The Cheese Club of the Philippines Turns Thirty

Posted on 26 May 2012 by sheg4184

This year, the Cheese Club of the Philippines is celebrating its thirtieth anniversary, and apparently there are plans afoot for a birthday party later in the year. Recently I spoke with current President and long-standing member of the CCP, Chris Ward.

Thirty years ago there was very little cheese or wine available in the Philippines. In those days, the only regular supply of cheese in Manila was processed cheese from the likes of Kraft, or those made locally from caribou milk, although occasionally expatriates could get some through the Commissaries at the ADB or their Embassies.

So in 1982 thirty ingenious – and desperate – cheese lovers got together and started a not-for-profit social club where they could share their common passion for cheese. Cheese was imported from all over the world, and Kraft kindly helped out by providing proper storage.

In the mid 1990s import laws changed. Wine and cheese suddenly became more accessible in supermarkets and delicatessens such as Santis and Terry’s, who often help with orders, although there have still been a few nail-biting moments over the timely arrival of shipments. These days the club focuses on providing quality and variety for the tastings and tries hard to avoid too much repetition.

Over the years the club membership has also grown enormously, from thirty to almost two hundred and fifty.  The Cheese Club meets on the first Wednesday of every month at the Polo Club in Forbes Park. Cheese Master, Katrina Kuhn-Alcantara, owner of Chuck’s Deli on Serendra Piazza, usually orders up to 42 kilos of cheese, including a regular appearance from the ever-popular raclette.

Raclette is a semi-firm, cow’s  milk cheese and also a traditional Swiss dish, created by heating  a 6kg (13lb) wheel of cheese, either in front of a fire or by a special machine. The melted cheese is then scraped off and spread onto hot toast and accessorized with gherkins or pickled onions. The name ‘raclette’ comes from the French word racler: to scrape.

The rest of the cheeses are displayed on long tables in the centre of the hall, and identified with descriptive labels. Katrina and her assistant Cheese Master, Franck Merot, spend a lot of time and effort researching the cheese, and setting themes, either by country of origin or type of cheese. Over twelve months, members may have the opportunity to taste as many as 250 different cheeses. This month, for example, the theme was ‘sweet and spiced’. The cheeses were largely soft, French cheeses that had been rolled in dried fruit or pepper, herbs, mustard seeds, or paprika. There were both goats’ cheeses and cow’s milk cheeses and all were very moreish. My particular favourite was a goat’s cheese rolled in dried figs.

Four wine bars were set up around the edge of the hall, where members and guests queued to taste a wide selection of wines. Wine Master Eric Kahn tries to select wines that match the month’s featured cheeses, so this month, they were mostly French.

After each event members receive a report on the night’s cheese and wine tastings. The committee is also attempting to compile a description and history of all the cheeses sampled over the past ten years. As you can see, this is no casual, Aussie wine and cheese night, but quite a sophisticated event. There is even a dress code: smart business casual is recommended,  jeans, flip flops and sports shoes are prohibited. Be warned: you baulk the rules at your peril. You will be sent home! That said, the evening is a great excuse for meeting old friends and making new one, for exploring new cheeses  and sipping interesting wines. A ‘must do’ for the cheese lover to get his or her monthly intake of these delectable dairy products!

*As published in the ANZA News June/July 2012

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Picnicking in Pila with TourFlair

Posted on 24 May 2012 by sheg4184

A beautiful blue Manila sky dusted with talcum powder clouds.  For the first time in a fortnight there is no thick coating of smog over the city. We are heading south towards Pila on a gastronomic tour arranged by Filipina sisters, Mindy Perez Rubio and Dinty (Teresa) Keating, and their childhood friend Lory Vi Valdes.

These three dynamic women have created TourFlair, a series of regional tours though Angeles, Pampanga; Pila, Laguna, and Vigan, Ilocos, in the hope of spreading the gospel about Filipino food. Their aim is to showcase the Philippines to small groups of visitors: the beautiful countryside, the vibrant city life, the culture and relaxed lifestyle, the ever-smiling Philippine hospitality, and of course the food. As we head off the freeway and down the pot-holed back lanes of Calamba, it feels like a family picnic: six women in a mini bus and three men in the car behind, jealously guarding the ice box full of beer.

Our first port-of-call is Graco’s, a goat farm on the outskirts of Pila, and a ‘work in progress’. Grace Yap and her partner are hoping to build up their small herd of milk goats from one hundred to one thousand, over the next decade. Grace tells me that so far every goat has a name, and she plans to continue this tradition. The majority of the herd is an Australian breed known as Anglo-Nubian. They are pretty goats with long, llama-like ears and come in a variety of soft, creamy colours.

Grace walks us proudly around her farm. She has five hectares of lush landscape housing a wide variety of livestock:  a tilapia pond ( a local freshwater fish) and breeding tanks; a clean, remarkably unscented goat shed; an open-air poultry run filled with handsome roosters, bantams and an assortment of free-ranging chooks, as well as a large duck pond, where local ducks mix happily with the Peking variety, and where every day is like Easter day, as the constant hunt for eggs keeps the staff busy. Apparently, there is also one shy ostrich called Kimpi, but she keeps a low profile, and we never meet her. Not a bad effort for a 6 foot bird!

As we sip on fresh, iced lychee juice, government dairy expert Lyn de la Cruz gives us a demonstration on how to make goat’s cheese in the kitchen. Rennet, vinegar or any other acidic agent is added to the goat’s milk as a coagulant, she explains. The mixture is then heated for 3-5 minutes at 80’C and the resulting, rather gluggy soup is strained through cheese cloth.

We are asked to sample the large, organic duck eggs on the counter. Neither bleached nor coloured purple like their commercial counterparts, these eggs are hard boiled and cured in salt for 14-16 days. The longer the curing process, the saltier the egg, and apparently tastes delicious mixed with diced tomato and cucumber.

Meanwhile, renowned Filipino chef Sau del Rosario of Le Bistro Vert, and the signature chef for TourFlair, is in the kitchen preparing merienda: a bruschetta made from grilled peppers, and topped with slices of home-made goat’s cheese. Prepared the day before, this cheese has already set to a mozzarella-like firmness.  It proves to be an irresistibly moreish snack, especially as I forgot to have breakfast.

In case anyone is still hungry (namely those not as greedy as me), we move on to lunch. Driving to the other side of town, we arrive at an impressive pair of gates. The driveway winds through an orchard of mango trees, and the trees are drooping beneath the weight of their crop. At the end of the drive we find a private hacienda on the edge of the rice fields. At the back of the house, a broad deck beckons us to the edge of a lagoon that is crisscrossed by wooden bridges. A sala, furnished with table and benches, is perched in the centre of the lagoon like a giant lily pad. Out by the fence, there is a tree house, looking just like Bunyip Blue-Gum’s house in ‘The Magic Pudding’. Clambering up the staircase, we gasp at the view of fields and mountains.

We are then directed to a large guest house with a huge dining table in the centre. Here we find Chef Sau again, who has raced ahead to prepare us a sumptuous lunch.

As always in Filipino cooking, the contrast of flavours and textures is prominent throughout the meal. Tiny, unshelled shrimps in coconut are pressed into a round, flat-bottomed mould. Upturned on a plate, the shrimp is decorated with bite-sized organic tomatoes, edible flowers and slices of pickled kamias… O my stars! Have you ever eaten anything this sour? It looks like a gherkin, but sends your mouth into pursed horror at the violent acidity. The assistant chef smilingly assures me that now I have braved it once, I’ll be back for more. Maybe…

We are then presented with a colourful flower arrangement that is actually an entrée of watermelon and fiddlehead fern salad. A base of deep red watermelon is topped with baby fern fronds, purple nasturtium flowers, our home-made goats’ cheese from Graco’s and slices of fourteen day old salted eggs, dressed in a tangy coconut vinaigrette. I have tried something similar before and find it a fascinating blend of all things Filipino: sweet watermelon; sour vinaigrette; salty egg, and slightly bitter fern.

Next, we are served up a soup reminiscent of my favourite tom kha gai, sweetly scented with kaffir lime. This is actually a tambakol fillet (yellow fin tuna) and organic corn chowder. I empty the bowl swiftly.

Then the main course arrives: a duck adobo, rich and succulent, served with wilted organic baby spinach and garlic rice that disappears in a flash, although I am starting to feel alarmingly full.

Finally, we gloat over a slice of thick, velvety yellow sansrival, a national favourite, enhanced by the creamy sweet flavour of jackfruit. All this feasting has been joyously accompanied by an icy cool rosé. At this point I would be happy to find a hammock and a broad brimmed hat. ‘Wake me in an hour or two…’

No chance. We are now invited, replete and soporific, to watch a local cook make laguna puto, a regional favourite. A vast bowl of rice porridge is stirred up and poured into a huge steamer, where it is left to steam for about half an hour. It is then topped with white laguna cheese and salted egg and emptied onto a recycled rice sack that leaves blue and yellow print, like a tattoo or a large bruise, on the bottom of the rice cake. There it lies, like a giant, lumpy pizza base, before it is sliced up using pieces of cotton, and served to us in thick, bread-like chunks with binatirol tsokolate, a hot chocolate flavoured with roasted peanuts that rolls smoothly down the throat.  I have to admit defeat. After several courses (not to mention those delicious bruschetta) I could not face another mouthful. I taste a soupçon of the puto.  I find it cloying and faintly fishy, and turn away happily to my mug of hot chocolate.

After a short stroll in the garden, we are off again. Our guides have arranged for us to view a couple of beautifully restored, traditional Spanish homes in the centre of Pila. And it is worth going the extra mile. The first house has been converted into a flat below, but upstairs the original house and furniture is maintained as a museum piece. Huge wooden shutters fold right back to the edges of the rooms, bringing the outdoors inside. Highly polished floorboards slide beneath our feet. Colonial furniture sings of olden days of decadent luxury – for those who could afford it.

We circumnavigate the wide town square, and spend some quiet moments in the sixteenth century church. There have been recent renovations within, but the exterior is creaking beneath centuries of history. Across the square is another Spanish house, awaiting our arrival. Again, it is a beautiful museum piece, decorated with family portraits and more recent photographs. Here, our guides have rounded up some more local cooks to show us how to make espasol (sweet rice and coconut in tubes) and sinugmani de linga (sticky rice in layers of black rice, buco, and ground roasted coconut with sesame seeds). Lory-Vi has brought along her fine china tea set to provide the finishing touches to a nineteenth century merienda, and the finishing touches to a fulfilling day of food and friendship.

You can find more information about these tours on their website www.tourflair.com

* With thanks to Anna Gamboa for sharing her photos of the treehouse and food when my battery went flat!

As published in the ANZA News, June/July 2012

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Travelling Back in Time

Posted on 20 May 2012 by sheg4184

Philippine heritage is a mixed bag of cultures that is reflected in its people, its language, its food and its architecture. During three hundred years of Spanish colonization, Augustinian monks constructed grand European-style churches all over the archipelago, the conquistadors erected stately mansions on their estates, and noble Filipinos replaced the traditional bamboo nipa hut with large houses of stone and wood known as bahay na bato, which were a hybrid of architectural styles. Over the past century, many of these heritage houses have been bombed, or bulldozed to make way for modern development, or simply abandoned and left to decay.

In recent years local millionaire and art collector, José (Jerry) Acuzar, has bought a number of these glorious old buildings from all over Luzon and beyond. He has had them dismantled, brick by brick, and transported to his beachside property in the small town of Bagac, on the Bataan Peninsula. Here, they have been restored and reconstructed by craftsmen in a far-sighted attempt to preserve some of these national treasures.

Las Casas Filipinas de Acuzar is now a unique resort and heritage park: forty hectares of 18th to early 20th century Philippine houses. The project has caused some controversy amongst conservationists who dislike his methods, and claim he is stealing cultural and historical identity from the towns from where he takes these priceless heritage houses. However, if these wonderful old buildings would otherwise have been bulldozed or left to rot, I’m not sure their grievances hold much water.

This stunning spot by the sea is about 150 kilometres north of Manila (about a three hour drive) and currently provides sanctuary for twenty seven heritage houses:  palatial homes of the Principalia, or noble class, bahay na bato and wooden stilt houses, each with its own carefully preserved provenance. Further reconstructions and a number of replicas of period housing are currently being added to the collection, although OH&S is not visible to prevent us ducking and weaving under ladders and over cables, when we head out to explore.

Arriving at Las Casas Filipinas it is like stepping back in time, or walking onto a movie set. Sure enough, there is a movie being filmed the day we visit, and our Filipina ladies get quite excited at the sight of a handful of famous Filipino actors. We wander across the cobblestoned piazzas and along shady, tree-lined streets. It is an enormous aesthetic improvement on the port at Subic and the Bataan Nuclear Power Plant! Beautiful bronze statues of children pose on the lawns. Occasionally a horse drawn carriage or caruaje passes by. The sea laps gently against the sea wall. Across the water the Power Plant squats on the promontory like a mediaeval fortress. It is a soothing and peaceful retreat from the mayhem of Manila.

Our first stop is lunch. The resort has two restaurants: the Marivent Café, which serves authentic Filipino dishes, and Taberna del Señor Pepe that offers a variety of Spanish tapas, cocktails and hand rolled cigars. We are taken upstairs to a private dining room with a beautiful stained glass window and air conditioning – an absolute blessing on this scorchingly hot summer day. We are promptly served a simple but tasty lunch consisting of Pinakol, a delicate and delicious chicken broth made with coconut juice, followed by fried pork and rice, with a fresh bean and corn salad, and finished off with a cooling, creamy taro ice cream with pinipig and nuts.

After lunch we are introduced to our cheery guide, Dexter, a very smiley young man dressed in 18th century costume, who talks to us about the houses we will see. He then shows us a trap door in the floor, used as an escape route in times of danger, before gathering us up to show off the rest of the houses.

While our cameras work overtime, Dexter walks and talks us through the history of many of these alluring buildings.  Several houses can be hired for special events or have been set up as guesthouses, furnished with vast, carved wooden beds and modern bathrooms. Cool and inviting, the floors downstairs are made of large terracotta tiles, the furniture sparse, but appropriate to the setting. Upstairs, we admire embossed ceilings, broad wooden floorboards, and wonderful views across the green agricultural land to the mountains. In some of the more ornate houses, the upper floors have trompe l’oeil pillars painted on the wooden walls.

Casa Hidalgo is one of these, an eighteenth century mansion designed by the first Filipino architect, Felix Roxas y Arroyo. Considered to be the height of elegance, it was originally located in the Quiapo District, Manila. It became the first campus of the University of the Philippines School of Fine Arts in the early twentieth century. It also spent some time as the first school of Architecture, a bowling alley, a hostel and a club for live sex shows. Candaba House was originally built in 1780 by the Reyes family, one of the most prominent families in Pampanga. Today it will accommodate up to two hundred people for a wedding reception. One larger homestead was owned by a wealthy man with twenty one children, another by a Muslim chief, or Datu, with four wives.

The heat is occasionally dispersed by a strong sea breeze, but eventually it gets too much. I try paddling in the lovely lagoon pool, but the water is warm and sadly unrefreshing. Luckily there is a call to merienda and cold towels in our air conditioned dining room. I am too hot to face the chicken sandwich or more than a bite of the banana and jackfruit turon, but the cold towels are heaven sent and the iced water brings me back to life.

It was a lovely journey into this Hollywood style Filipino past. I will definitely go again – but in the cooler months, and armed with the new ice-gel necktie a friend has graciously given me to help me survive this enervating tropical heat.

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A Nuclear Theme Park?

Posted on 18 May 2012 by sheg4184

In Britain there has been a trend over the past thirty years or so to convert old farm buildings and factories into beautiful homes. It is hard to imagine doing the same kind of recycling with the empty nuclear power plant in Bataan, but what can one do with a monstrous monolith of concrete,  unlikely ever be used for what it was intended?

In the face of the oil crisis in the 1970s, the Philippine government began construction on a nuclear power plant on the west Luzon coast, south of Subic, and sixty miles across the South China Sea to Manila. A vast fortune would be spent to build this altar to sustainable energy, before leaving it to rot without ever having switched it on.

After the nuclear accident at Three Mile Island in Pennsylvania in 1979, President Marcos suspended the Philippine nuclear project. A subsequent safety inquiry uncovered 4,000 defects. Plans were upgraded and construction resumed in 1981.

By 1986 the plant was safely completed, but costs had sky-rocketed to US$2.3 billion, including US$60 million worth of fuel (uranium) already delivered to the plant. In a series of ill-timed coincidences, the People Power Revolution against the Marcos regime culminated that same year and led to a change in leadership, while the horrific nuclear disaster at Chernobyl in Eastern Europe caused strong opposition to the plant from the Filipino citizens fearing its proximity both to earthquake fault lines and the dormant Mount Pinatubo, part of a chain of volcanos along the west coast of Luzon. The new President of the Philippines, Corazon Aquino, deemed it safer to defer the opening and put the plant on ice, where it has stayed, frozen in time, ever since.

Despite its non-operational status, debt repayment on the Bataan power plant would remain one of the government’s largest obligations for the next three decades. Today it continues to be maintained at considerable cost, although it is now slightly worn around the edges. While the aging and corpulent power plant settles mutely, ineffectually, on a bare promontory, proposals to convert it into an oil, coal, or gas-fired power station have all been discussed and discarded.

Last year it was decided to open it up to the public as a tourist attraction to raise funds for it maintenance.   It also appears to have re-opened the debate on whether or not to finally turn the plant on. Tours of the plant and a short preliminary lecture about alternative fuel sources seem unlikely to bring in enough pesos to justify its existence, however, unless they can develop the idea further, with perhaps a restaurant, a theme park or at least some souvenir t-shirts. Or maybe they could take a tip from the Taiwanese, who, with inspired marketing, have created a comic strip character from the huge wind damper in Taipei’s tallest tower: Damper Baby!

Notwithstanding the lack of souvenir shops, the temptation to explore the innards of an almost working nuclear plant was irresistible. In the grinding heat, we drove north through rice fields and then south into the hills and down the west coast to the well-guarded site overlooking the South China Sea.

As we emerged from the trees onto the cleared land that acts as a nuclear buffer, the Bataan nuclear power plant loomed above us in all its grey concrete glory. From a distance, it looked like a ruined Roman fortress, guarded by a large flock of goats. It reminded me of the Australian satellite dish that squats like a vast mushroom in a sheep paddock in Parkes, New South Wales.

Leaving our cars in the shade, we proceeded to the office block outside the perimeter fence for our introductory talk. No occupational health and safety talk, merely a short introduction to alternative power sources. Then the guide led us along the perimeter fence, to the gate house where we crossed through the security machine – cutting edge technology in its time, now looking like a prop in a 1970s sci-fi movie.

I don’t suppose power plants are designed with any aesthetic purpose in mind, but close up, although impressive, this titanic pile of concrete is truly ugly.  We walk round to a side door, stunned by the heat and the magnitude of the building. Inside it feels grim and airless. The dim light and the large scale tanks and pipes add to the sense of oppression, and as the perspiration poured down my back, I could feel a panicky sense of claustrophobia rising in my throat.

I swallowed it back and made a joke of sliding on the shiny concrete floors. We moved on, and up a flight of metal stairs – the sort made of metal grills – and I suddenly understood why we were asked to wear flat shoes! At the top of the staircase we clambered through the safety chamber with its double heavy metal doors and into the reactor core. Although this has never been activated, the photos taken in here gave off a suspicious glowing green light – a great theatrical effect.

Peering through a gap in the walkway, we could see the fuel rod casing several feet below, still wrapped in plastic and sitting high and dry where it should have been immersed in the deep, now empty, water tank or reactor.From here we tiptoed up and down a couple more metal staircases to reach the control room, which really does look like something out of an old Star Trek or Thunderbirds episode. There is a special observation room with one way glass so we would not distract the operators (Fat Controllers?), but of course the control room has never been manned and we were free to wander past the panels of labelled switches.

Our final stop was in a huge hall that contains the Westinghouse turbine that spins the generator to create electricity from the steam produced by the reactor.

In such a poor country, where domestic electricity is enormously expensive, it seems a crime not have opened the plant and developed a cheaper power source. On the other hand, subsequent events indicate that perhaps President Aquino made the right decision in closing down the plant.

Mount Pinatubo erupting (from Google images)

In July 1990, a major earthquake measuring 7.7 on the Richter scale struck central Luzon about 100 km northeast of Pinatubo. During March 1991, a succession of earthquakes rumbled beneath villages on the northwest side of the volcano. In April the volcano began to murmur, and activity increased throughout May and early June. On June 15 an enormous volcanic eruption devastated the region and hundreds of local communities, exacerbated by a tropical storm that hit the coast at the same time.

Proof, then, that Aquino made the right decision. Yet the questions still hang heavily in the air: what to do with it now? And how to recoup some of the billions wasted on its construction?

In the meantime, however, it makes an interesting and rather out-of-the-ordinary day trip. Although I would have liked the opportunity to buy the t-shirt!

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Tapas & Sangria for me!

Posted on 12 May 2012 by sheg4184

Red Wine Sangria *

I had been trying to arrange a night at the newest tapas bar in town, and it finally happened this week: a Girls’ Night Out at COVA tapas & sangria, at the quiet end of Jupiter Street.

Co-owners Tatyana Guevarra and Patrick Hesse are both alumni from local culinary and business school, Enderun Colleges, where they graduated in International Hospitality Management. Determined to expand their education to the full, they spent their internships in Barcelona, where they fell in love with Spanish food and culture, and found the inspiration for their own restaurant in Makati.

Patatas Bravas

As the taxi pulled up, we were greeted by a smiling guard with a huge umbrella (yes the rainy season has set in), who ushered us gently towards the door. After a bad run on efficient service recently, the staff at COVA was delightful, and reassuringly on the ball. What’s more, they went the extra mile, by providing individual bills at the end of the night without us even asking.

As our group started to trickle in, waiters were ready to take orders, and drinks arrived promptly. Let me warn you, the sangria (red, ‘peachy’ white or ‘millionaire’ sparkling sangria) goes down very smoothly and those carafes leak (metaphorically speaking). So beware: today’s indulgence is tomorrow’s hangover!

‘Cova’ is Catalan for cave, and the interior designer, Luigi Tabuena, has created the effect with an amazing ribcage arced over the ceiling that made me feel like I was picnicking beneath the bones of Tyrannosaurus Rex at the Natural History Museum. It looks amazing, and creates an intimate, cave-like atmosphere. Unfortunately it did nothing to muffle the noise, as the group at the next table did their best to break records for sheer volume. We just shrugged, and huddled together to exchange news nose-to-nose. At least we were not contending with loud music as well.

Risotto de Gambas con Bacalao

The menu is interesting. As we were a large group, we had ordered the day before and therefore had time to examine the menu in detail. There is a lot of variety and a few challenges. For dishes like Cap i Pota (ox tripe and blood sausage), veal sweet breads and ox tongue with mushrooms I intend, like food critic Jeffrey Steingarten, to overcome my cultural disinclination, because I know I am probably missing out.

If you like fish, however, you will be in heaven. There was a deliciously moreish seafood risotto which travelled the length and breadth of the table to positive exclamations, and provided plenty to share. The fresh anchovies were unexpectedly light and I much preferred them to the more common salted variety, and the Paella Negra (of course there was paella!) was choc-a-block with soft shell crab, mussels and squid and is on my ‘must do’ list for next time. The Calamares Tintados (squid cooked in beer and ink batter) rated a special mention from a friend who says it was one of the best she has tasted.

Vegetarians are left a little high and dry with only three choices, but they were all tasty ones, especially the Pintxo de Queso Fritto (fried Gruyere with honey and caramelized onions).

Taquitos de Pollo

As it should be in a tapas bar, everyone was generous about sharing. The Taquitos de Pollo (tiny tacos filled with a morsel of tangy chicken marinated in lime and tequila) slipped down the throat in the blink of an eye. And I keep wishing I had ordered a larger serve of the Ravioli de Rabo de Toro, a dish of fried oxtail ravioli with shiitake mushrooms and foie gras that was quite exquisite. There was a slight crunch to the pasta as I bit into the rich filling of melt-in-the-mouth, slow-cooked oxtail. According to general consensus it was the pièce de resistance, and I am definitely going back for more.

The dessert list is short and sweet, as in Momento Dulce: a white chocolate cream with ginger caramel, orange and mint soup and caramelized orange. Doesn’t it sound glamorous? It is another one on my ‘must-try-next-time’ list. The Crema Catalana (Catalonian crème brulée) was judged lacking that night – the taste was bland and the texture wasn’t quite right, a little thick and grainy, so definitely a tad overcooked, but it is an old favourite, so I will give it a second chance.

The ice creams – made by fellow Enderun alumnus Xandra Rocha – were wonderfully creamy, and the flavours were amusing. I insisted on trying both and I had some fun with them. Red velvet ice cream has had me trawling the internet for an explanation, and eventually led me to a blog site that described a buttermilk cake with a dash of cocoa, an overdose of red food colouring and a preference for the cream cheese icing! So I will have to get back to you on how that translates into ice cream.

I passed the other serving anonymously around the table to monitor responses. Most liked it, guessing caramel or toffee, except one friend who screwed up her nose at the ‘coffee’ flavour, saying “I don’t even like tiramisu!” Not coffee, in fact, but maple syrup and bacon. The combination is apparently popular with Americans and Filipinos to accompany their pancakes, and against my better judgment, my taste buds thought the combination was fabulous.

By the way, only one lady picked the fact it had meat in it – and yes, I promise I kept it away from the vegetarians!

So, it was a successful night out, a great new find, and to all you unadventurous westerners, don’t be deterred by a first glimpse at the menu. If you aren’t into offal, there are plenty of other options. You are truly missing out if you don’t give it a go! There is a great five course tasting menu for two and a wide variety of Spanish meats. Most dishes can be ordered as tapas (tasting sized serves) or ración (enough to share). And don’t stint on the sangria…

PS Red Velvet is indeed a cake mix stirred into the ice cream.

* this photo came from ‘SPOT’ website

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Nepalese Cooking in Makati

Posted on 9 May 2012 by sheg4184

We first went backpacking in Nepal in the early 90s. In Kathmandu we lived on rice and dal and $2 a day. It was not, you have probably guessed, the most salubrious, gastronomically sophisticated side of town.

Nepal snuggles into the Himalayas, hemmed in by the vast expanses of China and India. While it has long been renowned for its mountains, I have never heard Nepal celebrated for its cuisine. Most guide books describe a typical Nepalese meal as dal bhat. Dal is a spicy thick lentil soup ladelled over bhat (boiled rice) and served with tarkari (curried vegetables) and achar (pickles) or chutni. Even that simple meal sounded more elaborate than my own experience!

So when I was invited to attend a Nepalese cooking demonstration followed by lunch in a private home in Makati, I jumped at the opportunity.

When we first arrived, we were greeted by a group of Nepali women decked out in beautiful and brightly coloured saris.  Presenting each of us with a hand-made recipe book, they led us to a vast kitchen, where we gathered round a central island to watch them demonstrate how to make several traditional Newari dishes.

Food is an important part of any religious celebration and Samai Baji is a traditional Newari festive meal, served at all family celebrations and religious festivals. The ritual dishes have symbolic significance and honour the different sets of deities, and we were told that there must be nine dishes.  Only eight dishes would be bad luck.

The Newari are the indigenous inhabitants of the Kathmandu Valley. Here, Hindu is the main religion, but Buddhism also has a strong following: the Buddhist stupa, with its all-seeing eyes, is an iconic image to any traveller in Kathmandu.

Huge platters of food prepared earlier that morning were displayed on the kitchen counters. Fascinated, and distracted from the main act at the stove by this array of culinary splendour, I wandered over to take photos and cross-examine the cooks, just resisting the temptation to dip in a spoon or a finger.

Think Indian cuisine with a lighter touch and more colour.

Beaten rice (baji, chiura) or flattened rice flakes are available in the Indian stores in Manila, and look similar to the local pinipig.  Juliennes of ginger had been lightly sautéed,  to be served as an accompaniment. The salads were particularly colourful and attractive: badam sandheko, or soy bean and peanut salad; a spinach salad (saag) and a black eyed bean salad (bodhi saandheko) which had been liberally garnished with coriander.

The kitchen was hot and airless, but I was too riveted to notice, much. Gathering around the hob, we watched the cooks assemble their ingredients for each dish. All the Nepali ladies were dressed in traditional saris, brightly coloured and luxurious, like stately peacocks. I thoroughly enjoyed the air of calm certainty they radiated, as they floated graciously round the kitchen, unruffled and glorious, making cooking look like a dignified waltz rather than a chore. Far removed from my own kitchen, there would be no splashing sauces or flinging flour here!

Newari cuisine uses a variety of herbs and spices: bay leaves, chili, cinnamon, cloves, cumin, garlic, ginger, mint, mustard seeds, sesame seeds and turmeric. Mustard oil is also popular, with its strong and distinctive aroma.

We watched fixedly while the cooks showed us how to make lentil patties and Nepali dumplings or momo, similar to dim sum or sio mai. Some of us attempted the fiddly task of filling and shaping the momos, but I think I will need to observe a few more times before I am confident to give it a go: it seems such an intricate skill for a mouthful of momo. By the way, the dumpling dough is available from the Korean store in Makati if you don’t feel like making it from scratch. Finally, the fried, rice donuts or sel roti we sampled hot from the pan – definitely the best way to eat them. Blistered lips just adds to the experience!

Over-heated but well informed, and very hungry, we moved out to the terrace to sample a little bit of everything.  I loved it all, but in particular remember the potato salad dressed in fenugreek and sesame seeds and the kukhara ko chowella, which both sounds and tastes so much more exotic than roast chicken!

So I am off to book flights to Nepal. Or maybe it would be quicker to grab my new recipe book and dash to the market for the ingredients to create my own Newari feast at home…

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Five More Things I Love about the Philippines…

Posted on 6 May 2012 by sheg4184

Jeepneys

The jeepney is a cheap and popular form of transport in the Philippines. Originally adapted from US military jeeps left behind in the Philippines after World War II, today they are made in the Philippines, mostly from second hand Japanese cargo trucks.

Wrapped in chrome plating, the jeepney is endemic to the streets of Manila, a familiar and endearing sight, individualized with flamboyant paintings along the sides and across the bonnet, often bearing poetic names and Christian messages.

The name comes from a combination of jeep and jitney, an American term for a vehicle somewhere between a taxi and a bus. If there’s only a driver, passengers pass the fare forward to the driver, but quite often jeepneys are manned by a driver and his mate, who rides shotgun to collect the fares. . There is very little head room or knee room for tall passengers, but it is always surprising to see how many Filipinos can squeeze onto the narrow bench seats inside.

Jeepneys have a designated route, but while there are designated stops, if the driver can, he will. Fares are generally fixed, although the constantly rising price of petrol is making this increasingly tough on the owner/drivers. Old and smoky and hungry for fuel, there is also growing concern about pollution control.  There have been attempts to modify and modernize this unique form of transport, and apparently there are a few electric jeepneys (e-jeepneys) buzzing about in Makati now, butmany claim larger buses are more cost effective and want the Jeepneys off the roads. Yet it would be sad to see them disappear from the scene: they are a unique and much loved feature of life in the Philippines.

The Filipino Smile

That sweet, ever-present, world famous Filipino smile goes hand in hand with a genuinely friendly welcome from almost everyone: the security guards and receptionists; the waiters and barristas; the people you pass in the street. It’s always a great start to my day, and so often a smile begets a smile, and I find myself wandering gormlessly along the street, beaming at nothing in particular.

Emergency nurses at St. Luke’s Hospital wave us in again with cheery smiles as we trip over a six inch file of information about our rugby-playing accident-prone teenagers. I am now so familiar at the in-house Starbucks that they happily tell me what I will order as I walk in – although they will insist – with a smile – that my name is ‘Miss Alice.’ (I am thinking of changing to low-fat- iced-white-chocolate-mocha just to add a little frisson of excitement to the experience. I don’t expect they’d mind.)

The Markets

As you may have gathered, I love markets, and in the Philippines they are particularly good fun. Salcedo, Quezon, Legazpi, Dangwa: even the names sound magical. Vibrant and kinetic, surprisingly clean and pest-free, they provide ample opportunity for adventure and excitement. I love wandering back and forth, enjoying the individual ambience of every marketplace, exploring unfamiliar sights and sounds, flavours and aromas, and filling my bags to overflowing with new things to nibble on or experiment with in the kitchen.

Unique use of the English Language

I grew up with a journalist father whose one piece of advice, when my essays got too flowery and high falutin’, was to remind me that “less is more “. Why use a polysyllabic word of dubious origin when a simple, one-syllable alternative will often do perfectly well? It is an adage I have no hope of maintaining in the Philippines, the land of the polysyllable and the turn of phrase that fills an entire paragraph. It is very endearing, if a little confusing when you are not fluent in verbosity.

And I love the quirky phrases like: ‘would you like to avail yourself of the comfort room ma’am?’  which means, in English/Aussie parlance, ‘do you need the loo?’ Or “for a while ma’am” meaning “just a minute” – or two or three or half an hour, as the shop assistant goes  in search of something they may or may not stock. Last week I spent half an hour watching a shop assistant  polish up a bathroom mirror before he decided it was not in perfect condition, went rummaging for another one and came back for more polishing, until distracted by a phone call. I left him with the mirror in the end. Well, I might still be waiting…

 The Flag and the National Anthem

I really love the national flag of the Philippines. It is both eye-catching and full of meaningful symbolism, and its claim of self-determination has been hard-won. The first Filipino flag was displayed on May 28, 1898, after the Americans won the Spanish American war and claimed the Philippines as its prize, promising an independence that was not realized until 1946. Over the years of waiting it has evolved from the original design and is now a bold symbol of a proudly independent nation.

It consists of two horizontal stripes of blue (for peace, truth and justice) and red (for patriotism and valour), and a white equilateral triangle symbolizing equality and fraternity. In the centre of the triangle is a yellow sun with eight rays, representing the rise of an independent  nation and the eight Philippine provinces of 1896: Manila, Cavite, Bulacan, Pampanga, Nueva Ecija, Tarlac, Laguna and Batangas. Three surrounding stars represent the country’s three main islands, Luzon, the Viayas and Mindanao.

I also love the Filipino national anthem. Like the flag, it has a chequered history. The music was composed in 1898 by Julian Felipe, the Spanish lyrics adapted from a poem by José Palma called Filipinas. It was subsequently Anglicized and finally translated into Tagalog in the 1940s.

I first heard it on Carlos Celdran’s tour of Intramuros, when he encouraged all the Filipinos on the tour to stand and sing before we began. I had already discovered that the Filipinos are naturally spontaneous singers, but to hear them burst into song, hand on heart, was positively spine tingling. It gave even this newcomer and foreigner a sense of real warmth and belonging. Now familiar with the music, I can never resist tapping my foot and humming along whenever this rousing tune is played, and often find my hand fixed firmly to my heart by the end. Heaven help them when I learn the words, I’ll be belting it out with the best of them.

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Tea with Tiaras

Posted on 1 May 2012 by sheg4184

Last week I had afternoon tea  with nine princesses from Sydney. These gorgeous, sixty-something ladies travel with tiaras, so I thought the Makati Shangri-La was a fitting place to welcome them to Manila. Needless to say they arrived at the hotel in style, bedecked in their best jewels and, of course, their tiaras. I had brought mine along too (purchased from Market Market for the princely sum of 250 pesos) and promptly became an honorary duchess.

The Shangri-La did us proud. They won’t usually take bookings for the Lobby Lounge, as guests just turn up and find a table… hopefully. I was not prepared to be quite so blasé with royalty in tow. Heaven forbid we couldn’t find room at the inn! So the staff very kindly agreed to set up a table for ten on this special occasion.

Afternoon Tea in the Lobby Lounge of the Shangri La is an institution. Available daily from 3-6pm, there is a choice of three menus: the Classical Afternoon Tea with its scones and clotted cream, and selection of finger sandwiches; the Filipino version with such local specialties as bibingka, kaldereta and leche flan (both these menus cost around 650 pesos per head) and the slightly more luxurious Shangri-La Afternoon Tea for 800 pesos per head.

The list of teas to drink is long and varied: we perused the menu for black teas and green teas,  as well as fruit teas with luxurious names like Carribean Summer and Apple Dreams, and Roibosh, a South African herbal tea. Of course, the Princesses also wanted bubbles, so we ordered a couple of bottles of Australian Chandon to add some sparkle to the afternoon.

We arrived a little early, but had time to arrange ourselves before the prompt arrival of the orchestra, on the dot of 3p.m. A pianist, double bass player and cellist settled themselves on the dais, and smiled at everyone as a dozen violins and flutes came floating through the lounge in the hands of a dozen beautiful musicians, dressed in matching lemon or lilac chiffon blouses and long dark skirts, playing as they came. For two hours they entertained us, loud enough to be noticed and enjoyed,  but softly enough that conversation was still possible. We sipped on Chandon, hummed through various well-known tunes, and waited for our tea to arrive.

I have always chosen the Classical Tea, but today, inspired by my illustrious company, I decided to indulge in the extra special Shangri-La Afternoon tea. Every princess (and honorary duchess) gasped as ten three-tiered cake plates were delivered to our table. It was a truly sumptuous display.

The top tier consisted of a dish of foie gras crème brulee and a roasted capsicum dip with olive focaccia chips. The dip was very tasty, but the foie gras was irresistible. Creamy duck  pâté topped with a crispy skin of caramelized sugar, an unusual combination of sweet and savoury that actually went beautifully together.

The second tier provided an array of rolls and quiches: two dainty vegetable quiches that disappeared in a mouthful; a zesty lobster ciabbata roll with saffron mayonnaise, and a brown sunflower seeded roll with turkey, brie and onion jam.

The finale, on the lowest tier, was a selection of sweet cakes and desserts. Again, there were some truly innovative combinations that went surprisingly well together. A deconstructed lemon meringue pie, served in a glass, and a mouthful of rich and creamy tiramisu were quickly recognized by the Princesses. Another amuse bouche of chocolate gateau was bewilderingly entitled ‘sparkling sacher lolly pop’, but if you like chocolate, you won’t worry too much about its name! And finally, the pièce de resistance: a white chocolate and wasabi panacotta with mango relish. This extraordinarily green mousse, served in a shot glass, was discussed at length before anyone was brave enough to taste it.

It was, quite simply, divine. The panacotta was like velvet on the lips. The mere hint of wasabi was presumably not enough to provide the strong spearmint green colour, but did give an unexpected and pleasant tingle to the tongue as it passed by. A shot glass was not enough and I may never order a plain old scone again!

It was a glorious couple of hours in the cheerful company of nine effervescent princesses. They had just spent a week in Borocay and had been delighted with  the beautiful beaches and the wonderful service they had received. And they seemed more than happy with our decadent dining at the Shangri-La.

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Saturday Morning in Salcedo

Posted on 28 April 2012 by sheg4184

I love Salcedo Market: the colourful displays of food and flowers; the atmosphere and aromas; the hustle and bustle; the sense of purpose as we trawl through a profusion of delectable products.

I first visited this small, inner city market on a steamy September morning. As we wandered through Salcedo Village, our taste buds were alerted to the joys in store by the delicious scents from numerous barbecues drifting through the humid air.

Salcedo market is set up every Saturday morning, between 7am and 2pm, in a car park on JP Leviste Street. It is a non-profit organization run by the Women of Bel Air Foundation, Inc. and it is always bustling. A throng of locals, expatriates and tourists flock around the stalls. Fresh vegetables, fruit, fish and flowers are interspersed with local and not-so-local snacks, dishes and delicacies:  colourful Kapampangan suman, flavoured with mango, ubeand chocolate; Turkish baklava; pyramids of South African chutneys,

Suman

pasta sauces, and vinegars promise organic and homemade; an entire cow (‘Wholly Cow’) rotates grimly on a spit, already looking half chewed, and smelling heavenly. Filipino dishes, Indian curries, cakes and cookies, barbecued ribs, stuffed fish, organic vegetables, dried fish, skinned frogs, scarlet lobsters, silver eels, marinated balut…

On my first trip, new to the sounds and scents of Manila, I bravely ordered a chicken kebab and some double decker Japanese pancakes hot off the griddle, looking and tasting a lot like pikelets and filled with Nutella, white chocolate or jam.

Barbecued Spare Ribs

Subsequent visits have made me braver, and I love exploring the myriad stalls, until I run out of arms to carry all the bags.  And there are so many ready made meals to eat immediately or freeeze for a later date. One word of advice – well, two –  “go early”. The heat from the various barbecues quickly joins forces with the heat of the day and becomes utterly sapping. The pack of cars idling in the neighbouring streets don’t helping either, but you’ll find  it is well worth the effort.

Salcedo market began with barely twenty vendors in 2004. Today there are apparently around one hundred and sixty, and there is always something new to discover each time I go. This week I came home with a selection of suman, lasagnthree pots of herbs I can’t usually find in Manila (lemon balm, rosemary and sage), a dozen organic eggs, baklava with walnuts and some Chocolate Fire honeycomb bark, which is where we unexpectedly found ourselves when the heat got too debilitating!

Wholly Cow!

For more information, see their website: http://salcedocommunitymarket.com/

 

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Abide With Me

Posted on 25 April 2012 by sheg4184

Wednesday 25th April, 2012. ANZAC Day.  The 2012 Commemorative Dawn Service.

The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, Heritage Park, Manila

 They shall not grow old as we that are left grow old. Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn. At the going down of the sun, and in the morning, we will remember them.

From Laurence Binyon’s poem “For the Fallen (1914)

 I am ashamed to admit I had never attended a dawn service before last year. Until I was well into adulthood, I couldn’t even have told you the date of this annual service of remembrance.

Last year, as part of the Australia New Zealand community in Manila it was suggested I should go along. ‘Why not?’ I thought.  Manila has been full of firsts for me, this would be another one. Also, I had recently found my grandfather ‘s name in the War Memorial in Canberra, so it seemed fitting. Needless to say, two teenage boys were less then delighted to be dragged from their beds at 4.30a.m. This year there were no tantrums. I think they surprised themselves, and quite enjoyed it. Well, many of their school mates were there too, and hadn’t forgotten the ‘Gunfire Breakfast’.

God was gently turning up the dimmer on the sunlight, and a few strips of cloud were blushing the colour of a blood orange as the dignitaries made their way to the front seats. Their Exellencies, the New Zealand, Turkish and Australian Ambassadors, and the Philippine Army Chief Chaplain sat side by side in the front row. A welcoming introduction from the Master of Ceremonies was followed by a slow, rather plodding version of Abide with Me. Yet, despite the tortoise-like pace, it still made the skin on my arms tingle and my eyes water. It was the time to reflect on the meaning of so many of those oft repeated words in this emotive service.

Abide with me is a song about dying: as the sunlight seeps from the sky, so does life from the dying man. And yet he is not afraid of death if God is with him. Abide is an old Middle English word meaning to wait for; to endure without yielding; to bear patiently; to acquiesce, or to accept without objection. As so many of those young soldiers must have done, as they waited on the brink of death, a simple sacrifice for their countries’ freedom.

Sacrifice is described as the ritual killing of something precious as an offering to a deity, or the destruction or surrender of something for the sake of something else. This year it really came home to me how many young men have offered themselves up as a sacrifice for the sake of security for their families and their homelands over the centuries. And, frighteningly, how close in age my boys now are to the lads who lay down their lives in all that bloody war at the beginning of the 20th century, from which I had previously felt so far removed.

ANZAC Day began as a commemoration of the soldiers – our young Australian and New Zealand men in particular – who died on the western coast of the Gallipoli Peninsula in Turkey. That appalling loss of life was somehow justified by the utterly amazing Anzac Spirit that shone through, and the battle that marked that pivotal moment when Australia and New Zealand became independent nations, rather than British colonies.

Over the past century ANZAC Day has come to include all those who ‘lost their lives in time of war and in the cause of peace.’

In the cause of peace, those countries, once sworn enemies during the Gallipoli campaign sat together on foreign soil, while a Turkish student from ISM read Ataturk’s now famous words of reconciliation, somehow even more poignant as the majority of those gathered here this morning also stand on foreign soil.

Those heroes that shed their blood and lost their lives… you are now living in the soil of a friendly country. Therefore rest in peace. There is no difference between the Johnnies and the Mehmets to us where they lie side by side here in this country of ours. You, the mothers, who sent their sons from faraway countries, wipe away your tears; your sons are now lying in our bosom and are in peace, after having lost their lives on this land they have become our sons as well.

Ataturk, 1934

These beautiful, generous-spirited words were followed by the wreath laying. I moved in for a closer view of the various groups gathering to place their wreaths at the foot of the tomb of the Unknown Soldier: a simple, graceful monument of 3 tall white marble pillars, each topped with a bronze star. Japanese, Canadian,  Filipino, Turkish, Australian, American, New Zealander, veterans, school children, waited quietly for their turn to approach the pillars, laying the symbolic sacrifice upon the altar.

The last post was accompanied by a background chorus of birds that kept up their persistant chanting throughout the service. While the odd airplane thundered overhead, there was a prevailing sense of calm stillness amongst the watchers.

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