Poignant

Biases aside, pick one province that perfectly describes the Philippines and Filipinos, it has to be Pampanga. Pampanga is labeled as the culinary center of the Philippines with its highly-refined Capampangan cuisine. Pampangueños represent the most distinct qualities of Filipinos. Most of all, Pampanga is a city of contrasts just like the entire Philippines itself. Having said that, the province is unique from the rest of the archipelago too- from its language, people, atmosphere and down to its food.

Pampanga boasts of the finest food in the country. It is home to several popular modern restaurants that specialize in Filipino food, for example, Razon's (above) and Cabalen. I have no clue as to what their secret is, but it's the same Filipino recipe: if it's sinigang- it's the best sinigang, adobo- the best adobo, sisig- the best sisig and so on. But the fact that it is the best and most highly regarded points towards its uniqueness too. Capampangan is noticeably different with the way it combines Cantonese, Spanish, Malay and Mexican into one dish, that's why it's so good and, ultimately, very Filipino.

Aside from food, Pampanga is discernible through her people though not always in a good light. I do not understant why, for some reason, Pampagueños are stereotyped as ill-natured and self-centered and, often, the ugly aspects of Filipinos into one peopling. The worst part of this is that if Pampagueños are the representatives of Filipinos as a whole, the Indio does not really look any more civilized then.

What people fail to see are the good qualities that outweigh, if not justify the very stereotypes that have sprung up the sidelines or pampang. People seem to forget the catastrophic Pinatubo eruption twenty years ago which the locals are still struggling from up until now. If there's any ill nature, it's the courageous fight against strife and if there's any selfishness, it's the resilience that 'I can do this by myself no matter what.' They don't get enough credit for the good qualities they put on the table but, really, what better way to describe a Filipino than through Pampangueños' courage and resilience?

If you live in a place like Pampanga, you have no choice but to be brave and selfish in order to make yourself happy. And that does not make you less of a person, in fact, it makes you more. It speaks of the people's light disposition even though vast areas of their arid land are still covered with lava. It talks about contrasts- that of listless sand on one end, and beautiful churches on the other, a sad place yet teeming with optimistic locals.

Indeed, Pampanga represents every aspect of the Philippines yet remains to be unique at the same time. There's this English word we don't have a Tagalog translation for, most probably due to the absence of that experience elsewhere in the country, but which justifies the exact same feel Pampanga evokes through beauty despite sadness, malungkot y malagu.

Lomi't Pandesal

Five days of intermittent rain and it's wet season already and what can get better to warm your stomach than a bowl of chicken noodle soup, er, lor mee; chicken noodle soup is so banal that it already comes right out of the page by default. While nothing can get heartier than chicken noodle soup, or even French onion soup, lor mee tops the list for one craving something more umami. True to the definition of umami, lor mee is so savory- brothy and meaty at the same time what with the heap of meat ingredients (pork strips, meatballs, shrimps, ham and a range of those Chinese and Japanese balls, kikiam, fishcake, etc.) that go right into the wok, just before a rich broth is added.

Lor mee is, universally, a soup of thick, round, yellow noodles (Hokkien mee) sauteed in garlic and some thick sauce. In Singapore and other Asian countries, however, lor mee is usually soy sauce- and vinegar-based, and eaten with ginger and chili padi. The more subtle flavor of lor mee (or lomi) in the Philippines makes it better eaten not as a stand-alone, but with something else. I suggest wheat pandesal for a perfect match!

In my opinion, Savory serves the best lomi and Pan de Amerikana, the best wheat pandesal in Metro Manila. The combination of these works like heaven on earth that, when confronted with a bowl, the recent return of hot days does not really matter, does it?

Batangas Bulalo

If a picture paints a thousand words, then this one definitely says it all:

It still baffles me how a simple stew of shallots, beef thighs and bone marrow, roasted garlic, spring onions and cabbage can turn out to be one of the best flavors in the world. Bulalo (beef stew) does not use fancy spices (except maybe bay leaf for some), rather, relies on the earthy taste of beef chunks and the buttery taste of the marrow; indeed, less is more.

Of the entire Philippines, Batangas serves the best bulalo. I never understood this (how else can bulalo be cooked otherwise?) until I tried it first-hand in Jhorjanes, Batangas. I suppose the secret to their recipe is a large pot of beef slowly cooked in a hearth of burning wood, thus the tender texture and smoky taste of the beef. Also, Batangas uses high-quality beef thigh saturated not with fat, but tendons and ligaments (litid), which really are, you must agree, the essence of the stew, apart from the marrow. Moreover, bulalo in Jhorjanes digresses from incorporating a lot of vegetables (carrots, potatoes, corn, pechay, leeks), thus concentrating the brawny beef broth.

If you come to think of it, bulalo exemplifies everything Batangas: warm, homey, hearty, simple but with a bang! Batangas has a lot to be proud about but, of them, bulalo is the best; if it isn't, I don't know what is.

Scent of Grapes

With the very narrow and bumpy roads, it will take you a few hours’ drive from metropolitan Manila to a little town off the coast of Batangas called Mabini. Even farther, past the steep slopes that wind all the way to a dead end is a quaint Bgy. Pulang Anahao, aptly called “Little Italy” from the uniform architecture of the mid-sized houses that follow traditional Italy’s, especially those in Modena.

What takes unusually longer, though, is the amount of dialogue one needs to engage in before any piece of ice is broken with the locals. Often times reserved, they seem thrifty with how much they share. This would confuse anyone, at the outset, but after a more prudent prodding, one would surmise it’s really the perplexing nature of their stories that keep them away from the limelight. For starters, Little Italy is a place where spouses are cousins and the village captain is connected to everyone by the second degree, at most, much like the Amish Village of the United States.

Another parallelism between the Amish Village and Little Italy is the quasi-resistance to the ‘outside world,’ thus necessitating a deliberate reach-out if one were to know them deeply. It is a place of contrasts, too, where dim nipa huts are juxtaposed with bright-colored mansions, which only goes to show the ambiguity of Little Italy’s way of life: relatively advanced yet rooted, progressive with the huge influx of remittances but very, very laidback.

It is a place where relationships border arbitrary but, on the other hand, individual income is clearly delineated. One would hear stories, albeit unclear, about competition where dog eats dog for money. Another would bawl broken relationships that came second to bold ambitions. Still another would find children loitering the streets, instead of attending to their lessons in school because they presume a domestic job in Italy way ahead of university graduation. But what happens if they can’t?

Seemingly, that’s not the case. Little Italy enjoys a certain camaraderie not seen anywhere in the Philippines- locals take turns sending one another overseas. This selfless act has gone a long way in instigating a culture of generosity among the locals and overseas workers. Remittances have not only built extravagant homes for families, but a church and a smooth road for the community, as well. The council is well-organized and respected that a mere visit to any resident while you are accompanied by any of the officers already springs trust. Most of all, one would witness how much the place has progressed; the disparity between Little Italy and all the towns preceding it is so immense, it’s difficult to ignore.

Indeed, it is a very narrow road to Little Italy. One would endure the difficult terrain and extremely impoverished areas in order to get there. Likewise, Little Italy is every facet a representation of what suffering these Filipino workers stomach on their road to success- hunger, deportation, homesickness and the worst of these I could not even imagine- walking all the way from Austria in order to discreetly pass through the border while risking one’s life to random gunshots.

When people talk about diaspora, more often than not, Italy is left out what with all these horrifying stories. True. However, the scent of apples in America may be infinite but, to this day, has it pioneered a place that can emulate Little Italy?

You climb up the narrow road and, in the end, you start to feel the warmth the place exudes, as every local runs to assist you. Then, you realize that the residents of Pulang Anahao are not any less hospitable than the rest of the Philippines’. What sets them apart, however, is that they have a secret and a reputation to keep. Their secret stems from decades of hardships that photographs cannot conceal despite extremely indulging magazine write-ups (the very reason why locals do not pose for pictures).

And their reputation?

Unlike apples, the lush of grapes has no scent, much less lucrative. But, unlike apples, the lush of grapes does not rot in one’s backyard, rather evolve into fecund wines and spirits. True enough, the beauty of Italy lies not on going there, but on coming back to a town that has seen the fruits of one’s labor. More importantly, unlike apples, this is achieved not by an individual endeavor but a cluster of equally passionate people with only the success of a Modena-counterpart in tow.

The Little Italy in Mabini is famed not because of people’s exodus from Pulang Anahao to cities in Italy, nor from tales of motherless generations thriving on balikbayan boxes from Modena. It is those conspicuously picturesque houses lining a rustic, narrow street that serve witness to the success of OFWs amid disturbing stories of life-and-death and passing hunger and, most of all, to giving back to the place where they come from. And if you’re lucky, you find a man in his 70s sipping Nescafe Gusto Ricco by the terrazza as he speaks about children and children’s children raised in Italy but will always find their way to the better Little Italy.

Jalan Merah Saga, Singapore

Picking up from my latest post, Da Paolo is one of the many bars lining Jalan Merah Saga. I am actually quite surprised that Merah Saga has not been brandished as the newest 'it street in town.' It most probably has to do with the fact that it's away from the city, tucked behind a dim avenue and pitted against the more commercialized Holland Village less than a score of meters away.

Another may argue, however, that it's not the milieu but the place itself that's uninviting. If not for the genteel aura that each of the bar presents, the street would border listless. This is exacerbated by the fact that, vis-a-vis Holland Village, Merah Saga caters to a more mature, laidback and silent clientele. And it does not get better with the Singaporean locals who probably feel outnumbered by the teeming expatriate ang mohs (Caucasians) trumpeting how much they can spend, rather than what value they get out of a buck, which is the case for most locals.

Ergo, bottomline, it is unpopular because it is expensive. But it's sophisticated too and that's what matters. The place gives a slightly rare feel as though you were in some European alley where French wines or German beers were the house drinks. Each restaurant has an exquisite concept; one is a pizza bar, another a steak ranch and still another a pastry wonderland. Most of all, with some peaceful air, it's the ideal place to relax and chill.

What most people don't get is that you actually spend more for the nice experience the quiet road delivers. Like most great finds, it is not easy, much less cheap. For the few ones who understand, lucky them for they get every cent's worth, as a matter of fact. True enough, as soon as I left the place, every stress felt unwound.

The place does not do much to welcome you so you have to find your way to fit in but, as soon as you do, it's magic and everyone else feels like friends. In this part of the town, the watering holes are a lot wider and deeper, and as to the water?- no, not water, but some of the finest wines and spirits from all over the world yo!

Da Paolo Pizza Bar

When dining in, there is service, ambiance or value for money, but good food is always another thing. Da Paolo Pizza Bar (Singapore) corroborates the fact that the bottomline of every great restaurant is what's on the menu, not outside of it. Reason being, service may be sucky, atmosphere pretentious and items expensive- just like in Da Paolo- but if the food is great, bar none, there's a reason to go back.

I have had several visits to Da Paolo if only for their desserts. They only have five, but each one of them is divine. If you want someting rich, the tiramisu and Valrhona chocolate cake are must-haves. However, for me, everything pales in comparison to Da Paolo's heavenly lemon meringue pie.

It contains a variety of tastes and textures: sweet, smooth and light meringue, sour and rich lemon fill and a sweet-salty, coarse crust that all work to the definition of good dessert. It's a hearty end to a good meal.

Speaking of which, Da Paolo's pizza selection is probably the most novel and authentic-Italian in the island. I do have high standards for pizza- from home-made, commercial to high-class, and, mind you, Da Paolo takes its pizza seriously. The selection is very comprehensive; it will take you ages to decide which one to pick but it really does not matter because every one of them is as delightful as the other. One tip, though, it's better to come in a group so you can try different flavors; one huge pizza of eight slices may get boring towards the end.

There are other items on the menu as well, but based on experience, they are not as exceptional as the pizza and desserts. The cocktails may prove me wrong, though, but be sure to ask the waiter what each one is concocted from- there was one that tasted like chewing gum! If you have more money to spare, their wine selection is very wide too.

Chuleta Cancan

If you think lechon kawali is the best thing in the world, wait till you get to Puerto Rico.

Chuleta cancan is Puerto Rico's version of the Philippines' lechon kawali. It's the same Spanish concept for a simple, juicy pork belly with full flavors. Spanish cuisine is mostly identified with rich, aggregate tastes rather than individual tones- which leads me to hazard a guess that the genius of cancan lies on combining both Spanish and non-Spanish food qualities: a slab of succulent fried meat pre-cooked in Caribbean spices- which ones? I have no idea.

The meat is tender, the fat is buttery and flavorful, the skin is crunchy. The fact that cancan is served with red beans and mashed plantains also does wonders. It comes with an herb sauce that very well complements the redness of the meat. To top it all, it is served with a long piece of roasted pork skin, orgasmic I must say. Apparently, cancan is a native recipe coming from South Puerto Rico.

Raices is a restaurant in the southern part of Old San Juan that serves superb Chuleta cancan. You know it's a good eat as you wait hours queueing up to get in. The ambiance is great, the hostesses are very nice and accommodating and the food is- albeit ordinary- exemplary. I did not get to try the cocktails but I heard they are great too; maybe next time, when I go back to the beautiful city for seconds.