dinengdeng, glorious dinengdeng!

I'm a typical Ilokano who can't live without dinengdeng, come share my passion...

various authentic, exotic, ilokano pinakbets

Concoction or variations of this kind of exotic Ilokano dish, of this ever ubiquitous vegetable stew...

sinanglaw? paksiw? which?

What do you prefer, Vigan-sinanglaw or Laoag-paksiw? What about pinapaitan and singkutsar?

unnok/ginukan, freshwater shellfish

Want some unnok soup or ginukan bugguong?

baradibud a tugi, lesser yam vegetable stew

Tugi, for some, is only meant to be boiled and eaten simply as is. But for me, it's an indispensable ingredient for yet another hearty Ilokano dish...

Showing posts with label Adobo. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Adobo. Show all posts

7/18/2019

pannakipunsion idiay ballesteros

On a 2013 pannakipunsion (going to an occasion, or foodie trip for that matter), this time the christening of the daughter of a writer-friend, in Ballesteros, Cagayan, we were feted with the usual local community handaan or sagana, and here’s you’ll find some unusually delicious dishes meant for special occasions, that teased our eager palates. You can see here the traditional pork igado, dinardaraan and adobo; there’s a native chicken adobo, too; and the inevitable pancit bihon. And some more:



Here are some real appetizer—coconut heart/bud (ubog ti niog) cooked in coconut milk and spiced with chili and raw onions and adorned with bits of fried pork intestines/tripe; and the obligatory beef kappukan, of course:



And yes, there’s a veggie, this a dinengdeng, not pinakbet, actually sautéed dinengdeng, of squash fruit and flowers, tarong, sili, okra, with fried pork meat and fat:



The ubog ti niog is the favorite:



And there’s the specialty of the Ilokano writer-poet Jobert Pacnis (father of the christened girl)—ginettaan or sinursuran a bulong ti ariwat (ariwat leaves cooked in coconut milk; ariwat [Tetrastigma harmandii Planch.], ayo in Tagalog, is vine with edible sweet, sour fruit), a sweet and really sour dish to get rid of your suya from all those fatty and meaty pork dishes:



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2/01/2019

eel soured with palali (catmon) fruit

Igat (eel, palos) is unusually abundant these days in Cagayan Valley (Region 2, Philippines), what with a reported one ton daily export to countries who relish this rather slimy but very tasty fish, especially the Japanese, Chinese, Koreans. And these are eels gathered in the rice paddies in the region, mostly growing wild. A kind of small eel called kiwet is even considered now as a pest in the ricefields in the valley, especially in Nueva Vizcaya and Isabela, because this eel burrow and bore in the soil, making holes and thus draining the rice paddies. Farmers gather it as a delicacy though and one of the preferred way of cooking it is deep frying it in oil to make it crispy and crunchy.

Some do not like eels because of its distinct sliminess and overwhelming langsi or lang-es (fishy stench, lansa). But proper cleaning and cooking can rid these and turn it into a very tasty fish dish, like adobo, paksiw, even sinigang (sour soup). It can also simply be grilled. And it’s perfect for  tapa or daing (sun-dried, salted or smoked).

Eel adobo soured with palali fruit.

One Sunday morning, I saw these gorgeous eels for sale along the highway in Iguig, Cagayan. Live eels in various sizes still wriggling. I was told these were caught in the nearby Cagayan River, unusually larger than the known kiwet variety that thrives in the rice fields (but I was later informed that this is the same kiwet, anyway). I bought one stringful of three eels for PhP100. I like to think it’s a bargain. These are kind of exotic fish and is prized by some gourmands who claim it’s an aphrodisiac food and therefore insanely expensive in some countries:

I cut and cleaned the eels, repeatedly rinsed it in water to get rid of the slime and draining all its blood thoroughly (kiwet it really is because of its unusual sliminess!):

I intend to cook it into an adobo, dry and a bit salty stew which is just apt for the firm texture of this fish. I decided not to use vinegar as a souring agent and instead opted to use palali (catmon) fruit:

I cooked my adobo nga igat in slow fire for all the flavors and spices (soy sauce, garlic, black peppercorn) and sourness to seep in. As it cooks, the fish will literally ooze its fat:

Simmered into a dry, palali-soured adobo, the igat is here rendered phenomenally tasty and delicious, I say that the the palali fruit as a souring agent further removed the fishy smell than a vinegar can, adding more flavor into the delicate but firm eel flesh:



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11/05/2013

panangisagana iti mailuto a kamanokan, native chicken preparation

[Warning: Graphic photos of slaughtered fowl, maybe disturbing to some, please view with discretion. Thank you.]

Cut native chicken ready for cooking.
Preparing chicken for cooking into your favorite chicken dishes entails a lot of labor, so to speak, you’ll be obliged to know and apply some bits of slaughtering, quartering, cutting, cleaning techniques. Especially if you butcher kamanokan or that so-called “native” free range chicken. Of course, there’s an added thrill if you yourself will the one to prepare the chicken, unlike buying already cut “white” and “untasty” chicken from your meatshop or suki meat vendor for choice cuts like drumstick, thight, breast, back, neck, wings, head, feet, isaw. Not so with kamanokan because you buy it “live” as nobody sells dressed or pre-cut kamanokan. Even if you do not have native chickens in your backyard, there are available ones for sale in most public markets, but it’s sure expensive, from PhP200 a kilo and up.
A kamanokan for sale in a roadside talipapa.
I’m used to butchering kamanokan since I was a child in the barrio. Farm, okey, peasant, boys are expert butchers of native fowl, be it chicken, duck, goose, turkey and those wild birds caught in the ricefields and forested areas.

For one, I can prepare a native chicken all by myself, grasp and hold it so it can’t move (a chicken is so strong, moreso when it’s dying, it trembles so hard in its spasmic last it’s like having a violent seizure), then kill it by slashing its neck for that precious dara (blood, for sapsapuriket or dinardaraan later or as a delicious coagulated blood in the savory tinola) to gush out and then trickle down your malukong (bowl) with a ready little suka (vinegar) and/or diket a bagas (sticky rice grains).

Then, the dressing, (or is it really undressing?) the plucking out of its feathers after immersing the bird in hot water (to loosen the feather in the skin), a somewhat painstaking labor but worth the effort later for that promise of a tasty digo (soup) that only a kamanokan can assure.


And then, you’ve got to get rid of the tiny hair-like feathers which cannot be pulled out so easily from the skin, by making sarabasab (put over fire) the dressed bird into an open fire or flame, to burn the muldot (hair):
The sarabasab.
Chicken with its “hairs” burnt.
Then, the washing of the dressed chicken. Wash it thoroughly and vigorously in nagarasawan (ricewash water). Some even scrub and rub it with salt. Get rid of all dirt and burnt feather ends. Remove also the scales of its feet. Then wash it again and rinse it many times in tap or running water.

After which, the opening up and cutting up. Remove the kinarakaran (crop) and its esophagus as well as the wind pipe in the neck area. The gizzard connects to the batikuleng (gizzard), do not cut off the “connecting tube” at this juncture, remove them at once later, kinarakaran and batikuleng and the other organs (liver, heart, lungs, etc.) and the intestines:


Then open it up. There’s a little trick or technique on how to open up the bird like this:


Remove the butt with the intestine connecting into it intact. Be careful in doing this, you might cut it wrong and it will make a mess with chicken shit, errrr:


Here’s the bunch of the removed organs and intestines (notice that there also the “balls”, the testicles; yes these are male kamanokans, roosters), ready for cleaning:


The dara:

The cutting up and cleaning of the organs and intestines:


Choice cuts, especially for adobo—thighs, drumsticks, breasts, wings:


The dalem (liver), batikuleng, puso. And the apro (bile) is there, upper right, for the pinapaitan soup later:


The “buto-buto” (tultulang) or bony parts—feet, neck, head, ribs, back—ready in a pot, perfect for tinola or lauya:


All ready:




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Watch out: dinardaraan a kamanokan and pinapaitan a kamanokan.



7/20/2013

"native" chicken adobo

One of my incessant food cravings, whenever I long for my being a "barriotic" or "promdi" is a lunch or supper where in the lowly dulang (literally a low wooden dining table) is set and served a bowl of piping hot soup called tinola or lauya a manok, or a manok adobo. And that the chicken must be, as it should be, a "native" one. Well, the so-called "kamanokan," the free-range almost-wild but domesticated one, of course, the usual poultry "dingo" in the barrios, in the away. As a child in Casantolan, we used to have scores of native chickens, and so, occasionally we have our meaty meals to augment our protein needs as we folks are usually more used to a vegetarian diet then, with the scarcity and expensiveness of meat or fish (or simply because we can't afford it).
Naadobo a netib a manok.

And so, on my recent visit to my place, it's SOP that I have to pamper myself a bit and afford a lauya or adobo, what with the fact that when I saw these creatures (photos below), pardon, I saw them dressed and boiling and steaming and wafting that familiar "native" aroma:


So, here's it, I caught my choice one from the brood and imprisoned the poor creature:


And he's here being slowly made into an adobo (sorry, sorry, poor creature, that I came and hungry I came; as a courtesy to its great sacrificial role, I won't show the butchering photos here anymore):


After about an hour or less of slow wood fire cooking, the meat is tender enough, the soup simmered and thickened into just a little broth that literally cooked the chicken in its own oily essence. This adobo version is simple, it's cooked with only the basic condiment and spices of garlic, onions, ginger, and salt. No vinegar and soy sauce. Some call it "white adobo." But I cooked it this way with a purpose: the rest of it (but of course, we Ilokano rural folks are that frugal, you know, we don't consume such a delicious treat at once but we set aside some pieces for the next meals) will be boiled again later as a lauya or tinola complete with green papayas and young sili leaves, and with more ginger for a zest:

And again with my dented tin plate, I made a labay of chicken and rice:


Care to see my labay, here are some of my choice chicken cuts (click photo to enlarge) -- the ulo (head), the karaykay (feet), bagis (intestines), the luppo (thights) and so on. Missing are the kimmol (tail), payak (wings), tengnged (neck), and the prized ones: the dalem (liver) and the batikuleng (gizzard). Those are rightfully set aside to grace the tinola later:

Ah, the nativity of it all, I shall return again to Casantolan, the real return of the native to his native soil and to his native gluttony of sort. :-)


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5/19/2012

octopus adobo

Kurita. Octopus. At its freshest state of being, freshly caught and brought out from the sea, kurita is priceless for its sweet succulence. I chanced upon a kurita in the local wet market one Sunday morning. I decided to make it into an adobo a kurita, one of the most common dish made with octopuses and squids.


Wash the kurita thoroughly. Cut it in bite size. Discard the innards, spare some of the ink sac to be used to thicken and "blacken" the adobo.

I cooked it just like like what an adobo should be. But because this is not the usual pork or chicken or beef meat, I had to saute the garlic (browned) and onions (caramelized) first in cooking oil, And then I briefly stir fried the cut kurita, poured in some ink, some soy sauce, some vinegar and some cracked peppers. Cooking kurita should be quick, get it done with a few stirs. Do not overcooked or the kurita becomes like a hard rubber/plastic. Cook it as fast as possible to retain its soft texture and sweetish freshness.

I made mine thicker with more ink. You can moderate thickness or blackness by the amount of ink you put in. I think I made it with more ink as this looks like a dinardaraan (dinuguan, blood stew) than an adobo! Ha-ha!



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