Tasteful Memories

Posted on 25 June 2012 by sheg4184

Cultural understanding through taste is one of the best ways we can learn to understand each other

~ Allhoff & Monroe

If you have ever wondered about the Filipinos and the origins of Filipino food, Memories of Philippine Kitchens is the book for you. Arguably one of the least understood and appreciated cuisines in the world, food historians and Filipino chefs are now attempting to document Filipino culinary heritage and champion the survival of its foodways.

According to Amy Besa, Filipino cuisine is essentially home cooked comfort food. Therefore ‘the essence of Filipino food is in the family kitchens of Filipino homes, passed down through the generations, melding native traditions with those of Chinese, Spanish, and American cuisines’. With this in mind, she and her husband, Romy Dorotan travelled throughout the Philippines exploring the different cooking styles in each region and recording traditional family recipes.

First published in 2006, the revised edition of Memories of a Philippine Kitchen was released in May 2012. It is a compilation of culinary tales, cooking techniques and recipes from the Philippine provinces; a scrap book of memories recording Philippine culinary history, emotive photographs by renowned photographer Neal Oshima, and interspersed with Romy’s own recipes.

Originally from the Philippines, Amy Besa and Romy Dorotan now live in New York where they once owned Cendrillon, a renowned Filipino restaurant in SoHo. In 2009 they moved to Brooklyn to open Purple Yam, a very cool Filipino fusion restaurant. (Sadly we didn’t make it to the restaurant while in New York last Christmas, but we tasted some of the menu’s highights at a Night Market in Williamsburg. Next time Amy, for sure…)

Amy Besa posted on Facebook: “what’s the diff[erence] between the original and the revised edition of Memories of Philippine Kitchens? … For me, a world of a difference. The last chapter is more than a shift from Cendrillon to Purple Yam. It is a worldview developed from 17 years of promoting Filipino food here in NYC (and beyond). It reflects how our love for our own goes back to our roots.”

This beautiful book will give you a much deeper understanding of the Filipinos, their cuisine and their culture, from the variations on the well-known adobo and zesty sinigang to banana hearts in coconut milk and bringhe, the Filipino version of paella. All in all, an experience to engage the senses!

Memories of Philippine Kitchens won the International Association of Culinary Professionals 2007 Jane Grigson Award for scholarship.  It was also a finalist for the Julia Child First Book Award.

 

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To Taormina, with love…

Posted on 21 June 2012 by sheg4184

Almoezia. A three star B&B on Sicily’s east coast. A broad sunny terrace flanked with colourful pots overlooks the coast from Siren’s Bay to Capo Sant’Alessio on one side, and the seemingly inaccessible mountain top town of Castel Mola on the other. Old and new homes cling with fierce determination to the steep, dusty-dry hillsides. The Mediterranean sparkles and shimmers with the lustre of a polished sapphire, its surface as smooth as perspex, boats and cruise ships lying motionless, becalmed in the numerous bays and coves along the coast. In the distance, to the south, Mount Etna puffs away like a chain smoker all over the daring but potentially endangered villages clustered around its lower flanks.

Our lovely host Sebastiano suggests taking us on a day trip to Mount Etna and the Alcantara Gorge, where the water is icy. Driving tortuously winding roads for the questionable joy of climbing Mount Etna, blackened and desolate, in 35 degree heat does not appeal to me one iota. So I farewell father and son to bond and explore without me, and set myself up on the swing seat on this glorious terrace above our cool, cave-like bedroom.

Down below, Taormina’s narrow lanes are crowded with pretty cafes and tourists, sunny piazzas and panoramic views, pedestrian staircases cluttered with geranium pots and tiny tables and smatterings of centuries-old souvenirs. Here, the air is still, the rooftops quietly roasting in the sun. A local gardener has used up every inch of his hillside plot to plant plum trees and grape vines, fig trees and fennel, rosemary bushes and pocket-sized citrus trees, cacti and olives. Large white butterflies flit silently from bush to branch to flower. A gecko squiggles across the burning tiles near my toes. The peace is broken by the occasional rooster, the desultory chirruping of heat struck birds, or the sudden outbreak of pealing church bells across the valley at seventeen minutes past the hour! The twenty first century butts into this unchanging medieval landscape with an insistent telephone or a chain saw Vespa grinding up the steep mountain road.
Amoezia was the name given to Taormina by Saracen conquerors in the 9th century, and is also the name of the B&B we found tucked beneath the Saracen fort, high on the hilltop above Taormina. The town has been a tourist resort since the Ancient Romans laid claim to the island, with its Greco-Roman  amphitheatre that is currently dressed for a summer film festival. I should wander down  into town for lunch, but 500-odd steps in the midday heat appeal as little as mountaineering! Instead, I will survive on the doughnut shaped peaches and the sweetest, reddest mouthfuls of cherry tomatoes we found in the market yesterday…
…And save my appetite for dinner, when we will wander 100 metres up the road again to Il Saraceno ristorante, a pure gem on a terrace perching above a sheer drop over limestone cliffs that are covered in outcrops of prickly pear, and over looking the sea and the city lights.

Il Saraceno’s menu abounds with local specialties. We share an antipasti platter of ‘siciliana rustico’ that is  dominated by eggplants and capsicums: a serve of Caponata; another of Melanzane Parmigiana; a third of Pepperonata, as well as some warm, spicy olives and a slice of crumbed and fried cheese. (These popular vegetables reappear in a mouth-watering pasta al pesto siciliano with cherry tomatoes, basil and garlic). A second platter of carpaccio di carne on rucola is sprinkled with pecorino cheese. This is accompanied by a lovely cold bottle of local Chardonnay – unexpectedly zesty compared with our more buttery South Australian variety –  and home made bread, heavy and saltless, from a baker across the hill in Castel Mola. 

As always, seafood dominates the menu. I try a grilled grouper steak dressed in a tangy caper and olive sauce – the combination is overly salty, the fish overcooked and a little rubbery, but the sauce is perfect with the bread. A squid and clam pasta sauce is a delicately flavoured and highly acclaimed speciale served with angel hair pasta, and a pancetta and mozzarella pizza for one curls luxuriously over the edges of a large dinner plate.
And below, as we sip on a chilly limoncello and a splash of espresso, the earth seems inverted as the coastal lights twinkle like stars.
To stay with Sebastiano, you can see his website on www.villalmoezia.it or contact him on: info@villalmoezia.it
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Wannabe Italiani

Posted on 13 June 2012 by sheg4184

Most people travel to Florence to experience the Renaissance art and architecture, which is undeniably superb. Guide books warn  about avoiding astronomically lengthy queues to the main tourist attractions by purchasing tickets in advance. We simply avoided the tourist attractions. Admittedly we have walked past the Duomo and the Baptistry, sat on the steps of Santa Croce, traversed the piazza in front of the Pitti Palace, and eaten copious amounts of gelati.  But we had other fish to fry.  The Food and Wine Academy of Florence was offering a tour of the Mercato Centrale, followed by a day of learning to cook some typical Tuscan dishes. Sold!

We joined an early morning gathering just off Piazza della Republicca. Our guide and chef Giovanni and his second-in-command Andrea ran through the itinerary for the day and led us into the maze of narrow cobbled streets. Our first stop was Mercato Centrale to buy ingredients. If you know Melbourne’s Queen Victoria markets, you’ll get the gist.

While Andrea & Giovanni strolled off to gather cooking supplies, we were herded into a tiny shop full of oils and vinegars, salamis and mouth-wateringly huge wedges of Parmigiano Reggiano.  Our friendly hostess then indulged us with tasting platters of traditional Tuscan chicken liver pâté, made with chicken  livers (what else?) and capers, anchovies,  carrots, onions and dessert wine.  We scooped up her  own tomato, basil, mozzarella and chilli dip eagerly, and indulged in a surprisingly soft young pecorino spread with a light honey jam, a pungent white truffle honey or homemade sun-dried tomatoes. We devoured them all, with great enthusiasm.

We were then offered various aged balsamic vinegars, rich and syrupy, that our hostess recommended on a broad selection of food: basted on roast chicken or beef steaks, drizzled over icecream or bruschetta, or splashed on figs, strawberries or Parmigiano Reggiano. Real balsamic vinegar comes from Modena, just 20kms from Bologna. It is aged in wooden barrels made from oak or chestnut, cherry, ash or juniper, and the syrupy sweetness is natural: no sugar added.

Next, a stunning extra virgin olive oil with unsalted bread was handed round. Don’t ever waste this in the cooking, she advised us, save it for toppings. My recalcitrant taste buds craved a dipping bowl of rock salt, but somehow survived without. Our hostess then described a simple recipe for a dressing that can be stored on the shelf for as long as it takes to empty the bottle! Take a quarter bottle of 12 year old balsamic vinegar, fill with extra virgin olive oil, a dash of the flavoured oil of your choice, salt, and shake. Do not refrigerate.

Eventually we moved on to check out the butchers. As in Manila, there is an amazing amount of offal, although rather more hygienically arranged behind refrigerated counters. Tripe, trotters, tongue and tails mix, unperturbed, with minced beef, pork sausages, whole rabbits and chickens deflowered of feather but not of head.

The smell of the fish forewarns us of what we will  find around the next corner, and we visit one entrepreneurial fishmonger who has recently started serving paper cones of freshly fried seafood. As few in our group were much interested,  I happily hoed into calamari, sardines and a white fish all lightly dusted in flour and deep fried on the spot.

At last we left the market to go in search of the Holy Grail: a hole-in-the-wall kitchen, with huge white marble-topped tables around which we all  congregated eagerly. Sent off to wash our hands and don aprons, we obeyed like good children and returned promptly.

Our first task was to create tiramisu from a mountain of eggs (huge eggs) and horrific amounts of sugar.  Luckily, whisking so many egg whites is a breeze when there are a dozen of you to share the job. We soon had a fluffy marshmallow pillow of meringue that would have rendered me armless to achieve on my own!Layering the egg cream with dustings of cocoa powder and espresso dipped sponge fingers, we each produced a glass coppa of picture perfect tiramisu, to be served later.

Then we were faced with the choice of making a traditional Tuscan meat sauce or fresh pasta. I opted to see how the sauce differed from any I make at home. As Jamie Oliver noted in his recipe book of Italian cooking, Italians are ferociously regional. Their way is the best way, and they will argue forever on the right or wrong ingredients to use. In this case, garlic, mushrooms and peppers were out, onions, celery and carrots were in, and any of our own variations were sneeringly scorned.

I quickly recognized that my own method, without reference to regional recipes, but simply the desire to insinuate into it as many vegetables as I might get away with when faced with picky kids, was unlikely to be tolerated. Despite wanting to get each of us involved in the preparation, I noted that Giovanni was quietly grading us on our knife skills. I wisely stepped back from the chopping board.

We then swapped with Team 2 and had a go at making pasta from scratch. I have chatted all the way through a similar demonstration in the past, so was keen to concentrate this time. Despite a slight nervousness, I quickly realized that I have made plenty of playdough in a toddler-filled past and a similar method applied. We each made a neat well in a heap of flour and poured in an egg, reminiscent of creating sandcastle moats. Using a fork, we blended and kneaded until we had created a smooth, shiny, elastic dough.

Half an hour to sit and ponder, and then out came the rolling pins, with the advice from a more experienced cook that we should roll it so thin we could see the veins of the marble through the dough. Eventually, tuck shop arms reduced by half, we had created strings of fettucine and 4-5 handsome ravioli. This time Giovanni’s side-kicks had prepared the ricotta filling earlier, but the recipe looked simple enough to try at home later.

Andrea had whipped up a platter of bruschetta as we had been playing with our playdough cutters, and while some students hovered round the stove to supervise the pots of boiling water, others wiped, rearranged and set the tables for lunch. At the belated lunch hour of ten past three we regrouped to taste our efforts, accompanied by chunky glasses of Chianti.

All was well. The ravioli had been doused in sage butter, the fettucine stirred into the meat sauce and coated with lashings of Parmesan. Both were absolutely, drippily delicious. We reluctantly held back from seconds in order to leave room for the dreamy creamy tiramisu. We may not be opening an Italian café just yet, but we are definitely planning to repeat our success with homemade pasta when we get home.

If you ‘wanna be Italiano’ and enjoy cooking, contact www.FlorenceTown.com

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Rome: a Brief Encounter

Posted on 10 June 2012 by sheg4184

 

I remember a mad dash around Rome in the mid 80s, on a bus tour that galloped through seventeen capital cities in as many days. Rome flashed by in a blurr of terribly kitsch accordion music, third rate hotels and a mad swirl of traffic. I got my backside pinched, joined horrendous queues for famous sites and vaguely remember a peaceful interlude in the Tivoli Gardens.

I returned in the 90s, parked a tent on Lago Bracchiano and caught a train into the city. Having sat down, somewhat naively, at a coffee shop on the Via della Conciliazione,  with a wonderful view of St Peters Basilica, I was charged $20  for the privilege (our daily allowance) and stayed glued to my seat for the day, determined to get my money’s worth, while the artistic Catholic boyfriend wandered off to explore the Vatican City.

This time I have travelled to Rome with my son, and we have had three days to explore this ancient city, basing ourselves in a beautiful old monastery only a stone’s throw from the Colosseum.

Rome is a feast for the senses. With a myriad restaurants, ruins and Renaissance churches, it provides food for the stomach, the soul and the imagination, the latter fuelled by memories of Dan Brown’s “Angels & Demons”.

Beset by jetlagged, bleary eyes, reading maps was beyond us that first day, as we wandered aimlessly though Ancient Rome: down narrow cobbled lanes strung like bunting with brightly colored fiats, hondas and minis; up pedestrian staircases lined with tubs of hydrangeas; past wrought iron balconies decorated with pots of geraniums, and coming upon the Forum, Capitol Hill and the Colosseum from unexpected angles.

Rome is definitely full of the unexpected. Glancing down a side street, flotillas of motorbikes lining the walls, we discovered the Pantheon winking back at us. Poking a nose through a broad, arched gateway we were greeted by a glorious courtyard decorated with impressive marble statuary – doubtless some Super Star Renaissance sculptor. Skipping round a corner in search of gelato we came face to face with the Fontana di Trevi. A little pavement cafe served us pizza and pasta and provided a first class view of the Colosseum looming above us at the end of the street. A large, black, wooden door in a grubby wall opens into a heavily gilded church, a series of trompe l’oeil frescoes of heaven cast across the vaulted ceiling, a feat of skill and scaffolding to defy any fear of heights. Here we sat, away from the madding crowd just beyond the doorway, discussing science and religion, pondering the end of the world and the birth of grown up ambitions…

Then back to our eerie on top of a hill, climbing endless staircases to reach our cell-like room under the eaves with its high ceiling and tall smoky blue shutters. A tiny terrace is secreted within the terracotta-tiled roof line, dotted with tubs of colourful flowers and an insurgent vine creeping off the wire, while glittery, green-striped geckos dash about our feet and deep pink bougainvillea frames an arched window. A shady, peaceful recess from the world, as we gather our energy for another day spent drifting round Rome, stopping for gelati , cappuccini or panini con proscuitto.

 

 

 

 

 

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Aussie Pies at Legazpi

Posted on 3 June 2012 by sheg4184

'Simple Simon & the Pieman' by cartoonist W.W. Denslow*

In Manila we quickly become familiar with myriad street stalls and market stalls selling cheap, popular, take-away snacks to passers-by. Those of real notoriety include grilled chicken intestines on a stick, known tastefully as IUDs; grilled chickens feet, nicknamed Nikes, and grilled pork ears, or Walkman, not to mention the infamous balout, a boiled duck egg complete with three week old embryo. Although the food may be unfamiliar, the concept is not.

In Dickensian England, the poor, crammed into rotting tenements with no facilities, lived off  cheap street food sold on trays. For a penny they could buy anything from pea soup, pigs trotters and pickled herring to meat puddings and muffins.  Peddlers and hawkers would gather round the theatres after the shows were over to sell late-night snacks to hungry audiences and actors, such as sandwiches, green peas and pies: beef or mutton, eel from the Thames, or seasonal fruit such as apples or rhubarb , gooseberries or cherries, plums or mincemeat.

Adelaide Pie Floater*

Throughout history, sweet and savoury pies have been popular at every level of society. At Royal Banquets, wafer thin pastry was intricately decorated and filled with an array of custards, jellies, fruit and fowl. Penny-pie sellers did a roaring trade, pouring gravy under the lid as we do tomato sauce. Pepper and other strong seasonings were often used to disguise aging meat, and rumours were rife that less salubrious piemen used cat meat instead.

The habit of feeding the poor on the streets came to Australia with the First Fleet. In Sydney, by the middle of the nineteenth century, hawkers were touting their goods throughout the city: the muffin man and the milkman, the prawn seller and the ‘Flying Pieman’. Pies have since become ubiquitous to Australian food culture, the favourite of school children for packed lunches, and later in the school tuck shop. Businessmen no longer went home for lunch but grabbed a pie at the pub.

Harry's Cafe de Wheels *

Bakers and factory owners picked up on the trend, and now no supermarket or bakery is without its own version of the meat pie. By the 1930s a meat pie with tomato sauce was virtually a national dish, and continued as popular comfort food through the Depression and the war. South Australians become nostalgic for the name – if not the taste – of the notorious ‘Pie Floater’: a pie served in a bowl of pea soup. Harry’s Cafe de Wheels has been sitting in front of the naval dockyard at Woolloomooloo selling pie and peas and crumbed sausages since the Depression, and now has seven locations across New South Wales.

Renowned meat eaters, it is obvious why Australians love their meat pies, and with the national penchant for outdoor picnics and snacking, it serves a double purpose of being portable and easy to eat without table or cutlery, and a hearty dollop of tomato sauce. Now so thoroughly entrenched in Aussie food culture, the ‘Pie ‘n’ sauce’  has its own chapter in Bold Palates, a new book on Australia’s gastronomic heritage written by well known Australian food historian Barbara Santich, where she describes it as ‘Australia’s original fast food.’

So imagine my delight to discover a stall at Legazpi’s Sunday Market selling homemade Australian pies. Our own Villi’s pies have secured a corner of the market in Manila, and can be found at a couple of local pubs, or ordered online, although they are rather pricier than they are from the corner deli at home. But as we all know, a little taste of home is a treat sometimes worth paying extra for!

New in Manila's markets*

Mary Garrido travelled the length and breadth of Australia on a pie-tasting mission with her Aussie partner. Over the next four years she perfected her own recipes adapted from Australia’s best, and now has a menu ranging from steak with onion, kidney or mushroom, plain beef pie, egg and bacon pie, chicken and leek pie and chicken or beef curry pies in three sizes: family, regular and Australian. She also makes sausage rolls, old fashioned English pork pies and yummy fresh crumpets.

Garrido’s Australian homemade  pies can be bought at the market, or online, and will soon be available at Power Plant Mall. We have put several in the freezer already to keep my husband happy while we are away this summer, and I am on a mission of my own to taste test them all. So come one, grab the tomato sauce and let’s go eat pies…

* Internet images

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An Evening on the Mediterranean

Posted on 31 May 2012 by sheg4184

Ravioli a la Niçoise

A peaceful dinner at Restaurant 101 on McKinley Hill is always a welcome suggestion. When Chef Cantrel has prepared a Mediterranean feast it’s an offer too good to refuse.

The dining room, as always, is calm and welcoming. We are shown to my favourite booth, and settle ourselves with a sigh. Remembering that the dining room staff consists of waiters-in-training, we readily forgive them any small oversights or over-zealousness, as they are generally efficient and professional.

A bottle of French GSM or Grenache, Syrrah, Mourverdre is recommended by the helpful sommelier as a suitable accompaniment to our meal. It proves to be a good choice: by the end of the meal we have finished the bottle without a murmur of complaint.

‘Out & About in Le Méditerranée’ (cuisine from the south of France) is a set menu, and I am just in the mood for avoiding decisions. We sit back and relax, waiting for the show to begin.

pissaladière

It opens with a slice of pizza. Let me elaborate. This is not just a slice of pizza. This is a rectangular slice of puff pastry, spread with pesto, and topped with anchovies, caramelized onions, roast tomato, ricotta and thyme. It is a dreamy, delightful mixture of texture and taste that explodes on the tongue.

The pizza is rapidly followed by a trio of large, round ravioli a la niçoise, perfectly al dente, filled with thick, rich beef stew and black olives, and finished off with a delicate beef and red wine jus. We savour every mouthful, and find ourselves wishing there was more.

Roast Barramundi

Our main course is fillet of barramundi roti. It has been roasted so that the skin is light and crispy, and it is accompanied by perfectly braised fennel (I must learn how to do that), tomato confit and Meyer lemon.  A Meyer lemon, as I discover later, is a citrus fruit native to China, commonly grown as an ornamental tree. It became popular in the States after being ‘discovered’ by Alice Waters of Chez Panisse.

The final act is named, poetically, pompe a l’huile: an olive oil brioche accessorized with a crème anglaise and a huge strawberry dipped in dark chocolate. While it is an interesting combination of sweet and savoury and I love the accessories, the brioche is a little dry for my taste. Nonetheless, we leave the table, after a curtain call coffee, cheerfully replete.

There are regular themed nights at Restaurant 101. Earlier this year there was  a special evening for Valentine’s Day,  an Easter brunch and a Mother’s Day lunch. There was a whiskey dinner is on the agenda for April, and a White Asparagus night in May to celebrate the very short but renowned white asparagus season. We attended that one last year and thoroughly enjoyed a set menu focused on this northern European delicacy. Father’s Day will be celebrated in June and there is talk of a Bastille Day dinner in July.

Watch the Enderun website for further dates and details: www.101.enderuncolleges.com

* As published in the BWA magazine, June/July 2012.

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Frills & Furbelows at Café Juanita

Posted on 28 May 2012 by sheg4184

Catfish and mango salad

Late last year, armed with map and compass, I journeyed into the depths of Pasig City on a quest for Café Juanita. Our diligent driver turned out to be better at following his nose than I was at map reading, and we eventually arrived without too many wrong turns.

Parking is not plentiful, but we fluked a spot right in front of the restaurant, where the car toasted nicely for the next three hours. I had arranged to meet a friend, and sat admiring the unusual décor until she arrived.

Cluttered with ornaments, antiques, woven hangings and Christmas decorations, the dining room is an amalgam of Victoriana and the Middle East with a twist of the Philippines: fussy but fun, and wonderfully cosy. The floor is a profusion of Persian rugs. Beautifully carved wooden dressers and sideboards encircled the room. Every table was decked out in a lace tablecloth, and many of the chairs are dressed up in tulle and bows, Chinese paper parasols and lampshades adorn every surface, and the centerpiece is a vast orange layered chandelier, an imaginative creation that looked like an upturned wedding cake hanging from the ceiling. A courtyard tucked away at the back displays an abundance of old-fashioned bird cages and wrought iron garden furniture.

The eclectic décor is reflected in the menu: an interesting mix of Filipino, Vietnamese, Laotian and Thai, as well as a predictable selection of pasta. I am told Café Juanita has a great Sunday buffet, but we wandered in on a Friday afternoon, and enjoyed the offerings of the à la carte menu. The service is efficient and friendly. My bottomless iced tea never bottomed out, and we even got a visit from owner “Doc” Dr. Boy Vasquez, who calls himself Doctor Cisionaría. Obviously there is way more fun to be had delivering good food than small babies, as he gave up the one for the other more than seven years ago.

Deep fried lapu lapu with tamarind sauce

We ordered several dishes to share and were very happy with our choices, although next time I’ll invite a larger group so we can explore the menu more fully. My friend ordered a Thai catfish and mango salad (mouth-puckeringly sour with light crispy crunch) and chunks of deep fried lapu lapu (a local white fish) with tamarind sauce – my latest favourite condiment. The ubiquitous Filipino coconut oil had the day off, thank goodness, and the food was much better for its absence.

Keen to try out the Filipino cuisine, I chose a very snappy sigadilyas salad with chili jam (that’s wing beans) and a rich beef caldereta with rice. Locals praise Café Juanita as the closest thing you’ll get to Filipino home cooking. The serves are unexpectedly hearty for a Filipino restaurant and we ordered far too much as it turned out, but the staff cheerfully packed up the left-overs to take home.

We shared one dessert – well how could we say no? I have always wanted to taste the Spanish dessert and local favouite Sansrival, and finally had the opportunity, but sadly this cake is much too rich even for this Dairy Queen. Layers of sponge fingers bound together with a thick coat of butter cream were undoubtedly for those with a sweeter tooth than mine.

Last week, I discovered the second Café Juanita in Burgos Circle. Smaller than the Pasig restaurant, it still sported the kitschy frills and furbelows but in rather less profusion. An upper floor is apparently available for private events.

Gambas al ajillo

We were a larger group this time, so we were able to try a wider range of dishes. Sadly, the Global City restaurant doesn’t have the sigadilyas salad on the menu, but the catfish and mango salad was a must and one everyone enjoyed. We also loved the gambas al ajillo (stir fried shrimp in garlic with button mushrooms), in a spicy red sauce and the fresh lumpia or goicon (fresh spring rolls), filled with a medley of meat and fresh vegetables.

There are many local offerings on the menu: tinuktok (crabmeat) wrapped in taro leaves with coconut milk; oxtail and tripe kare kare, and deep fried tanigue tail (Spanish mackerel) with green mango salsa and bagoong. Attempting to maintain the Filipino theme, we finally decided on three dishes to share: the two way pork adobo ribs with garlic rice; the lightly battered lapu lapu topped with a fishing net of egg, and a vegetable dish which sounded like ratatouille with the interesting addition of dried fish.

Pausing for thought – and to settle the abundance of food we had already consumed – we debated the desserts and decided on a mouth-watering, nostalgic sticky date pudding and mango jubilee (ice cream with caramel sauce and balls of mango). Neither dessert was particularly Filipino, but more Victorian nursery food with a touch of the tropics, but it was a lovely dash of sweetness to complete the meal. I will be going again, especially now I have one Café Juanita around the corner and won’t need a compass!

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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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