Food
Coming-of-age is a Vantage column where staffers share their opinions on a specific beat. From in-depth analyses of TV series to miscellaneous musings in music (and everything in between), this monthly column is an avenue to spread and inspire thought-provoking ideas.
In this column, Vantage Magazine Staffer Pat reflects on her aunt’s stories of Pampanga, and how living in Metro Manila all her life has limited her viewpoint on Filipino food.
Growing up in middle-class Metro Manila most likely meant that you were raised on a lot of Jollibee Chickenjoy, red hotdog on a stick, and sandwich spread slathered on slices of white bread. These foods from my childhood are dear to my heart, but I have to admit that I wish that I had more memories with food that’s closer to my roots.
Although Manila is a melting pot of cultures from all over the Philippines, living here all your life can also limit your perspective and experience of Filipino food. For example, for the first time, I asked my tita to prepare me a dish from her childhood out of curiosity. She made me Batchoy Kapampangan, a hearty soup that fed her, my mom, and the eight siblings they had on their weekend visits to their tiyuhin’s farm in Pampanga.
While slicing ginger, pig’s heart, and spleen, my tita would tell me how fun it was to help out during the harvest season. For the kids, work was play. They would wake up as early as 5 AM to run around the fields, ride their tiyuhin’s carabao, and have contests on who could harvest the most bushels of peanuts.
That was during the ‘70s. Sadly, we don’t get to visit our relatives there anymore. My tita says that it wouldn’t be the same either—now, the sun gets too harsh at noon, it’s also too hot because there are less trees and more houses, and the traffic is always horrible. The hassle to go back and forth from the metro wasn’t worth the time and gas, she says.
If I hadn’t asked her, I would’ve never known about that part of my family’s history. Although those were good times, it’s all a distant part of the past now.
With a snap from the misua noodles my tita sprinkled into the pot and a handful of green onions for garnish, the dish was done. I helped myself to my first bowl of Batchoy Kapampangan. It was almost black from the cup of pig’s blood added, but despite its dark look, the dish tastes bright thanks to the healthy amount of ginger in the broth. I think of it like a cross between tinola and dinuguan.
On the dinner table, my lola chimed in with anecdotes of her own as a provincial girl moving to Manila (where she met my lolo, apparently!). After lunch was done, I couldn’t help but think about my own food stories. I’m still slightly jealous that my childhood memories pale in comparison—they’re mostly of Spam and Tender Juicy Hotdog for baon.
While I’m still thankful for those childhood meals, I do think that we’re missing out on so much good food and experiences outside Manila. With our country’s variety of distinct regional cultures and beliefs, the widely-held idea of Filipino food here only captures a fraction of our colorful food landscape. If that’s what I can find in Pampanga, what more in the other places I haven’t even visited yet?
More than sinigang and adobo, or tapa and tocino, our cuisine is really much more exciting than we think. I hope that more people will realize this. There are more food stories we can discover out there if we only took the time to ask our grandparents, older relatives, and maybe even our kasambahays at home. And even though their stories may not be our own memories, we give it justice when we keep it alive.For now, my knowledge of Pampanga and their food stops at that Batchoy, but when I can, I’ll call my tita and lola again to tell me more before they forget.
