Cooking rice
My course on Food in Philippine Culture in Sophia University was an eye-opener for both teacher and students. When the class reported on Filipino food they had sampled in Tokyo, their comments made my heart sink. “Your food is brown,” said one. “Your food is oily,” said another. One group in chorus described Filipino food as “unhealthy.”
On a Sunday morning some students went to St. Ignatius Church where Pinoy street food was sold: banana-Q, pork barbecue, arroz caldo, pancit palabok and adobo. The more adventurous ones visited a Pinoy turo-turo and karaoke joint in Roponggi, close to the Philippine Embassy, and sampled: adobo, sinigang and dinuguan. Reheated dishes that had more meat and oil than vegetables were served in a most unappetizing way. Two students Googled “Filipino food” and were horrified to find pictures of balut and champorado. They downloaded an adobo recipe, bought the ingredients, and cooked the dish themselves. While they found their home-cooked adobo tasty, it was just as their classmates described: brown, oily and unhealthy.
Fortunately, Philippine Ambassador Manuel M. Lopez and Agriculture Attache Tippi de la Rosa came to the rescue, and at our last meeting before Christmas the students had a Pinoy feast that hopefully changed their first impression. We had pancit palabok, lumpiang ubod, okoy, polvoron and pastillas from Mrs. Lopez, and the agriculture office sent ube and mango ice cream, banana chips, and dried mango.
Before the class Tippi boiled saging na saba in my campus apartment while I prepared freshly popped microwave chicharon. Everything was consumed except the freshly boiled banana. If I had cooked the batch in caramelized sugar and served it with shaved ice and condensed milk, I’m sure it would have been a hit. Our final lessons that day were: All cultures have food we won’t like, food we will like, and food we can learn to like. Understanding a nation’s food is understanding its soul through its culture and history.
Discussing Filipino food with non-Filipinos has elevated the subject from taste and sustenance to the level of culture. Aversion to balut or dinuguan was a given, but I took extra time to explain a beloved breakfast staple—champorado—that was initially met with such revulsion. Chocolate and rice did not agree with the students, until I explained the combination in terms of Kelloggs’ chocolate-flavored Rice Krispies in milk. Since rice is the staple food of both Japan and the Philippines, it was on rice that the class had the most lively discussions. I was surprised to learn from my students that rice is so ingrained in their culture that one can find a reference to rice even in the names of the popular car brands: Honda refers to a “rice field,” its competitor Toyota refers to a “bountiful rice field.”
Exchanging rice-cooking methods, my students and I discovered many similarities and some notable differences, like measuring the water level in the pot. We Filipinos dip a hand in the pot and measure the water according to the lines on the third finger. The Japanese put a palm on top of the rice; the water is supposed to reach the protruding bone slightly above the wrist.
In Felice Sta. Maria’s book, “Governor-General’s Kitchen,” which is bursting with all sorts of data on culinary culture, you will find a 1911 method for cooking rice taught to elementary school students. It is quaint and makes you thankful for the invention of the rice cooker:
“One cup rice (well washed), three cups of boiling water, scant teaspoon of salt, salt spoon of lard.
“Wash rice through at least six waters, or until all cloudiness is removed. Bring to the boiling point three brimful cups of water. Add the salt and the tiny bit of lard. When water is boiling briskly, add the rice from which water has been drained. The boiling process will be interrupted for a few minutes, but counting from the time it starts to boil again, it will take about fifteen minutes for the rice to fully absorb the water. During this time keep the cover on, but slightly pushed to one side. At the end of fifteen minutes the grains should be soft, not the least gritty and the water absorbed. Remove the cover and at the same heat let dry out for five minutes. If cooking on a gas stove, at the end of the five minutes lower gas and let the drying out process continue for twenty to thirty minutes longer. If cooking on a wood or coal stove, at the end of the five minutes place cooked rice on back of stove or in oven to dry out.
“By cooking rice in this manner, every bit of nutriment is retained at a minimum cost of effort. Each grain will be puffed to almost three times the size of uncooked grain. Always cook rice with a lid over the flame. On gas stoves an asbestos lid is recommended. NEVER STIR RICE WHILE COOKING. A sharp knife passed around the side of the pot after the drying process starts is recommended. If lard is objected to, it can be omitted. It is supposed to lessen the danger of burning, to prevent water from boiling over, and lends a brilliancy to the cooked product. A porcelain-lined pot is the best for cooking rice, as it lessens the danger of burning. However, the precaution of the lid being used reduces this danger to a minimum.”
The rice cooker has made that text obsolete and life easier, but what have we lost in terms of taste, tradition and culture?
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