An International Incident: Rice Dogs

Rice Dog

Shortly after our family moved from the Philippines to Canada, I had my first taste of 'real' spaghetti at an Ottawa restaurant, the name of which I no longer recall. But I do remember my eagerness at ordering this special dish which I got to eat only at parties and special occasions. All too soon, however, my excitement turned into bitter disappointment as I carefully examined the plate of saucy pasta in front of me and took my first bite. I promptly set the fork down and scowled at my mother across the table. "Where," my outraged six-year-old self demanded, "are the hot dogs?"

Much like the moment a child discovers the truth about Santa Claus, that was the day I learned that hot dogs were neither authentic nor integral components of spaghetti. As many of you already know or may have heard, sweetness and weiners are the hallmarks of Filipino-style spaghetti, for which Malou of Skip to Malou offers an excellent recipe. For those of us who grew up with it, these flavors are solidly embedded in fond memory. It might have been a crushing blow to my budding food psyche if I hadn't discovered soon after that hot dogs tasted even better out of the sauce.

A 'Dog Named . . . 

Frankfurter. Wiener. Footlong. These are just the most common aliases for the generic hot dog. Beyond the plain sausage in a bun, there are countless versions with myriad monikers, particularly in the United States, where it ranks with apple pie as a national food symbol. Thanks to a peripatetic married life, I've tried a few regional variations over the years - dirty water dogs in Washington, DC; slaw dogs in North Carolina; Naked (plain) at The Varsity in Atlanta, and 'dragged through the garden' in Chicago. In Minnesota, there were good ol' ball park franks at Midway Stadium, home of minor league baseball's St. Paul Saints, and Pronto Pups, a pancake-battered, deep-fried skewered hot dog, at the State Fair. Although the latter was invented in Portland, OR, it became the granddaddy of all fried-foods-on-a-stick for which the Great Minnesota Get-together is famous. Some historians believe that it was a Minnesota Pronto Pup franchisee who popularized the corn dog, a near-identical iteration made with corn meal instead of wheat flour.

Of all hot dog variations, the corn dog is my absolute favorite. I love the coating, which is essentially a cornbread - golden, slightly gritty in texture and with a sweetness that is perfect for the salty tube of mystery meat which it encases. Although corn dogs are not unknown in the Philippines, most Pinoys prefer to enjoy their hot dogs in the aforementioned spaghetti, pan-fried and served with plain rice, or mixed into fried rice. Now that I'm a Manileña, I really should adhere to these local tastes, even though I do miss my corn dogs. But who says I can't have my cake and eat it, too?

All-American, Filipinized

Corn may be king in the States but here in the Philippines, rice rules! So, when it came time to hot dog it for this month's International Incident Party, I decided to give my favorite corn dog a rice-over. I'd love to say that this is an original Tangled idea, but the distinction belongs to Korean blog Hoya Cooks (introduced by Daniel of Seoul Eats via this Serious Eats post). As Hoya's site is in Korean, I could only go by Daniel's photos of her 'rice-battered hotdogs' and try to come up with my own simple technique. The end result could use a tweak here and there, but as far as Mr. Noodle was concerned, my Rice Dog experiment was a total success.

Rice Dogs

Like its corn dog inspiration, these fried pups were lightly golden and even crunchier on the outside, thanks to panko crumbs, while the rice inside was soft and just a bit chewy. However, it lacked a distinct flavor like the mellow sweetness of cornbread; next time, I may season the rice with mirin, soy sauce, or add a sprinkling of furikake or shichimi togarashi. Feel free to experiment and let me know what you come up with!

Ingredients

1 cup raw rice* (yields 3 cups cooked)
6 cocktail franks (or 3 regular hot dogs, cut in half), boiled
2 eggs, well-beaten
1-2 cups panko
Vegetable oil

Plastic wrap
Bamboo Skewers

*For best results, use a short-grain variety of rice, such as 'sushi' rice (japonica), as it is more starchy, and therefore stickier, than long-grain types such as Basmati.

To Make:

Prepare rice as directed by package; when done, allow to cool just until it can be handled, but is still warm. On a wide strip of plastic wrap, scoop out 1/2 cup of rice and spread out in a rectangle about the size of an index card (3.5-x5-inches). Place one cooked hot dog in the center of the rice, then bring edges of the plastic wrap together and press gently yet firmly so that the rice is molded completely around the wiener. Set aside and repeat with the remaining rice and hot dogs.

Pour oil about 1-inch deep in a fry pan or pot and heat. Unwrap rice dogs and dip in beaten eggs, then roll in panko crumbs. Fry on one side until crisp and golden, then flip using tongs; when done, remove to a paper-towel lined plate to absorb any excess oil. Skewer with bamboo sticks and serve with your favorite condiments, especially banana ketchup for a truly Filipinized taste experience. Enjoy!

For a whole pack of imaginative hot dog-themed recipes, please check out the other entries for the current International Incident Party. Hosted by Penny of Jeroxie, IIP challenges participants to create dishes based on a new food theme each month. Enjoy reading the entries and please consider joining the party next time!

Fish Tales: Tawilis of Lake Taal

Deep-fried Tawilis

An Island Afire

Perhaps there had been a cool breeze that night, dissipating the day's humidity from the air, making it more comfortable to sleep. Perhaps there were some souls still up that night, finishing the last of the day's chores, moving about in the soft glow of candlelight or under the gentle beam of moonlight. Perhaps that night began as serenely and restfully as others before, until a long-dormant fury finally, violently awakened...

"On May 15, 1754, at about 9 or 10 o'clock in the night, the volcano quite unexpectedly commenced to roar and emit, sky-high, formidable flames intermixed with glowing rocks which, falling back upon the island and rolling down the slopes of the mountain, created the impression of a large river of fire.

"The columns of fire and smoke ascended higher than ever before, increasing every moment in volume, and setting fire to the whole island... All this was accompanied by terrific lightning and thunder above, and violent shocks of earthquakes underneath.

"We left the town, fleeing from this living picture of Sodom, with incessant fear lest the raging waters of the lake overtake us..."

(Maso, 9)

Lake Taal, ca. 1734
(Image source)

This mesmerizing firsthand account of Nature's destructive power came from a priest known only as Father Buencuchillo, who chronicled a series of cataclysmic eruptions of Taal Volcano in 1754 that lasted nearly seven months and destroyed three towns, including his own parish, and surrounding hamlets. The doomed habitations lay along the shores of Lake Bombon, which itself was a water-filled ancient caldera and an extension of nearby Balayan Bay in Batangas Province, Philippines. Rising from the lake's center, Taal Volcano had been seething for centuries, occasionally releasing ferocious outbursts every few generations, until it could no longer contain itself on that summer evening. When the mountain had at last exhausted itself by December, shell-shocked residents could only pick up the pieces of a drastically changed landscape:

"Soon afterward I resolved to visit my beautiful town of Taal; nothing was left of it except the walls of the church and convento... Thus the beautiful town of Taal remains a deserted wilderness and reduced to the utmost misery, while once it was one of the richest and most flourishing places.

"The worst of all is, that, the mouth of the river Pansipit having been blocked, the lake is rising and invading the towns of Lipa and Tanauan..."

(Maso, 10-11)

The people of Taal, Lipa and Tanauan eventually rebuilt their towns at a safer distance from the volcano, leaving behind ruins such as those of the original Basilica of St. Martin de Tours (the present edifice is considered the largest Catholic church in Asia) to be found above ground today. Meanwhile, what are believed to be the remains of Tanauan can be seen (mainly by experienced divers) beneath the opaque waters of the now-renamed Lake Taal. But no manmade site can compare to the natural wonder at the center of it all.

The Evolution of a Delicacy

An island within a lake
on an island...
(Photo: Wikipedia)

First of all, Lake Taal is a veritable geologic matryoshka doll: an island (Vulcan Point) within a lake (Crater Lake) on an island (Volcano Island) within a lake (Lake Taal) on an island (Luzon) [see image]. If that weren't enough, it also holds the distinction as the only habitat on earth of the sole species of exclusively freshwater sardines - Sardinella tawilis.

As Fr. Buencuchilla recounted, the massive eruptions of 1754 severely narrowed the once-wide channel of the Pansipit River that connected Lake Taal to Balayan Bay and the sea beyond, and subsequently trapped marine species within. As a result, the saline lake, no longer being fed by sea water, eventually transformed into a freshwater body to which formerly saltwater fish, such as the sardines, had to adapt in order to survive.

Today, Lake Taal tawilis are a popular delicacy prepared in different ways, such as smoking (tinapang tawilis), stewing in vinegar (paksiw na tiwilis) or deep-frying, and eaten in its entirety, head to tail. I recently munched on the latter, dipping them in vinegar with chilies, and found them to be satisfyingly crisp, tasty and as addictive as fish-shaped french fries. I had barely licked the last bit of flavor from my fingertips before I was craving more. Wanting to learn about what was sure to be my new favorite snack, I went a-Googling . . . and promptly lost my appetite with this single phrase:

"As with all species consisting of a single population in one location, a local extinction event will most probably lead to species extinction."

Fish pens on Lake Taal

I have done and will probably do many foolish, thoughtless things in my lifetime, but contributing to the eradication of an entire species is hopefully not one of them. A decade-old study of the tawilis population in Lake Taal noted an alarming decrease in its numbers due to overfishing and warned that growing numbers of tilapia, a farmed fish introduced into the lake and which competes with tawilis for algae as food, could overtake the sardines and drive them out of the food chain. Given their precarious status, I hesitated to post about my enjoyable experience eating them.

But for once, I am happy to admit being duped - it turns out that the flavorful fried fish I was munching was more than likely an impostor. Like Kleenex and Q-Tips, the tawilis 'brand' name has become a generic term, allowing pseudo-tawilis (other saltwater sardines) to be found in abundance at local wet markets and grocery store chains for relatively low price. Some will say that consuming these counterfeit Clupeidae is therefore not an authentic tawilis-eating experience and they are correct. But it would be difficult to swallow authenticity at the expense of the very survival of such a unique species. So instead, I will savor the amazing true story of Lake Taal as I enjoy some ersatz tawilis. I'd call that a happy ending for all.

Work Cited

Maso, M.S. (1911). The Eruption of Taal Volcano - January 30, 1911. Report from the Weather Bureau. Manila: Bureau of Printing

Volcano Island, viewed from Tagaytay cliffs
Active Taal Volcano is the larger land mass behind the smaller cone

'Crackers, Coins and Chaos: A Filipino New Year's Eve

Lentils and Longganisa

Waking up just shy of noon with a woozy head and the need for a really large cup of coffee can only mean one thing: a most excellent party the night before!

In the past, Mr. Noodle and I have spent New Year's Eve by counting down to midnight with the television, then sleepily exchanging chaste kisses before climbing into bed at 12:03 a.m. But since moving to Manila two months ago, we've taken a decidedly when-in-Rome approach to celebrations, starting with the ushering of this Annus Novus in true Filipino style - loudly, boisterously and with no holds barred. By the time I fell into a blissful, cocktail-induced sleep in the first wee hours of 2011, my eyes were stinging, my ears were ringing and my body felt like the PacMan's punching bag. Caught up in a post-New Year's Eve, riot police-directed crowd dispersal? Nah. . . just a typical barangay fireworks display and our family's special brand of festivities.

Pyrotechnics, Pinoy-style

From backyard 4th of July shows that light up small-town neighborhoods to the New Year's Eve spectacles illuminating night skies from Times Square in New York to Times Square in Hong Kong, fireworks are the exclamation points to myriad celebrations. But as entertaining as today's sophisticated pyrotechnics are and far removed from their earliest iteration centuries ago in China (bamboo sticks thrown into fires to pop in the heat), their original purpose remains the same - to ward off evil spirits with startling bursts of sight and sound. To this end, large metropolises from New York to Sydney employ stunning visual displays of color and light to blind any spook intent on New Year malfeasance. Filipinos, on the other hand, prefer the Big Bang Theory - the louder, the better.

Filipino fireworks stand
(AP Photo/Aaron Favila)

Pinoy paputok are not so much firecrackers as small-scale bombs that are almost as deafening and just as dangerous. This season's nationwide tally of fireworks-related injuries is well over 500, with children accounting for one-third of them, despite a widespread campaign urging the use of other forms of noisemakers and the outright ban of rockets with names like 'Atomic Bomb' and 'Goodbye Philippines'. Days before New Year's Eve, loud booms reverberated throughout metropolitan Manila as people made dry runs of their holiday arsenal, testing my nerves and scaring the wits out of one recently transplanted Boxer more accustomed to serene Minnesota. On the actual night of festivities, being indoors wasn't much insulation - I spent a good portion of the evening jumping out of my skin with each explosion that sounded nerve-wrackingly close. Evil spirits may have been the intended target of these aural assaults, but they did a pretty good job rattling us benign mortals, too.

Games People Play

Competing to form
longest Human Chain

Thankfully, ordnance-free activities were planned for our family gathering. Fueled by an early Media Noche (midnight meal) of lechon, lumpiang sariwa, spaghetti and crema de fruta cake, and lubricated with free-flowing, vodka-spiked punch, we threw ourselves into raucous party games such as egg-tossing and Human Chain that spilled onto the streets outside. There was a competition to see who could stretch out a 'Happy New Year' greeting the longest (à la 'Gooooaaaaaaallll.....!') and a round of Musical Chairs that turned into a UFC match between cousin and aunt, complete with headlocks and takedowns. But the peak of craziness was yet to come, when it would be time for the most eagerly anticipated event of the night: the Tossing of Coins.

Waiting for the shower of coins...

In a uniquely Filipino New Year's Eve tradition, coins are thrown inside the home as the clock strikes midnight to bring prosperity to the household throughout the coming months; for guests, it's immediately lucrative as they scramble madly for the scattered change. In my mother's home province of Marinduque, this practice is called Paakyatan ("to go up" in Tagalog, so-called because it begins on the ground floor and moves to upper levels) and is also performed during baptisms and weddings. This year, I helped my father toss pesos to the dozens of celebrants jostling for position, some armed with bags and small buckets to catch the flying cash. I worried about pegging people on the head with a shower of hard metal, but no one seemed to mind and soon enough, I was letting loose a barrage of currency. Watching the ensuing chaos, I think it's safer holding a firecracker - one auntie of a certain age lay sprawled on her belly, arms flapping to sweep up coins on the floor, while a younger cousin later reported that someone had sat on his head.

A fairly accurate representation of the coin toss chaos
(Photo credit: Jonathan D. Colman/Flickr)

It was a few minutes of shrieking, grappling, frenzied, insane melee and after the last coin was fought over, it was finally time to enjoy a calming bowl of lugaw.

Familiar to many of you as congee or arroz caldo, this simple rice porridge is made with chicken stock and meat, and topped with lightly fried tofu cubes (tokwa) and tender boiled pigs' ears, a sprinkling of toasted garlic and chopped green onions, and a dash of fresh calamansi juice and patis (fish sauce). As with so many aspects of a Filipino celebration, there is undoubtedly some sort of symbolism and historic tradition attached to consuming this soup, but I suspect that it's really just a preemptive New Year's hangover cure. Nevertheless, food symbolism is a kinder, gentler and more appetizing way to augur abundance - I'd rather be eating a delicious representation of coin than flailing around on the floor for the real thing.

Eat Your Money

Across many cultures, the celebration of a new year is the perfect time to practice certain traditions meant to summon good luck and great prosperity for the household. Most common is the consumption of foods that represent money through form, color or other symbolism. For instance, the circular shape of coins are evoked by the round donuts called oliebollen consumed by the Dutch on New Year's Eve, while round legumes are enjoyed in the American South (black-eyed peas) and in South America (lentils). Eastern Europeans partake of fish, whose silver scales mimick metal currency, and of leafy greens such as cabbage that stand in for paper bills. Filipinos also participate in food-as-money traditions, gathering on the table 13* different round fruits for each month of the year plus one. *According to some, the number 13 is considered lucky among Chinese, as its pronunciation in certain dialects sounds like "assured growth" or "definitely living". Conversely, some may view it as unlucky because 1 + 3 equals the very unlucky number 4, which sounds like the word for 'death'.

I failed rather miserably in procuring the requisite number of fruits, managing only five, including tomatoes (hey, it's a fruit!) but fared much better with our New Year's Day meal. With any luck, the success of my first cooked dish of the year is a positive sign of prosperity and abundance in our kitchen for 2011.

Lentils and Longganisa

There were so many coin-inspired foods from around the world from which to choose our New Year's Day 'prosperity' meal. While I was quite tempted to have an all-cake table filled with those Danish oliebollen or Greek vasilopita, I settled on a savory Italian dish rich in its simplicity and flush with flavor: Cotechino con Lenticchie. A specialty of the city of Modena (and protected as such with PGI [Protected Geographical Indication] status), cotechino is traditionally a fresh sausage made from pork meat, fat and skin, although pre-cooked, foil-encased versions are now more widely used. I had faint hope of finding it somewhere in Manila, but I didn't want to settle for regular Italian sausage as a substitute. And why should I, given the variety of excellent native sausages, called longganisa, here? Sure enough, I found a perfect candidate.

Like cotechina, Lucban Longganisa is the namesake specialty of one town, in this case located in Quezon province just south of Manila. These sausages have a rich porky unctuousness in texture, a pleasantly sour tang from vinegar and a pretty reddish hue from paprika or atsuete/annatto (though artificial food coloring is also used). As I have never tasted cotechino before, I can't offer a definitive comparison, but I was pleased to read that Lucban longganisa seems to share similarities in texture, color and cooking with the Modena salsicce. With that, we had our lucky New Year's meal of coin-shaped pork sausage and legumes - Italy by way of the Philippines!

Ingredients

2 Tablespoons olive oil
3 small garlic cloves, minced
1 small onion, finely chopped
1 small carrot, finely chopped
1 celery stalk, finely chopped
1 cup lentilles du Puy, rinsed
1 bay leaf
Fresh water (or use a mild broth, if you'd prefer)
Patis (fish sauce) and ground black pepper

10-12 Lucban longganisa links (or approx. 1lb of sausages)

To prepare:

Lentilles du Puy

Heat olive oil at medium-high heat in a sauté pan, then add garlic, onions, carrot and celery; sauté until softened. Add lentils and stir to mix well with the vegetables. Add the bay leaf, then add water or broth to cover the lentils by about 1/2 inch. Reduce heat to medium-low and bring to a slow simmer; cover partially to let steam escape and stir on occasion to prevent lentils from sticking to the bottom. As they cook, lentils should remain covered with liquid, so add as needed. Test lentils for desired doneness. When done, remove bay leaf and add patis and pepper to taste before serving.

Just before the lentils finish cooking, place longganisa in a small pan or skillet and cover halfway with water. Cook at a gentle simmer, turning occasionally, until done (these sausages are quite small, about 2.5" long, so they should cook quickly). Remove sausages and drain water from the pan, returning it to medium heat. Carefully prick the casings and drain out excess juices before removing the skins entirely. Carefully return the longganisa to the pan and fry until a bit browned on the outside. Remove from pan and slice into round pieces.

To serve, spoon lentils onto plates and arrange sliced longganisa over them.

Buona Fortuna! 

[Good Luck!]

Manigong Bagong Taon sa Inyong Lahat! 

[A Prosperous New Year to All!]