Chef Jessie Sincioco’s creative, courageous cuisine
April 21, 2005 | 12:00am
Alugbati (scientific name: Basella rubra) is also known as Malabar nightshade or Ceylon spinach. It is commonly added to ginisang munggo, or vegetable stews, like the dinengdeng of the Ilocos region, law-oy of the Cebuanos, or laswa of the Ilonggos. A hardy vine, it thrives in the most unexpected places – leaning against stone walls, crawling on a trellis of dry brambles, or thriving amid marigolds in the flower patch. Once, while attempting to clear the neglected portion of the garden, we found the vegetable growing wild like a weed. Its reddish-purple stems and dark, blue-green leaves were entwined with the morning glory’s lavender flowers and star-shaped foliage. The plants covered the banks of the tilapia pond with a lush, picturesque carpet.
Decidedly, the alugbati is perceived to be plebeian. It is deemed such a humble vegetable that it is often shunned for more genteel alternatives. Thus, the paradox: What was alugbati doing in the menu of Le Soufflé, that bastion of excellent food and fine dining?
On a fine, sunny afternoon, I found myself at the newest Le Souffle outlet. Located in Rockwell Center and just opened on Feb. 9, the restaurant has floor-to-ceiling windows and a refreshing view of a swimming pool. Carefree children enjoying the summer break frolicked in iridescent water, their laughter indistinct behind the wall of glass. On the table before me was an alugbati and arugula salad with wasabi olive oil and vinaigrette dressing. Garnished with Parmesan flakes and crunchy prosciutto, tender alugbati shoots and leaves were tossed with the dandelion-like leaves of arugula.
"So, how do you like it?" asked topnotch Filipino chef Jessie Sincioco.
But then, the adjectives to describe the flavors and textures momentarily escaped me. More familiar with alugbati that is cooked to a tasteless, pulpy mush, I previously did not care much for the vegetable. The unusual salad of crisp greens with its clean, slightly spicy and peppery flavor was definitely original.
"Wow!" was all I could think of. Clearly, it took courage and a lot of spunk to elevate the lowly alugbati to the ranks of haute cuisine.
Courage. The feisty Jessie Sincioco has a lot of that. Her climb to become one of the Philippines’ most famous chefs is a well-documented story. After winning first prize in a baking contest, she took no shortcuts. Working her way and training in a top hotel, she neither sought nor expected special treatment. Just a little over five feet tall, she worked just as hard as the biggest and best of them, even hauling heavy cauldrons when necessary. Intrepid, driven, hardworking, honest, and frank, it was inevitable that Jessie would become the well-respected and much- admired culinary star that she is today.
We were trying out a new dish, and tasty pomfret fillets soon found their way to the table. Pomfret is a member of the butterfish family. Locally known as pampano, the fish was firm and tasty.
"What do you think we should call this?" Jessie asked.
Frankly, I was stumped. Naming new dishes while savoring food and dissecting the nuances of flavor strain my creative capacity. Certainly, it would not have sufficed, but I would have been content to simply name the fish: "Excellent!"
Where did it all start? Jessie spent the first few years of her life in Angat, Bulacan, where even at a young age, she was already results-oriented, and blessed with a strong sense of entrepreneurship and determination.
"When I was a little girl, I would put the best and biggest tomatoes from the harvest of my father’s farm in a bilao, and sell these to the neighbors," she narrates. "But then, before they bought anything, they would let me sing or dance. So I did, and they would buy the tomatoes. They were happy and I was happy."
The experience served to strengthen her self-confidence and removed all traces of timidity.
As champion orator and declaimer, she was the favorite niece of her aunt Estelita. Thus, when Jessie was eight years old and her father died, she moved to Manila to live with her aunt and uncle who were still childless.
Estelita and Eduardo Dy treated Jessie like a much-loved eldest daughter. It was Estelita, in fact, who encouraged her to join the cooking contest. The rest, as they say, is history; and her family’s affection and moral support remain strong to this day. Nowadays, Jessie is both older sister and surrogate mom to cousins Nightingale, Abigail, Beryl, and Poinsettia.
Although beef Wellington and pan-fried goose liver in raspberry-honey sauce (served with mesclun greens) remain favorites, new entrees have found their way into the Le Souffle menu. These include duck confit eschallot, bangus belly roll, warm crab cake, chicken and spinach roulade with chive sauce, and tenderloin churrasco with chimichurri. (Chimichurri, by the way is a thick, Argentinean herb sauce made with olive oil, vinegar, finely chopped parsley, oregano, onion, and garlic.) Creativity, as proven by the changes made in Le Souffle’s menu, is never static.
Today, Jessie Sincioco, away from the kitchen and without her apron and toque is different. too. She plays doting aunt to five-year-old niece Bea and a three-year-old juggernaut in Batman cape named Jet.
We ended with a classic dessert: A perfect, soothing soufflé worthy of the restaurant it is named for. Later, Jessie Sincioco, chef par excellence, will again whip up distinctive meals in her kitchen domain.
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