Cooking in the time of the Philippine Revolution

Filipino homes are festive for both Christmas and New Year’s Eve celebrations with some slight differences: Gifts are exchanged after the noche buena (Dec. 24), while media noche (Dec. 31) is lit up by sparklers (luces) and noisy firecrackers to drive away the bad fortune and spirits of the past year. Filipino tables on these two midnight meals are abundant and festive, the difference being that media noche settings usually have noodles for long life (these can be pasta or pancit) 12 round fruits to bring luck and prosperity in 12 months of the coming year. Some people practice the Spanish tradition of having 12 grapes ready for eating one by one as the clock strikes 12 times to bridge the old year and the new.

The change in the liturgical calendar means that Jan. 1 is a holy day of obligation for Catholics. Now known as the Solemnity of Mary Mother of God, the day used to be known as the Feast of the Circumcision. When Dec. 25 gained popularity as the day of Christ’s birth, it followed that he was circumcised, following Jewish custom, eight days after, hence Jan. 1.

In traditional wall calendars, the type we still see in kitchens all over the Philippines, you will see the phases of the moon and the names of saints for each day of the year. In simpler times, babies were given names off these calendars; a little old lady in San Fernando, Pampanga, born on Jan. 1 was christened “Circumsicion.” This was not surprising because other girls were named after liturgical feasts. For example: Those born on Christmas day were named “Natividad”; those born on Aug. 15 were named “Asuncion”; those born on Dec. 8 were named “Concepcion” or sometimes “Inmaculada” or “Immaculada” or given the complete name “Inmaculada Concepcion.” What never failed to bring the house down in my grandfather’s home was to be reminded that the nickname of the little old lady named “Circumcision” was “Tuli.”

Times continue to change, and our Christmas and New Year celebrations have evolved. My mother used to wear polka dot outfits for media noche, our bed sheets and pillow cases were polka dot too on Dec. 31, until she discovered green dots on white that she connected with US dollars and considered luckier than ordinary dots. My nephews and nieces do not jump during the New Year to grow taller anymore because they are so busy with their tablets and games; only their eyes and fingers will improve. Food is easier to cook with modern appliances. Those who don’t know how to cook can buy instant meals or order take-out.  Affluent homes can have roast calf or lechon de leche delivered straight to the media noche table. No such dinner for me this year, as I am learning about New Year’s Eve in Tokyo, where people greet the new year quietly in their homes eating soba and waiting for the temple bells ring 108 times at midnight. Those who can find a good spot, dress warm and wait to see the first sunrise of the new year, then they head out to temples to pray or get rid of 2013 amulets, and acquire new ones for 2014. No fireworks in Tokyo, so unlike Manila which wakes up to a new year with the smell of gunpowder. Every year the government has to warn people about the dangers of firecrackers, and the fact that firing guns into the air means falling bullets may kill or injure someone close by.

In my last column I wrote about Christmas in 1896 as described by Joseph Earle Stevens in his book “Yesterdays in the Philippines” (New York, 1898). I presume that the club he visited had very much the same menu for Christmas and New Year’s Eve and that explains why he wrote about how people cooked in the time of the Philippine Revolution:

“New Year’s Eve was celebrated with due hilarity and elaborate provisions. The club bill of fare was remarkable, and when it is realized there are no stoves in Manila, the wonder is that the cooking is so complex. A Manila stove is no more nor less than a good-sized earthen jar, shaped something like an old shoe. The camp of the shoe represents the hearth; the opening in front, the place for putting in the small sticks of wood; and the enclosing upper, the rim on which rests the single big pot or kettle. In a well-regulated kitchen, there may be a dozen of these stoves, one for each course, and their cost being only a peseta, it is a simple matter to keep a few extra ones on hand in the bread-closet. And so, as one goes through the streets where native huts predominate, he sees a family meal being cooked in sections, and is forced to admire the complexity of the greasy dishes that are evolved from so simple a contrivance.

“As the Manila cooking arrangements are rude, so I suspect are the pantry’s dish-washing opportunities. I really should hesitate to enter even our club-kitchen, for certain dim suggestions that are conveyed to the senses from spoons and forks, and certain plate surfaces that would calm troubled waters if hung from a ship’s side, all hint at unappetizing sights. All in all, the less one sees of native cooking, in transitu, the greater will one’s appetite be.”

Reading about ways of cooking in the past makes us appreciate our electric and gas stoves today. Life is further enhanced with microwave and convection ovens, refrigerators and freezers. We must always remember to look back and enter the future in the context of the past.

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