Palitaw sa Latik
“Don’t terrorize me!”
That was Pining, a good Pinoy friend of mine in Vienna, responding to my Messenger message with a picture of palitaw sa latik attached. Pining and I come from Plaridel, a town in Bulacan Province in the Philippines. Like me, there are times when she craves native delicacies, particularly popular in our village. But, unlike me, she would seldom make an effort to satisfy her cravings. Too much work, she would say. On rare occasions, she would use whatever was available in her kitchen to pass for an ingredient the recipe requires. Necessity is the mother of all inventions, after all.
“It may not be how you do it, but pede na (it will do) “is her consistent evaluation of what she cooks and serves on the table. She’s not big on making Filipino snacks or desserts. Therefore, she loves my ginatang bilo-bilo (sticky rice ball in coconut milk). She makes me feel good each time she tells me she cannot duplicate mine. But “different strokes for different folks” would be my standard reply. Remember, even Nora Daza and Aling Charing, two famous Filipino chefs/cookbook authors, have different approaches to preparing the same recipe. They improvise. And if they can, Pining can.
“Kamoteng ube yan! “(They’re purple sweet potatoes!) Pining was quick to correct me one time we were at her place, and she served us sticky rice balls in coconut milk with something I thought were plums. How innovative, I told her. The color, the shape, and the size made me believe they were plums before I could even have a bite.
Again, unlike Pining, I get frustrated when an essential ingredient that makes or breaks my recipe is missing. I improvise at times, but I am not happy about it. I’d rather not cook, I thought, but there were times when I could be that desperate, I don’t care, settling for mediocre. And this applies to everything.
Take the palitaw. For the non-Tagalog speakers, Palitaw is a Filipino dessert made from glutinous rice flour. To make one, mix the flour with water until a dough forms. I make palitaw by cutting about a tablespoon of dough, then molding it into a small ball by rolling it between my palms until it is oval. I do not like them too flat, so I press my index finger into the middle of the dough, the way I remember my mom would, to make the palitaw resemble a small boat. Next, I do the same with the rest of the dough, giving them the same shape and size as much as possible, and drop them into boiling water until they float, hence the name palitaw. Litaw in Tagalog means to surface. So I soak them in cold water, drain, and roll them in grated fresh coconut. And sprinkle them with sugar (I prefer muscovado sugar) mixed with ground toasted sesame seeds.
That is easy. The palitaw sa latik (palitaw in coconut syrup) is another story. The process is the same, but there’s more to it than you think. My aunt used to make them, and I haven’t seen anyone in our family make them since my aunt died. And that was many years ago. So I googled how to prepare them, but the recipe wasn’t how my aunt would make them. However, someone from our town sure knows how to make the one I crave—the palitaw sa latik. Together with ginataang pinipig (glutinous rice flakes in coconut milk), it is a constant reminder of the rice harvest season in my hometown in November. It is the month when folks would be busy pounding green glutinous rice called pinipig in time for Pasalamat (Thanksgiving). So, where turkey is associated with Thanksgiving in America, it is pinipig in my hometown—Pinipig, together with young coconut meat strings, taro root crop, and chico. Chico is a tropical fruit that, when ripe, has a sweet, beer-like smell. You soak the pinipig in coconut milk with sugar, then set it aside for about 30 minutes until tender. Then, the powerful sweet aroma of coconut milk, yams, and chico fills the room.
I was staring at the essential ingredients for palitaw sa latik, not knowing where to begin, when I heard that familiar sound of an incoming message on my CP. It was Anita, a long-lost friend from a neighboring barangay (village) in my hometown. We found each other again two years ago, after not seeing each other for more than half a century. Then, we were in our teens, both sweet and juicy—like the latik sa palitaw. Now we are more like latak (sediment) from old coconut milk, not rancid yet, but getting there. Reality bites, yes!
“Hello, is Vienna part of Europe?” Anita asked.
“You’re kidding me! Part of Europe? Of course not! It’s a city in China! Why?” Anita noticed the sarcasm and laughed.
“You see, I have this virtual boyfriend from Shetfield in England who asked me to visit him.”
“SHET! You mean Sheffield? “