Dinendeng and Bulanlang
Two days after I arrived in Vienna, after a five-week stay at home in the Philippines, I was homesick already. Most of all, I think of local foods such as the Ilocano dinendeng, a concoction of boiled veggies the Tagalogs, like me, call Bulanlang. These dishes are not just about the taste, but they also carry the essence of our culture and traditions. My Ilocano friend Sylvia Erler sees that I get them when I visit her and her Austrian husband in Cabugao, Ilocos Sur, where they hole up during the winter months in Europe. But not this time when I saw her last. She made other Ilocano dishes, though, like puki puki. Yes, Virginia, I eat them! Please take that disgusted look off your face and let me explain. Puki puki is an eggplant and scrambled eggs dish–another succulent Ilocano food.
Dinendeng and Bulanlang have similar veggie ingredients, but the saluyot (jute) and the seasoning: anchovy sauce for the Ilocanos and shrimp paste for the Tagalogs. Dinendeng has malungay (moringa leaves), but none in Bulanlang. In my childhood, malungay leaves had no place in the kitchen of the Tagalogs–at least not in my mother’s kitchen. It was not popular among the locals back then. Their use was mainly for inducing milk for breastfeeding mothers until people from faraway regions like Ilocos and Bicol entered my town and established residence. With them, their cuisine, so I won’t be surprised if you find malungay leaves in Bulanlang.
I got hooked on bulanlang after I had it again for what seemed like an eternity. That bulanlang happened at a friend’s place in my hometown. It was my “Last Supper” with her and her family before I returned to Vienna. “Di mo sinabing gusto mo pala nun” (you didn’t tell me that you like it) was my cook’s excuse when I asked her why she never cooked it for me. She was responsible for the kitchen and could suggest what she thought I might want to eat. She never did; she cooked what she liked: pork sinigang today, shrimp sinigang tomorrow, then pork sinigang again the day after. For breakfast, she would make fried rice and fried eggs for the five weeks I was home, although there were my other favorites, like the Vigan longanizas, in the fridge or eggplants and okra in our backyard garden. If there were a bunch of bananas in the kitchen, she would fry them in one go. I remember the first time I tried dinendeg, it was at a small family gathering, and I was hesitant at first, but the warm and inviting atmosphere made the dish taste even better.
Dinendeng and bulanlang must have fish in them, grilled or fried. The Tagalogs prefer grilled bulig (mudfish) in their bulanlang, including the charred scales, because they add a distinct flavor. I had two versions of bulanlang during that famous “last supper” at my friend’s home because she does not eat bulig. There was one with the dreaded bulig in it, the other without. Both had patola (bottle gourd), okra, and squash tops for veggies, and more that I could no longer remember, but no saluyot and malungay — that was for sure.
I was still jetlagged when I thought of making dinendeng to satisfy my cravings. Three days earlier, a massive branch of our 70-year-old plum tree in the garden broke and fell on the ground, blocking the pathway to the garden house. The branch was heavy with unripe fruits, so I wondered what to make of them. I could cure, pickle, and make green plum jams, but the more significant job was chopping the wood and picking the green plums from the fallen branch. It would be a big job, and I needed help. Who says it’s more fun in Vienna? I wish Boben, my gardener at home, were here.
But I have good friends like Minette and Sonia who came to help. Ditto with Minette’s two young daughters—Clara, eight years old, and Martha, almost eight—who were enthusiastic about picking the green plums from the fallen branch. Well, Martha’s enthusiasm was short-lived. She was there mainly for the pictorials. LOL!
For Minette and Sonia’s valuable assistance, I promised them a taste of home. I told them I would cook Pinakbet (another Filipino genuine ulam (viand)) to go with a big tinapang bangus (smoked milkfish) I smuggled to Vienna from my recent trip. The joy of sharing these dishes with my friends added a special warmth to our gathering.
I went to the Indian grocer near Walter’s garden house to get the essential ingredients for Pinakbet. I got ampalaya (bitter gourd), eggplants, ginger, and okra. Great, I thought, but then I saw fresh saluyot and sweet potatoes. I had dinendeng a long time ago, so forget Pinakbet. The smoked fish was a good match. I remember the process of making dinendeng, the careful selection of the freshest vegetables, the precise timing of boiling, and the art of balancing the flavors. It was a labor of love that I was eager to recreate in Vienna.
My dinendeng may have differed from the real thing, lacking essential ingredients like fresh squash tops, malungay leaves, or grilled fish. And I used shrimp paste–a mortal sin to the Ilocanos, but the taste was there, and that my friends loved them mattered most. Walter didn’t touch it; he had a rather traumatic experience with the slimy saluyot. It was at a Filipino dinner party in Sydney where the host — an Ilocano — served sautéed saluyot, among other dishes. Thinking it was boiled spinach, Walter took a generous serving. He gagged as he took a mouthful and, without asking me, dumped the rest of the saluyot on my plate.
If you live abroad like me, crave Filipino specialties, and feel like cooking but don’t have the authentic ingredients, remember, improvisation is key. Try to make it as close as you remember it from back home. It’s not about perfection, but about keeping the spirit of Filipino cuisine alive wherever you are.