Bale Dutung, Part II: A Feast of Flavors

Claude's Talangkâ Rice and Inasal Pork Belly

For a sense of the surroundings for this extraordinary meal, please read Bale Dutung, Part I: Setting the Table...

There are bound to be high expectations for a meal when it involves making reservations several weeks in advance, choosing a multi-course menu enjoyed by a certain famous gastronome, then hiring a large van to ferry a dozen hungry diners to another province an hour and a half away just to eat lunch. In between, there are the articles and blog posts, all raving about the cook, his wife, the food and their love of art and cuisine, to sharpen anticipation to a keen edge. With that kind of set up, a modicum of disappointment is inevitable.

Or not.

While failing to live up to the hype is a risk for many restaurants du jour, Bale Dutung in Angeles, Pampanga is no fly-by-night eatery. Part art gallery and collector's museum, it is also home to artist, author and chef Claude Tayag and his wife, Mary Ann Quioc Tayag. Since 2000, the couple have welcomed diners to experience their innovative take on authentic Kapampangan cuisine in a setting that is as much a feast for the eyes as it is for the appetite. Few dining establishments can call themselves true food destinations, but surely Bale Dutung deserves that claim, especially after a visit from Anthony Bourdain put it within range of every global foodie's radar. Though being featured on No Reservations shone the spotlight on the Tayags' place, it is the quality of their food and the totality of the eating experience that are certain to keep it there indefinitely.

We'll Have What He Had...

The Tayags & Guest

After soaking up Bale Dutung's serene setting, we finally settled at the table for our luncheon. By popular decision, our group of twelve had chosen the Anthony Bourdain Menu, a ten-course set comprised of the dishes that Claude and Mary Ann served their eponymous celebrity guest to showcase the ingredients and cooking styles that define Kapampangan food traditions. In fact, we would have the opportunity to one-up Mr. Bourdain - included on the menu was one dish that his schedule apparently did not permit enough time for him to enjoy.

Our meal began with a cool glass of dalandan juice with muscovado ice cubes and a warm welcome from Mary Ann. While Claude was in the kitchen preparing the food, his wife commanded the front of the house. A slender, youthful figure in a crisp white top and colorful sarong skirt, she was lively and charming in her welcome remarks, setting a festive tone for our luncheon. But the meal did not begin without some trepidation on my part, as I silently fretted over my lack of self-control when faced with copious good food. Could I go the distance and not slip into a food coma well before dessert? As if reading my mind, Mary Ann addressed what is apparently a familiar concern for Bale Dutung guests. "This is a long lunch that requires patience, so don't rush," she said, her disarming smile gentling the admonishment. "You're in my house - I will pace you."

Claude and Mary Ann Tayag

Indeed, as the meal progressed, we would come to see her not only as our hostess, but as a docent on this edible tour of Kapampangan cookery and guiding us through its highlights. "Don't look at this as a buffet," explained Mary Ann. "Look on this as a dégustation of different flavors. It is, more than anything, about flavor." She continued by noting what tastes and senses we should expect: refreshing citrus, piquant spice, delicate sweetness and the strong pungency of what she cautioned may be 'acquired tastes'.

L-R: Talangkâ, pesto & balo-balo
(Photo courtesy of Joy Valero)

With that, Mary Ann invited us to start with a pre-appetizer of crackers and a selection of house specialty sauces and spreads (which are bottled and sold under their Claude '9 brand). There was a classic basil pesto made with indigenous pili nuts in place of pignolas, while orange-hued taba ng talangkâ was nothing but pure, unadulterated crab fat. One of the 'acquired tastes' mentioned by Mary Ann was undoubtedly the balo-balo (also known as burong hipon and tagilo) - a regional delicacy of fermented rice and shrimp cooked in garlic and ginger, resulting in a tangy, almost cheddar-like flavor. Tastebuds primed by these condiments, we were off and eating...

Pananghalian sa Bale Dutung (Lunch at the House of Wood)

Anthony Bourdain Menu

1st Course: Ensaladang Pakô (Fiddlehead Fern Salad)

Photo courtesy of Valerie Valero

With nary a lettuce leaf in sight, this fiddlehead fern salad was a bowlful of tender leaves and crisp curled fronds. Picked from the gardens surrounding Bale Dutung, it had a fresh flavor that was enhanced by a sweet-tart Honeymansi (honey and calamansi) dressing and a pleasant pop of sourness from pickled quail eggs. Mary Ann noted that before fiddlehead ferns found their way onto gourmet menus, pakô was considered an abundant yet common vegetable, suitable for consumption by household help but never served to special guests. My, but how the frond unfurls...

2nd Course: BBQ Paldeut at Claude'9 Talangka Rice 

(Grilled Chicken Tails with Lemongrass Marinade and Crab Fat Rice)

"No Pampango eats talangkâ rice without grilled meat," declared Mary Ann, as plates of crab fat-studded rice and a skewer of reddish-gold grilled chicken were placed before us. But eating one without the other was not the faux pas we committed: Instead, our table was a bit too impetuous with the vinegar. Mary Ann quickly set us right by explaining that Claude marinates the puldeut (Gr. pygostyle) in a special mixture that already includes vinegar, as well as lemongrass and atsuete (annatto). To add more of the souring agent - even if it is Bale Dutung's own aged aslam atbu (sugarcane vinegar) - might overwhelm the subtle flavor of the marinade. Go ahead and dip it in vinegar later, she said, but implored, "Give me the first bite!" And she was right - without additional flavoring, a hint of tartness cut through the rich fattiness of the tails and complemented the delectable taste of barbecue char.

3rd Course: Adobong Pugo (Adobo-style Quail)

Photo courtesy of Joy Valero

Next to this dainty bird, a roast chicken would be positively elephantine! Then again, these fist-sized fowls can defy dining etiquette - I hesitated, fork and knife hovering, unsure how best to carve my miniature morsel. Thankfully, Mary Ann let us off the hook: "Sige, kamayan na!" [Go ahead and eat with your hands]. As we nibbled on wee wings and tiny thighs, she noted that quail and its eggs are ordinary ingredients in Kapampangan cookery. The meat was tender and infused with a harmonious blend of adobo flavors - not too salty, not too vinegar-y. The accompanying pan de sal, specially made for Bale Dutung by a local home baker, added an element of sweetness when sopping up the adobo marinade, and the stewed chicken livers had just a hint of bitter finish, to round out the trio of panlasang filipino (Filipino taste).

4th Course: Hito at Balo-Balo and Talangkâ Sushi 

(Catfish & Balo-Balo and Crab Fat Sushi)

Pampangan Sushi
(Maki photo courtesy of Joy Valero)

An amuse-bouche of talangkâ maki, topped with a slice of kamias, was reminiscent of uni (sea urchin), but the hito at balo-balo was Claude's Pampangan take on temaki (hand roll) - in place of a sheet of nori (dried seaweed), he used mustasa (mustard greens), which has a mildly peppery, wasabi-like flavor, while balo-balo substituted for vinegared sushi rice. A strip of crispy fried catfish was added, then the whole thing was rolled into a handy and delicious appetizer.

5th Course: Lechon Tortilla** (Roast Pig Tortillas)

Why mess with the juiciness of tender moist lechon? Because. That was all the explanation I needed after biting into this hybrid of iconic Filipino and Mexican foods. Lechon meat is finely shredded and fried into golden filaments, then placed on a warm flour tortilla and topped with fresh tomatoes, onions, Claude's Oriental Sauce, and piquant kimchi for a crunchy, chewy, spicy, savory fusion of flavor and texture. This was the dish that Anthony Bourdain missed and I would recommend that he promptly return and fix that. It was only after our meal, when I had a few minutes to chat with Claude, that I got a hint of the inspiration for his lechon tortilla. The Spanish influence on Filipino cookery was indirect, he noted. "The influence is really from Mexico. We were ruled by Spain through [the Viceroyalty of New Spain in] Mexico." With the addition of kimchi and the Thai green chili-inspired sauce, this course seemed to best illustrate Claude's observation that food and flavors of the Philippines draw from both sides of the Pacific.

**Lechon Tortilla, along with Pan de Bagnet (Claude's porchetta-inspired sandwich), is now available every Saturday and Sunday from Bale Dutung's stall, run by Claude and Mary Ann's son Nico Bailon, at Mercato Centrale in Bonifacio Global City.

6th Course: Papaitan Soup (Goat Meat Sour Soup)

Whereas the previous two courses drew inspiration from other national cuisines, Papaitan is uniquely Filipino. Nevertheless, Mary Ann pointed out that many Filipinos have never tried, or may not even care to try, this specialty. The name comes from the word pait [PAH-eet], meaning bitter, and the bitterness in the broth comes from goat bile, which in Pampanga is normally served separately and added to taste; however, Bale Dutung's version was served Ilocanos-style (added directly to the soup) for a more gentle introduction to this unusual ingredient. The thin broth was full of pieces of goat liver and tripe, making for a pungent aroma and a distinctly gamey flavor, but it also had a pleasant tingle from macerated green chilies. Perhaps proving that food preferences are from nurture, not nature, my mother could only manage a small sip of Papaitan, whereas Mr. Noodle enthusiastically requested a second serving.

7th Course: Bulanglang Kapampangan na may Tian ng Bangus, 

Ulang at Tadyang ng Baboy 

(Pampangan Stew with Milkfish Belly, Crayfish and Pork Spareribs)

Talk about splitting hairs - or in this case, soups: Bulanglang (pottage) is a particular specialty of Pampanga and neighboring Bulacan provinces, and is sometimes mistakenly interchanged with siningang and dinengdeng, two other soupy dishes, due to similarities in ingredients. Like sinigang, it uses bayabas (guava) as a main flavoring agent, but not for souring; instead, the fruit imparts a sweet taste that reminded me of banana. (Mary Ann cautioned that the bayabas must be at a perfect stage for bulanglang - too raw and the sourness would turn it into sinigang, too ripe and it would lend a bad smell to the soup.) Like dinengdeng, it is chockful of greens, such as okra and kangkong (water spinach), but while the Ilocano specialty is primarily a vegetable dish, bulanglang is served with meat and seafood. Really setting it apart from the other two, however, is its texture: Bulanglang is thick and creamy, thanks to starchy gabi (taro) and the addition of steamed rice.

From experience, Mary Ann recognized the signs of rapidly stuffed bellies and called for an intermission at this point in the menu: "I tell my staff, 'When you see our guests staring up at the ceiing, slow it down."

8th Course: Sisig Babi (Sizzling Pork in Onion and Liver Sauce)

Bourdain called sisig a "divine mosaic of pig parts" and I couldn't agree more. The unctuousness of pig cheeks was saved from sheer oily saturation by a squirt or two of calamansi, while the cartilege-crunch of pig ears satisfied my snack-y impulses. Best known as pulutan, or bar food, sizzling sisig actually evolved from a simple Kapampangan dish of boiled pigs' cheeks and ears traditionally given to pregnant women. In the mid-1970s, local restaurateur Lucita Cunanan, aka Aling Lucing, adapted the recipe, put it on a hot iron platter and created what most Filipinos consider the unofficial national dish. It is such a popular food that variations from tofu to bangus (milkfish) can be found on many Filipino restaurant menus here and abroad. But it will always be a Kapampangan dish and that, said Mary Ann, means making it only with cheeks and ears.

9th Course: Kare-kareng Laman Dagat (Seafood Stew in Peanut Sauce)

A literal translation of the Kapampangan name is 'essence of the sea' (laman=essence, dagat=sea, ocean) - so much more poetic, isn't it? And it mostly definitely was poetic in presentation and flavor. This final savory course was by far our favorite and even drew a crowd of admirers from other tables when it was rolled out from the kitchen. Mary Ann acknowledged that this dish is best known and traditionally made with oxtails, but in now way was Claude's seafood version a mere substitute. New Zealand mussels (the only imported ingredient in the entire menu), lumot (cuttlefish) and prawns were bathed in a rich sauce of coconut cream, ground peanuts and taba ng talangkâ that was equal parts sweet, nutty and salty, then served with steamed rice wrapped in banana leaf and a generous dollop of bagoong (fermented shrimp paste). Not wanting to aggravate a mild peanut intolerance, I only meant to have a small taste, but ended up cleaning my plate - it was that good.

10th Course: Tibok Tibok (Pure Carabao Milk Pudding)

Are you stuffed yet? True to her word, Mary Ann did a masterful job of pacing the meal while the waitstaff served perfectly portioned plates that allowed us to fully taste a dish without overwhelming the belly. As a result, I had just enough appetite left for this lovely dessert. Tibok tibok is a mild-flavored Kapampangan pudding made of carabao (water buffalo) milk, sugar and cornstarch, and topped with latik (which blogger Jun Belen perfectly termed Toasted Coconut Milk Crumbs). Creamy but with a slight jelly consistency, it was lightly sweet and delicious paired with a post-meal cup of strong dark coffee.

As we enjoyed the last bites of our luncheon, Claude and Mary Ann graciously posed for photographs and chatted with their guests, completing the first impression that a meal at Bale Dutung is a meal shared among friends. While the setting was exquisite and the food beyond expectation, there were also small, thoughtful details throughout the experience: Mary Ann taking a moment to learn each of our names; the small bowl filled with fresh water and kamias to rinse off our fingers between courses; Claude personally wrapping porchetta for a guest; the knotted long beans in the kare-kareng, looking like small wreaths; frozen towels to cool off in the afternoon heat; and a special commemorative menu with a one of Claude's illustrations of Bale Dutung's open kitchen. It's that kind of caring, personal attentiveness that set the Tayags and their beautiful home apart from conventional restaurants.

There's no need to ask: I will most definitely return. After all, there are two other menus to try...

Scenes from a Kapampangan Kitchen

Bale Dutung is located in Villa Gloria Subdivision, Angeles, Pampanga. Dining is by appointment only. Inquiries and reservations may be emailed to reserve@baledutung.com or by calling 09175359198. For more details about the menu and Claude '9 products, please visit the Bale Dutung website.

Claude's Talangkâ Risotto
(from Food Tour: A Culinary Journal by Claude Tayag, with the author's permission)

While a meal at Bale Dutung is well-worth the trek from Manila to Pampanga, the Tayags have made it easy for me to enjoy the same flavors back at home with their line of Claude '9 bottled sauces such as Inasal BBQ Marinade (BBQ Paldeut), Burong Hipon (Hito & Balo-balo roll) and the decadent Taba ng Talangkâ. While I loved the talangkâ rice served with grilled chicken tails, I was thrilled to find a recipe for creamy crab fat risotto in Claude's book Food Tour - a collection of his food and travel writing. Keeping in mind Mary Ann's statement that Pampangos always have grilled meat on the table, I served it with pork belly marinated in Claude '9 inasal mixture. Now, if only they would bottle that kare-kareng sauce, too...

Serves 4 to 6

Ingredients

1 Tbs minced garlic
1/4 cup chopped onions
2 Tbs butter or olive oil
500 g round grain rice* (preferably Italian arborio)
1/2 cup white wine
Approximately 1 liter chicken stock, heated
4 Tbs Claude's Taba ng Talangka**
Grated cheese
Fried crablets (if available)

Sauté garlic and onion in butter or olive oil. Stir in uncooked rice and white wine. Let the mixture simmer, adding ladles of hot chicken stock at intervals until all the liquid is used and absorbed (around 28 minutes). The risotto should be tender, glossy, moist and rich. Add Claude's Taba ng Talangkâ, then stir in grated cheese and top with fried crablets***.

Notes
*With no arborio on hand, I used Japanese sushi rice instead, to quite satisfactory results.
**For taba ng talangkâ, or crab fat paste, outside of the Philippines/Asia, check your local Asian market - it may be found in the refrigerated section.
***Instead of fried crablets, I topped the risotto with a small dollop of talangkâ and served it with grilled pork belly.

Bale Dutung, Part I: Setting the Table...

Ready for guests at Bale Dutung

We clambered out of the van and huddled in the driveway, a dozen eager diners of varying ages hungry for a promised feast but uncertain that we were in the right place. There, in the middle of a tidy, quiet residential neighborhood in Angeles, Pampanga, was where we'd been told we would find Kapampangan cuisine unlike any served in Manila restaurants. Yet, it felt as if we had arrived for lunch at a relative's home. Only the colorful carved wood sign above the gate confirmed that we had found the spot: Bale Dutung [BAH-leh Doo-TOONG].

If it seemed as if we had simply been invited for a home-cooked meal, there's good reason. Bale Dutung, or House of Wood in Kapampangan, is first and foremost the home of Claude Tayag, whose list of talents and accomplishments reads like a Renaissance man's resumé: painter/sculptor/furniture maker/collector/food writer/author/world traveler/chef. In 2000, he and his wife Mary Ann opened Bale Dutung's gate to diners searching for a multi-sensory food experience that presents the traditional with a modern sensibility. At first, they did so only once a month, but as they gained renown for their authentic preparations of classic Pampanga cookery and became an epicurean's destination, the couple began offering more openings, though still strictly by advanced reservation. But make no mistake: Bale Dutung is not a typical restaurant and what they serve is no ordinary meal.

Home & Garden: Bale Dutung
Photo courtesy of Joy Valero

Entering an Oasis

Photo courtesy of Joy Valero

Stepping through the front gate, we left behind the manicured suburban setting and found ourselves in a verdant garden shaded by a canopy of trees and lush foliage. As we approached the house, we passed artifacts from Claude's carefully chosen collection of farm implements: old clay pots, an ancient wheelbarrow and what appeared to be a giant wooden corkscrew (the purpose of which is still a mystery to me). The pebbled ground beneath our feet brought to mind a dry riverbed leading to a small oasis guarded by a Pan-like sculpture playing a silent serenade to the House of Wood. Framed by snaking vines and darkened from the inside, the building's weather-worn façade belied the fact that its construction was completed just over a decade before. Claude, ever appreciative of beauty and utility in all things, used salvaged material - wooden beams, adobe blocks, intricate wrought-iron - to build his home, giving it an aura of gentle antiquity.

Collector's items: Antique farm implements chosen by Claude Tayag

Wood steps and spiral staircases leading to the Tayag's living space on the second floor bore discreet signs reading 'Pribado' (not public), but the silong (lower level) was fully open to guests. From outdoors, we stepped directly into the airy dining room, where cool stone and warm wood carried the garden's ambiance inside. The space was suffused with subtle light from fixtures made of bamboo and seashells set into the rafters overhead and from the sunlight outside, glowing softly and unobstructed by walls. Columns of stone blocks were plainly adorned with a feng shui mirror here, a framed photo of our hosts and famous guest Anthony Bourdain over there, but along the periphery of the room, there was so much more to see.

Inside Out, Outside In

The wide open space invited exploration as varied objects on display caught our eyes and drew us away from our table. Ghostly white parols (star-shaped paper lanterns), their delicate streamers fluttering, were luminescent as sunlight filtered through their intricate paper-cut design, while an old sorbetes (ice cream) cart added a touch of bright-colored whimsy. On several shelves sat a medley of large glass jars, decorative albeit dust-covered, containing what we later learned was Bale Dutung's own aslam atbu (sugarcane vinegar), some aging for as long as 10 years. Tucked away in the back, we found a wooden plow mounted on a wall behind a clay jar with a spigot, which in turn was flanked by unusual wood-carved animal shapes, worn down to a smooth finish and equipped with rounded, serrated metal pieces jutting from the front like curved tongues. These were kudkurans (also known as kagoran or kagud), which were used to grate coconuts and still are essential tools in the Philippine kitchen. [Yet another name for them is kabayo, the Tagalog word for 'horse' (derived from Sp. caballo), alluding to how one straddles the grater as if riding a horse.]

Collecting antique farm tools and cooking utensils is one of Claude's passions and as we continued to meander about, we came across even more unique items he has accumulated and displayed in an equally unique space. In the kitchen, a long rack filled with a fascinating array of antique spoons, ladles and other tools hung above a very utilitarian sink, while across the way, large carved platters were mounted alongside a hearth and chimney. Bale Dutung's open kitchen is just that, in the truest sense: not only can guests saunter freely through the area, the divide between inside and outside is marked only by a stand of palayoks, or clay cooking pots, and a variety of blackened pans and woven baskets hanging overhead. Just past them and under the open sky, we watched as a kitchen staffer stood over a no-frills grill, turning and basting skewers of chicken as fragrant smoke billowed above, and the sound of sizzling fat and the sharp aroma of marinade suddenly awakened our appetites.

There was so much to see, we had nearly forgotten that we were there to eat!

We quickly took our places at one of several long tables, which were beautifully set with brightly colored linens and centerpieces of vivid orange blossoms, freshly cut just moments before in the kitchen by a young woman who told me that they were santan (although they may actually be saraca tree flowers). Small votives were set inside pottery to heat fragrant oils that lightly perfumed the air, while bottles of Claude's specialty sauces and marinades, which we would be sampling, were placed alongside them. No other condiments graced the table, hinting that all the flavor that we were seeking might be found already well-infused in the dishes.

Then, our hostess Mary Ann Tayag appeared, looking lovely in a crisp white blouse and printed sarong skirt. As the waitstaff placed glasses of refreshing juice by each setting, Mary Ann introduced herself and offered a warm, charming welcome to her home. Reminding us that we were about to embark on a 10-course, hours-long meal, she encouraged us not to rush through the food and assured with a smile that she was there to help: "You're in my house - I will pace you!" Before she left our table to welcome the other parties, she invited us to try Bale Dutung's welcome beverage of dalandan juice and 'dirty ice' - ice cubes made with muscavado sugar.

As I sipped on the sweet citrus drink and waited for the first course, my eyes wandered to the garden outside, where a rattan hammock beckoned from the shade, its gentle shape curved like a knowing smile. Soon, it seemed to say. Soon, you'll be wanting a nap...

Beckoning...

Coming next.... Bale Dutung, Part II: A Feast of Flavors

Bale Dutung is open only by reservation, required well in advance and preferably for large groups. The menu consists of three multi-course sets, chosen in advance and served to the whole party. For more details on the menu, reservations, contact information and directions, please visit the Bale Dutung website.


Dirty Ice Cocktail

Our Bale Dutung meal kicked off with a cool, refreshing glass of dalandan juice. The deep green peel of this citrus makes it look like a large lime on the outside, but its bright orange interior is definitely, well, orange-like. This split personality is further exacerbated by the confusion surrounding its scientific classification: while some have categorized dalandans as Citrus aurantium, a.k.a. bitter oranges (which include the Sevilla), others place it under C. sinensis, to which navel oranges belong. Still others lump it with mandarins under C. reticulata. Whatever it's called, I find this sweet fruit to be a little less acidic than other types of orange juice.

Bale Dutung's 'welcome drink': Dalandan juice with 'dirty ice'
Photo courtesy of Valerie Valero

Bale Dutung's 'welcome drink' contained what Mary Ann called 'dirty ice' - ice cubes made of water and muscovado sugar, a minimally processed cane sugar that has retained its natural molasses. As the cubes melted, the drink was gradually infused with a pleasantly rich caramel flavor. Our hostess also noted that 'dirty ice' would make a great addition to cocktails, at which I immediately perked up. Just as soon as Mr. Noodle and I returned home, I decided to make my own rum-spiked 'welcome drink': a Dirty Ice Cocktail.

Dirty Ice

Muscovado sugar (dark brown sugar will do in a pinch)
Water

Using a 1 to 2 ratio* of sugar to water, place ingredients in a small saucepan over medium heat and stir well. Continue stirring as the mixture heats up, until the sugar is dissolved. Let cool for a few minutes, then pour into an ice cube tray and freeze until needed.

*Unfortunately, the mixture did not fully freeze, resulting in a firm slushy cube that quickly melted, and I suspect that my ration was too high on the sugar end. I have yet to try it again with a 1 to 4 ratio, so please let me know if you find a measurement that will yield a more standard ice cube.

Cocktail

Dalandan juice (orange juice will do in a pinch)
Tonic water
White rum

In a highball glass, add equal amounts of dirty ice and regular ice cubes. Pour equal measures of juice, tonic water and rum, and stir well. Feel free to adjust ratios to taste.

Again, probably due to a flawed ratio of sugar to water, my version of dirty ice cubes was more 'slushy cubes'. As a result, they melted quickly when placed in the cocktail. On the bright side, they formed a nice layer of sweet caramel flavor which, when stirred into the drink, gave the cocktail a deeper, richer taste.

Please check back for Part II of our Bale Dutung experience and the main course...!

Celebrating St. Patrick of Ireland and Iowa: Oaten Honeycomb

Oaten Honeycomb

An Irish Recipe

(from Cooking at the Irish Settlement, Parish of St. Patrick's Church, Cumming IA)

4 cups love

2 cups loyalty

3 cups friendship

Take love and loyalty and mix thoroughly with faith; blend with tenderness, kindness and understanding. Add hope, sprinkle abundantly with laughter and bake with sunshine. Serve generous helpings daily to family, friends and all you meet.


It is St. Patrick's Day, but instead of wearing the green, I am feeling blue.

In a country where practically every barangay, village, town, city and province has a patron saint (or two!) and a festival to match, one would think there would be plenty of room for one of the most well-known in the world. Alas and alack, St. Patrick of Ireland and his feast day barely register in the Philippines. Hereabouts, the only green is on palm trees, Guinness can't hold a glass to San Miguel and corned beef comes in a can. So, on this day when everyone claiming membership among the Irishforaday is hoisting a pint, I sip from a mug of nostalgia as I reach back across the Pacific and into the heartland of America for a bit of Irish inspiration.

Ireland in Iowa

I shouldn't be so surprised to find that Paddy's Day is less than a big to-do in the 'Pinas. The great era of global Irish emigration in the mid-19th century saw those fine folk scattering to all corners of the globe, including Mexico, the Caribbean, South Africa and Australia, but sadly stopping short of the Philippines. The vast majority, escaping the hardship brought about by the Irish Potato Famine during the 1840s, crossed the Atlantic Ocean and settled throughout Canada and the United States. Most Irish newcomers flocked to America's urban centers, particularly in Boston, New York, Philadelphia, Chicago and San Francisco, but a significant and hardy portion chose to build new lives and communities in the open fertile plains of the Midwest. Among them were intrepid farming families who settled in the Madison and Warren counties of Iowa in the mid-1850s and formed what would come to be known simply as The Irish Settlement.

The Settlement was not a town per se, but rather a cultural, social and spiritual community comprised of residents from four towns in two counties:

"It will now be seen that the Irish Settlement is not a very small place.... Of course there are many people of different nationalities in their midst, Americans, Germans and others, all living in harmony and brotherly love together, as all men should do... Cheerful hospitality can be found among the Irish settlers and their descendants, and as freely given as on any part of the globe."

-- James Gillaspie, one of the earliest Irish Settlement residents, 19 March 1907

St. Patrick's Church in Cumming, Iowa

The heart of the community was Irish, however, and the soul of this Irish community is the Catholic Church. As the Settlement grew, a place of worship was needed to serve the families' faith and, in 1853, St. Patrick's Church was built. What was a simple structure of logs was rebuilt in 1868 and still stands to this day - a plain whitewashed building, unadorned save for the stained glass window set into its steeple and an iron across atop it. Inside, the sanctuary has served parishioners in countless baptisms, communions, weddings and funerals, while outside, in the wide expanse of the churchyard, well-tended gravestones mark the resting places of the Settlement's first residents and their descendants. Perhaps the parish's most shining moment came in 1979, when Pope John Paul II chose to visit what he called "a small, unpretentious church [at] the center of a group of family farms, a place and a symbol of prayer and fellowship, the heart of a real Christian community..." during his American pastoral visit (Cooking).

A Family Place

For over 140 years, St. Patrick's has been a cornerstone in the lives of its congregation, including Mr. Noodle's family. My mother-in-law was born and raised in this community, in a small farmhouse just beyond the church. Among a record of the Irish Settlement's earliest residents, there is a 'Jas. Davitt' - her mother's maiden family name - who arrived before 1860; though I have not confirmed it, perhaps he is the earliest Davitt in the area. Although it is inevitable that new generations move away in search of their place and fortune elsewhere, just as their pioneering ancestors did, many of the Irish Settlement's young return to keep the community as vibrant and strong as it has been. Mr. Noodle, his siblings and his cousins, though scattered throughout the United States, still find their way back to Iowa on special occasions both joyous and somber to reconnect with each other and their history.

The family farm house

Church and Kitchen

In the meantime, there are other ways to keep those bonds intact. Several years ago, my mother-in-law gave me a copy of Cooking at the Irish Settlement, published by the parishioners of St. Patrick's Church and containing favorite recipes from their families. Among the stalwart recipes for Sweet Potato Casserole, Potatoes and Pepper Steak, and Rhubarb Pudding, there's a lovely anecdote about St. Patrick's famous Chicken Dinners that captures the essence of this tight-knit community:

"Each family would provide 6 chickens, fried, no larger than 4lbs each, 5 pies, double crust only, and 1 gallon of cooked and peeled potatoes... The children of those years remember lots of fun [and] Father Jim Kiernan remembers this dinner as the best food he ever had!" (Cooking, 177)

Though there was plenty to choose from, I turned to the very first chapter, entitled "Irish Favorites", for a Paddy's Day dish and found the intriguingly named Oaten Honeycomb, a steamed pudding made with oatmeal, flavored with raisins and orange peel, and sweetened with honey. With all the ingredients readily available, I knew that it was the perfect recipe to make for this day celebrating all things Irish. So, in honor of St. Patrick's Day, I'd like to honor St. Patrick's Church and the Irish Settlement in Iowa with this Oaten Honeycomb.

In addition to being a tribute, this steamed pudding proudly marches in the 2nd (hopefully) Annual Paddy's Day Parade 2011, hosted by the Über Tuber herself, Aiofe of The Daily Spud! There's plenty of room along the parade route, so please head over to see what Guinness-fueled inspiration can create. And if that's not enough to sate your appetite for Irish goodies, be sure to check out the inaugural parade of 2010.

Erin go Bragh!

Sources:
Cooking at the Irish Settlement. (compiled by the parishioners of St. Patrick's Church). Deep River, IA: Brennan Printing. 1999.
History of Des Moines Diocese. Diocese of Des Moines (Iowa) website. www.dmdiocese.org
History of the Irish Settlement. IAGenWeb Project website. www.iagenweb.org
Wikipedia/Irish diaspora

Oaten Honeycomb
(from Cooking at the Irish Settlement, Parish of St. Patrick's Church, Cumming IA)

There was little information to be found online about this honeyed dish, other than it is of Northern Ireland provenance and is served either for breakfast or as a dessert. However, I did find a website with a recipe very similar to the one given in Cooking at the Irish Settlement; it credited the dish to one Roberta Colbert (b. 1884) of County Offaly, Ireland, as found in the classic cookbook of traditional Irish fare, A Taste of Ireland in Food and Pictures, by Theodora Fitzgibbons. The exact same recipe also turned up in yet another website, this time attributing its origins to an unnamed monastery and dating back to 362 AD! Unfortunately, as I do not have access to Ms. Fitzgibbons book, I can't confirm the accuracy of either attribution and have found little else on the web. If you are familiar with this dish or have access to a copy of A Taste of Ireland, please feel free to shed some light on this honeycomb.

As mentioned, this is a steamed pudding made of oatmeal, raisins, citrus zest and honey. Unlike many traditional puddings, such as the spectacular Auntie Ev's Plum Pudding made by Jenni of Online Pastry Chef, which require hours and hours of steaming, this recipe calls only for about an hour and a half. I do not have a proper 'pudding basin' (essentially a high heat-resistant bowl that serves as a mold for puddings), so instead I used small glass bowls in which to steam the mixture, using online instructions to convert them for that use. The result was a delicately flavored and satisfyingly moist dessert with a bit of oat-y chewiness. Best of all, it is only as sweet as you'd like - simply drizzle honey over it to your taste.

Unfortunately, I do not have permission to reprint the complete recipe from Cooking at the Irish Settlement. Instead, please check out the very similar recipes in the links above or try this one.

Ingredients

Oatmeal
Milk
Ground almonds
Sugar
Cinnamon
Egg yolks
Honey
Raisins
Butter
Orange zest
Egg whites, beaten to stiff peaks

To make:

Bring the milk to a boil and add the oatmeal, stirring for about 5 minutes. Let cool, then add the remaining ingredients except egg whites; mix very well. Gently fold in egg whites, then pour mixture into a buttered pudding basin (or other high heat-proof bowls). Place in a large pot and add water until it reaches halfway up the bowl; cover and steam for 1 and 1/2 hours. When done, remove from the water bath and turn out onto a plate. Serve hot, topped with cream and a generous drizzle of honey.

Cracking the Shell: Balut Revealed

Balut a la Pobre

Take a look at any list of the weirdest, funkiest, hell-no-I-won't-eat-that-unless-I'm-on-a-reality-show foodstuff in the world and chances are that balut is at the very top. Few foods provoke such strong reactions as this Filipino snack with a surprise inside, arousing either passionate devotion or abject disgust. But there is much more to eating balut than just a double dog dare. Many consider it a lowly street food, yet it is highly prized as an aphrodisiac. Eating it can signal your membership as a proud Pinoy or bestow an honorary one; it might even turn you into a supernatural creature. So, before you crack open a balut, know that there is a lot going on inside that innocuous eggshell.

A Fertilized Duck Egg by Any Other Name...

Balut is a true street food, meant to be eaten the moment it is handed over by the wandering vendor (magbabalut) whose cries of 'Baaaa-luuuuut' are a clarion call in the early evening. It is a simple food: a fertilized duck egg in which the embryo is allowed to develop for a period of 16 to 21 days before it is boiled for consumption. Its name likely comes from the Tagalog word balot, which means 'to wrap', in reference to how it is made and, perhaps, its handiness as a self-enclosed snack. Although best known as a Filipino specialty, it is also a familiar food throughout Southeast Asia, differing between countries in name and duration of incubation. In Thailand, fertilized duck eggs are called khai khao [1] while in Laos, they are known as khai luk. Whereas the ideal balut is ready at 17 days, the Vietnamese prefer to age their hot vin lon for 19 to 21 days. Similarly, Cambodian pong tea khon ranges from 18 to 20 days old. The relative consistency with which this food is found in various countries points to a shared antecedent, beginning with the Chinese maodan, so-called 'feathered' or 'hairy' egg because of the downy feathers visible in its cooked form [Magat].

Can you see why it's also known as 'feathered egg'?

There is a striking similarity between the methods used to produce balut and another Chinese delicacy known as pei dan, or century eggs. Both involve covering the ovum in clay and rice husks, but whereas the alkaline mixture for pei dan acts as a curing agent, turning the eggs into pungent, dark gelatinous forms [Dunlop], the coating for balut generates necessary heat for the duck embryo to continue developing while the eggs are stored in woven bamboo containers for the requisite time period [Pateros.gov]. This centuries-old process is still followed in the town of Pateros, the historical hub of Philippine balut production, located just a few miles from central Manila.

The Town That Ducks Built

Well before the first Spanish expeditions to the Philippines in the 16th century, Chinese traders had already established settlements in villages within the Laguna de Bay basin on the island of Luzon. The freshwater lake and its tributaries were perfect environments for raising ducks, particularly Mallards (itik), a skill at which the residents of one town were so adept that their small hamlet came to be named for their industry (Tagalog, pato = duck, pateros = duck-raisers) [2]. Coupled with the technique for egg preservation presumably learned from those early Chinese settlers, Pateros' ducks have been laying uniquely golden eggs for centuries.

Photo credit: Jesslee Cuizon

Today, the municipality takes great pride in its history of premier balut-makers (mangbabalut) and their adherence to traditional methods of preparing the eggs by hand. However, Pateros' reputation as the center for balut production is facing a difficult future as the number of its traditional mangbabaluts dwindles and competitors in other towns turn to mechanized incubators capable of large-scale production [Salvador]. Furthermore, unchecked urbanization and runoff from nearby industrial plants have turned the Pateros River from a fertile, healthy environ for raising itiks into a thoroughly polluted, stagnant body of water. Although efforts are underway to clean up the river, it is a sad irony that Pateros mangbabaluts must currently procure their eggs from pateros in other municipalities [Paraiso].

In an Eggshell

No longer able to lay claim to traditional duck-raising and hesitant to convert to modern automation, these celebrated balut-makers have instead chosen to emphasize the superior quality of their traditionally produced eggs. Wrapping balut in clay and rice husks and keeping them warm for a couple of weeks is just one part of the process: each egg must be inspected at three intervals during the incubation period to ensure that the embryo is forming properly and to look for any minute cracks that may affect its quality. Unlike a hard-boiled unfertilized egg, which consists of the egg white (albumen) surrounding a creamy yellow ball of yolk, balut has four distinct parts - the yolk, the albumen (called bato, or 'stone', because it cooks up very firm), the amniotic fluid (sabaw), and the duck embryo (sisiw) [Magat]. All of these parts are edible but the latter two are crucial to perfect balut. Any crack in the shell could result in the evaporation of the sabaw, considered by many to be the tastiest part. But by far, it is the embryo that elicits the most anticipation and reaction.

"Not Regular Egg. Having Baby Inside."
Photo credit: Janet Lackey Schmalfeldt

Balut is categorized based on the length of incubation and development. As mentioned, the ideal duration is 17 days, which produces balut sa puti ('wrapped in white'), referring to a thin membrane covering the interior elements. At this stage, the sisiw is recognizable as a bird, including beak and delicate feathers, but the bones are still soft enough for eating. A balut that did not develop a chick inside is known as penoy and is essentially a hard-boiled egg when cooked, though the yolk is particularly velvety and flavorful. In complete contrast, an abnoy (derived from 'abnormal') is a balut whose embryo died before reaching the requisite days of development. Since nothing should be wasted, abnoy can be made into an omelette or a version of bibingka (steamed rice cake) for a particularly funky-smelling and -tasting delicacy, but the addition of a copious amount of vinegar condiment is highly recommended to save the senses [Davidson]. Don't worry about getting more - or less - than you bargained for: most magbabaluts will mark the eggshell to indicate balut sa puti, penoy or abnoy.

Balut-Eating = Monster-Making?

How and why did eating a recognizable yet underdeveloped fowl still in its shell become a popular foodstuff in the first place? The earliest consumption of fertilized duck eggs may have simply been a matter of chance: eggs were gathered whenever they were found in the wild and it is likely that many already contained embryos, for which people eventually developed a taste [Simoons]. Nutritionally, balut is an excellent source of energy, protein and even calcium, and given its economical price (one egg costs about 20 pesos, or approximately 50 cents), it is an affordable source of nourishment in a country where 30% of the population lives below the poverty line. The lure of cheap, filling food may be reason enough for some Filipinos to overcome some rather unusual doubts they may have about eating balut.

Despite their deeply entrenched Roman Catholic faith, many Filipinos still firmly subscribe to long-held superstitions that touch upon their food choices. According to Margaret Magat, in her excellent and detailed essay "Balut: Fertilized Duck Eggs and Their Role in Filipino Culture", some make a connection between balut consumption and aswang, a supernatural flesh-eating humanoid creature with a preference for dead bodies and unborn children. The appearance of balut and the way it is eaten are disconcertingly evocative of the aswang's modus operandi - sucking the lifeblood out of a human fetus through its mother's womb. This leads some to believe that the act of eating balut symbolically turns one into an aswang.

"[P.P. said] 'When you look at balut, you see the veins, the skin, the fetus inside. It's like you're eating human fetus.' P.P. believes that balut is something that would empower an aswang..."

(Magat 77)

Magat then discusses the role of spices and seasonings in Filipino folklore in warding off such evil spirits. As garlic is to a vampire, so is salt to an aswang; adding salt to an egg therefore mitigates the fear of a balut-eater symbolically becoming that awful ghoul. Such a belief might explain why sprinkling rock salt (a baggie of which the magbabalut always includes with your order of eggs) and vinegar with chilies is considered the 'right' way to eat balut.



Yet even if one does not believe in aswang, the idea of consuming a baby animal is disturbing to many people, both Filipino and non-Filipinos. The sense of disgust may lie in a subconscious recognition of the state of limbo represented by balut - of life incomplete or interrupted. This 'in-between' nature makes balut hard to categorized, as it is neither 'self' (a living being as we are) nor 'other' (merely food) and may be viewed as unclean or 'risky' to one's sense of self as being alive. These feelings of rejection and confusion in reaction to balut often physically manifest themselves in the form of gagging, making faces and feeling nauseated [Lupton].

Magic and Manhood

Nevertheless, concerns about aswang and limbo are not enough to dissuade balut devotees, who invoke a more powerful force than the supernatural to explain their appeal. Although there is no substantiating medical or scientific evidence, it is widely believed that balut is a potent aphrodisiac. It is supposedly sold only from evening to pre-dawn to provide fuel for anticipated amorous activities (wink-wink, nudge-nudge) [3]. Certainly, balut provides calories and other nutrients for physical energy, but its perceived power to enhance the libido may instead stem from the principles of sympathetic magic in which it is believed that objects sharing a resemblance to each other also share similar attributes, and that desirable (or undesirable) properties of one can be transferred to another by contact, such as food consumption.

Photo credit: Urbanfoodie33

Like the avocado in Central America, whose name is derived from the Nahuatl (Aztec) word ahuacatl, meaning 'testicle', eggs mimic the form of male sexual organs; similarly, an egg's oval shape and role as a vessel of life reflect that of a woman's womb. According to the Law of Similarity in sympathetic magic, eggs would hold the essences of these parts, presumably making them appealing to both sexes. In her study, however, Magat noted that three-quarters of Filipino balut eaters were men, in contrast to Vietnamese and Cambodian consumers, who were more evenly split between the sexes. Furthermore, a Vietnamese-American interviewee recounts in one anecdote that hot vin lon is not primarily taken as an aphrodisiac in his culture, but that he was persuaded of this correlation through his Filipino friends. Why is it that this sexualized component of balut does not seem to hold the same sway on Filipina women and in other food cultures as it does with Filipino men?

Magat theorizes that the discrepancy between genders and cultures may be explained by the influence of Spanish colonialism, which brought to the Philippines the concept of machismo, or male supremacy. According to Magat, balut may have gained its aphrodisiacal reputation as Filipino culture morphed from early norms of gender equality to one in which a double standard prevails - men are expected to demonstrate their virility through sexual prowess while women are expected to exemplify purity through chastity. Therefore, if balut is indeed a potent sexual energizer, then it would be inappropriate as a foodstuff for women.

Identity and Initiation

Beyond gender roles, Filipinos of both sexes do share a sense of identity through the consumption of balut. It serves as an emblem of nation, culture and even socio-economic status. Long considered a poor man's food, eaten with the hands and without rice (therefore not considered a 'proper' meal), balut has in recent years been elevated from humble street snack to a dish found in fine homes and restaurants, through preparations such as Sorpresa de Balut (peeled seasoned egg baked in a pastry) [Fernandez], Adobong Balut [4] (simmered in garlic, vinegar and soy sauce) and, most ironic, Balut a la Pobre ('Poor Man's Balut'). Today, balut is widely (if not infamously) recognized as a Philippine specialty and Filipinos of all backgrounds proudly eat them to signal their group membership. As such, it has become a form of initiation into Pinoy culture.

Stress test: a balut initiation under watchful lenses.
Photo credit: Gen Kanai

It is a tough test for many non-Filipinos to pass, as disgust is the most common reaction, fed by the representation of balut as a freakish, repulsive food on television shows and the aforementioned 'most gross' lists. But prevailing over that disgust and successfully consuming the little duckling (perhaps even enjoying it) means that an outsider gains acceptance and admiration from the 'in' group, and a sense of accomplishment usually reserved for extreme sports and death-defying activities:

"I knew my face also had to show something deeper still: an enlightened awareness that traveling to a new land meant nothing unless you were willing to embrace it fully.

"After discarding a section of beak and one leg, I struggled the duckling down. Our Filipino hosts erupted in applause. It was all for me. I'd done America a good turn."

(Rinella)

Love it or hate it, balut is worthy of closer consideration beyond its ranking on some weird foods list. It is a simple food with complex meanings and a history that can be traced to a distant land but is now firmly established in the Philippines. Appetizing to many and repulsive to even more, balut is not for everyone, but even those who may not enjoy its unusual charms can still appreciate its unique story.

Notes:
1. From Leela of SheSimmers: "[T]he Thai word for 'embryonic egg snack' and the Thai word for 'egg white' are both transliterated 'Khai Khao'. This is because the different tones get lost in the transliteration. In Thai, there's no confusion between the two as they're spelled and pronounced differently. The former is spelled ไข่ข้าว whereas the latter is spelled ไข่ขาว.Thai Khai Khao tends to be a little less developed than balut, though." Thank you, Leela!
2. Alternatively, the town is also famed for its shoe-making industry and may share credit for its name - sapateros is Spanish for shoemakers.
3. More likely, it is a quick, cheap pre-dinner meal for commuting workers; others tease that balut is sold only when it's dark so that you can't see the little duckling inside.
4. Check out recipes for Adobong Balut from Peachkins of The Peach Kitchen and Connie of Home Cooking Rocks.

Works Cited:
Davidson, Alan and Tom Jaine (eds). Oxford Companion to Food. Oxford: Oxford UP; 2006: 55.
Dunlop, Fuschia. "Transforming Eggs in Chinese Culinary Culture." In: Hoskings, Richard (ed.) Eggs in Cookery: Proceedings of the Oxford Symposium on Food & Cookery 2006. Devon, UK: Prospect; 2007: 51-59.
Fernandez, Doreen G. Tikim: Essays on Philippine Food and Culture. Manila: Anvil Publishing; 1994.
Lupton, Deborah. "Food, Risk and Subjectivity." In: Willams, SJ et al. (eds.) Health, Medicine and Society: Key Theoris, Future Agendas. New York: Routledge; 2000.
Magat, Margaret. "Balut: Fertilized Duck Eggs and Their Role in Filipino Culture." Western Folklore. 2002; 61.1:63-96.
Municipality of Pateros Website. Available at: www.pateros.gov.ph/index.asp.
"Municipality of Pateros." In: Paraiso Philippines Website. Available at: www.paraisophilippines.com.
Rinella, Steven. Personal essay. In: Bad Taste. www.salon.com 10 Oct 2006.
Salvador, Roja. "Pateros: Preserving and Protecting the Indigenous Skills." Our Own Voice Literary Arts Journal [online serial]. March 2004.
Simoons, Frederick J. Eat Not This Flesh. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press; 1994

**This post was adapted from a paper submitted for my coursework at the University of Minnesota, Spring 2010. ** 

Balut a la Pobre

It had been years since I last tasted a fertilized duck egg, mainly because balut is not readily available in the United States (except in those places with large concentrations of Filipinos). I finally tried it again a few years ago, when Mr. Noodle and I made our first Christmas visit to the Philippines and enjoyed Balut a la Pobre during Noche Buena. The name is simultaneously redundant and ironic: balut, a poor man's food, is recast as a fancy dish - sautéed and sauced - then renamed . . . Poor Man's Balut. Go figure.

My take on this dish is not as saucy as Balut a la Pobre should be, but it was flavorful, with a bit of extra bite from the use of ginger, and easy to prepare. I would not advise buying balut too far in advance of making this dish - you're most likely to find a magbabalut selling the eggs, still warm from the pot, only from early evening into late night. Although balut can be stored in the refrigerator for a day, it is really best when used or consumed immediately. 

Ingredients

2-3 Tbsps olive oil
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 medium shallot, finely chopped
1-inch piece of fresh ginger, peeled and thinly sliced in slivers
4 balut, peeled and sabaw ('soup' inside) reserved
1 Tbsp soy sauce
Red bell pepper, sliced for garnish
Green onion, cut on a bias, for garnish
Rock salt, to taste

To make:

Heat olive oil in a small sauté or fry pan over medium heat. Add garlic, shallots and ginger, and sauté until fragrant. You'll want them to start caramelizing, but not burn, so reduce heat if necessary. Add balut and cook until all sides are lightly browned. Pour reserved sabaw into the pan and add soy sauce, stirring around the eggs to mix. Cover partially and continue cooking for 3-5 minutes.

When done, place each egg over 1/2 cup of steamed white rice and top with caramelized garlic, shallots and ginger, bell pepper, green onions and rock salt. Serve with a side of vinegar and chopped chilies.

"Let's talk about this for a second . . . There's a lot of elements of a hard-boiled egg to it. It tastes, in some cases, just like a hard boiled egg. So the really soft stuff is the - oh, hello! There's the little guy . . . "

Andrew Zimmern, on eating balut  (Bizarre Foods with Andrew Zimmern/Philippines, 2/25/2007)