Fizz, Funk, and Flavor: Following Philippine Ferments
Starting a month of fermentation focus
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Fizz, Funk, and Flavor: Following Philippine Ferments
“Philippine cuisine began as all cuisines do: with the weather, the seasons, the sources and the particularity of place.” -Doreen G. Fernandez
The Philippine climate no doubt favors microbial multiplication. But prior Louis Pasteur’s revolutionary experiments associating microorganisms with fermentation, the changes in food were believed to be a spontaneous occurrence. It still astonishes me how our ancestors harnessed the magic of microbes long before any scientific correlation and managed to work with the high temperatures and humidity of the Philippines.
Before spiraling any further into this two-part written series and month-long exploration, I first want to give what I think is the most approachable definition of fermentation: the transformative action of microorganisms. That comes from fermentation revivalist Sandor Katz, an excellent resource I recommend for the intrigued.
The byproducts of these microbial actions were obviously desirable for the Filipino palate: tuba (coconut wine), basi (sugarcane wine), and tapuey (rice wine) continue to be favored beverages in households and ceremonies— locals proudly tell me these can be both tonics and potent libations with no hangover residuals; patis and bagoong thrive as complementary companions in many Filipino dishes; suka (vinegar) remains an instinctive condiment of choice to add acidity or temper fat, particularly as a base in sawsawan (a personalized dipping sauce akin to dipping sauces integral in a hot pot experience).
While there are a handful of commonly eaten fermented foods across the Philippines, the archipelago also offers an array of regional peculiarities largely dependent on the availability of surrounding raw material:
“Bagoong also takes on different names; there is bagoong na isda, bagoong alamang, bagoong na sisi, and guinamos. A product that is processed in a similar manner is dayok; it is made of brined fish entrails… ”
It is also worth noting hyperlocal fermented foods, some born from hardship or resourcefulness. One atypical fermented Philippine product is muscovado kefir, a fermented muscovado beverage, documented to be found in southern Bicol and Eastern Visayas. In Leyte, agos-os (fermented sweet potato and ground pig head mixture) was essential to preserve food supply during Japanese occupation in the 1940s. At that time, root crops were abundant and pig head was an economical choice.
Primarily practiced as a method for food preservation prior the present widespread use of pasteurization and refrigeration, fermentation also brings substantial beneficial functionalities. In Philippine Fermented Foods: Principles and Technology, author Priscilla Chinte-Sanchez notes the numerous ways in which fermented foods bring value:
“(1) enrichment of the human diet through the development of a wide diversity of flavors, aromas, textures in food; (2) preservation of substantial amounts of food… ; (3) enrichment of [essential nutritional components]; (4) detoxification of fermented products; and (5) reduction of cooking time and fuel requirements."
Let me dive into one final example of fermentation’s role in improving nutrition, particularly because it was this finding that hammered how common foods can be radically transformed:
“A diet consisting basically of high-starch substrates like cassava and other root crops can result in malnutrition. An increase in protein content in starch-rich raw material is achieved through fermentation. Sanchez reports that protein content of cassava increased from 0.64% to 7.88%-8.50% using… a solid state fermentation process.”
For hardly doing anything, that’s pretty incredible. It’s like sitting in a sauna and seeing a complete body transformation after sweating. An interesting study published last year on lafun—a starchy food made of fermented cassava regularly consumed alongside soups and stews in parts of Africa—reported statistically significant nutritional enrichment after using a particular yeast strain called Saccharomyces boulardii in lafun-making over spontaneous fermentation (or naturally found flora). I say forget glamorous nootropic drinks. How do we secure S. boulardii inoculated cassava into our current food chain and boost availability for functional foods instead? (And not those band-aid food solutions— I’m talking about you golden rice).
Despite the obvious benefits of fermentation, many factors have influenced a cultural shift away from the practice: the rise of commercialization, urban development, and colonial influence, to name a few.
The modern economy’s shift to consumerism reinforces the push for expedited products with consistent tastes. The depth and funk of fish sauce and shrimp paste are overshadowed by bouillons and packets of Magic Sarap, all-in-one seasonings guaranteed to enhance flavor. If you walk into your local Filipino supermarket, you may (or may not) have noticed some bottles of Philippine fish sauce labeled as “patis flavor.” Yes, patis flavor! Such a thing exists! In 1977, the Philippines Food and Drug Administration released Administrative Order No. 325 which states patis flavor as, “Any liquid seasoning or flavoring with similar characteristics but whose protein content is less than 2.5%…”
So, in other words: patis imitation. I’ll let that marinate for a bit.
I didn’t quite understand why protein content determines patis quality and what I foolishly thought would be a simple online answer led to way too many research studies, a protein to nitrogen correlation in a 1961 study from an aging copy of The Philippine Journal of Fisheries, and a DM to a food scientist. I guess a Pandora’s box of patis exists— of all things. Let me tell you, seek and ye shall find. In brevity, protein content is correlated to nitrogen level (an indicator of fermentation quality hence the 40N you see proudly displayed on Vietnam’s Red Boat Fish Sauce bottles), but that’s a whole other geeky discussion that will weave its way into a future standalone issue.
Vinegar variations—sukang tuba, sukang Iloco, sukang pinya, sukang sasa—crawl beneath the industry pedestal of white vinegar. I myself have yet to try sukang watwat, a spiced vinegar similar to sinamak found in Baguio made of “sugar cane vinegar, onion, green pepper, garlic, ginger, grapes, plum, licorice root, salt and bird’s eye chili pepper.” The umami-laden, sour, and pungent flavors abound in fermented foods are melted into hastened homogenized substitutes stripped of nutritional benefits and void of complexity.
Then there’s the shift in patterns of food consumption, which can be attributed to rural-to-urban migration as well as at the city’s somewhat obsessive inclination for mall development. Metro Manila “boasts two of the ten largest commercial malls in the world and is home to no less than 200 shopping malls…” Malls, which are inundated with restaurants and have accessible (not to mention air-conditioned) grocery stores, compete with traditional ways of food procurement, the most ubiquitous being: palengkes (permanent wet market), talipapas (periodic wet market), sari-saris (small neighborhood mom and pop shops), and peddlers who typically also have a kariton (push cart).
Urban development brought condominium-mall complexes, supermarkets and convenience stores. I will admit, Manila is far from a walkable city. Arbitrary sidewalks seem to vanish or contract with no warning often pushing pedestrians to the street and its convoluted public transportation system thrusts commuters in the thick of traffic pollution. My dad, a Bicolano who grew up in Manila, offers his insight on this preference for condominium-malls: “Imagine, you can walk from the condo to the mall and get mostly everything you need. If you don’t have a car in Manila, and most don’t, you have to find what works. And if you can avoid the heat? Even better.”
I don’t disagree. I understand his reasoning, but I also think about the loss of intergenerational cultural knowledge as more people move away from direct engagement with food vendors or producers. What happens to sensory memory? What happens to palengke wisdom?
That’s not to say the practice of fermentation is fraught. In the six months I’ve been in the Philippines, I’ve seen a diverse range of fermentation application in the role of daily life. From a retired food science professor making fruit wine as an effort to reduce post-harvest losses and add value in food production to a restaurant kitchen exploring ways to amplify Filipino flavors within local boundaries. This generation, fueled by curiosity and growing food conscientiousness, is revitalizing this seemingly mystified practice. Fermentation has never been more exciting and in a time that urges humankind to rekindle care and sensibility for the world around them, fermentation has never been more relevant.
By bringing together a company of Filipino voices in fermentation, I hope to diffuse the dynamic possibilities (and perhaps necessities) of what once was the country’s fundamental relationship with its surrounding ingredients. Just as there is no singular way to be Filipino, there is no singular way to preserve culture. It just so happens that the practice of fermentation can be an act of preservation, both inside and outside the kitchen.
On the next issue: Filipinos share their favorite ferments and what draws them to the practice of fermentation in today’s current landscape. We’ll be introducing them throughout this month.
“To ferment your own food is to lodge a small but eloquent protest - on behalf of the senses and the microbes - against the homogenization of flavors and food experiences now rolling like a great, undifferentiated lawn across the globe. It is also a declaration of independence from an economy that would much prefer we remain passive consumers of its standardized commodities, rather than creators of idiosyncratic products expressive of ourselves and of the places where we live…”
—Michael Pollan, Cooked: A Natural History of Transformation
Filipino food translations:
Kesong puti = white soft cheese
Burong mustasa = fermented mustard leaves
Burong isda = fermented rice and fish mixture
Balao-balao = fermented rice and shrimp mixture
Bagoong & patis = fish paste and fish sauce
Bagoong sisi = fermented small oyster and clams
Nata = cellulosic pellicle or “jelly”
Tuba = palm sap wine
Basi = sugarcane wine
Puto = fermented rice cake
Tapuey & binubudan = rice wine and sweetened rice wine
Toyo = soy sauce
👋 Say hello to meryenda’s first intern!
Jeremy reached out to us as part of his Asian American Studies course at San Francisco State University. He’s been helping us tremendously with research and interview transcriptions and we can’t wait to share his piece exploring Filipino-American food regionality. I’ll admit we’re actually quite ecstatic to have someone onboard carrying both academic and industry perspectives. We’re forever grateful to share space with individuals hungry to expand Philippine stories and Filipino diaspora narratives.
Jeremy’s recommended reading list:
Eating Asian America: A Food Studies Reader
Beyond Authenticity: Rerouting the Filipino Culinary Diaspora by Martin F. Manlansan IV
Acting Asian American, Eating Asian American: The Politics of Race and Food in Don Lee’s Wrack and Ruin by Jennifer Ho
Oriental Cookery: Devouring Asian and Pacific Cuisine during the Cold War by Mark Padoongpatt
Kandice Chuh’s Imagine Otherwise: On Asian Americanist Critique
Sumptuous Texts: Consuming ‘‘Otherness’’ in the Food Film Genre by Helene A. Shugart
In case you missed it 👀
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Yesss! I'm on the same wavelength right now, playing around with ferments in the kitchen! I'm so stoked for this series!
Fantastic stuff! Looking forward to the rest of this series