Burnt Lumpia: Filipino Food | Filipino Recipes | Culinary Hijinks

Bistek & Pancit: Together At Last

The Chinese influence on Filipino cuisine is perhaps most evident in the Philippines' vast array of noodle dishes known as Pancit. Pancit Miki, Pancit Molo, Pancit Palabok—all Filipino noodle dishes, and all of Chinese origin. And although Pancit Molo is basically a wonton dumpling, it is still classified as pancit in much the same way that both ravioli (a dumpling) and spaghetti (a noodle) are classified as pasta.

But of all the incarnates of Filipino noodles, Pancit Canton has to be one of my favorites—if only for its versatility and quick cooking time. Pancit Canton is a relatively thick, dried wheat noodle that is more or less like Chinese chow mein noodles. Pancit Canton is usually first softened with a hot flavorful liquid (i.e. stock or water), and then quickly stir-fried in a wok with any number of vegetables and proteins (e.g. chicken, pork, shrimp, etc.).

So when making a batch of Bistek recently, I decided that instead of serving the saucy beef dish over rice (as is usual), I'd cook it in tandem with some Pancit Canton noodles. But don't mistake this as a separate Bistek dish served on top or alongside a separate Pancit dish—here, they are actually fused together in the cooking method wherein the noodles absorb the essence of the Bistek.

In my Bistek/Pancit Canton hybrid, a mixture of soy sauce and lemon juice is not only used to marinate some flank steak, but the salty/sour mixture is then used to soften and flavor the noodles. And because Pancit Canton is usually served with extra calamansi or lemon wedges for spritzing the noodles, the lemony Bistek marinade was a natural fit in the finished dish.

After enjoying the meaty spoils of my Bistek Pancit Canton, it got me thinking of all the other saucy Filipino dishes that would easily lend themselves to being absorbed into noodles. Say, for instance, a saucy chicken adobo cooked with Pancit Canton, or even a soupy Pinakbet. Heck, dropping the dried noodles in a pot of hot Sinigang would even make for a great Filipino noodle soup. More experimentation is on the horizon, I think. But for now, here's the recipe for a tangy and meaty Bistek Pancit Canton:

Home-Cured Corned Beef

Take a peek into most any Filipino's pantry and you are just as likely to spy a can of corned beef as you are a bottle of fish sauce, banana ketchup, or vinegar.

Because the Philippines was an American colony from 1901-1946, American canned goods like corned beef, Spam, and condensed milk all made their way to the islands (along with other things). Ultimately, these canned goods gained popularity amongst Filipinos and have remained in Filipino cupboards ever since.

Canned corned beef, like Spam, is often enjoyed at breakfast by many Filipinos (myself included). The corned beef is usually sauteed in a bit of oil with some tomatoes, onions, and garlic (at least that's how I roll) and served alongside the Silog duo of Garlic Fried Rice (Sinangag) and Fried Eggs (Itlog) for a hearty Corned Beef-silog breakfast

Although I do love dusting off the ol' can o' corned beef every once in a while, I decided to try my hand at making corned beef from scratch, you know, with it being St. Patrick's Day and all. So with the help of a nitrite-fortified brine (whoa, sound the nitrite alarm!), I was able to magically transform a beef brisket into a beautifully RED corned beef that was enjoyed on St. Patty's Day with cabbage, potatoes, and carrots (Irish), and then the very next day with Garlic Fried Rice and eggs (Filipino).

Papaitan: Offal & Bile Soup

I know what you're thinking.

WTF? Offal and bile soup?!!!

Yes, that is perhaps the most unappetizing description of a soup ever known to man. I mean, it's got "awful bile" in the title. But I didn't know how else to describe the Filipino soup known as Papaitan (papa-ee-tahn) because, well, it's nothing more than a hot steaming bowl of animal innards seasoned with green digestive juices. Sheesh, I'm on a roll. I should write menu descriptions for a living.

Anyhizzle, don't let the individual parts of this dish dissuade you from discovering the whole of something truly delicious. And yes, it can be delicious if bitter is your bag, baby.

Hailing from the Ilocos region of the Northern Philippines (Ilocos son, what?!!), Papaitan is usually comprised of the organ meats found within a goat such as its stomach and intestines, as well as its bitter bile. However, it can be made with beef offal as well.

With such a mish-mash of animal parts and its green hue, Papaitan is sort of the Frankenstein's Monster of Filipino cuisine (but in a good way). And I guess that makes Dinuguan the Vampire, and Sisig with brains the Zombie espesyal of Filipino food (much like Zombies, Sisig is so hot right now). But I digress.

I can't say I've had goat Papaitan, but I am quite familiar with the bovine variety as it makes an occassional appearance at my Grandmother's from time to time. That version, usually made by one of my aunties, features onions, garlic, ginger, mild chili peppers, beef meat, as well as tripe, intestines, and the heart too, methinks. While that concoction on its own can bring more than enough flavor to the party, the addition of beef bile lends that ever-so Ilocano bitter flavor profile.

And that brings me to the bile. Biologically speaking, bile is a greenish fluid that is secreted by the liver and stored in the gallbladder to aid in digestion. Culinarily speaking, it's bitter as hell. A spoonful is a nuclear bomb of bitterness. It's kinda like if a Double IPA were brewed from a zillion bittermelons and a touch of battery acid. So yeah. That's what bile tastes like.

Us crazy Ilocanos, we'll eat anything. But we aren't the only ones who enjoy the bracing bitterness of bile. Thais also enjoy beef bile in their Koi Soi--an Isaan dish of raw beef and bile.

But what's with the Filipino (or more specifically, Ilocano) love of bitter flavors? In her book Tikim, Doreen Fernandez wrote, "Ilocanos know that after the mildly bitter comes the pleasure of an after-sweetness, and that the word 'bittersweet' is a reality, and not a figure of speech."

And I can attest that there is definitely a sweetness that follows most bitter flavors. Admittedly though, having been raised on things like Pinakbet, I am quite biased. Much like a chiliheads' love of hot and spicy foods, I've built a tolerance and appreciation for all things bitter. And it's this bitter note that adds to the richness and complexity of so many Southeast Asian cuisines.

Short Rib and Foie Gras Caldereta

Caldereta (or Kaldereta if you're nasty) is an honest to goodness meat stew influenced by both Spain and the United States, but yet remains uniquely Filipino.

Caldereta's roots in Spain can be found in its Spanish name (of course), but also in its preparation wherein Spaniards braised meat (usually mutton) and vegetables in a tomato-based sauce. Filipinos began making their own version of their colonizer's stew by utilizing goat meat and then thickening the tomato sauce with mashed pork livers (take that Spain!).

And with the American occupation of the Philippines came all the trappings of post-war convenience foods and canned goods. Soon, the likes of tomato paste, canned tomato sauce, canned pork liverwurst, and even processed cheese, all made their way into Caldereta (this all tastes a lot better than it sounds).

While I do love a warm and hearty bowl of goat kaldereta thickened with liverwurst (seriously, I do), I have tried to fancify the dish once before by making a wonderful version with beef, red wine, and a homemade chicken liver pate. And although I was quite pleased with that version, I've since found that nothing beats caldereta thickened with canned liverwurst. But there is always room for experimentation.

So when my older brother recently returned from a trip to Europe and gifted me a couple cans of foie gras, the first thing that popped into my head wasn't to eat the foie with toast points and some sort of sweet/sour fruit--it was Caldereta.

Yes, I was going use fancy canned foie gras in place of the usual $2 can of pork liverwurst in my Caldereta. This was either going to be the greatest beef stew ever made, or a complete waste of foie gras.

Embutido: Filipino-Style Meatloaf

If there's one comfort food that both Americans and Filipinos can identify with, it's meatloaf. I have some fond memories from my childhood of stabbing a piece of my mother's meatloaf with my fork, dipping it in some ketchup, and then plunging the tomato-clad meat into my mouth, followed by a forkful of steamed rice.

Oh yes, we Filipinos loves us some meatloaf--or more specifically, Filipino Meatloaf known as Embutido.

What makes Embutido different from regular ol' meatloaf?

Well firstly, instead of being baked in a loaf pan like meatloaf, Embutido is usually rolled into a log shape in cheese cloth or foil and then baked or steamed. I've read that Embutido is cooked in this way because in its original form (a long, long time ago) Embutido was nothing more than ground meat stuffed into big hog casings--much like a giant sausage (hence the current practice of rolling it in cheese cloth or foil).

Embutido also sets itself apart from regular ol' meatloaf in that Embutido is usually stuffed with whole hard boiled eggs and whole hotdogs!

Yes, hot dogs. Or if you're really lucky, Vienna Sausages.

I'm sure there are some of you out there scratching your domes over the thought of a meatloaf studded with whole eggs and wieners. In fact, when serving Filipino Meatloaf to someone who's never had it before, they are likely to say something like:

"Why, there's whole eggs and wieners in this meatloaf! Either this is some sort of cruel joke or [takes bite of Embutido] this is the awesomest meatloaf known to man!"

Indeed, Embutido is the awesomest meatloaf known to man.

Not only does the filling of wieners and eggs make for a striking presentation when the Embutido is sliced, but wieners and eggs taste good too. Mmmm, wieners and eggs.

Bistek: Two Ways

The Rachael Ray 30-minute approach to cooking meals is completely lost on me. It's not that I don't think cooking a weeknight's dinner in a quick and efficient manner is a bad idea--it's brilliant actually--it's just that I am molasses-slow in the kitchen. Constructing an entire meal in 30 minutes or less would be somewhat of a miracle for me (heck, it sometimes takes me longer than that to drop a deuce).

I like to move at my own pace and take my sweet lollygaggin' time when I'm in the kitchen. I may look up at the green digits on my microwave clock one moment, look back down at whatever I'm chopping, stirring, or cursing at, and then look back up at that clock an hour later not realizing how much time has lapsed (or that my wife is hunched over on the couch with a painfully grumbly tummy).

And this is why the wife cooks a bulk of the meals during the busy work week, and on the lazy weekends I'm on kitchen duty. When we do plan meals during the week that I will be cooking, I usually have to do the prep work the day before so that we can eat at a decent hour the following evening.

But I've recently discovered a Filipino dish that seemingly allows me to bend the space-time continuum so that I can feed the wife and myself on a weeknight. I don't even have to fake "the gout" and take a half-day at work so I can have more prep time in the kitchen (not that I've ever faked "the gout" before, ahem).

This dish I speak of is Bistek--which is just beef marinated in soy and kalamansi and then cooked with onions. That's it. No, seriously. That's all Bistek is. Just take some meat, soak it in some soy and kalamansi juice for half an hour, then throw everything into a pan (marinade and all) with onions, serve with rice, and enjoy.

Saucy

I realize I'm probably the last Pinoy on the planet to discover the quickness (the quickness!) with which Bistek can be made, but better late than never I say. I've also read that the word "Bistek" is a Filipino corruption of the English word "Beef Steak". But I don't believe this explanation of nomenclature considering there are numerous Latin dishes that go by the name "Bistec Encebollado" (also steak and onions). So, like many other Filipino dishes, I'm pretty sure our Bistek, at least in name, is of Spanish origin as well.

Considering this connection to Spain, I found another use for Bistek via Mexico (Spain once governed its Philippine colony from Mexico [confusing, but true]). Instead of cooking the beef and onions in the marinade on the stove, I grilled the steak and onions on my barbecue:

Grilled Bistek

I then sliced the meat and threw it into a tortilla topped with the onions, some queso de bola (edam) cheese and some cilantro:

Bistek Tacos

The Bistek Tacos would probably also fare well with a little topping of Atchara as well. Although the Bistek Tacos lack the sauce that the traditional preparation includes, the longer marination of the meat ensures the maximum toyomansi taste (flava in ya mouf!).

I used sirloin for the traditional Bistek, and flank steak for the tacos, but I think either meat would work for either situation. I found both applications to be amazingly easy to prepare and were perfect for a quick midweek dinner.

Filipino Bistek (Citrus Steak and Onions)

Serves 2 to 4

1 lb. sirloin beef, sliced thinly
1/4 cup kalamansi juice (or lemon juice)
1/2 cup soy sauce
3 cloves garlic, smashed
1 Tablespoon oil
1 large onion, sliced into thin rings
Freshly ground black pepper, to taste

Place the beef, kalamansi juice, soy sauce, and garlic in a large zip-top bag, or in a shallow dish, and marinate in the refrigerator for 30 mins.

Heat the oil in a large saute pan or skillet over medium-high heat. Remove the meat from the marinade (reserve marinade, do not discard marinade) and sear the meat on all sides, 4-5 minutes total. Remove meat from pan, place the meat in a bowl, and set aside. If the pan is dry, add a bit more oil. Add the onion rings to the pan and saute for 3 minutes.

Pour the reserved marinade into the pan with the onions, being sure to deglaze and scrape the bottom of the pan with a wooden spoon or spatula. Bring the liquid to a boil, reduce heat to low and simmer for 10 minutes. Add the black pepper to the sauce and taste for seasoning. If the sauce is too salty, or too sour, add 1/2 cup of water if necessary. You can also add water if you just want to have more sauce.

Add the meat back to the pan and cook for another 2 minutes. You can also thicken the sauce with cornstarch if desired. Serve with rice.

Bistek Tacos

Serves 2 to 4

1 lb. flank steak (leave whole, do not slice)
1/4 cup kalamansi juice (or lemon juice)
1/2 cup soy sauce
3 cloves garlic, smashed
1 large onion
Salt and pepper, to taste
Olive oil
Tortillas (flour or corn)
1/4 cup edam cheese, grated
Cilantro, for garnish

Place the beef, kalamansi juice, soy sauce, and garlic in a large zip-top bag, or in a shallow dish, and marinate in the refrigerator overnight.

Cut the onion into 1/4-inch slices, then place the onion slices on skewers so that they are easier to grill. Brush the onion slices with olive oil, then sprinkle with salt and pepper.

Remove the meat from the marinade; reserve the marinade. Place the meat and onion skewers on a hot grill over high heat. Grill the meat and onions for 10-12 minutes total for medium-rare meat, brushing occasionally with the reserved marinade. Remove the steak and onions from the grill and allow the steak to rest for 10 minutes. Discard the leftover marinade.

Thinly slice the steak against the grain. Place the steak and onions in warmed tortillas, then top with cheese and cilantro.

Coffee Cookery

The reputed stimulative properties of coffee have never had an effect on me. I happen to be one of those people that can drink a hot cup of coffee right before bedtime, and then lull off to sleep as soon as my noggin hits the pillow. I don't get debilitating headaches at work if I miss out on my morning cup of joe. And I can even have a scalding cup of java spilled onto my groin at the drive-through, and then drive off with a wink and a smile for the cashier.

OK, so maybe I exaggerated some of that a teensy bit. But truth be told, I drink coffee because I like the way it tastes, not because it's a magical cup of pick-me-up. And aside from being a breakfast-time beverage, coffee can make for a wonderful ingredient in a number of dishes. For instance, brewed coffee can be used as a braising liquid for tough cuts of meat, and whole coffee beans themselves can be used to infuse a custard mixture for ice cream.

And since I brought back a giant bag of Barako coffee from my trip to the Philippines, I had more than enough beans to experiment with for these other coffee applications

Marrow Escape

If you were to look at my old man's life resume, a laundry list of bullet points would be on display under the "Skills" heading. Among his wide and varied talents would be the following:

• Throat Punching
• Beer Drinking
• Marrow Extracting

It could be argued that both "Throat Punching" and "Beer Drinking" are hobbies rather than skills, so I'll focus on the last item in that list for now: Marrow Extracting. Or, to put it more plainly--sucking the fatty and unctuous meat-flavored butter from animal bones. Yum!

Ah yes, bone marrow. A delicacy that seems to be catching on in many fine dining establishments these days, but something that many cultures have been feasting on for thousands of years--or at least since the 80's.

I remember many a meal at our dinner table when I was a wee lad--before I discovered the joys of marrow consumption.  My brothers and I were always instructed to give our leftover bones, from whatever we were eating, to my father. Then, with gustatory glee, my father deftly (and loudly) sucked the marrow from the bones of the creatures felled for our dinner: chicken legs, pork ribs, beef shanks, magical unicorn horns, etcetera etcetera.

Such behavior always seemed to leave my mother appalled, whereas I thought it was fairly awe-inspiring. As they say, the kalamansi doesn't fall far from the tree--I've taken quite a liking to the fatty, tasty goo found at the center of hollow bones. And for the longest time, due to my upbringing, I thought eating bone marrow was the norm. But it turns out that (besides vegetarians) there are those who are kinda grossed out by the whole idea of eating bone marrow. Strange, that.

For example, my wife and I recently joined a couple of friends for an Italian dinner at a nice restaurant. One of the appetizers on the menu was "Roasted Bone Marrow"--which I immediately ordered with zero hesitation.  When the platter of three-inch thick, oven-roasted beef bones (I'm guessing from the shank) arrived at our table, I gleefully scraped the gelatinous mass from their bony containers, spread the goo on some toast points and sprinkled on some sea salt and parsley leaves. It was good. Sinfully, deliciously good.

After a couple of delectable bites of the marrow-spread bread, I shook myself from my crazed carnivorous haze to find the rest of my table looking at me as if I had just eaten a baby.  Sure, everyone had a taste of the marrow that night, but it seemed I was the only one who truly enjoyed that appetizer--I ended up finishing the whole thing myself (not that I'm complaining).

I guess eating bone marrow could be a cultural thing--not everybody grows up with a dad that inhales the innards of animal bones. And not everyone grows up with Bulalo, AKA "Bone Soup"--an incredibly easy, yet delicious, Filipino soup made from beef shanks and bone marrow.

Lucky me.

Big Fan o' Tapa

Filipino Tapa is thinly sliced beef that is cured and dried with salt, sugar, and other spices and then cooked in oil.  In other words, Tapa is fried beef jerky. And, as seen in the picture above, Tapa is usually served for breakfast along with garlic fried rice and a fried egg or two.  This breakfast trinity of fried foods is known as Tapsilog: TAP is from Tapa, SI is from sinangag (fried rice), and LOG is from itlog (egg). Substitute Longanisa for the Tapa and you've got Longsilog. Filipinos. Crazy wordsmiths we are.

I could be wrong, but I imagine that early Filipinos (by "early" I mean a long long time ago, as opposed to the opposite of "Filipino Time") cured and dried their beef to preserve it, and then later fried it to wake the flavors up a bit. Or, maybe we just like to make perfectly healthy foods unhealthy by dousing them in oil. Nah, that can't be it.

Anyways, in researching Tapa, I found many many recipes consisting of simple marinades but excluded the traditional curing and drying process. Heck, even I had one of these "quick" tapa recipes sans the curing and drying  Why no curing and drying? Well, because those are magical culinary processes that a home cook cannot duplicate because leaving raw beef out to dry can lead to things like bacteria, mold, and explosive diarrh...

You get the point.

But, in all actuality, anyone can cure, dry, and dehydrate beef at home with none of the ill effects I mentioned above.  It's true. Just ask The Goog for Beef Jerky recipes and he will gently whisper them into your ears, or at least flash them in front of your eyeballs.

After finding a gajillion and one recipes for beef jerky, I figured I could just make up my own Tapa marinade and then dry my marinated Beef Tapa in the same fashion as an American jerky. Why the heck not!

And so that's what I did.  I created my own marinade and chose a drying process that would be quick, easy, and AWESOME.  What could possibly be AWESOME about drying meat?  Well, I used a box fan, a couple of paper furnace filters, and some bungee cord to mummify my marinated meat.  I'm serious.

West Coast Beef (and Broccoli)

As I mentioned in my last post, I am taking part in the Penny-Wise Eat Local Challenge this week.  As soon as I started this challenge, I knew right away that I wouldn't be able to base my diet on 100% locally sourced food.  And I guess that's where my "beef"' is with eating locally: it's definitely a good idea, it's just not completely practical, at least not for me.  As someone who is trying to learn more about cooking Filipino food, my cooking style doesn't exactly lend itself to all local all the time.

Take for instance, a beef and broccoli dish I recently made (Yes, I know. Not exactly Filipino, but still).  Most of the components were grown within a 100-mile radius from where I live: The broccoli, shiitake mushrooms, ginger, onions, the rice, and even the oyster sauce I used was made locally.  Again, you can see where my local ingredients were grown here.

However, many ingredients vital to this dish were non-local: the beef (although grass-fed and organic) came from the midwest, the soy sauce was brewed in Wisconsin of all places, the cornstarch is from Indiana, and the sesame oil I used is from Japan.

Geez, after reading that last sentence it looks like I didn't even try at this challenge.  But that's the thing, I did.  Although I've made beef and broccoli many times before, I've always planned ahead for it and shopped for ingredients knowing that I was going to make it.  In this instance, I actually cooked based on what I bought at the farmer's market; it was all spontaneous.  And I think that's a good thing.