We had tinapang bangus for lunch last Saturday, and before I could begin eating, my father asked me to make him a patis-and-calamansi dip. I never thought those two worked well together.
"Yan kasi ang kinalakihan ko," he explained. "Patis at kalamansi."
So I did what I should do. I took the large bottle of patis on the cabinet, took a calamansi from the chiller and struggled with slicing it in two. After finally doing it with a larger knife, I squeezed out all the juice in a small plate - I can't call it "platelet" even if it sounds funny - on the dining table. And then I tried it.
It actually tastes good. I didn't know.
I don't really use patis in everything. I don't hate it, though; I think the pungent smell of patis, whether it's made from fish or shrimp (or I'm confusing it with bagoong), is one of the best Filipino cuisine has to offer. I just didn't like the way it'd season things unevenly. When I was a child, my mother would place a lot of sinigang broth on my rice, something which I didn't exactly enjoy, but eventually appreciated as time passed by. Anyway, she would also sprinkle patis on the place, so I don't have to season it myself. I got annoyed by the fact that some parts of the plate taste saltier than others.
Only later did I make my official, gastronomic excuse for not using patis: I like my foods with their natural flavors intact.
Thus, I am not fond of soy sauce, although not as much as patis. I appreciate condiments like ketchup and mustard, but seasonings are a totally different thing. Still, I use patis when I have to - when the bulalo is too queasy and the utak gives me a headache, for instance; patis supposedly makes the taste more bearable. And I agreed.
And, since we were there already, why do we only use calamansi for its juice, rather than its minute amounts of pulp?
"Yan kasi ang kinalakihan ko," he explained. "Patis at kalamansi."
So I did what I should do. I took the large bottle of patis on the cabinet, took a calamansi from the chiller and struggled with slicing it in two. After finally doing it with a larger knife, I squeezed out all the juice in a small plate - I can't call it "platelet" even if it sounds funny - on the dining table. And then I tried it.
It actually tastes good. I didn't know.
I don't really use patis in everything. I don't hate it, though; I think the pungent smell of patis, whether it's made from fish or shrimp (or I'm confusing it with bagoong), is one of the best Filipino cuisine has to offer. I just didn't like the way it'd season things unevenly. When I was a child, my mother would place a lot of sinigang broth on my rice, something which I didn't exactly enjoy, but eventually appreciated as time passed by. Anyway, she would also sprinkle patis on the place, so I don't have to season it myself. I got annoyed by the fact that some parts of the plate taste saltier than others.
Only later did I make my official, gastronomic excuse for not using patis: I like my foods with their natural flavors intact.
Thus, I am not fond of soy sauce, although not as much as patis. I appreciate condiments like ketchup and mustard, but seasonings are a totally different thing. Still, I use patis when I have to - when the bulalo is too queasy and the utak gives me a headache, for instance; patis supposedly makes the taste more bearable. And I agreed.
And, since we were there already, why do we only use calamansi for its juice, rather than its minute amounts of pulp?
- at the moment:
bored - on the background:"Here's Where The Story Ends" - The Sundays

