncle, or someone, bringing my grandparents a freshly caught abalone from who-knows-where. Upon presentation of the abalone, the household of grandparents, aunts, and uncles went absolutely bonkers--like if Ed McMahon had just handed them a check the size of two mahjong tables.

After everyone had settled down a bit, the strange-looking sea creature was then shucked and transformed into what I remember as two dishes that day: the first was some sort of abalone soup, and the second was the Philippine ceviche-like dish of kinilaw. Although that would be my only experience with abalone (at least for many many more years), I never forgot its unique and delicate flavor.

Then, many many more years later, I would be reaquainted with abalone at an epic dinner at Urasawa. After being served awabi (abalone sushi), as well as abalone liver (tasty!) that memorable night, the flavors immediately brought me back to that fateful day at my grandparents when they went ape-shit for abalone.

So what makes abalone so special? Well, for one, it tastes incredible. Although some find abalone's flavor similar to that of squid or clams, the texture of these moluscs are the closer comparison--all have a chewy bite to them. Flavorwise, I think abalone tastes like abalone. Sounds like a cop-out, but I really think the flavor of abalone is one-of-a-kind. It tastes briny and sweet and of the sea, but delicately so.

Aside from its unique flavor, wild abalone is also pretty hard to come by. Although small farm-raised abalone is plentiful and available commercially, wild Red Abalone is prized for its large size, thickness, and flavor.

In California, commercial harvesting of wild abalone is completely outlawed. The only way to obtain abalone is to dive for it yourself with a snorkel and by holding your breath--SCUBA gear is not permitted when abalone diving. Also, abalone can only be harvested north of the San Francisco bay between April and November (with a break in July). Although these regulations seem like a pain (there are many more I didn't list), they are meant to sustain and protect red abalone populations in California--which is a very good thing.

And because it's such a rare culinary treasure, abalone is a fairly pricey commodity, which is probably why my grandparents flipped out all those years back, and perhaps why abalone can only usually be found in high-end joints like Urasawa. Luckily, I scored some abalone for free (and legally) on my fishing trip a couple weeks back.

Fishboned

Because of its crazy bone structure (i.e. there be bones everywhere!), much effort is usually necessary before Bangus (AKA Milkfish) can be fully enjoyed--either its hundreds of bones have to be removed during prep, or the bones have to be picked through while at the dinner table.

Sure, you could ask your fishmonger to "debone" your bangus for you, but he will more than likely just remove the backbone and leave the other pin bones for you tussle with. In fact, I've read that a full-grown milkfish can have up to 300 pin bones throughout its flesh. That deserves an "Egads, man!" And although I've braved the bones of Bangus before, it isn't something I like to do very often.

But during a recent visit to my parents house, I discovered what is perhaps the greatest thing since sliced pan de sal: Frozen Boneless Bangus! Yes, I know, I'm probably late to the party on that one--but finding a frozen butterflied and deboned milkfish in my mom's freezer was a new discovery for me at least.

So what did I do with this discovery? I took it home for myself is what I did. Although it's been a while since I've been a bachelor, and even longer since I've been a college student, I'm not above pilfering and ransacking my mother's freezer and cupboards--even at my advanced age.

Kinilaw Softly

Kinilaw is an indigenous Filipino dish of incredible freshness, usually (but not always) featuring slices of raw seafood quickly bathed in a sour liquid. Filipino Kinilaw is a little bit like Latin American Ceviche in that the seafood can be dressed in citrus juice, however, the similarities end there. Where the raw fish in a Ceviche is drastically transformed and "cooked" after marinating for hours in citrus, the raw fish of Kinilaw retains its freshness after only a few moments in a sour bath.

On the scale of doneness for international uncooked seafood dishes, Kinilaw would perhaps sit smack-dab in the middle: Japanese Sashimi (raw), Filipino Kinilaw (rare to medium rare), Ceviche (well done). At least that's how I look at it.

In his book, On Food and Cooking, Harold McGee writes:

"Kinilaw is the indigenous Philippine version of acid marination. Morsels of fish or shellfish are dipped for only a few seconds into an acidic liquid, often vinegar made from the coconut, nipa palm, or sugarcane, to which condiments have been added."

Although different Filipino vinegars are the primary souring agent in Kinilaw, Kalamansi juice and other citrus juices like dayap lime, can be used as well.

To balance out the sourness, condiments and additions to Kinilaw usually include copious amounts of chopped onions, ginger, and chilies--although things like green mangoes, kamias, tomatoes, and garlic can also be added.

As far as seafood goes, everything from fish, to sea cucumbers, to sea urchin roe, to crabs and lobsters, can be made into Kinilaw. Even raw oysters dressed in vinegar or kalamansi can be considered Kinilaw. Now while fresh raw seafood may be the most popular and well-known form of Kinilaw, there are other raw items that can be quickly bathed in vinegar and/or citrus and still be considered Kinilaw.

For example, vegetable Kinilaws can be made from bittermelon (ampalaya), or banana hearts, and there even exist Kinilaws of raw or partially cooked meats such as beef kinilaw and even goat kinilaw. The type of Kinilaw depends, of course, on where you are in the Philippines and how hungry you are, I suppose. In fact, during my visit to the Philippines last summer, I actually enjoyed quite a few spoonfuls of goat kilawin (raw goat meat, skin, and innards, shallots, ginger, salt, and vinegar) in Ilocos Norte.

Mmmmm. Raw goat meat.

Oh baby I like it RAAAAWWW!
Kilawing Kambing (Goat Kinilaw), ca. June 2008

In the book Kinilaw: A Philippine Cuisine of Freshness,  Edilberto N. Alegre and Doreen G. Fernandez write:

"The Ilocanos know when to have their kilawin--in the morning when meat is freshest, since animals are butchered at dawn."

Word.

But since my dawns are dedicated to deep sleep and mouth breathing, and because I have zero access to freshly butchered goat meat, I figured I'd stick to the more manageable seafood variety of Kinilaw for this particular post. And how.

Homemade Longanisa v2.0

During the lifespan of this here Filipino Food Blog, I've made some food that I never thought I'd have the skill, chops, or know-how, to make. I'm not saying any of this food has been perfect, I'm an inexperienced hack after all, but I've at least been able to avoid self-induced food poisoning that could have been caused by my overwhelming lack of said skill, chops, or know-how. But it turns out that with a little research, and a lot of patience, seemingly difficult dishes can be prepared with relative ease.

Take for instance, the Filipino pork sausage known as Longanisa (also spelled longanissa, longganisa, longannisa, and everything in between). Almost 2 years ago, I made my own homemade Longanisa from scratch. This initial foray into sausage making, while daunting, resulted in some dang tasty pork links. Overall, it was a satisfying enough experience that I had to pat myself on the back a la Barry Horowitz.

However, after a visit to the Philippines last year and sampling the awesomely fatty Ilocano sausages of Batac, and after Josh Bousel of Serious Eats adapted my longanisa recipe with fantastic results, I realized that there was still much room for improvement in my original recipe (let's call that one Homemade Longanisa v1.0, or HL1).

So after some tinkering and fine-tuning here at the Burnt Lumpia Worldwide Headquarters, I've finally devised a better sausage--a tastier, fattier sausage more evocative of the Longanisa I enjoyed in the Northern Philippines last summer. Ah yes, by streamlining a few ingredients while simultaneously adding more pork fat(!), I was able to evolve my old recipe into a new and improved version: Homemade Longanisa v2.0!

And with this New and Improved (Now with 50% MORE Fat!) version of Longanisa, I am happy to add it to my personal list of Porky Pinoy Pavorites...

Spicy Filipino Vinegar

Old empty jars are a hot commodity in my mother's kitchen. Mayonnaise jars, pickle jars, spaghetti sauce jars, peanut butter jars, jelly jars, jar jars... if it's glass and has a screw-top lid and is almost empty, chances are that my mother will soon rinse out any remnants and set the jar aside for another use.

For instance, the ol' lass has been known to pour cooled bacon grease straight from skillet to mayo jar (though she also sometimes uses an old coffee can for grease containment). My mother has also taken to the practice of pouring some oil and vinegar into a jar, screwing on the lid, and then shaking the bejeebus out of the jar to make a simple vinaigrette (I'm not sure that my mom owns a whisk).

However, perhaps the most common purpose for my mother's repurposed jars is in the containment of Spicy Filipino Vinegar: vinegar that has been infused with Siling Labuyo (Thai chili/Bird's eye peppers). This fiery concoction is also known as Sili Suka, Sukang Sili, Suka't Sili, and/or Sinamak (I didn't know of the Sinamak nomenclature until some readers commented on it in my last post on Filipino Vinegars).

I'm Gonna Git You Suka

Vinegar, or Suka (as it is known in the Philippines), is one of the most used ingredients in the Filipino kitchen. The prevalent use of Suka is due in large part to the extended shelf life bestowed upon goodies cooked in vinegar--a necessary culinary "voodoo" needed for tropical climes during the days of pre-refrigeration. But aside from its preservative powers, we Filipinos also just happen to like the elevated flavor punch that vinegar provides--that certain Asim (sourness) that we love oh so much in our food.

For instance, vinegar is the key player in many Filipino dishes like Paksiw, Kinilaw (raw fish "cooked" in vinegar, kinda like a ceviche), various dipping sauces, and a variety of different marinades. And of course, Adobo is perhaps the prime example of a vinegar-based Filipino dish. Heck, as I've shown here in the past, with a good bottle of vinegar you can Adobo most anything: Chicken, squid, water spinach, pork belly, and even ribs.

Mmmm. Ribs. I sho' am hungry...

Ah, I'm Gonna Git You Sucka. It's a classic.

Anyways, while I've demonstrated a few different uses of vinegar before, I've never really explained that there are also quite a few different types of vinegar that may be found in the Filipino pantry. Seeing as how vinegar is such an integral part of Filipino cuisine, and because there's such a wide spectrum of Suka in use in the Philippines, I thought I'd take the time to compare and contrast some of these potent potions (at least the ones that are readily available in my neck of the woods). Keep in mind though, that the vinegars I tasted are commercially made and probably can't compare to the artisanal and local vinegars made in the different regions of the Philippines.