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.

Gone Fishing

So a Filipino guy, a Japanese guy, and two Chinese guys walk onto a fishing boat...

The Japanese guy takes a deep breath of fresh sea air and says, "Looks like a good day for fishin'! Hopefully we can pull something up I can sashimi."

The Chinese guys nod, look out onto the horizon and say, "Or maybe we can steam our catch."

The Filipino guy snorts, looks around and asks, "This boat come with a deep fryer?" (Hey-ohhhhh! Insert rimshot, groans, and forced laughter here.)

And so it was this past weekend, when I joined my buddy Marc and some friends on a two-day fishing odyssey on Bodega Bay in Northern California (and no, I didn't really ask for a deep-fryer).

Prior to this outing, I had only gone fishing twice. The first time was back in college, when the afforementioned Marc and I hopped on a half-day vessel and fished out of Santa Barbara. Marc, a life-long fisherman, caught the majority of the fish that day. I, on the other hand, caught nothing but a case of the sea-shakes and puked my guts out overboard. Despite spending most of that trip lying on my back, or hunched over the side of the ship, I had a blast. Seriously.

Many years later in San Diego, I found myself on a fishing boat for the second time in my life. I actually reeled in quite a few fish that day, but it came after a late night of carousing and only 2 hours of sleep (it was for another buddy's bachelor party), so much of that excursion is a blur to me. Strangely though, I didn't get sea sick on that trip.

So when Marc recently invited me out on his personal boat for a couple of days fishing the Boogie-Down Bodega Bay, I knew I couldn't say no. And besides, I made sure that this time around I'd have plenty of rest, minimal cocktails, and prescription-strength dramamine to keep my wits about me and to keep my insides on the inside.

Beer-Steamed Blue Crabs

No matter the measure of success a person may have, there will inevitably be someone else that may try to negate or trivialize that success. Anything from winning a spelling bee ("Dude, you got lucky. Anyone can spell 'Borborygmus'") to cooking a decent plate of adobo ("Your adobo is OK, but my Lola's is much better"), someone will almost surely exhibit some sort of crab mentality to let you know just how mediocre they think you really are.

We all know the metaphor. The ol' Crabs in the Pot story where one crab tries to escape from the pot, only to be pulled back down into the pile by another crab. I imagine that as the one crab is about to claw his way out, all the other hater-crabs below are talking behind his back ("I worked way harder than he did to escape this wretched pot, so there's no way I'm letting him outta here without a nip at his leg!) and even telling lies and spreading rumors ("Hey, I heard that crab up there has got crabs! Gross!). The secret life of crabs. Who knew?

Anyways, the best way to counter such crab mentality is to stay above the fray and ignore the high school antics, gossip, and smack-talk of crabby people, and instead indulge in the sweet meat, rich "mustard", and delectable roe of the crabby crustaceans that dwell under water.

So when I recently spotted a bin of live Maryland Blue Crabs at my friendly neighborhood Filipino market, I knew I had to steam a pot of the tasty critters to offset the crabbiness going on in my own life these days.

Bangus Sisig

Ah, Sisig! When prepared correctly, nothing quite captures the varied flavors and textures of Filipino cuisine like a sizzling-hot platter of chopped pig's face. It's true.

Chewy and crispy, fatty and meaty, sour and spicy--they're all there. Gustatory opposites complementing each other on a single plate of porky goodness. And thanks in large part to the increasing popularity of ethnic street food in the United States, and more specifically, to the growing interest in Filipino cuisine as a whole, more and more people have come to enjoy this once-obscure Pinoy dish.

Since my first post on Sisig nearly three years ago, the humble street food has gone on to enjoy some time in the limelight (err, kalamansi-light?). Sure, sisig has always been served in a handful of mom-and-pop hole-in-the-walls, but it didn't hurt that some yahoo started slinging pig face from a food truck, or that Anthony Bourdain sang Sisig's praises on TV:

Alas, despite the joys that come with eating the wobbly and chewy bits of a pig's face and ears, some people just can't bring themselves to eat the wobbly and chewy bits of a pig's face and ears. And that's understandable. I suppose.

But if you've got no qualms with stuffing your own face with that of a pig, there's also the not-so-small issue of fat--and there's a lot of it in pig cheeks. Take a look at a cross-section of a pork jowl and it looks a lot like that of a pork belly, hence the term "face bacon".

So what's a Filipino food lover to do when a hankering for sisig is had, but just sans fatty face? Luckily, there are more savory sisig scenarios besides pork. Filipinos have long sisig'd other proteins like tofu, chicken, and various seafoods.

But sisig made from Bangus (or milkfish), is perhaps my favorite non-pork face option for the classic street food.

Gambas for Game Day

Gambas al Ajillo (sauteed shrimp with garlic) may usually be a staple in Spanish tapas joints, but the same dish is also a popular Filipino bar food (perhaps a takeaway from a couple hundred years of Spanish colonialism, I'm guessing).

And despite its Spanish origins and Filipino popularity, gambas al ajillo are also perfect game day fare for an All-American Super Bowl shindig--especially if all of your Crispy Adobo Wings dissappear before the first timeout.

In fact, gambas al ajillo are so quick and easy to prepare, you can probably get a batch done, from start to finish, in 5 minutes flat--ensuring you don't miss a single play, snap, or commercial (hey, I don't judge) during your Super Bowl viewing party.

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.

A Fish Story

The following is loosely based on actual events...

INT.  LOCAL FILIPINO MARKET - NOON

Marvin zips through the automated market doors and makes a beeline toward the back of the store--past the colorful bottles of banana ketchup and fish sauce, and beyond the refrigerated aisles of fermented shrimp paste and calamansi-flavored sodas. He reaches the fish counter in a huff.

OLD FISHMONGER GUY

What you want?

MARVIN
(perusing the assortment of fresh fish on ice)

Uh, you don't have any snapper today, huh?

OLD FISHMONGER GUY
(saying something in Tagalog that Marvin can't understand)

Blah, blah, blah, isda, blah.

MARVIN

(sheepishly)

Uh, I don't speak Tagalog.

OLD FISHMONGER GUY

You are not Filipino?

MARVIN

I am. I just don't speak Tagalog.

OLD FISHMONGER GUY

You look Korean.

MARVIN
(thinking to himself)

If I look Korean, why the hell are you talking to me in Tagalog?

(to the Fishmonger)

I get that all the time, but I'm Filipino.

Green Mangoes and Bagoong

The mere mention of "Green Mangoes and Bagoong" will likely excite the salivary glands of almost any Filipino. It's true.

Green Mangoes and Bagoong.

Green Mangoes and Bagoong!

Green Mangoes and Bagoong!!!

The pairing of sour unripe mangoes dipped in salty fermented shrimp paste (Bagoong) may not sound too appealing to some, but it's a mouth-watering combination for most Filipinos. In fact, after reading the first few lines of this post, I'm sure that there are some gleek-covered computer screens out there due to the certain downpour of Pavlovian drool.

Up until recently though, my own Pavlovian response to green mangoes and bagoong did indeed entail salivation... except it was the sort of salivation associated with nausea. Yeah, vomit spit (ewww). You see, when I was a wee lad I would recoil in horror as I watched my mother snack on this sour/salty delicacy. Eating unripe fruit was strange enough to me as a child, but to then dip and smother the unripe fruit in stinky rotting shrimp was altogether... well, it was just plain gross.

For those who have never had the pleasure of eating bagoong, it is a very pungent and salty paste comprised of itty-bitty teeny-weeny fermenting shrimp. While Bagoong is salty in flavor, its funky aroma is kinda like if anchovies had feet, and wore dirty socks with an old pair of sneakers, and walked around town in the afternoon sun, in July--but in a good way.

As I've gotten older though, I have learned to enjoy Bagoong in tiny doses. Heck, I even made a salad with it. However, I've always avoided eating bagoong where it is one of the primary in-your-face ingredients--such as the condiment for green mangoes. But I must confess that I've finally discovered the virtues of this classic pairing.

A December To Savor

As a Filipino born and raised in Southern California, I've often viewed Christmastime in the Philippines with much wonderment and awe. Now, I've never witnessed the holidays firsthand in the Philippines, but my mother often regales my brothers and I with stories of month-long celebrations, huge feasts with family and friends, and Christmas caroling "back home."

Even though Christmas caroling is a practice long extinct here in the U.S. (I probably wouldn't answer my door if I knew carolers were outside), I'm admittedly quite jealous of all the merriment and eating that goes on in the Philippines leading up to, and moving right on through Christmas. For instance, my cousins in the Philippines usually all gather together for Noche Buena and dine on an array of dishes that include lumpia, noodles, stuffed chicken, ham and/or lechon, sweet rice cakes, and a whole bunch of other things of which I'm jealous. And that's just for one night on Christmas Eve! Even weeks before Christmas there's a whole lot more going on that I can't even wrap my head around.

Luckily for us here in the U.S., the spirit of Christmas in the Philippines is captured in the pages of the December issue of Saveur Magazine (thanks to MarketMan for the heads up). Although I've found some mention of Filipino food in magazines like Sunset, this month's Saveur perhaps provides the most coverage given to Filipino food in a mainstream "foodie" publication. And it's about time.