MANILA, Philippines -- Spanning fields, markets, kitchens, and tables, the slow and intentional rhythm of Filipino food often goes unnoticed -- yet it is at the heart of it all.
However, it is no secret that digital society has commodified food into picture-perfect content. The depictions we see on social media are curated, filtered, and packaged into trends driven by engagement. Every so often, an ingredient gets its moment in the spotlight, only to be replaced by the next viral flavor.
Although "foodie" culture brings attention to what we eat, it often stops at taste and aesthetic. It only scratches the surface, but rarely reflects the deeper stories, histories, and systems that shape what is on our plates.
This is the same idea that runs through two literary canons of Filipino gastronomy, Sarap: Essays on Filipino Food & Palayok: Philippine Food through Time, on Site, in the Pot, written by Doreen Fernandez and Edilberto Alegre, the two most enduring voices in Filipino food literature. Even after two decades since they were first published, the pieces remain relevant to how we understand Filipino cuisine today.
What local ingredients do we actually know? Do we understand how the palengke operates, or where our food really comes from? Have we ever cooked with a lesser-known Filipino crop beyond the usual chopsuey mix available in our kitchen? These questions nudge us to reflect not just on what we eat, but how we engage with what we eat.
And what better way to reflect on our food than revisiting the works of Fernandez and Alegre? Sarap & Palayok both reveal a clear message: Filipino cuisine has always been rooted in the principles of slow food -- the very opposite of fast food -- meals that are good, clean, fair, and conscious of their impact on people and the environment.
These themes and legacies came to life again at the October book launch of the latest editions of the books by Exploding Galaxies in Karrivin Plaza. During a panel discussion, chef Stephan Duhesme of Metiz, Slow Food Negros advocate Reena Gamboa, food scholar Raymond Macapagal, and entrepreneur Bea Misa-Crisostomo shared reflections on how we can approach our cuisine more mindfully -- not as something to turn into viral content, but to sincerely approach as a living culture shaped by our environment, community, and tradition.
The most straightforward way to embrace slow food is to cook with ingredients that are native to our regions and in season. Doing so not only sustains their production but also protects the crops from disappearing altogether.
Slow Food advocate Reena Gamboa stresses that when we stop using an ingredient, we contribute to its decline or even its extinction. She discusses the case of the native dayap, or Philippine lime. Known for its sweet aroma and tartness compared to the calamansi, the dayap has become increasingly rare in markets today.
Without the demand for more variety of crops like dayap, farmers are forced to produce the crops that are more common and profitable.
"The farmer will only plant lettuce because that's the only thing they can sell at a high price. That's not even food that they eat, which is unfair. We want good, clean, and fair food for everyone, especially for the farmer who's the one planting it," Gamboa explained.
However, what is forgotten can still be revived. Through the reintroduction of forgotten ingredients and recipes, like the ones in the Ark of Taste catalog, there may be potential to rekindle demand.
"If there's a dish that uses dayap specifically -- if we get reminded of that dish and we want to resurrect it -- the demand for dayap will go back, the farmer will take care of it again."
Seasonality is also a cornerstone in slow food that is meant to be embraced, not ignored. Not only does this support farmers and agriculture as a whole, but it also uplifts the health of biodiversity as a whole.
"The world of today says 'everything must be available right now at the time that I need it and every day when the customer wants it'," Gamboa said. "But naturally it is not so."
She cites that this is why we have practices like fermentation and jam-making -- to preserve and reduce food waste during off-seasons. As such, it is only natural that we work with the timing of nature and work with the ingredients it has to offer at a given season.
We are encouraged to incorporate native ingredients into our cooking, even if it is mixed with other influences. "The heart is still there -- the local ingredient will show you who you are, that's the Filipino in you that's going to come out there," Gamboa added.
Exploring rare and even overlooked ingredients can help resurface forgotten dishes. The more you cook with these marginal elements of our cuisine, the better chance they have at making a comeback.
Another important point in the panel is to view Filipino food through our own unique context, instead of measuring it against global standards or outsiders' expectations.
Raymond Macapagal, a UP Professor of gastronomy and food studies, explains that Filipino taste preferences are shaped by environmental and geographical factors bespoke to the Philippines, pushing us to adapt in ways that other countries do not experience.
Why are we Filipinos fond of sour flavors when other countries might find it off-putting? Macapagal reframes this 'unusual' taste as a product of our circumstances and surroundings. He uses our love of unripe mangga as an example, theorizing that their sourness may be a vital source of vitamin C, or that acidic flavors might give a cleansing sensation to the body or serve as a natural preservative for food.
He also highlights the batuan, a native sour fruit, as a fascinating case, wondering why Filipinos don't wait for it to get ripe before harvesting it. Macapagal recalls a visit to Silay, where he discovered from a local that if batuan is left to ripen, it will be eaten by the bats first.
"When you look at our taste [as a country], it is shaped by the landscape but there's also this aspect of interacting or competing with other animals," he reflects. "With the bats and the birds in Silay, we took it (batuan) already, and we have to find a way to appreciate it."
In the same way, chef Stephan Duhesme challenges the sentiment of Filipino cuisine being 'too plain.' In his view, simplicity is not a weakness. In fact, although seemingly simple, our flavor profiles can even be just as complex and layered as other countries in Southeast Asia.
The problem is in comparison and standardization. Filipino food is actually "endangered of becoming simplified," he warns, pointing out that we risk flattening the richness of our cuisine when we use other countries' as a benchmark.
Instead, the Metiz chef emphasizes the adaptability and customizability of Filipino cooking, which shines in how we make sawsawan or dipping sauces to pair with our meals.
"I think we have to remember that we actually like to personalize our food to our taste to all very different varying degrees," he says, which makes our taste complex. The instinct to mix and balance flavors to our liking just might be one of the quiet strengths of our cuisine.
So next time we feel like doubting the depth of our local food, maybe we should reframe our mindsets. Instead of seeing it as inferior to global standards, we might begin to see our cuisine as shaped by resourcefulness, adaptation, and deeply personal taste.
To tie it all in, the panel problematized the biggest challenge: the cultural and structural disconnect between consumers and the food supply chain, especially in Metro Manila.
Entrepreneur and researcher Bea Misa-Crisostomo emphasized that marginal ingredients and the systems behind them are often ignored because they lack visibility.
"Our weakness as a country is not being so cognizant of marginal things," she said. "It's not that we don't value marginal ingredients, but we don't think about them that much. It's like out of sight, out of mind."
She pointed out a "broken thread" between farmers, palengkes (wet markets), and consumers that has to be bridged for a more secure food future.
Although chefs and businesses like her organic store, Ritual, are trying to find solutions to the structural problems, she stressed, "No retail store, no chef can save the farmers." Real change, she said, requires a collective effort from across sectors.
"If we, as a country, really try to do it together and prop up our palengkes, prop up our small farmers, make it affordable for them to sell their own stuff and to sell a variety of things -- connecting the karinderya (small eateries), the school system, government procurement. Then maybe these things can be in broader circulation," she said.
So next time you want to go on a real food crawl around the country, consider taking it deeper: rediscover a lost recipe, try out a rare native fruit, talk to the market vendors, and ask about where your food comes from. Curiosity and interest, after all, are a powerful start.
In retrospect, the insights of today's food experts echo back to Doreen Fernandez's writing about Filipino cuisine and culture:
"From field and river to market, from market to kitchen, then to the table, and finally to the savoring. We have tried to place food in context in its cultural setting. Filipino cuisine is an authentic facet of Philippine culture that invites methodical inquiry. On our tables, rich and poor, are mute -- albeit aromatic -- testimony to the blending of history and our landscape."
It may be easy to wonder why Filipino food is not "trendy" enough, but maybe it doesn't always have to be. Classic Filipino food literature teaches us that at its core, Filipino food is meant to be enjoyed the way it has always been: slow, intentional, and rooted in our identity. - Rappler.com