Serves: 2

Ingredients

Steak

• 1 to 1.5 pounds strip loin or rib eye steak

• Kosher salt

• Freshly ground black pepper

• 2 tablespoons neutral oil

Salad

• 2 to 3 cups peeled and julienned green mangoes

• 1 medium tomato, julienned (I used Roma)

• 1/4 medium red onion, julienned

• Bunch of cilantro, roughly chopped

Dressing:

• 2 tablespoons soy sauce

• 2 tablespoons calamansi juice (…

Read more

Serves: 8 to 12

Ingredients

Ube Banana Pudding

• 3 egg yolks

• 1 1⁄2 cups whole milk

• 3 tablespoons cornstarch

• 1⁄2 cup ube halaya

• 1 teaspoon ube extract

• 1 1⁄2 tablespoons softened butter, cubed

• Pinch kosher salt (~1/8 teaspoon)

• 3⁄4 cup heavy cream

• 3 ripe bananas, sliced

• Nilla wafers (~50 wafers divided between the two layers, and more for the crushed topping)

Instructions

Read more

Serves: 2

Ingredients

Chicken Adobo Rice

• 3 to 5 chicken thighs (depends on the size of the thighs), de-boned and cut into bite-sized chunks

• 3 garlic cloves, minced

• 2 bay leaves

• 1 1⁄2 tablespoons brown sugar

• 1⁄4 teaspoon ground black pepper

• 3 tablespoons soy sauce

• 2 tablespoons white vinegar

• 1 cup rinsed jasmine rice

• 1 cup + 2 tablespoons unsalted chicken stock

Topp…

Read more

Serves: 1 (1 eggplant per person!)

Ingredients

Tortang Talong

• 1 medium-sized Chinese or Filipino eggplant

• 1 large egg

• 1⁄4 teaspoon kosher salt, to taste

• 1⁄4 teaspoon ground black pepper, to taste

• 1 tablespoon neutral oil, for frying

• 1 green onion, chopped (for topping)

Sweet and Spicy Sauce

• 2 tablespoons banana ketchup (or regular ketchup)

• 1 teaspoon honey

• 1 teasp…

Read more

Serves: 2

Ingredients

Hainanese Chicken Rice

• 4 to 6 boneless chicken thighs (depends on the size of the thighs)

• 3/4 teaspoon kosher salt

• 1/4 teaspoon ground white pepper

• 1 teaspoon toasted sesame oil

• 1 tablespoon neutral oil

• 3 garlic cloves, minced

• 2 thumbs ginger, sliced

• 1 cup rinsed white jasmine rice

• 1 1/4 cup unsalted chicken stock

• 1/8 teaspoon ground turmeric,…

Read more

Serves: 2

Ingredients

Beef Pares Soup

Soup:

• 1 tablespoon neutral oil, for frying

• 1/2 to 1 pound beef, cut into 1/2-inch-cubes (use well-marbled chuck, shank, or sirloin)

• 1 teaspoon kosher salt

• 1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper

• 1 small yellow onion, chopped

• 5 garlic cloves, minced

• 2 thumbs ginger, peeled and sliced

• 4 cups unsalted beef stock

• 1/4 cup soy sauce

• 1/4 cup …

Read more

Serves: 3 to 6

Read more

I answered simply: for accessibility. But even months later, I’m still thinking about it. Why do I translate at all?

I left the Philippines at three and grew up in Canada, where I learned English alongside Tagalog. I constantly moved between two contexts, a Filipino family at home, and a new Canadian culture in elementary school. I found myself often explaining things in shorthand to my non-Filipino or non-Tagalog speaking friends, so naturally, translation became instinctive.

Nearly ten years later, I’m looking at those habits differently and what once felt automatic, I now recognize as something more deliberate. Translation is a tool and it can easily shape how something is received and understood.

Translation as a Tool

I believe translation exists on a spectrum. There isn’t a clear-cut “yes” or “no” because my decision to translate would depend on the intent and context: who is the audience and what is the purpose for doing so?

Food menus, for example, serve different functions from a cookbook. While menus optimize to entice and orient diners, cookbooks aim to instruct and guide cooks through recipes.

A Filipino-majority space also assumes cultural familiarity (which, in those cases, translation may not even be needed), while a Western space does not.

As someone creating content in the Western diaspora, translation in my work is less about seeking approval and more about me providing clarity and invitation. In my context, translation expands the table.

Where it Gets Messy

Even then, I’ve learned over time that food names are rarely neutral. Names carry history, technique, regional diversity, and cultural identity.

I’ve been seeing this all over Threads lately: people jokingly calling Kwek Kwek as “Orange Neon Balls” or Palitaw as “Coconut Mochi”.

Those names grab attention (they even make surface-level sense), but they strip away specificity. Umbrella terms or forced comparisons can result in cultural dishes getting reduced to “just a stew” or snacks becoming “basically a coconut dish”. They’re not entirely wrong, but they’re terribly incomplete, and it just ends up feeling…hollow.

It’s part of my job to constantly analyze and keep up with new food trends on social media. Platforms reward simplification, and a quick, legible food name travels faster. It’s even better if the recipe itself is easy and framed as a discovery, that’s just how internet culture works.

But it’s this dynamic that explains why dishes that have existed for decades suddenly feel “revolutionary” when they’re renamed or repackaged. Viral marinated eggs. Viral rice bowls. Viral brothy rice. None of these are actually new, but they’re framed as innovations rather than a continuation of their origins.

Watching something familiar become legible only after it receives a kind of platform endorsement from someone positioned closer to the mainstream, or after its name has been repackaged to fit it, further becomes frustrating.

That being said, I don’t think translation is inherently erasure or dilution. Sometimes it’s just about being practical.

If I served Sinigang to a crowd unfamiliar with Filipino cuisine and left it unexplained, many diners would be curious and intrigued, but they’d likely be unsure on how to approach it.

This applies to recipes, too. If someone outside the Philippines saw bagoong guisado in an ingredient list, they’d also need guidance to properly understand and recreate the dish.

In that sense, translation supports accessibility. Some level of translation is bound to occur when food crosses languages. English can help clarify without replacing, but it still needs to be used mindfully.

What Now?

If French and Italian food names like Beef Bourguignon and Aglio e Olio can permeate into English vocabulary, there is little reason why Asian food names can’t do the same.

For me, that means starting with the cultural name and following with translations or descriptors only to clarify.

Kare Kare, for example, shouldn’t just be renamed “Oxtail Stew”. It is an oxtail stew, yes, but it’s also something more specific, tied to Filipino cuisine and history. Calling it only by “Oxtail Stew” can make it interchangeable with dozens of other oxtail dishes across cultures.

Instead, I’d present it as:

“Kare Kare, a Filipino Peanut Oxtail Stew,”

which can then be followed by additional context: “served with vegetables and a side of bagoong guisado” for proper serving instruction.

In this structure, the cultural name does the anchoring, and the description helps people understand what the dish is, rather than replacing it. Repetition and context are what eventually makes unfamiliar dish names familiar.

I’m not trying to set a universal rule here. I’m mainly speaking to how I’ve started thinking about translation in my own work, grounded in Tagalog, presented in English, and expressed as a diaspora creator. I still see translation as a helpful tool that can invite people in, it just requires a bit more care and responsibility.

I’m still navigating this balance myself, whether it’s through my writing, my voiceovers, my recipes, or whenever explaining something unfamiliar to a non-Filipino. It’s been instinctive for most of my life, and unlearning that takes time and constant practice.

The responsibility, then, isn’t to avoid translation entirely, but rather, to use it more deliberately and let the cultural name lead.

Elsewhere

If you’re new here, my name is Ian, I’m a food creator with a focus on Filipino food and culture through the diaspora. I run a recipe website focused on Filipino cooking and share content across social platforms as @Iankewks.

I’ve started a new “Pantry Talk Series” where we dive deep into common Filipino pantry items (the first one was covering Toyo). I’ll probably film the next episode this week (hint: it’s one of the key ingredients in adobo!).

There’s also a few things I’m working on that’s been keeping me busy. Lately I’ve been experimenting with recipes for a few Filipino dinners. Mainly as practice and as a way to foster community offline, as I’ve made it a goal not to doom scroll excessively this year.

I’d love to hear your thoughts: If you move between languages too, how do you decide what stays and what gets translated?

Threads felt like Twitter mixed with Vine’s punchy energy. Grey and vagueness were ignored, spicy content was rewarded.

I was drafting a blog post one midnight, when I randomly thought of the Filipino birthday parties I grew up with. The most vivid memory was those red hotdog skewers with marshmallows at the tips.

I adored these. They weren’t exactly my favorite to eat, but whenever they came out, you just knew the party was about to be unforgettable.

They were chaotic, absurd, a little crazy, but it was deeply Filipino and that’s what made it iconic. I posted about this on Threads, hoping to capture that same ‘fever-dream’ image.

And then the post blew up.

Going viral feels like opening a can of worms each time. Some laughed, some felt nostalgic, while others critiqued (I was even called a Twink, which was a first).

It was weird. In a way, it felt like the message I initially wrote had slipped completely out of my hands. But that’s the nature of virality, sometimes your words stop fully belonging to you and it simply feeds whatever side of the algorithm gets to it first.

As both a creator and long-term consumer of online content, I’ve noticed the same trap. Social media nearly always rewards the bold and the spicy.

Whether it’s about celebration or outrage, an interesting opinion or completely terrible take, so long as the post has eyes and comments, the algorithm rarely cares. It just wants engagement.

Creators chase clicks for relevancy and influence. Viewers chase the endless scroll, pausing only when something loud enough grabs their attention. At the end, we all get hooked in.

It left me asking: What kind of creator do I want to be? Someone who chases quick spikes of attention, or someone who shares food, stories, and everything in between? Maybe I could do both.

One thing’s for sure, the food I share, my diaspora reflections, and even nostalgic fever dreams like hotdog skewers, deserve more than just clickbait.

How about you? What’s your favorite childhood food memory? Let me know, I’d love to read them!

Leave a comment

While you’re here, I wanted to share a few things I’m excited about right now!

Firstly, my NYC Filipino Food Crawl guide is finally live. This is a mini guide, it’s not (yet) a fully-fleshed out reference sheet, but I will hopefully make a second volume during my next visit.

You can download it for free here.

Since it’s also officially Fall season, I’ll most likely get some new, comforting, and cozy recipes up for all of you.

For now here’s some that I think would be great for this weather (feel free to tag me if you end up making any!):

• Pork Nilaga

• Khao Soi

• Lugaw

And one final thing, I’m reviving something that I’ve been meaning to do for a looong time (if you were here from my Discord days, you’d know exactly what I’m talking about, haha).

We’re in the process of launching an online Iankewks community, a place where we can connect more intimately and discuss all things food, cooking, culture, etc.

We still need a few more Community Leaders to volunteer to help shape the space, so if you’re passionate about fostering community and engaging with other cool people online, I’d love for you to join!

The google application link is here. Salamat again!

Until the next deep dive.

-Ian

Happy to say that I’m gently crawling out of that hole, slowly, but surely.

I’m currently drafting this at 12 am, sipping a cocoa husk tea that we brought home from the Philippines. It’s almost like a very watered down hot cocoa with extra spices (but better!)

The Traffic

On our first night, I was an hour and a half late to a friend’s dinner, thanks to a drive from Pasay to Quezon City which I naively thought would only take 25 minutes (in my defence, Google Maps said so…At 3 am).

Traffic in Metro Manila was no joke. I quickly learned that dedicating at least 1-2 hours prior to every plan and clustering our itineraries by neighbourhood and city was crucial.

While it can be brutal, this was all part of the rhythm and realities of daily living for many Filipinos. It gave me time to people watch and I even squeezed in a few naps.

How Enormous the Malls Were

We stayed by SM Mall of Asia (MOA), and this place was massive.

You could spend an entire day touring there and still not cover every single section the mall had to offer (there were so many places I have yet to try on my next visit).

Malls in Canada were pretty straightforward. You can do some quick shopping, watch a movie, and maybe grab a quick bite at the food court.

But in Metro Manila, malls were designed for more than just shopping. You can eat in restaurants on every floor, watch movies or play arcade games in the entertainment districts, eat and grab a snack in between, do your groceries, get a physical checkup, do ice skating, oh, and eat again.

How Tagalog Can Humble You

While I can speak Tagalog decently, understanding it was a different story.

My Tagalog was solid enough to hold conversations, order food, talk to drivers, and joke around with family. But like with any language, Tagalog carries nuance.

Hanging with local friends, I often found myself in that awkward-in between where you could follow the conversation, but sometimes the in-jokes and slang just fly right past you.

It was one thing to know the language, and another to be fluent in the culture and flow of the language within the country itself.

Family Dynamics

While Filipino families are deeply affectionate, they can also come across as very direct. Jokes hit hard, because you know there’s always some truth to them.

On our first arrival to Bulacan (my dad’s side of the family), I was met with many relatives, often greeting me with the dreaded questions: “Are you married yet?”, “When do you plan to have kids?”, and “Why aren’t you taller?”

I know that they usually come from a place of curiosity and connection, just expressed slightly differently.

Admittedly, it did get overwhelming at times, but I feel it definitely reminded me on how to hold on to my boundaries, even with family.

How it Shaped My View of Being Filipino

When growing up in the diaspora, you tend see Filipino culture in fragments, rather than the whole context. A large part of my identity, then, really centred around reclamation and picking up those pieces to make a whole.

Whatever my parents passed down onto me, which teleseryes were on TV, and any bits of culture my Filipino friends and community carried, that became the version of “Filipino” I knew.

We often times have to scream our Filipino-ness, to prove that we’re here, we exist, and we’re thriving. Or sometimes, to prove that we are Filipino enough.

Returning home reminded me that there never were just “one” version of being Filipino, but multiple ones.

I observed how the rhythms of living differed in the urban cities compared to the provinces. I understood more than ever that there are regions, countless dialects, and different ways of being Filipino across the country, all shaped by their geography and lived experiences.

Growing up without the full picture never made me any less Filipino. It just meant I was a Filipino within a different context, and that was entirely valid.

P.S:

• I recently made a quick guide on my most popular Filipino recipes. If you’d like it handy for reference , you can download it for free here!!

• I’m planning on filming more easy-to-cook and weeknight friendly recipes for all of you, which will of course be linked on the blog.

• Also working on something exciting and super personal behind the scenes 👀. Y’all will be the first to get sneak peeks on that 100%. Stay tuned!!

Salamat and until next time,

Ian

To claim a dish as a national dish would need to go beyond the very surface level criteria of popularity, however. While a dish may receive widespread praise, if it fails to resonate as an accurate representation of its people, it would lack the deeper cultural and emotional significance that truly defines a national dish.

Ige Ramos touches on this matter in his book “Dila at Bandila”. He opens up the discussion to the realm of Filipino cuisine, navigating its brief history, influences, and definitions of what is considered Filipino food.

While an easy question to pose, choosing a single dish comes with historical and political implications.

I’ve also had the privilege to connect with Ige Ramos the other day to briefly discuss modern insights towards his book and thoughts on the direction of Filipino food for the future.

The Difficulty in Finding a “True” National Dish

First, I believe three key barriers are what prevents us from unanimously agreeing on one single dish.

The Philippines’ Diversity

Let’s consider the major fact that the Philippines is an archipelago comprised of over 7,000 islands. Each region is uniquely rich and diverse, which can work as a double-edged sword.

We have the privilege to enjoy hundreds of different variations of the same dish, though this same regional diversity can lead to underrepresentation of our people if their dishes aren’t considered.

We often associate Filipino culture with the most popular foods from our well-known regions like Metro Manila, though this focus can often overshadow and sideline our equally as significant dishes from other regions.

A single dish may become be an oversimplification of the complexity of our cuisine. It would undermine the vastness and rich culinary heritage that the Philippines can offer.

The Line Between Pre-Colonial and Post-Colonial Cuisine

Second, how should we define authentic Filipino food? Do we define a true Filipino dish as one cooked by our Indigenous ancestors? Or do we see it as reflecting our multicultural heritage in a post-colonial era?

If the national dish were to be based solely on pre-colonial criteria, perhaps we can turn towards dishes traditionally cooked as how our ancestors would have done.

Dishes primarily boiled in palayoks or grilled over live flames would take precedence. Foods largely seasoned with vinegar and salt would be the main flavor profiles as to reflect the popular preservation methods of the Indigenous Filipinos.

Alternatively, if our dish were to be defined as a culmination of centuries of trade and colonization, perhaps we can then open the discussion to dishes that stood the test of time and continued to evolve amidst history.

We can then choose from a wider variety of dishes that utilizes newer techniques taught by the Spaniards (such as sautéing), and even include, not only local produce, but also foreign ingredients that reflects our rich trading history with other countries.

Family Bias

Finally, beyond the regional variants, we also have our household variants.

Something as simple as Adobo, for instance, can further trigger the conversation of “That’s not how my Lola makes it”. No two adobo from different households will ever taste or look the same.

Some may prefer a saucy, soupy Adobo, while others prefer theirs dry. But wait, does the recipe include sugar or no sugar? Should we crush or mince the garlic? Is the black pepper supposed to be cracked or kept whole?

Like with most Filipino dishes, a lack of standardization isn’t necessarily a bad thing. It makes our cuisine unique and allows it to grow beyond traditional methods.

Unfortunately, this also makes it difficult to present a singular version as the sole, national dish.

The flexibility of our cuisine to evolve, though it reflects our great adaptability, poses as a challenge in determining and pinpointing a single, enduring national dish as a result.

How Should a National Dish be Defined?

Many would consider Adobo as the unofficial national dish of the Philippines due to its widespread recognition and deep cultural significance.

However, what factors would truly define a national dish? Should it be based on popularity, history, accessibility, cultural symbolism, or maybe a mixture of all of them?

If our national dish were to be one that reflects our history, it should be a food that carries the story of our unique historical and cultural heritage.

Perhaps Adobo does fit that category. It has its roots in pre-colonial times, eventually integrating the use of soy sauce after contact with the Chinese, its name given during the Spanish colonization, and it continues to be a staple in many Filipino households to this day.

Alternatively, if the dish were to be one that reflects accessibility, maybe we should choose a dish that every Filipino can easily make, consume, and afford. A dish that transcends social class and location can be a powerful criteria to determine our national food.

Ramos, in his book, proposed the idea that Suman, the sticky, glutinous rice dish wrapped in banana leaf, should undoubtedly be our national dish.

Suman is neutral, for it can be consumed by all regardless of religion or faith. It’s greatly linked to Philippine life, easily consumed as a casual breakfast item, or more significantly during ceremonies and events. Suman is also made of rice and banana leaf which can be found in abundance in the Philippines.

Lastly, if we decided to choose a national dish on the criteria of cultural symbolism, we should choose a dish that unifies us under a common collective identity.

Perhaps then, we could select a dish that symbolizes the Filipino’s resourcefulness, such as Sinigang.

Sinigang can be made with many proteins such as pork, beef, shrimp, or fish. It can also just plainly be comprised of vegetables.

While the core identity of Sinigang remains in its signature sourness, the dish also adapts to its environment. Tamarind may be the most common souring agent, though other regions may utilize green mango, unripe guava, or alibangbang leaves as these are what’s more commonly accessible in their area.

Sinigang not only suits the flavor palate of the Philippines, but it also represents the very being of the Filipino’s collective adaptability and resourcefulness, whether they’re in the mainland or abroad.

What If We Don’t Need Just One?

Even though Adobo is widely regarded as the de facto national dish, we all know that the Philippines is so much more than just Adobo.

If we did officially make this our national dish, I think we should vaguely call it “Adobo” and leave it at that.

Leave it to the people to interpret what that version of Adobo is. Whether it’s made with chicken or pork, uses soy sauce or none, or takes on a more regional route by using atsuete, coconut, or turmeric.

Adobo, at its core, will always be a reflection of the Filipino who makes it.

Rather than debating on a single dish, we should instead uplift the entirety of Filipino cuisine as a whole through storytelling, sharing traditional recipes, and continuously supporting Filipino businesses who work tirelessly to promote our culture.

Q&A With Author Ige Ramos

Before wrapping this up, I wanted to include this quick Q&A I did with the author, Ige.

While the main focus of this newsletter was navigating the discussion for the national dish, I wanted to ask Ige questions that went beyond this topic to gather a more holistic appreciation towards his book and thinking process in the context of our rapidly changing Filipino food scene.

Your book weaves culinary critique and history into a single narrative. Which Filipino writers, thinkers, or chefs helped shape your perspective as a writer?

I've certainly stood on the shoulders of some remarkable individuals. Their words, ideas, and passion have undoubtedly seasoned my own writing.

Firstly, I must mention the giants of our historical and cultural narratives. The meticulous research and evocative prose of historians like Ambeth Ocampo and Felice Sta. Maria have been a constant source of inspiration. Their ability to weave compelling stories from historical fragments, much like I try to do with culinary history, has taught me the importance of digging deep and presenting the past in an engaging manner. Their works reminds me that every dish has a story waiting to be unearthed.

Then there are the literary voices that have shaped my understanding of Filipino identity and experience. While not strictly culinary writers, the works of Nick Joaquin, with his rich descriptions of Manila and his exploration of our cultural psyche, have deeply influenced my appreciation for the context in which our food traditions evolved. His evocative language and sense of place resonate with my own desire to paint a vivid picture of Filipino culinary landscapes.

In the realm of food itself, while perhaps not always in the formal sense of culinary critique, the passionate documentation and promotion of regional cuisines by figures like the late Doreen Gamboa Fernandez and Gilda Cordero Fernando have been incredibly influential. Their dedication to exploring the nuances of Filipino flavors and respect for local ingredients set a benchmark for thoughtful engagement with our culinary heritage. They showed us that food is not just sustenance but a vital expression of our culture and identity.

More contemporary voices, chefs who are pushing the boundaries while honoring tradition, also play a role. Having worked with him in collaborating with his publications as a book designer and co-writer, observing the thoughtful approaches of chefs like Claude Tayag, who champions not only Kapampangan but also the cuisines of the Philippines with both reverence and innovation, and others who are exploring the diverse tapestry of Filipino regional cooking, informs my own understanding and appreciation. Their dedication to quality and their commitment to showcasing the best of Filipino ingredients inspire me to write with similar passion and respect.

So, it's a tapestry woven from historians who illuminate our past, literary figures who capture our spirit, and culinary champions who celebrate our flavors. They have all, in their own way, helped me to see the Filipino table not just as a place of nourishment, but as a vibrant stage where history, culture, and identity converge.

Dila at Bandila is still recent, but had you decided to write your book today, with the Filipino food scene continuing to change rapidly, what would you include now that wasn’t in the original? Or would your thoughts remain the same?

Even as I hold a copy in my hands today here in Pasay, I can feel the currents of change swirling around the Filipino food scene. Had I sat down to write it anew, knowing what I know now, several new layers would undoubtedly find their way into the narrative.

Firstly, the resurgence and evolution of regional cuisines has become even more pronounced. While I touched upon themes like “crops of oppression,” “debunking adobo as a national dish,” and the “diversity of our culinary landscape” in the book, the past few years have seen an explosion of interest and innovation within specific regions. We're seeing more chefs and home cooks championing heirloom ingredients and forgotten dishes from places like Mindanao, the Cordilleras, and the Visayas with a newfound confidence and sophistication. I would certainly dedicate more space to exploring these deeper regional nuances and the individuals driving this exciting movement.

Secondly, the globalization and reinterpretation of Filipino food have accelerated. More Filipino chefs are making waves internationally, not just by replicating traditional dishes but by creatively fusing Filipino flavors with other culinary traditions. This dialogue between the local and the global is a fascinating development. I would delve deeper into this phenomenon, examining how Filipino cuisine is being understood and adapted on the world stage and how this, in turn, influences our own understanding of what it means to be "Filipino" on a plate.

Thirdly, the rise of social media and digital platforms has profoundly impacted how we discover, discuss, and consume Filipino food. Food bloggers, Instagrammers, and online communities have become powerful forces in shaping culinary trends and raising awareness about both established and emerging food businesses. This digital landscape has created a more democratized space for culinary voices, and I would certainly explore its influence on our food culture and how it's shaping the narrative around Filipino cuisine.

Fourthly, I would likely spend more time examining the sustainability and ethical sourcing of ingredients. There's a growing awareness and concern among both consumers and producers about where our food comes from and the impact it has on the environment and local communities. This is a crucial conversation that is increasingly shaping culinary choices, and I would want to weave this thread more explicitly into the narrative.

Finally, the intergenerational dialogue within Filipino food is becoming richer. We see younger generations embracing and reinterpreting ancestral recipes while also pushing boundaries with modern techniques. This interplay between tradition and innovation is vital for the continued evolution of our cuisine, and I would explore this dynamic with greater depth.

While the core themes of Dila at Bandila—the intertwining of our history, culture, and food—would remain central, the lens through which I examine them would be sharper, reflecting the dynamic and rapidly evolving Filipino food scene of today. The conversation has become even more vibrant, more diverse, and more globally connected, and my book would need to capture that exciting energy.

With Filipino cuisine evolving in a more Western direction through the diaspora, how would you perceive the balance between retaining authenticity and innovation in representing our food globally?

As a keen observer of our evolving gastronomic landscape, I see this "Western direction" in the diaspora not necessarily as a deviation, but rather as another layer in the complex history of Filipino food itself.

Let's first consider what we mean by "authenticity." Is it a rigid adherence to recipes from a specific era? Or is it the spirit and intention behind the flavors, the connection to our cultural memory and ingredients, even when expressed through different techniques or with locally available substitutes? I lean towards the latter. Our cuisine has always been one of adaptation and fusion, influenced by trade, colonization, and migration. To insist on a static, unchanging definition of authenticity would be to ignore the very nature of our culinary journey.

The diaspora, in its own way, is a continuation of this historical process. Filipinos abroad, often missing the specific ingredients of home, will naturally adapt recipes using what is available. They might incorporate Western techniques they've learned or cater to the palates of their adopted communities. This isn't necessarily a dilution of our food; it can be a creative reimagining, a way to keep the flame of Filipino flavors burning in new lands. Think of it as a culinary balikbayan—bringing familiar tastes into a new context.

However, the crucial balance lies in ensuring that this innovation remains rooted in the essence of Filipino flavors and culinary principles. The sarap—that unique deliciousness that defines our food—should still be discernible. The balance of sweet, sour, salty, and sometimes bitter, the use of key ingredients like patis, bagoong, calamansi, and sinigang broth—these are the anchors that keep the innovation tethered to our culinary identity.

Innovation for the sake of novelty, without understanding or respecting the foundational flavors, risks losing that connection to our heritage. It becomes just another dish with a Filipino-sounding name, devoid of the soul of our cuisine.

Therefore, I believe the responsibility lies with those representing Filipino food globally—whether they are chefs in Michelin-starred restaurants or home cooks sharing their adobo with neighbors. The key is to have a deep understanding of our culinary history and the principles behind our dishes. Innovation should be informed by this knowledge, a respectful evolution rather than a radical departure.

We can celebrate the creativity of a Filipino chef in New York who makes a kinilaw with local seafood and a citrus dressing inspired by calamansi if the fundamental tartness and freshness of kinilaw are present. We can appreciate the ube desserts that have taken the world by storm, as long as the distinct flavor of the purple yam shines through.

Ultimately, the representation of Filipino food globally should be a dynamic conversation between tradition and innovation. It should honor our past while embracing the possibilities of the present and the future. It's about carrying the spirit of our luto—our way of cooking and sharing food with love and generosity—across borders, even if the ingredients or techniques take on a slightly different form. The heart, the lasa, must remain authentically Filipino.

This is an excerpt and ideas from my new book with a long title:

Eat Filipino food, not for the history, because we’re not sure what is authentic.

Eat Filipino food, not for the culture, because we’re not exotic enough.

Eat Filipino food because everything you know about it is wrong.

Bukambibig/Word of Mouth by Ige Ramos, not a Filipino Cookbook.

To give Dila at Bandila a read, you can purchase it online here.

And the book we’re currently reading for the month of April is…

In this book, Fenix takes us through the various regional cuisines of the Philippines, some of which are usually overshadowed by our more mainstream culture.

It's harder to find physical copies, but the kindle and digital versions are also available online.

Feel free to comment, tag, or DM me any of your thoughts -I love discussing everything related to Filipino culture and food.

Happy reading, until the next deep-dive.

“…The Filipino, as a tactical ruse, put on the mask of the foreigner. He did survive the latter’s regime, but when the time came for taking off the mask, it had become part of his face. The greater irony is that he has put on a number of masks”

In Gagelonia’s The Filipinos of Yesteryears, he gives us a rare window into the lives of our early ancestors, peeling back layers of the Philippine’s pre-colonial past.

Rather than a historical account events, he called this work a call to action -one that urges the Filipino to both embrace their unique heritage and to reclaim their national identity in the process.

Laying the Groundwork

The first hundred or-so pages of the book laid the foundation for the rest of Gagelonia’s work.

He meticulously sets the stage by exploring the Philippine’s geography, natural resources, ancient artifacts found, and the patterns of early migration to the islands.

While extensive, I believe this was essential. Understanding the environment inhabited by our ancestors, its vegetation, rock formations, even up to the weather patterns, adds depth and context to their stories.

“These land bridges became the highway of history, as the ancient men found their way to the Philippines searching then as now for a better life and security”

The Philippine land is teeming with life and abundance. These elements weren’t just simple backdrops, but they were components that directly shaped the Indigenous culture and ways of living.

How often do we really think about the changes in our weather? Or what geology exists below our feet? Those seemingly mundane aspects of our everyday life, too, shapes our surroundings in ways we rarely acknowledge.

It reframed my thinking that the Philippines was not only my home, but it was also a unique archipelago of immense historical and natural richness.

“The Philippines is one of the most favored group of tropical islands in the world…The natural resources of the Philippines are so varied and represents so much wealth as hardly to be within comprehension of mere man”

(Now, let me romanticize the tropics while we currently endure our brutal winters here in Canada)

The People

The heart of the Filipinos of Yesteryears lies within Gagelonia’s details of the Indigenous people: the Aetas, Ifugaos, Tagalogs, Bisayans, and many more.

Contrary to what’s often portrayed, it was fascinating peeking into their intricate ways of living.

The book revealed complex societies, diving deep into the their laws and moral codes, marriage customs, and up to their more advanced industries such as alcohol production and ship-building.

The Bagobos of southern Mindanao, for example, were master weavers.

To get a desired color, the weaver would boil the threads with specific roots or bark, leave them to dry for hours, and continuously repeat the process as necessary to achieve the desired color and intensity.

The Ifugaos, on the other hand, were famous for their extensive system of rice terraces.

Developed over hundreds of years and constructed with only the crudest and barest of tools, the great feat and legacy of the Ifugaos are found in the numerous terraces that sprawl all over Northern Luzon.

Despite being separated by distances of land and water, the Indigenous were all united in their resilience, appreciation, and deep reverence they had for the land that sustained them.

“We are contented with our present mode of life, if we change it and become Filipinized, at first we feel more contented but after a while we become accustomed to the change and then we are no more contented than we are now. Why then a change?”

Originally recorded by John Garvan during his studies in Mindanao, this quote helped encapsulate the Indigenous perspective on change amidst the rapidly evolving world beyond the islands.

To be happy with what they already possessed, despite having the opportunity to modernize, exemplified their total understanding on the concept of contentment and gratefulness.

These people found happiness living their simple life of hunting, trapping, and fishing.

Had they decided to Filipinize, though it may bring initial satisfaction, if that change doesn’t ultimately provide them with lasting fulfillment in life, then why should they bother changing in the first place?

This is something I believe the Indigenous seemed to understand far better than we often do today…That while modernization has its place, we can still find equal value in being content with our present.

Final Thoughts

The Filipinos of Yesteryears separates itself from other history books in its mission to rediscover the hidden face beyond layers of masks the Filipino had inherited over centuries.

While Gagelonia’s work isn’t so much focused on the Spanish conquest (though it does briefly touch on this subject), you can’t help but think of the weight of what was lost.

Fueled by religious zeal, much of the friars and followers of Magellan sought to erase any traces of so-called paganism in the name of the cross. As a result, there were likely numerous ancient artifacts and texts produced by these early Filipinos that were lamentably destroyed under colonial rule.

The fact that Gagelonia compiled these accounts of the Indigenous Filipinos in a single book makes these stories that much more impactful.

Rather than being silenced by history, their stories and knowledge will continue to live on, amplified for generations to come.

For a newer edition of Gagelonia’s book, you can buy it from Amazon here (affiliate link).

The book we’re currently reading for the month of March is…

(I purchased the English-translated version, but feel free to order the original Tagalog edition if you’d like)

Finally, before I leave you all -I wanted to extend a special thanks to Raf from Philippine Books for sending over The Filipinos of Yesteryears as a gift!

If you’re not familiar, he runs this wonderful online shop based in New Jersey and Quezon City where he houses tons of Filipino books. I’ve been ordering from them since last year and he’s doing wonders for keeping Filipinos connected to their culture in such an accessible way.

Feel free to comment, tag, or DM me any of your thoughts -I love discussing everything related to Filipino culture and food.

Happy reading, until the next deep-dive.

Francia divides the book via time periods which correspond to the most major events occurring on the Islands. We’re talking from the life of the Indigenous Filipinos, to the three-century-long colonization of the Spanish cross, the American occupation (and briefly the Japanese occupation), to finally the Marcos and post-Marcos era. 

The Philippines was viewed as a commodity, enticing traders from all parts of Asia, and of course, the Spaniards to settle on the land.

Spain, under the guise of moral and religious superiority, colonized with the sole idea of extracting the country of its natural resources and wealth. The islands were a conduit for their trading within Asia, furthering the advancement of their motherland while simultaneously hindering any long-term and far-reaching industrialization in the Philippines itself.

We also see with the American occupation that programs for educational and political reform were, too, fuelled by the desire to “modernize” the Filipinos and to exploit the amount of resources Filipinos consumed in the name of Uncle Sam’s economic gain. 

To be frank, the book is heavy. Not just in the amount of information and content packed into a nearly 400-page book, but the material itself goes into heavy detail on the life of Filipinos under colonial and dictatorship rule. 

I do believe this book is a great starting point to catch up with current Philippine history up to the year 2010.

As the book progresses, so does the history become increasingly complicated, with repercussion after repercussion of powers claiming to clean up the mess that the previous ruler had ultimately left them with.

Francia uses this opportunity to introduce even more players into the field (though I did find myself losing track at some points as these figures would sometimes pop in and out of chapters repeatedly).

An interesting contrast, as when we begin the book, we get a glimpse into the simple living of the indigenous Filipinos before the cross.

Social status was fluid, allowing for the possibilities of upward mobility. Gender inequality was unheard of as the early Tagalog language was non-gendered in nature. Most importantly, land was viewed as sacred and one to be shared, as opposed to a resource to be owned and exploited.

While my forte has always been about food, I think it’s important we recognize the role of history in how it shapes and forges the cuisine we enjoy today. This was particularly conflicting and difficult for me to swallow, as I truly felt frustration, anger, and ache for how much of our people had to suffer for so long.

Food has always been political. What we put into our mouths has a direct impact on the socio-economic environment; from the farmers who supply our produce, to the corporations controlling food distribution, up to the government policies dictating affordable and accessible eating.

Understanding the context of history and how our cuisine was ultimately shaped by it allows us to not only recognize the influences contributing to food evolution, but it gives us greater appreciation towards its cultural significance and origins.

On the note of food, I did want to quickly highlight a similar book by Orquiza, Taste of Control, one that I had read back in November of 2024. This was a fairly quick read, giving a more focused window into the 48-year American occupation in the Philippines.

What truly drew me into the book was Orquiza’s angle in discussing the topic through the mode of food and how Filipino cuisine was used as a medium to display American prejudice either inconspicuously or blatantly in the open.  

Filipino food was seen as dirty and barbaric -the very symbol that justified their view of the backwardness of the Philippines and its people.

Orquiza weaves that similar theme of prejudice throughout his chapters within historical cookbooks, education systems, and to the product advertisements that hooked the Filipino into idolizing an ideal version of their colonizers.

Both are a great read, providing insights into the historical context of the Philippines and its people. In both books, we learn that time and time again, colonization was always simply a means to an end.

In the exchange for one’s immense power and wealth, it comes at the expense of those native to the land to suffer under their rulers for little personal gain.

You can purchase both books fairly easy online, I got mine from Amazon! Here’s my affiliate link to both of them:

• A History of the Philippines

• Taste of Control

From the Palayok was born out of a desire to generate greater conversation and to empower Filipinos, especially those in the diaspora.

What to expect?

I’ll be posting a few times a month; featuring exclusive, more-casual recipes not found on my blog, behind-the-scenes content, and deep-dives discussing anything from dishes and ingredients, to reflections on Filipino culture and identity.

The first newsletter of every month will also feature a Filipino book that I’ve read in the month prior. I admit I haven’t been the best reader since my YA-dystopian novel phase in middle school, but I’m making up for lost time.

Why Subscribe?

Topics and recipes covered would be completely separate from what I would normally post on my main website or social medias.

It also goes straight into your inbox, meaning no fluff, and most definitely no ads taking up your page (hey, bloggers need to make a living somehow…right?)

I hope the content you receive from these newsletters would be of value to you, in some way shape or form. I’d love to hear your thoughts, and don’t forget to subscribe to stay in the loop.

Any subscriptions at the paid tiers supports me directly and the work I do on this platform, thank you!