Burnt Lumpia: Filipino Food | Filipino Recipes | Culinary Hijinks

Autumn Mix

Persimmons and pomegranates are rather persnickety specimens of fall fruit--the former needing nothing but time and patience for its flesh to go from hard and astringent to meltingly sweet and smooth, and the latter requiring a bit of excavation to find the juicy seeds inside.

There are a few different varieties of persimmon available. Some varieties, like the fuyu, are somewhat firm-fleshed and can be eaten like an apple. Other varieties, like the hachiya (gesundheit!), must be completely ripe and very soft before eating. I'd say the hachiya is my favorite type of persimmon.

If you happen to buy a hard unripe hachiya, just shove it in a brown paper bag with a banana, or a tomato, or both, and the persimmon should soften up in a few days. Once it's ripe and very mushy, you can cut a hachiya in half and then eat it out of the skin with a spoon. The flesh of a ripened hachiya is earthy-sweet, and almost jelly-like.

Gloopy, but tasty.

Pomegranates, on the other hand, require a little bit more work. You have to first lop off its crown, score its leathery skin with a sharp knife, and then pull it apart to find its sweet-tart ruby-red seeds.

 

Eureka!

Once the innards of the pomegranate are exposed, I usually place everything in a giant bowl o' water and gently pull the seeds away from the white pith. The seeds sink to the bottom and the pith and skin float to the top.

Clear water.

All of the juice is in the red seeds, so if you're gentle with the seeds, you won't waste any juice. But if you're a wee rough, then the water in your bowl will be bloodied with pomegranate plasma, you scoundrel! After gently separating seeds from pith, you can just skim the skin and pith away, then drain the seeds.

There are a number of things you can do with pomegranate seeds. You can sprinkle 'em on salads, on ice cream, or on your morning bowl o' Wheaties.

Or, together with the flesh of a hachiya persimmon and a few other goodies, you can use the pomegranate seeds in an autumn version of halo-halo.

Why, hello hello!

Halo-Halo is very much a summertime Filipino treat with layers of shaved ice, sweet beans, macapuno strings, ube, jack fruit, and any other number of sweet bits. And although pomegranates and persimmons are largely autumnal fruits, that doesn't mean they can't be used in halo-halo for a tasty dessert.

In a normal Halo-Halo, after the sweets are layered with shaved ice in a tall glass, some evaporated milk is poured in and allowed to seap into the ice. Then the whole shebang is topped with ice cream.

For my fall weather halo-halo, I used some of the Ube jam (it's still good!) that was given to me by Mila, some macapuno (coconut) strings, and some pomegranate and persimmon. Since I didn't have any canned evaporated milk, I just poured in some milk I had in my refrigerator. Lastly, I topped off my halo-halo with some ice cream--homemade Macapuno Ice Cream would be nice, but I opted for homemade Ube Ice Cream.

I do want to stress the importance of shaved ice in a halo-halo. I don't have an ice shaver, so I crushed some ice in my blender--this was not a suitable substitute! I had to crunch through larger pieces of ice as I ate my halo-halo, and crunching ice/breaking teeth is no fun. So if you do make some halo-halo, make sure you have a very powerful blender, or invest in some sort of ice shaving contraption--for the life of me I couldn't find the manual hand-cranked ice shavers I remember my mother using when I was a kid.

Also, I don't think a recipe is necessary here. Just layer sweet things with shaved ice in a tall glass, pour in some milk, then top with your favorite ice cream. For a more traditional halo-halo, Asian markets carry jars of sweet preserved beans, ube jam, macapuno, jack fruit, gelatin, etc. There are also jars labeled as "halo-halo mix" that have a combination of these items all in one jar.

And lastly, halo-halo is literally translated to mix-mix (so I'm told). So after I eat the ice cream, I mix-mix the rest of the contents with a spoon and make haste with the goodness!

The goodness!

I must say that the pomegranate seeds and the persimmon lend a very different twist, but also very welcome fall flavors, to an otherwise sweet and summery treat.

Fruitcake Fiend

I'm not exactly sure how popular Fruitcake is in the Philippines for Noche Buena (Christmas Eve Feast), or at any other time for that matter. But considering that fruitcake is mostly seen as a joke here in the states, I'm gonna go out on a limb and assume that this wintertime loaf rarely appears on any Filipino tables as well.

For the most part, I can understand Fruitcake's bottom position on the culinary totem pole. At its worst, fruitcake can be nothing more than a heavy brick studded with overly sweet, radioactive day-glo candied fruits. But at its best, fruitcake is wonderfully sweet and aromatically spicy--filled with dried fruits and toasted nuts and preserved with a hefty dose of good liquor.

So with the best fruitcake intentions in mind, I bake a couple of loaves at the end of every October every year--aging each cake for a few weeks and enjoying the first at Thanksgiving, and enjoying the second on Christmas Eve. Sure, fruitcake can be eaten straightaway right after baking, but the cakes are exponentially better after being spritzed with brandy every now and again.

My go-to fruitcake recipe is from Alton Brown's "I'm Just Here For More Food". The original recipe calls for golden raisins, dried cranberries, dried blueberries, dried cherries, and dried apricots, but I tend to use different fruits every year depending on what I can find. For this go around, I stuck with the dried blueberries and cranberries, but I also included some tropical fruits like dried mango, dried rambutan, and dried mangosteen that I found at Trader Joe's. Dried fruits are best for fruitcake because they won't spoil, and they're better for you than candied fruits.

This was the first time that I've ever seen dried rambutan and mangosteen before, so I was excited to open up the packs and give them a try.

At first glance, the dried mangosteen and dried rambutan look a lot like styrofoam, and sadly, they tasted a lot like styrofoam too. Luckily though, they were brought back to life after an overnight soak in rum with the rest of the dried fruits and some fresh orange and lemon zest:

Boozy Fruit

After a dip in rum, the fruit is then simmered with some hard apple cider, sugar, and butter, then folded into some flour and eggs to form a batter. After baking, I spray the fruitcake with apple brandy (100 proof!) that I've poured into a spray bottle. The original recipe calls for normal brandy, but I like the aroma of apple brandy too. Really, any brandy will do. Moesha!

Snazzy spritzer, eh?

At this point, you will be very tempted to cut a slice off of your fruitcake loaf because it smells amazing out of the oven! But I do encourage you to resist this temptation and wait. After the fruitcake cools and has been spritzed on all sides with brandy, I wrap it in plastic wrap, and then in foil, and then I even stick them in a giant zip-top bag on which I write the date.

2 kilos of, uh... 2 bricks of fruitcake, that is.

Every two days for the first two weeks I carefully unwrap the fruitcake and spritz every side with more brandy. After the first two weeks, I then spritz the fruitcake only once a week until I decide to eat it. Don't overdo it with the spritzing, you don't want to soak the cake every time. A light spritzing to wet the surface of the cake will do--it's a sipper, not a chugger.

As long as you keep the fruitcake well-wrapped and give it an occasional brandy spritz, don't worry about it going bad or growing mold. And remember, the dried fruits were preserved in rum to boot, so aging a fruitcake for a month or two is no big deal.

Waiting...

Like I said earlier, I'll cut into my first loaf for Thanksgiving after one month of aging, and I'll cut into my second loaf on Christmas Eve after two months of aging. But because I make this fruitcake every year, I can assure you it's worth the wait.

Fruitcake

Adapted from "I'm Just Here for More Food", by Alton Brown.

Note: Alton Brown's original recipe says it makes one 9-inch loaf, but I always seem to get two loaves out of the same recipe. Perhaps my loaf pans aren't as deep as the recipe needs, so do be wary of this if you try this recipe out. If it seems to yield more batter that will fit in your loaf pan, have a second loaf pan ready.

Any combination of dried fruits works well in this recipe. And don't be discouraged by the long list of ingredients--it's still a simple and worthwhile recipe.

3/4 cup dried rambutan
3/4 cup dried mangosteen
3/4 cup dried blueberries
3/4 cup dried cranberries
3/4 cup dried mangoes, chopped
1/4 cup candied ginger, chopped
zest from 1 lemon
zest from 1 orange
5 whole cloves, freshly ground
3 whole allspice berries, freshly ground
1 cup dark rum
3/4 cup apple juice
1/2 cup hard apple cider
1/2 cup butter (1 stick)
1 cup sugar
2 large eggs, lightly beaten
1 cup all-purpose flour
1 cup whole-wheat flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1/4 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
1 cup toasted pecans, chopped
Brandy for spritzing

In a large bowl, combine the dried fruits, ginger, lemon and orange zests, ground cloves, ground allspice, and rum. Cover and soak overnight.

The next day, pour all of the fruit, zests, spices, and rum into a large saucepan. Add the apple juice, hard cider, butter, and sugar. Bring to a boil, reduce heat and simmer for 10 minutes, stirring every couple of minutes. Remove from heat and allow mixture to cool to room temperature. Stir in the eggs.

Preheat the oven to 325 degrees Fahrenheit. Spray loaf pans with nonstick spray, then line with parchment paper "sling" so that fruitcake can be easily lifted out of pans after baking.

In a large bowl, combine the all-purpose flour, whole-wheat flour, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon, salt, pepper, nutmeg, and pecans. Add the wet mixture to the flour mixture and stir just until combined. Pour batter into loaf pan and bake for one hour. Check for doneness with a skewer or toothpick poked into the middle of the cake--if it comes out clean its done.

Set pans on cooling rack and spray the top with brandy. Cool completely before removing cakes from pan.

Remove cooled cakes from pans, then spritz top and sides with brandy. Remove parchment paper, then wrap cakes tightly in plastic wrap, and then in foil.

Unwrap cakes and spritz with brandy every other day for two weeks, then once a week for the next two weeks.

I like to serve the fruitcake by toasting slices under the broiler for juuuust a minute, then topping with a dollop of mascarpone cheese. Tasty!

Milk 'n Sugar

Last week, the wife and I had the good fortune to again meet up with another fantastic food blogger. Mark, from No Special Effects, was in L.A. from the Philippines for a few days so we decided to snatch him away from his hotel in El Segundo and take him to one of our favorite watering holes: Father's Office.

Although F.O. is known for its burgers (some say the best in Los Angeles), I'm drawn there for the semi-hard-to-find microbrewed beers and cocktails (there are two F.O. locations: one in Santa Monica and one in Culver City/Los Angeles, and only the L.A. locale serves the cocktails). In fact, we live about an hour from F.O. but the wife and I manage to go there a few times a year just to wet our whistles.

Even though F.O. boasts a highly regarded burger, I still prefer that of ol' reliable In-N-Out or even the burgers at Apple Pan. Don't get me wrong, the Office Burger is a great burger, but I'm more of an old-fashioned simple burger type, whereas the Office Burger is somewhat of an upscale gourmet sandwich that features a patty of great quality ground beef topped with arugula, gruyere and maytag bleu cheeses, and a compote of onions and bacon, all pressed between a kaiser roll.

With that said, no matter how much I tell myself "I'll try something else this time" whenever I step into F.O., I still find myself always ordering their burger--I feel like I'm missing out if I don't order it. This time around, the wife and I split a burger, some sweet potato fries, and a wonderful heirloom tomato salad that was dressed with ricotta cheese, herbs and microgreens, and a cucumber vinaigrette. Mark had himself an Office Burger of his own (which he seemed to enjoy) and some regular fries.

During the course of a Negroni cocktail and 2 or 3 or 4 beers (I lost count), we discussed things like Saturday Night Live, The Office, rampant STDs at USC, and the strictness of Filipino parents. The range of this conversation was perhaps due in large part to the aforementioned beverages that I consumed, so I'm not totally sure that Mark completely followed my ramblings. Luckily, my wife was in tow to keep me and my liver in check.

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

Pear-Shaped?

Appearances are often deceiving.

Take the Asian Pear for instance, which, at first glance, can easily be mistaken for an apple. Asian Pears are stout and round like apples, and lack the curvy bottoms of their sisters Bosc, Bartlett, or Anjou pears.

(It's kinda like how Storm Shadow and Snake Eyes are both ninjas. You can immediately tell that Storm Shadow is a ninja because he looks like a ninja. But when you first take a gander at Snake Eyes, he can easily be mistaken for a welder. Or an S&M enthusiast. Or both. But in fact, Snake Eyes is indeed a ninja. A mute ninja armed with hand grenades. And a dog. But a ninja nonetheless.)

And despite being shaped more like Ina Garten than Rachael Ray, Asian Pears are pears nonetheless. Aside from shape, Asian Pears are also different in that they are often more firm, crisp, and juicy than other pear varietals. As such, I thought that Asian Pears would be a great vehicle for poaching since their inherent firmness would make them less likely to disintegrate into a mushy peary pulp after a long simmer in pandan-perfumed liquid.

Yup. Pandan-Poached Asian Pears.

It has a nice ring to it doesn't it?

A Taste of Pandan

I've read in a few places that Pandan is to Asia what Vanilla is to the Western world. Since I've never worked with Pandan in the kitchen before, I was a bit confused by this analogy and assumed that there was a less-than-mediocre, one-hit-wonder, wannabe rap artist by the name of "Pandan Ice" running around Asia.

Shay with a gauge and Pandan with a nine.

Turns out I was wrong. Which is a good thing. One Vanilla Ice is more than the world can stand.

Anyhoo, the Pandan/Vanilla comparison actually pertains to the wide use of Pandan in a variety of Southeast Asian dishes. Like vanilla pods, the long green leaves of the Pandan (AKA Screwpine) plant are very fragrant and aromatic. Also similar to vanilla, the unique aroma of pandan leaves is used to flavor many sweets. In the Philippines for example, Pandan is usually paired with coconut in desserts like Buko Pandan salad--a sweet mixture of pandan-perfumed milk, gelatin, and coconut.

However, it should also be noted that Pandan tastes nothing like vanilla. Some say that the aroma and flavor of Pandan is similar to that of coconuts--which is strange considering that the two ingredients are usually paired together. To me though, the flavor of Pandan is wholly unique but tastes kinda banana leafy, sorta grassy, a little bit nutty, and a lot like Jasmine rice--all at the same time. Despite my best efforts at pinning down a flavor description, the taste of Pandan is almost indescribable.

But don't let Pandan's uniqueness discourage you from using it your cooking. Even though it tastes and smells nothing like vanilla, I used some Pandan leaves in much the same way I would use vanilla pods. I steeped the leaves in some warm milk and cream to extract the wonderful Pandan fragrance and flavor--instead of plain ol' vanilla ice cream, I made Pandan ice cream.

Mac On Some Ube Cupcakes

I started Burnt Lumpia a year ago today. Strange, I know.

At the time, I really didn't know what I was doing (that's not to say I know what I'm doing now). But I knew I wanted to learn, I wanted to cook, and I wanted to write about what it was that I learned and cooked (and maybe poke fun at my family along the way).

I honestly had no long-term plans for this blog. I didn't think I'd have the time to experiment, research, cook, write and maintain a blog. After all, that would cut into my busy schedule of, uh, hmmmm. Well, it would at least cut into my beer drinking. But then I figured out that I could experiment, research, cook, write, and maintain a blog whilst enjoying liquid gold! Oh beer! A glorious beverage of convenience you are!

Anyhoo, I initially thought that after a couple of silly posts I'd slowly fade away. "Eh, I'll give it a couple months," I thought. But then, something funny happened.

The more I learned and cooked, the more I wanted to write and share. And vice versa. It was a vicious cycle. But I was enjoying myself. And, inexplicably, people started to respond to me.

So, I wanted to send a big thanks to all of you who check into this here blog on the regular. Thanks for sending me tips in emails and in the comments section--I learn quite a lot from my readers. And thanks to all you lurkers out there too (I see you! I've got a magic romper room mirror!).

As a sign of gratitude, I made something. I wish I could tell you that I felled a bull with a swift kick to his groin, quartered him with a machete, then pan seared some of his muscle mass for a bloody steak. But instead, I baked cupcakes.

Ube Cupcakes.

I know. Not as cool sounding as killing a bull. But that's what I get for starting this thing on Valentine's Day. Egads!

Mango and Pan de Sal Bread Pudding

I’ve wasted a lot of food in my lifetime.

As a kid, I would randomly open our refrigerator door, take out an egg, toss it at my little brother and yell, “Catch!!!”  He sucks at catching.  Good times.

There was that time in college where I was dared to drink a gallon of milk in less than an hour (yes, I was THAT guy).  I was able to drink the milk, but let’s just say it wasn’t in me for very long.

There were also a few half glasses of beer that I’ve had to leave behind at the bar. Mind you, I’ve never left a beer behind that I didn’t want to, or couldn’t, finish.  But there just always seems to be that one person in your group who just can’t let a man finish his beer at his own pace and has to leave the bar right that second.  I must befriend more patient designated drivers, or live within stumbling distance to a decent watering hole.

And from the time I was able to ingest solid foods until right this second, I’ve probably thrown away a metric ton of rice—much to my mother’s chagrin.  Even though my mom now lives a couple of hours away from me, I’m sure that whenever I scrape the uneaten rice off of my plate and into the trashcan she can feel it in her soul.  She then turns to my father and says, “I felt a great disturbance in the Force… as if millions of voices suddenly cried out in terror and were suddenly silenced. I fear something terrible has happened.”  At least that’s how I picture it.

Anyways, all of this wastefulness was weighing on my mind when I was about to toss some stale Pan de Sal into the trash.  But then I didn’t want my mother to randomly keel over from another Force disturbance (or as she would say, Porce disstuurrrbance).  So I decided to hold onto the Pan de Sal and put it to further use in a bread pudding.  You read that right.  Bread pudding.

Kalamansi Granita

Conventional wisdom usually dictates:

“Don’t eat the yellow snow.”

It’s sage advice, really.  And it usually makes sense considering the circumstances that cause the yellowing of snow:

• Huskies
• Rabid Raccoons
• The Abominable Snowman, Yeti, and/or Sasquatch
• Tauntauns
• Drunken Eskimos Canadians Russians Cold Climate Drunks in general

However, this advice does not take into consideration my sublimely yellowy and snowy dessert: Kalamansi Granita.

blUBErry Ice Cream (Ube Ice Cream Swirled with Blueberry Sauce)

In spite of what my spellchecker says, you can't spell blUBErry without Ube.

It's true.

And ever since my Purple Ube Pancakes post, I've been wanting to pair Ube and blueberries in an ice cream (blueberry pancakes + Ube pancakes = blUBErry ice cream, my mind works in strange ways).  I knew the tart sweetness of blueberries would pair well with sweet purple yam, I just didn't know how I was going to pull it off.  I had never made Ube ice cream, a favorite among Filipinos, so I knew I had to start there and worry about the blueberries later.

But, as I would discover, churning out a batch of Ube ice cream would be more difficult than just dumping a cup of frozen Ube into a vanilla base (under no circumstances should you try that, you will curse the heavens and everything around you. Damn you frozen purple yam! Damn you straight to hell!!!).

Ahem.  Uh, after two hacks at creating terribly icy and gritty ice creams, I think I hit one out of the park on my third try.  A couple pounds of Ube, a few quarts of cream, and a couple hundred curse words later, I was able to figure out three tricks for churning rich and smooth Ube Ice Cream.  And lucky you, dear reader, I'm going to share them with you here.