Beyond ginisang munggo
My paternal grandparents observed meatless Fridays not just during the Lenten season but all year. They heard mass every morning at St. Andrew Cathedral across the street from the family compound in Parañaque. I really looked forward to spending Easter week with them because of the imaginative meatless meals served using a very limited list of ingredients, proving that abstinence does not necessarily mean suffering.
The Jose family operated a couple of large fishing boats that employed dozens of neighbors and relatives. The women sorted, graded, and sold the fish; all the assorted fish that were too small to take to market were turned over to the children.
We washed and gutted the small fish, then arranged them on flat bamboo trays to dry. On cloudy days, the fish were briefly soaked in brine before drying. Once dry, the fish was reserved for days when the boats could not go out to fish. They were also our main dish on meatless Fridays. Today, my quick and easy meatless fix is Mama Sita’s Mung Bean Soup, ready in minutes.
IF IT’S FRIDAY, IT MUST BE
No, not necessarily munggo. Nana Ida had a long and varied meatless menu, which depended mostly on her vegetable garden. All main courses were cooked with dried fish: tinola with papaya and malunggay leaves, ginataang kalabasa, Bacalao-style with
camote, laing, and yes, munggo once in a while. When tamban (herring) and salinyasi (sardines) were in season, Nana Ida would simmer a palayok (clay pot) of headless fish in salt, black pepper corns, bay leaf, and long chili peppers, using coconut oil, and very little tuba vinegar as the only liquid.
The result was very similar to expensive Portuguese sardines and lasted several days without refrigeration. We had it with pan
de sal for breakfast, with fried rice for lunch. It made great pulutan for the men who celebrated a good harvest. Any leftovers were consumed by them while fishing.
Small herring and sardines, breaded and deep-fried until crisp, were also favorite snacks and viands on good fishing days. Aboard the boat, the men feasted on instant kinilaw from their catch.
TINNED SAVIOURS
The Jose household did run out of fresh and dried fish occasionally, forcing Nana Ida to dig into her supply of canned fish prominently displayed inside glass cases in her living room along with cans of Spam, Libby’s corned beef, Del Monte fruit cocktail, Vienna sausage, Kraft cheese, Brun butter, instant coffee and other goodies sent by her Guam-based sons.
Using canned tuna, Nana Ida made fishcake patties following a recipe taught by her daughter-in-law. She drained and mashed the tuna with beaten egg, minced onion, homemade bread crumbs, ground pepper, pimiento powder (paprika), chopped kintsay. The resulting patties were dipped in egg, coated with crumbs, and shallow-fried until golden on both sides. Served with catsup, a can of tuna was stretched to feed many.
Mashed tuna or sardines were also used instead of ground meat in stuffed eggplants (tortang talong), a family favorite served with catsup, lots of catsup.
SEA FREEBIES
It was great living along the shores of Manila Bay in the 1950s, when the shellfish thriving in its waters were plentiful and safe to eat.
We would walk into the bay from grandma’s home, frolic with our cousins, gather clams, cockles, mussels, and oysters for dinner and rush home for evening prayers.
Every year, come Easter time, I can’t help but recall those days when life was simple and easy, before man tampered with Mother Nature.
We would walk into the bay from grandma’s home, frolic with our cousins, gather clams, cockles, mussels, and oysters for dinner and rush home for evening prayers.