No bats, just vats in Paniqui

MANILA, Philippines - Not many will be familiar with the town of Paniqui. Even to us Kapampangans driving up north to Baguio or the Ilocos region, Paniqui is a town we would just zip by, especially with a diversion road that actually passes by its periphery but not through it. When we were kids, as my sister Joy reminded me, we would close our eyes as we would pass under the welcome arch with a scary mascot of a giant bat with its wings spread. Our loyal family driver, Tatang Lauro, said there were ghosts flying all over the town and we believed him back then because Paniqui means “bat” in English. Images of the Addams family, or worse, Count Dracula, dark, brooding clouds replete with lightning and thunder, crossed our minds and we would only open our eyes when we were in the next town. If I became its mayor (Claude’s eyes roll up, meaning “Impossible”), my first resolution is to change the town name to “Fun-iqui.” After all, probably half its populace is Kafamfangan (fun intended).

Now that I am older and hopefully wiser, we still do not make a pitstop in Paniqui because, truly, there is nothing one can do there, plus it is overshadowed by the capital city of Tarlac, which has almost everything in the Luisita complex. But still, in the city are the usual fast food chain restaurants and a traveler will find it hard to find any decent restaurant offering good native cuisine outside of Tarlaqueños’ homes. It is occasions like this when I wish I knew someone from every corner of the country.

The province of Tarlac seems to be suffering from an identity crisis due to its geographical location. It was created from portions of Pampanga and Pangasinan, being the last Central Luzon province (after Aurora, Bataan, Bulacan, Nueva Ecija, Pampanga, Tarlac, and Zambales) to be organized under the Spanish administration in 1874. Being a commercial crossroads between the Central Plains and the Ilocos region, it is peopled by Ilocanos and Pangasinenses in its northern towns, Tagalog migrants in the capital city Tarlac, and Pampangos in its southern towns. It is a no-man’s land of a melting pot as far as culinary influence is concerned, with each ethnic group bringing its own cooking traditions. It has never stood on its own, and was never known to be a culinary destination. It’s one of those gray areas where, if one happens to pass by at the hour the stomach signals, just about anything will do (pampatawid gutom, or any food to get by). Paniqui town is no exception.

Tourism consultant Rene Guatlo, Paniqui Mayor Miguel “Dors” Rivilla (holding our book Linamnam), author Mary Ann and hubby Claude Tayag

Sometime last year, our dear friend Rene Guatlo, a tourism consultant from Ilocos Norte, invited us to the home of Dra. Conching Llamas in Paniqui. I bit the bullet, dropping everything, but with only one request: that we would only be in Paniqui during the daytime. Hubby Claude rolled up his eyes — his most annoying silent reply — which this time meant “Silly.” How come he only does this to me? By the way, I can tell how his meaning changes by how much his eyes roll up. Since we all know that Tarlac is a melting pot of many migrants, I have always wondered if their food is more Kapampangan or more Ilocano in extraction. The two regions vary so much in flavor. Pampanga is on the sweet/sour side, while the Ilocanos favor the salty/bitter flavors, and the more bitter it is, the better. Also, Pampanga is pork, pork, and more pork, while the wise-spending Ilocanos love their vegetables; to this day their tomatoes are practically given away during peak season. I must confess I really regard vegetables as a waste of space in the tummy. I survive while in Ilocos only because I like their salty bagoong isda, which I put on almost everything, and of course its bagnet, which we would always have since I’m with dear hubby. Besides, in Pampanga, being a fertile land with so much sugarcane in the past, we have lots of luxurious desserts and rich food, often made with carabao’s milk from the many carabaos working in sugar and rice farms. Ilocano people cringe at cloyingly rich food.

Well, the good doktora whipped up a storm, to say the least, with the help of her cousin Baby and Bong Fernandez (our kabalen). They are actively supporting their Mayor “Dors” Rivilla’s tourism efforts, promoting their town’s storied past and culinary heritage. And, as I expected, the dishes served us were a melting pot of the Ilocano, Pampango and Tagalog cuisines, and much, much more than we tried the first time. We had such a wonderful time and vowed to come back.

It’s more fun eating lechon in Paniqui: The Angeles City contingent about to attack the ambrosial treat by lechonero Mang Ben Serrano. For orders, call 045-491-0511 and 0920-536-5608.

Just recently, Rene texted another invite to Paniqui. This time, I no longer had qualms because I now have Paniqui connections. The invite was to experience Paniqui’s Sida-sida Festival (sida means ulam or viand in Ilocano), now on its third year, coinciding with its town fiesta weekend. Though it was to be held at 6 p.m., we were asked to arrive early in the day to witness all the preparation and actual cooking intended to feed some 800 guests. Hmm, that would mean we would be near the kitchen(s) and have first crack at everything, too irresistible to pass up, I said to myself. And not only that, we were to bring along as many friends that could fit in our van, and invite we did.

Like a school bus, we picked up everybody from Angeles and my two sisters in Mabalacat, and zipped through the SCTEX, getting to Paniqui in no time at all. When we reached our destination, Bong and Karen Fernandez’s newly built house, it was Dra. Conching Llamas who warmly greeted us, making us feel like long-gone relatives. With her was the Paniqui Tourism Council in full force, while our hosts Bong and Karen were busy preparing the buffet spread, already groaning with so much food. At first glance, one could see the merry mix of Pampango and Ilocano comfort dishes: on one hand were dalag, itu, buro at sampaloc at bagoong at mustasa (catfish, fermented rice and mustard leaves), adobong itu sa alagaw (catfish adobo with alagaw leaves), tamales, pinakulob, while on the other were pinakbet (Paniqui’s variant has kamote in it), malunggay seed pods (Moringa oleifera) cooked with fried catfish, papaet (sautéed bitter gourd leaves with smoked fish), binuburan or fermented rice eaten as a cereal, and other hybrids like pastel de pollo (Dra. Llamas’ take on the baked casserole stuffed and baked in a whole boneless chicken), fried lumpia with coconut meat filling, fried sinsal similar to the Chinese stuffed shrimps with minced pork, and okoy or shrimp fritters. There were also homemade cheeses made from carabao and goat’s milk by Dra. Llamas.

Paniqui’s version of the Ilocano’s mainstay pinakbet is cooked with kamote or sweet potato.

Claude tried both with ripe mango, “almost as good as eating pastillas without the sugar,” he declared. To me, the most memorable dishes were the kinulob na manok; though the soup was not hot, it was very good with its mixed blend of flavors and also the adobong ito sa alagaw, which is a first time for me. Interestingly, the malunggay stems look like giant penne pasta. I wished they were smaller, though, because they felt like coarse sugarcane fiber in my mouth. I have nothing but compliments, though, on how it was cooked. 

By mid-afternoon, barely catching our breaths from all that food, we were brought to another location nearby where the “real” cooking was going on. It looked like a military outdoor mess hall preparing to literally feed an army (some 800 guests were expected). My sisters and I were instantly reminded of how it was during fiesta time at our grandmother Apung Pepang’s in Mabalacat, Pampanga. Several kawa or vats of bubbling oil fueled by firewood were frying some 130 kilos of catfish; meat from 12 goats filled cauldrons of kaldereta, papaitan and  bagis, a sisig-like mixture of goat meat and skin flavored with kalamansi, garlic, and lasuna, or red onion; five lechons were to be chopped up; and 12 giant (36” diameter round woven shallow baskets) of ube (purple yam) and galapong (sticky rice) cakes. Naturally, we tried all the dishes in a jiffy, as they were to whisk them all to the plaza for the 800 people waiting. 

This sawsawan or quasi-salad is made with tomatoes, bagoong alamang or shrimp paste (a Tagalog/Pampango condiment), and curly-fresh seaweed called ur-urmot, which literally means “pubic hair” in Ilocano.

What struck me more than anything is their confidence in their cooking. No apologies were made (which is very typical of Filipinos when hosting) but instead, they were beaming with pride in their food. I encountered poki-poki — their dish of eggplant and egg — before, and on this trip, I met “ur-urmot,” a kind of seaweed that means “pubic hair” in Ilocano. I just wonder if this is Ilocano humor, but again, if I were their congressman (Claude’s eyes almost hit the ceiling this time), I will make a resolution banning people from naming dishes with sexual undertones. “Land of the Bats” is scary enough. But thanks to my gracious Paniqui connections, I saw no bats flying but saw lots of vats of delicious cooking. On my next trip to the north, I will keep my eyes wide open in search of more vats. And I urge you dear readers to do the same.

The Paniqui Tourism Council is actively enacting the vision of Mayor Miguel “Dors” Rivilla to bring more tourists to this storied town. For a minimum group of 20, they will whip up unpretentious dishes that will impress even the jaded. For more information, email Tracey Santiago at tracey.traveltales@gmail.com. If you don’t know what to order, just say “all the dishes the contented Tayags had.” Also soon-to-be launched is a book on the history and heritage of Paniqui.

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You may e-mail the author at mquioctayag@baledutung.com and visit FB pages: LB sa FB and www.facebook.com/sooopinoy and have more fun with our culinary treasure. 

Sauteed malunggay seed pods sautéed with bagoong alamang and fried hito

Photo captions:The melting-pot lunch: (from top) Dra.Conching Llamas, Bong Fernandez, Leody Pruna, Digna Sioco Go, Lourdes Molina, Paniqui Tourism Council chair Flory Recto, Carmen Mapanao, Baby Mendoza and Kare Fernandez

Tourism consultant Rene Guatlo, Paniqui Mayor Miguel “Dors” Rivilla (holding our book Linamnam), author Mary Ann and hubby Claude Tayag

It’s more fun eating lechon in Paniqui: The Angeles City contingent about to attack the ambrosial treat by lechonero Mang Ben Serrano. For orders, call 045-491-0511 and 0920-536-5608.

Paniqui’s version of the Ilocano’s mainstay pinakbet is cooked with kamote or sweet potato.

This sawsawan or quasi-salad is made with tomatoes, bagoong alamang or shrimp paste (a Tagalog/Pampango condiment), and curly-fresh seaweed called ur-urmot, which literally means “pubic hair” in Ilocano. 

Sauteed malunggay seed pods sautéed with bagoong alamang and fried hito

Eating the Ilocano bitter pill: Papaet or amargoso sautéed with bagoong alamang and tinapa, or smoked fish.

Binuburan is fermented rice with a yeast starter: It has the sweet-and-sour taste of fresh tapuy or rice wine. It was once common breakfast fare for farmers on their way to the fields at dawn, or as a digestif after a full meal.

Baby Mendoza’s pot of gold kinulob: It is a festive dish of native chicken, liempo, ham hock, chorizo, vegetables and saging saba, slow-cooked in a palayok or clay pot over a low charcoal fire. Traditionally served on Christmas day, it is also called nilagang paskú in Pampanga, after heavy borrowings from the Spanish cocido, a.k.a. puchero in Manila.

 Dra. Conching Llamas’ take on the pastel de pollo: The recado is stuffed inside a de-boned whole chicken and then baked, much like rellenong manok.

 Definitely Kapampangan: Digna Sioco Go’s tamales. She also makes espasol, tibuk-tibok, and a buko-pandan drink. Tel: 0917-540-9030.