Kain Na - A Filipino tasting menu

Last night, we hosted dinner for a few friends. We had been talking about doing this for a while - but we had always hesitated at the menu. We tend to go for more family style, buffet or pot-luck gatherings, where we all stand around and chat.  But winter is long, and we wanted to inject a little sociability into the snow-laden months. So we set a large table, and started coming up with ideas. 

We had been inspired by watching a couple of older episodes of the Bravo competition cooking show Top Chef - a couple of seasons ago, a Hawaiian chef named Sheldon Simeon had shown off his Filipino heritage and cooking skills. 

I keep waiting for Filipino food to be 'discovered'. Outside of a couple of enclaves in California (or a friendly Filipino home), it can be really hard to find.  Filipino food isn't like Chinese food, or Thai, or Vietnamese. Except it has elements of commonality with all of them. As well as a heavy Spanish and even American influence from the colonial periods. 

It's heavy on thin, tart & vinegary sauces, on seafood and pork - proteins readily available across the islands, and on combinations that show off the fusion that have defined the Philippines for hundreds of years. 

We put together a few of our favorites into a menu, and sent it out to some of our adventurous friends. 

'Kain na' is the first Tagalog phrase I learned when I started dating my Bride. Her mom said it every time I visited. 

It means "Eat now".  

In a moment of inspiration, I cut the pages out of old paper grocery bags to print the menu - we had to get a little balikbayan brown in there. Along with embroidered, woven placemats we brought back from Manila and an authentic Barrel Boy, we had our place setting. The only things missing were the ubiquitous giant wooden fork & spoon and a carved, 3-d wooden Last Supper. But we made do.  

Preparing some of the dishes took a bit of effort.  One of the desserts required fresh grated coconut. My Bride found a kudkuran online - it's a little oblong stool with a viciously serrated metal end for scraping out the inside of a fresh coconut. After a few example strokes, she assigned me the rest of the task. I managed to scrape a few fingertips into the bowl as well on my first coconut before I figured out how to operate the simple set up in safety. 

But hey, at least I wasn't wearing dark socks & crocks... 

Our guests were a mix of local folks and foodies. We knew they all were up for just about anything, but we still started easy for the appetizer. Lumpia - a little fried spring roll, stuffed with ground pork, shrimp and water chestnuts and a pork BBQ skewer.

The pork is marinated in soy sauce, garlic, and that Ancient Filipino Secret: 7-Up.  I don't know what the hell they were marinating their pigs in before the GIs showed up with 7-up, but the sugar and carbonation do something wonderful to the pork, tenderizing and caramelizing the meat.

We served them with banana ketchup (made from real bananas) and sukaang maasim - a spicy, palm vinegar marinated with chilies. I could eat this stuff forever.

This vinegar alone is a reason to seek out your nearest Filipino and force them to hand over their stash. It is the superhero of vinegars. It kicks the ass of every other vinegar you have in your cabinet and then is called to City Hall by the Mayor, to be awarded the key to the city, putting all the other normal vinegars to shame.

You will thank me for this information later, when you have tried it. 

I was disappointed that I couldn't offer some Filipino beer to go along with dinner. For something like lumpia, it's the perfect accompaniment. But there's only one beer made or served in the Philippines - San Miguel. And I mean, unless you're in a fancy hotel someplace where a lot of tourists hit, that's the only beer that's available. If you're lucky, the restaurant might have both the standard San Miguel pilsen and their slightly darker San Miguel 'Red Horse' label. But the nearest six pack of San Miguel to our town is more than 150 miles away, someplace near New York. So we settled with some pretty good Mexican lager or white wine as substitute offerings.

For the soup, we started pushing the boundaries a little. This is sinagang na isda - a tamarind based soup with salmon, mustard greens, daikon radish, onion and tomatoes.  The broth is light, clear and fragrant. 

Tamarind is a sweet/sour pod - you can pull out the stringy, sticky innards to make a paste found from Thailand to Mexico. But this dish elevates it somehow - it's at once homey (it's the kind of soup your mother-in-law makes for you when you're not feeling well) and elegant. There are only 5 or 6 ingredients in the soup, but it is complex and to be savored. 

I knew we were doing well when every bowl came back empty. 

For our main, we plated three separate tastes. Two classics - pork adobo and pancit bihon (the noodles), and a third crab-and-squash dish stewed in coconut milk that is mind blowingly good. 

Adobo (in the middle) is probably the most famous of all the dishes that have made it out of the Philippines. If you've tried one thing, it's probably this. Often made with chicken (though I prefer pork), the meat is braised in a soy sauce & vinegar combination. Sometimes flavored with a little achiote, garlic or other seasoning, it's straight forward and delicious. 

The guinitaang kalabasa stew has a base of squash and coconut milk, with lump crab meat stirred in to heat through. Both of these are served with steamed rice. They're alive with hearty, smoothly tangy flavors. 

The noodle dish is your standard Filipino family party fare. I've never seen pancit bihon cooked and served in quantities that wouldn't serve a small army. It's rice stick noodles, stir fried vegetables, chicken, soy sauce and patis (fish sauce).  Topped with scallions, slices of boiled egg and a tiny fresh squeezed citrus called calamansi. It's kind of the pad thai of the Philippines - it's street food, with a hundred variations, but all the same basic core.  

 The Critter learned to make this dish from her Lola (grandmother) on the last visit, and the pancit was her contribution to the party. 

That, and we had her help plate. It was an adults-only dinner. It sounds awful unless you're a parent. But if you are a parent, you may remember that there was a time before children when you sat with other adults and enjoyed a meal without constant interruptions for more juice/the bathroom/I dropped my napkin/the bathroom/why isn't our food here yet/can you cut my food for me/the bathroom. 

So we set the Boy up with a movie to watch, and paid the Critter a few extra bucks to be helping hands in the kitchen and help plate each course. She loved it, and was proud of the art of each setting she was able to have fun with. 

And we got a dinner with other adults and fewer bathroom breaks. Everybody wins. 

Finally, dessert was a trio of my Bride's favorites:  Leche flan - a Filipino spin on a Spanish classic.  Pitsi-Pitsi - a flattened patty of steamed, grated cassava & sugar dredged in coconut. And her absolute favorite, Halo-Halo, which translates literally as 'Mix-Mix'. 

The pitsi-pitsi recipe she used was her aunt's, who replaces the cassava with glutinous rice. The coconut came from the grating efforts we had done earlier in the day on the kudkuran. I'm glad to say that none of the pitsi-pitsi was stained pink despite my poor, damaged hands. 

Halo-Halo is a mix of shaved ice (you can see the Critter scooping it up in the picture above), with slices of jackfruit, cubes of grass-jelly, sweet red beans, toasted rice, ube - a sweet purple yam - and some kind of syrup, condensed milk and maybe some avocado or coconut ice cream. Or that Barney-purple ube ice cream if you can get it.  (We settled for coconut.)

Each course was a hit - by the time we cleared the last plate, every one was full and smiling, and slow to push their chairs back from the table. A good sign. We were pretty sure that everyone found some new things that they liked during dinner. 

I don't know when Filipino food will catch on mainstream here in the US. But until it does, I'm glad that I, at least, have a good source to keep satisfying my cravings! 

Let's all check in on my meat

Some people ask me, "How do you know if the meat your curing is going bad?" 

I read a book once that summed it up: If it's bad, you'll know. 

Once, a couple of years ago, I went downstairs, and one of the prosciuttos was... moving. And dripping. And in all my reading, I didn't recall that ever being called out as one of the things that was supposed to happen. But worst of all, the faint, all-is-right-with-the-world odor of meat & salt had gone slightly sweetish. In the way that your great aunt smells sweetly of medicine and must and well past its prime foundation powder. 

No. I was wrong. The 'my ham is moving' was definitely the worst part.

I lost two prosciuttos that way that year - which means I had a gap in my prosciutto supply last fall. 

The muslin sack on the furthest right cut is what I use to wrap the prosciuttos after they sit in a box of salt for a few weeks. That gives the prosciutto time to air, without being found by the flies and turned into a nursery for their young. After a year or so, I unwrap them to finish hanging. 

Interestingly, I've never had that issue with pancetta (the hanging rolls of belly in between the legs of pig).  I have no idea why. But I'm not one to start questioning the laws of the charcuterie universe. And they only hang for 8 weeks or so before they're ready anyway. 

On the other side of my basement, my coppas are looking really nice. Those first two turgid looking hunks of meat are what I wrapped in the salted, stretchy lower intestine of a cow (that's what a beef bung is) along with salt and a few other spices. They have about another 10 weeks to go before they're ready. I've never put these up before, but from what I can see, they're looking pretty happy. 

In between the other two prosciutto sacks is a much smaller lamb prosciutto which is ready... well, now.  It takes 100 days or so, instead of the 2 years, but otherwise followed the same process. 

Coupled with what's in our freezers, we've got enough meat put aside to last a while. You just have to be patient enough to wait for it to be ready.

And don't eat the ones that still move. That's pretty much a sign that things went wrong. 

Charcuterie & fromage

My Bride's mother & father came and stayed with us for a few weeks this month, and our house has been full of food, and hugs, and love. The kids especially love seeing their grandparents (of course). And with the weather being mostly so frigid, we've stayed in doors and around the kitchen and fireplace quite a lot. 

Last weekend, we decided we'd go into our freezer full of pig, and do a little charcuterie. I was also inspired by our recent trip up to Vermont to make a bit more cheese.  We figured we'd have a whole shut-in weekend of old-time preserving. 

We started out making Longanisa - a Filipino sausage much like a Portuguese linguiça - sweet and tart and well seasoned.  Grinding and stuffing the sausage was a whole family event, and took most of an afternoon, and many, many sausage jokes. 

My Bride's people are not tall, and needed proper sausage stuffing leverage. Fortunately, we were prepared. 

The pork was really beautiful - a great ratio of fat to meat. With the leftovers, I was able to put up a few pounds of chorizo. (Made from our pig, Honeydew, not Chorizo. Which made the Critter laugh. We had asked the butcher to label all of the meat so we'd be able to keep track of which pig we were eating. Honeydew's packages are all written in blue, and Chorizo's all in red.) 

I used the same chorizo recipe that I've used in the past. I love this recipe - it's easy to bag & freeze pre-portioned amounts of meat. I don't bother casing it - I always use this for burritos or huevos rancheros anyway.  One of my favorite breakfasts in the word. 

 

I also had pulled out two beautiful joints that the butcher had set aside for coppa. I've never made coppa before, but after describing the basic cuts I wanted to make sure we got (plenty of back bacon, three prosciuttos, etc), I told Maureen, the awesome partner at our butcher to just cut the pig how she felt best. 

When I pulled these boneless joints out - cut from the meaty part of the back of the neck on the pig, the marbling was absolutely gorgeous. That's right - marbling on a cut of pork. The peanut-rich diet for our pigs - along with the forage from the forested run they had - clearly had turned into some beautiful meat. 

I laid the joints out and rubbed them down with a combination of salt, pepper, fennel, garlic, and a few crushed juniper berries.  

Well actually, I employed child labor to do the hard part.

Nothing like a little handling a little raw meat in your superhero pajamas, ammiright?

(Note, that's a bowl of chorizo in the foreground, waiting to be bagged) 

Coppa is cured by letting it rest for a bit (I gave it 24 hours post-rub in the refrigerator) and then casing it in a beef bung and hanging it to finish. This will take about 4-6 weeks, and it'll lose about a third of its weight as the meat dries & cures, and the fat becomes silky. 

I'd never worked with a beef bung before. When you order one on Amazon, it comes in a plastic tube as a hardened, salty, fairly smelly little ball. An hour or so of soaking later, and you end up with a pliable, stretchy & tough natural casing that will wrap around a 6" diameter piece of meat. With a bit of love and effort. 

I've hung these in my cellar which is a constant 55 degrees or so, and steady humidity. I keep going downstairs in the evening to check on them. They're tightening up already, and I can smell the faintly peppery smell of the cure. 

I can not wait to get these onto my slicer. 

While I had the components (and chil-dout, I pulled out a large piece of Honeydew's belly as well. (See? Using their names to talk about eating them stops getting weird after a few times, doesn't it? Or maybe it gets weirder. I'm not sure.) 

This meat just continues to amaze me. Absolutely beautiful. We've had good pork in the past, but nothing to compare to this.  I had to cut this piece of belly in half to work with it. 

I used my butcher's recipe - he charges about $30 per pound for his cured pancetta, but he gave me the recipe for free. Probably figuring not to many of his customers are daft enough to do this. Plus, he's just cool that way. 

These get sealed in a food-saver vacuum bag with salt, a little brown sugar, garlic, rosemary, and pepper, and a couple of those crushed juniper berries and put into the fridge for a week or so before I'll roll them and hang them. to cure. Again - 6 or 7 weeks, and I'll end up with pancetta that'll blow your mind. 

Cheese

The next day, we moved on to cheese. 

I had been running through my cheddar a bit lately, and hadn't put any up to cure lately. What I found from our first attempts is that it takes a year or so to really cure to the point you're going to enjoy eating it. Before that, it tasted young and curdy. More time = more sharpness. 

So I knew I wanted to put up a couple more wheels. I also wanted to try out a new recipe, though, and expand our repertoire a little further. 

The larger pot is my cheddar, resting and waiting to curdle. In the smaller, white pot is goat's milk. The first batch of chèvre I made is hanging on the rack in the background.

Goat's milk chèvre is incredibly easy to make, it turns out. There are only 3 ingredients: 

  • Goat's milk (well, duh). 
  • Citric acid
  • Salt

Our local Whole Foods carries goat's milk, and the rest I got on the internet. Within an hour, I had a really excellent cheese that was declared acceptable & quickly devoured by the family.

I spread mine on a toasted bread with a little drizzle of honey. Excellent. 

Yeah. Winter days like these are pretty much my favorite.