Sinigang For The Soul: Building Community Through #FilipinoFoodStories
My dad’s pork sinigang is the best sinigang out there, and that’s just facts.
Up late, exhausted, and bent over my college finals, I would crave this distinct comfort of home:
My dad’s pork sinigang, simmering in a perfectly balanced sour and savory broth.
My dad’s pork sinigang, filling bowls at holiday gatherings, birthdays, and potlucks.
My dad’s pork sinigang, carrying a nostalgic aroma of home-cooked meals and its own history from generations before me, an aroma that I proudly claim with my heritage when looking back on memories of silly school kids telling me it “smelled funny.”
My dad’s pork sinigang is the best sinigang out there, I would bet everything on that… but wouldn’t we all?
Everyone has their favorite Filipino dish, and we all swear that the recipes cooked up by our family are the best ones on the planet. Our love for our food is a significant trademark of our culture — but what if I told you that our food isn’t just ours? Our history is rich with influence from a number of cultures that brought their techniques and flavors to our islands, and it’s this rich history that has us finishing breakfast with half a mind already planning lunch and dinner. Food is a longstanding centerpiece of our identity as Filipinos and Filipino Americans. Through times of conflict, change, or uncertainty, there is a dish - and a story - to go along with it. So, it only makes sense that as we celebrate Asian American & Pacific Islander Heritage Month this May, we also shine a special light on the unique melting pot of flavors and stories that help make up the core of our Filipino identity.
The Evolution of Filipino Food
If someone were to ask you what Filipino food is, what would you say?
Our gut reflex might be to start listing out some well-known dishes, like lumpia, chicken adobo, and maybe even balut. But when you take a moment to pause and sit with that question, it might start to bug you: what actually is Filipino food anyway?
What makes our lumpia any different from Chinese spring rolls?
Doesn’t our mami noodle soup look strikingly similar to a bowl of Japanese ramen?
Isn’t leche flan just...your plain and typical flan (and isn’t it European in origin)?
Imagine, for example, my dad’s (legendary) pork sinigang: a fatty broth, with succulent pork belly slices, juicy boiled vegetables, and a tangy kick. It was a surprise to discover that at its most basic level, this staple soup is one we can find throughout all of South and Southeast Asia. When my partner tried sinigang for the first time, he shared how he found it similar to a Hmong boiled pork soup dish that his mom would prepare for their family. Another example is when I was introduced to the Vietnamese dessert chè thái, and I found myself caught between this new experience and my familiar recollections of halo-halo. The reality is that many of the dishes we are used to seeing on Filipino dining tables are not so unfamiliar to other parts of the world, and this is far from coincidence.
While dishes like pinakbet and kinilaw are considered indigenous staples to the Philippines, the colonial influences of Spain, Central and Eastern Asia, and the United States have all made an impact on the modern-day Filipino food pallet. Empanadas and lumpiang shanghai, for example, draw their inspiration directly from Spain and eastern Asia. Even the origins of our beloved Spam and sizzling sisig have ties to U.S. colonialism and militarization. These colonial influences further connect us to neighboring countries as these influences permeated other cultures alongside our own.
With all that being said, does this mean that the hype around your mom’s pancit canton is all a total waste? Well, of course not. “We’re so quick to put (other people’s Filipino food) down,” says Filipino American chef A.C. Boral in an interview with Kubo. “Understand that even though this isn’t your mom’s food, there’s still value in it. It’s still somebody’s mom’s food.”
Colonialism and conquest undoubtedly gave way to a culinary connection that extends across the greater Asia-Pasific. Different cultures and households may have their own variant on a common dish, but that doesn’t diminish the significance that dish has cemented into the cultural identity of any group. A single recipe may translate across many cultures, and within the differences, we can discover the unique trademarks of each region. Each recipe maintains a unique flavor profile at the hands of the people who continue to shape, experiment with, and transform them.
The Philippines is no stranger to this concept of cultural geography. Various languages, diverse cultural practices, and colonial influences are embedded all throughout the Philippine islands, and we see those same diversities reflected in the food we eat. Each region of the country has developed their own take on countless national dishes; sinigang, for example, can be prepared in a multitude of ways. The same dish might even be called something completely different in the northern part of the Philippines compared to the south. This myriad of culinary approaches to preparing Filipino food not only reflects the diversity of the Pilipino, but also our creativity, resourcefulness, and ability to adapt to an ever-evolving environment.
Filipino Food and the American Mainstream
This act of elevating and transforming food isn’t just something we see across the islands. For our kababayans who moved beyond the motherland, food travelled with them and only continued to evolve. In the United States, Philippine cuisine has grown in its reputation, coming a long way from the days of being insulted by silly school kids. With its growing visibility and popularity, there is less and less reason for our youth to eat their baon in the corner of the cafeteria or to try and keep the “ethnic smell” away from their peers.
Popular food critics like Andrew Zimmern and the late Anthony Bourdain have advocated that lasang Pinoy, or “the taste of the Philippines,” could be the next big thing for the American mainstream — and no, we aren’t just talking about Jollibee. While the recognition is nice, our people are the first to know that our dishes have always been a part of U.S. society, ever since the first wave of Filipinos arrived in Morro Bay, California over four centuries ago. Over the last four hundred years, Filipino Americans have cultivated our own unique and diverse lived experiences. The multicultural stimuli offered by growing up in the states has created the optimal environment for pushing the envelope on Filipino cuisine.
In early 2010, Bay Area foodies Evan Kidera and Gil Payumo aimed to combine Filipino and Mexican flavor profiles with their food cart Señor Sisig. The seemingly sacrilegious combo of sisig nachos and tosilog burritos may have seemed risky to the traditional eyes of an older generation of Filipino cooks, especially during a time when Filipino food was not widely known, but a decade later Kidera and Payumo’s fusion flavors have proven to be a huge success in the food world.
It’s not just our savory dishes breaking out into the culinary spotlight. SoCal-based pastry chef, Ginger Dimapasok, recently took home the top prize on Food Network’s ‘Chopped: Sweets’ for her halo-halo inspired coconut rambutan and lime sorbet. Take a trip up to the Pacific Northwest and you’ll find an array of treats to satisfy any Pinoy sweet tooth at Seattle’s Hood Famous Bakeshop, founded by baker Chera Amlag and her husband Geo Quibuyen — but wait — the influence of lasang Pinoy doesn’t stop there.
Travel to the east coast and you’ll discover the kamayan dinners at New York City’s Jeepney. Find your way to America’s capital and witness our influence in the inner workings of the White House kitchen. Across the country, it would appear that Filipino cuisine is fulfilling the culinary prophecies of Zimmern and Bourdain in the American mainstream.
There is much to celebrate when it comes to our progress, but even with that success, the reality is that the impact of the ongoing COVID-19 pandemic has hit the Filipino food industry hard. The small businesses that fueled this food movement continue to struggle against the economic downturn, urging their once-bustling Filipino storefronts to fight for survival. On top of restaurants closing down or moving to take-out only dining options, the anti-Asian rhetoric connected to the virus has also deterred customers away from Asian-owned businesses, which is hitting the Filipino food sector hard. In worse cases, establishments and their owners have become targets of racist threats and attacks. But given the resilient spirit of the Pilipino, this community surely isn’t going down without a fight.
Fil-Am organizations, non-profits, and community allies have all come together to support our nay-and-tay shops amidst all the chaos and unknown. Through fundraisers, social media campaigns, or other local initiatives, Filipino dishes continue to find their way to the nearest grumbling belly. One Down worked with Kultivate Labs on their #FilipinosFeedTheFrontlines campaign which, for example, raised over $48,000 in less than a month to provide meals to seniors and frontline workers while also supporting local Filipino businesses in the process. Even in the face of a widespread health crisis, our food always finds a way to bring people together.
The best way to a Filipino’s heart, is through the stomach
For Filipinos in the global diaspora, especially during these times of social and physical distancing, there can be a sense of longing for the comforting flavors and aromas that remind us of home, a special memory, a loved one far away, or maybe one no longer a part of this lifetime. This gusto, or desire, for comfort is best remedied by a home-cooked meal. The recipes for these meals are passed down just like our history, and with oral tradition acting as a vehicle, we may also discover the deeper comforts of our food. In true Chicken Soup for The Soul fashion, behind some of our favorite Filipino comfort dishes lies a story waiting to be told.
One example can be found at The Digital Sala, a virtual Filipinx literary collective, who recently collaborated with Filipino-Egyptian author, Malaka Gharib, to organize a Filipino recipe exchange project. The project (which I had the opportunity to take part in) aimed to bridge together Filipinos during a time where connection to others felt distant. Folks from around the world joined in on Zoom for a creative work session to make postcards with recipes of our favorite comfort dishes. These postcards would then be sent out in “Secret Santa” style to all the project participants. For one hour, 75 strangers came together to indulge in art and storytelling. Needless to say, it was a beautiful and moving space to be a part of.
Speaking through her webcam, Gharib explained that sharing these postcards wasn’t just about exchanging recipes, but exchanging lived experiences centered on the food we love in order to cultivate a deeper human connection. Ruminating on this idea of connection, I was brought back to moments in my adolescence of back-and-forth arguments with my family over the most trivial things — and it was then that I realized how these moments would fade at the dinner table. A phrase as ordinary as kain na tayo (let’s eat) would signal a cease-fire of sorts. It became an invitation to set aside our quarrels, even if just momentarily, and to give attention to a meal that was diligently prepared by the hands of a loved one. In those moments, without saying a single word, the simple act of sitting together in silence and sharing ulam as a family told a thousand truths.
Other participants shared their personal anecdotes about the meaningful recipes in their lives. One that stood out to me was a vegan spin on sinigang. The participant explained that their dad created the soup variant to support their vegan lifestyle while making sure they wouldn’t have to miss out on those comforting Filipino flavors. This idea of readapting recipes was a commonality among the other narratives that were shared. In an interview with Gharib after the event, when asked about her thoughts on what could be seen as a bastardization of the culture when we make such changes to these recipes, her response was straightforward: “If it's part of your family, it's part of the Filipino culture.” As she explains further, whether it is due to a pandemic, lifestyle change, or mere practicality, there are many people who may not have access to the “right” Filipino ingredients or means of preparing them. Still, as we always have and always will, we make do with what we’ve got.
“Filipinos have a melting pot history, anyway.” Gharib says, reminding us that our food has always been and always will be a product of that multicultural history. “We’re always innovating, changing, and creating.”
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So, then, what actually is Filipino food anyway? To put it simply, citing the wisdom of the late food historian and activist Dr. Dawn Mabalon, Filipino food is just good food.
You could think of our cultural dishes as a bud on a branch, connected to a greater giving tree of life. This same tree extends a branch to each and every one of us whenever we gather with friends and family around the table - or through a computer screen - to break bread, be in community, and love one another just a little bit more. Even my dad’s pork sinigang (again, arguably the best sinigang out there) was not a recipe pulled out of thin air. He learned from his mom - my late Lola Beth - who certainly learned from someone else before her, that person before them, and so on. As each individual provides adjustments or adds their own personal touches to a dish, it continues on with the generations, allowing us to continue to build together.
Always transforming, making the best with what we’ve got, and tasting good in the end — that’s what Filipino food is. Not just a lifeline that keeps us physically alive, but a means of connection through something as simple as a shared meal. And perhaps it is that recipe - the one for human connection, care, and comfort - that is the best Filipino recipe of all.
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Tell us your #FilipinoFoodStory by using the hashtag and posting your experience with Filipino cuisine! Photo by Leo Albea.
Abby Pasion is a Filipina American storyteller and community organizer based out of Portland, Oregon. Abby completed her B.A. degree at Oregon State University in 2019, studying Education and Ethnic Studies. She currently works for the Portland Public Schools District while also serving as Advisory Board Chair for the Northwest Filipino American Student Alliance. Follow her writing and creative adventures on Instagram!"
Editor: Kristine De Los Santos, Director Of Operations | One Down | Kristine@One-Down.Com
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