1. Cut the Maling in sticks
2. Dredge in flour
3. Dip in beaten egg
4. Lay the strips in the bread crumbs, turn it over and press it into the breading to evenly coat.
5. Dip in egg again
6. Lay the strips in the bread crumbs, turn it over and press it into the breading to evenly coat again.
7. Fry in hot oil.
8. Serve with a mixture of ketchup and mayo
9. Enjoy!
2 Packets of Pancit Canton ( original/sweet and spicy)
1 tbsp. oil
1/2 medium sized onion sliced
1/2 medium sized carrot julienned
1/8 medium sized cabbage julienned
1 tbsp. oyster sauce
1 cup water
PREPARATION
1. Preheat a large pan
2. Add oil
3. Sautee onion. carrots
4. Add water
5. Add Ramen noodles
6. Simmer until there is no water
7. Add flavorings and oyster sauce
8. Add cabbage
9. Serve while hot. enjoy
Riceype is composed of IC as the Director/Producer, Liezer as the Camera Operator/Head Chef and Kio as the Camera Operator/Photographer. They are siblings who likes to bond through cooking. they were recently invited in Umagang Kay Ganda to make one of their original recipe the no-bake fudge cake. take a look at the behind-the-scene.
Since the Kraft Company put it in a box in 1937 every American kid grew up with macaroni and cheese. There can be no doubt that its ultimate origins are Italian, as one finds macaroni and cheese recipes from the late thirteenth century in southern Italy. The anonymous Liber de coquina, written in Latin by someone familiar with the Neapolitan court then under the sphere of Charles II of Anjou (1248-1309) has a recipe called de lasanis which we can call the first “macaroni and cheese” recipe. It was a macaroni, in this case, lasagne sheets made from fermented dough and cut into two-inch squares that were cooked in water and tossed with grated cheese, probably Parmesan. The author suggests using powdered spices and layering the sheets of lasagne, just like today, with the cheese if desired.
But the American macaroni and cheese has two main lines of ancestry claimed. In the first, it is thought that macaroni and cheese was a casserole that had its beginnings at a New England church supper. In southeastern Connecticut it was known long ago as macaroni pudding. In the second, and more famous story, and more than likely the original story, it is said that the classic American macaroni and cheese returned with Thomas Jefferson to Virginia after his sojourn in Italy. Jefferson had brought back a pasta machine from Italy. His daughter Mary Randolph became the hostess of his house after Jefferson’s wife died and she is credited with inventing the dish using macaroni and Parmesan cheese. Later, the Parmesan was replaced with cheddar cheese. Anyway, that's one story. It is more likely that Jefferson encountered the dish in Italy and brought back the recipe.
In many circles, processed foods have come to seem bad, even immoral. What fascinates me, though, is how food engineers look at food. What problems are they trying to solve? What tools do they have at their disposal? What are their points-of-proof and methods? Food engineers don't think about food the way the rest of us do. For them, it's a material like steel or drywall or duct tape. They are concerned with building something and it just so happens that we eat this end result. This isn't the moralizing story that you've heard so many times; this is just how gravy mixes developed, their chemistry and technological history.
Our story begins back in the 19th century. Philip Thorne filed a patent in 1882 for a floury product that could be mixed with water to create an instant dough. "The object of my invention is to manufacture a new and improved prepared flour, which needs only be mixed with water to form a dough for a biscuit; and the invention consists in thoroughly incorporating butter deprived of its water with flour and baking-powder."
But the instant biscuit dough wasn't an instant success. Dry mixes -- just add water! -- didn't really catch on for decades. It wasn't until 1931 that Bisquick came onto the market, and not until the 1950s that the baking aid really took off. Cake mixes like Betty Crocker's followed shortly thereafter and exploded in popularity, becoming what the author of Paradox of Plenty, Harvey Levenstein, called "one of the great marketing success stories of all time." One key trick was that the original mixes just required water, leaving housewives feeling a little left out of the cake making process. So, General Mills switched up the recipe to require cracking a single egg into the mix, then adding water. And in that way, cakes got made. "By 1950, one theme had come to dominate all else: convenience," Levenstein notes.
As in baking, so it went with gravies, too. All kinds of gravy mixes came onto the market, proclaiming their greatness. But gravies were actually a more difficult mix to create. Just like homecooks might like to have gravy without having to actually cook meat, the food processing industry needed to eliminate the actual beef or chicken.
You could have gravy without all the trouble of making the meat that would generate the drippings. In a curiously parallel movement, the food processing industry also wanted to eliminate actually cooking meat to generate that meaty gravy flavor. In fact, industry actually needed to. It would be far too expensive to cook a bunch of meat, keep the drippings, and throw away the rest.
"The gravy mixes are a little more sophisticated because the flavor from a gravy mix may be a beef gravy, but it's never been near a cow," said Gary A. Reineccius, a food scientist at the University of Minnesota. "To me, some of the real innovations that have occurred in gravy have been in the flavoring systems."
Initially, a big chunk of that flavoring came from a wonderful chemical initially developed in Japan called monosodium glutamate, or as you probably know it, MSG. For pennies on the dollar, MSG could approximate the taste of meat. Throw some spices in and you could create something that the American consumer would buy. Food Technology magazine reported in 2008 that 40 percent of American households used some sauce or gravy mix. It doesn't hurt that these gravy mixes are almost preposterously cheap.
Cost was the whole impetus behind making a gravy mix in the first place. Relative to canned gravy, the dehydrated nature of the mix means that it's lighter and therefore cheaper to ship and package.
Once the technology to dry and grind vast slurries of gravy was available and decent flavorings had been created, competition moved to other areas. The great American innovation machine went to work on a problem that had plagued mankind for centuries: lumpy gravy. You see, the problem with all gravies is that when you add starch to a watery, fatty admixture, the starch has a tendency to clump together. The flour inside the lumps becomes isolated from the mixture. Because the water can't reach it, it never dissolves. Home cooks can prevent this by simply stirring the mixture, but that required "considerable skill," as General Mills' Harold Keller put it in a 1958 patent application.
Keller's solution to the lump problem was to include a leavening agent that helped break up the clumps as they were forming.
It has now been discovered that it is possible to prepare a dry mix composition which may be used for the preparation of gravies and sauces without the disadvantages attendant the prior art methods. The composition of the present invention may be added even to boiling water without the formation of lumps, even with only a minor amount of stirring.
But it turned out that Keller did not have the final word. Lumps still formed, particularly when the mixes were added to boiling water. The best way to keep them from forming, as Kari Bos of Carnation describes in a 1982 patent, was to slowly heat up the mixes. Making lumpless gravy was still a two-step process.
So, Bos suggested adding maltodextrin to the gravy mix. The long chain of glucose molecules was able to reduce the number of lumps substantially if mixed with starch in precisely the right ratio, as he demonstrated in his patent's key chart. Around a maltodextrin to starch ratio of 1:1, the lumps disappear.
But in the 1980s, the patent trail for gravy mixes goes cold. Flavor scientists, we're sure, have continued to improve. Low-fat and low-carbohydrate versionshave been created. But by and large, the gravy mix form has stabilized. The ingredients haven't changed much, except some brands like McCormick's no longer use MSG.
Now, the food trends are running against the gravy mix. The magic of a powder that sprouts into something like a food has about the same appeal as a packet of sea monkeys these days.
Paella is one of the most popular and famous of global dishes, to define exactly what paella contains is almost impossible. There are as many variations of paella as there are cooks, with many claiming that their recipe is the best tasting or most authentic. The origins of the dish, however, are quite humble. Understanding a little of its history will help explain why so many varieties exist.
Valencia in Eastern Spain is the undisputed home of paella. It is one of the largest natural ports in the Mediterranean and has been one of the most important rice-producing areas in Spain since rice was introduced by the Moors over 1200 years ago. In fact, the Spanish word for rice is ‘arroz’, which is derived from Arabic, not Latin like most of Castilian Spanish.
Humble Beginnings
Paella was originally farmers' and farm labourers' food, cooked by the workers over a wood fire for the lunchtime meal. It was made with rice, plus whatever was to hand around the rice fields and countryside: tomatoes, onions and snails, with a few beans added for flavour and texture. Rabbit or duck might also have been added, and for special occasions, chicken plus a touch of saffron for an extra special colour and flavour. Paella was also traditionally eaten straight from the pan in which it was cooked with each person using his own wooden spoon.
Little by little, as 'Valencian rice' became more widely available, paella recipes were adapted with new variations appearing. With Valencia being on the coast, it is no surprise that various types of seafood crept into the recipes over the generations. Now paella is the generic name of 200 or so distinctive rice dishes or ‘arroces’ from the Valencia region let alone other parts of Spain and the rest of the world. To this day a "true" Paella Valenciana has no seafood but a mixture of Chicken, rabbit and snails with green and white beans.
‘Paella’ – where did the name come from ?
It’s a little confusing but ’paella’ or to be more exact ‘la paella’ is the name for cooking pan itself and not the dish. The word comes from old Valencian (in Valencia they have their own language somewhat similar to Catalan) and probably has its roots in the Latin 'patella' meaning pan.
There are however, some other wonderful (if less likely) theories about the origins of the name. The most romantic of them suggests that the dish was first prepared by a lover for his fiancée and that the word is a corruption of ‘para ella’ (meaning ‘for her’ in Spanish). Like all myths there is a small grain of truth in this and although many women still traditionally do the cooking in Spain, making paella is usually left to the men - very much like BBQ’s in the UK!!!
It has also been suggested that the word ‘paella’, is derived from the Arabic word "Baqiyah", which means ‘leftovers’ - once again emphasizing both the dish's humble and arabic beginnings.
Paella – the most sociable of all culinary occasions
In Spain paella is still unique. Not only do families congregate on mass to eat paella in restaurants, but it is often cooked at weekends at holiday homes in ‘bodegas’ or ‘txokos’ (large dining areas where families gather) or at beach or mountain picnic sites. There are many paella competitions all over Spain and very often a giant paella is the centrepiece for many fiestas.
It’s easy to see why - paella can create a party, a ceremony and a debate (often over the making of the paella itself!!) - making it one of the most sociable and enjoyable of all culinary occasions.
And finally, if you don’t already know – and you want to impress your friends, "paella" is pronounced "pa-e-ya" with the "e" as in "bet".
Knocking back a few pints of beer while chowing down on copious amounts of salty, greasy food is a time-honored tradition all over the world. The Spaniards came up with tapas or pinchos, the Koreans snack on anju, and we Filipinos have pulutan. A popular favorite in our country is sisig, which is comprised of a pig’s face that’s been chopped up and fried to perfection. Crispy, tangy, and meaty, it’s a perfect complement for beer’s natural earthy flavors. While its high fat and sodium content can make you dizzy and bloated, none of that matters once you’re three bottles in to drowning your frustrations with your douche ex in between mouthfuls of sizzling sisig.
Off With Its Head: How Sisig Is Made
The distinct, savory aroma wafting from that sizzling plate of sisigmight make mouths water, but the recipe behind it could turn the stomach of the more squeamish among us. The first step involves taking a pig’s head (a real pig’s, not your ex’s) and boiling it until it’s tender. The hairs are then removed, with the fleshy portions chopped and then grilled or broiled. Finally, the whole lot is seasoned with salt, pepper, vinegar or calamansi juice before being fried with chopped onions, various types of sili, and chicken livers. Traditionally, sisig is topped with a raw egg which is gently cooked by the sizzling plate’s residual heat. Some eateries occasionally add ox brains, crushed pork cracklings, and even mayonnaise for added richness.
Pork may be the default protein of choice for whipping up sisig, but some adventurous cooks have also used exotic meats like ostrich, frog, and python. Vegetarians and pescetarians (along with practicing Catholics during the Lenten season) can also join in on the fun by going for a plate of squid, tuna, or tofu sisig.
Though it might be difficult to believe now, sisig was initially conceived as an austere cure for hangovers and nausea (and the vomiting that accompanied both). The dish’s name comes from “sisigan,” an old Tagalog word which means “to make it sour.” Its existence was first recorded in a Kapampangan dictionary back in 1732 by Diego Bergaño, a Spanish missionary who served as the parish priest for Mexico, Pampanga at the time. The Augustinian friar defined sisig as “a salad including green papaya or green guava eaten with a dressing of salt, pepper, garlic, and vinegar.” The dish’s inherent sourness was thought to suppress the urge to vomit, and was thus frequently administered to those suffering from dizziness (or from a night of overindulgence).
This acidic green salad eventually found its way to the dining table as an accompaniment to roasted meats, but it wasn’t until the American Occupation that sisig became recognized as an entrée in its own right. Back then, the US Air Force personnel were stationed at the Clark Base in Angeles City, Pampanga, and the commissaries in charge of preparing their food would dump unused pig heads into the garbage. Aghast at the waste of edible parts, nearby local residents offered to purchase the unwanted portions and were allowed to do so cheaply. They boiled the pig heads, sliced off the ears and jowls, and added these to the sour relish, thus making the prototype of the modern sisig.
The credit for the modern sisig that we enjoy today belongs to a little old lady who used to live by the railroad tracks. Lucia Cunanan, or “Aling Lucing” as she preferred to be called, retained the elements of the traditional Kapampangan dish (chopped meat cooked with a souring agent), but kicked things up a notch by grilling the boiled meat, chopping it up, frying it with pig brains and chicken livers, then serving it on a sizzling plate. The sourness from which the dish took its name no longer took center stage. In its place, the crunchiness of the pig ear cartilage with the creaminess of the liver and brains came to define a well-prepared plate of sisig. Aling Lucing’s creation catapulted the humble dish from a regional delicacy to a national sensation.
Aling Lucing’s sisig also revolutionized the Kapampangan dining culture. Kapampangan society used to shun humid, open-air canteens and preferred only fancy, air-conditioned restaurants, but the renown of her sizzling sisig piqued the curiosity of the wealthy. Celebrities, government officials, and heiresses all found themselves risking their lives (and their expensive cars) by trekking to “Crossing,” Aling Lucing’s food stall in the slums by the railroad. Now that customers focused on the food rather than on the ambience, other entrepreneurial cooks with very limited capital started converting garages and backyards into eating areas to showcase their specialty dishes. Popular Kapampangan eateries like Jojo’s and Razon’s were among those that flourished from that trend.
Sadly, Aling Lucing’s story does not have a happy ending. On April 16, 2008, the 80 year-old was found bludgeoned to death in her Angeles City home. The primary suspect was her own husband, then-85 year-old Victor Cunanan, but the investigation was inconclusive and the case remains unresolved to this day.
Sisig in Popular Culture
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While Aling Lucing may be gone, her biggest culinary contribution seems to have taken on a life of its own. Angeles City is now known as the country’s Sisig Capital, a title that was solidified further back in 2003, when the city held its first Sadsaran Qng Angeles (Sisig Festival). The celebration featured a giant sizzling plate on which HRM students cooked up tons of sisig for the thousands of revelers, which included representatives from the Guinness Book of World Records.
Sisig is enjoying significant international acclaim. It’s included in CNNGo’s list of 50 delicious Filipino foods, a sentiment echoed by Anthony Bourdain himself after he sampled the fare at Aling Lucing’s. Tom Parker-Bowles, the food writer for Esquire UK (and the stepson of Prince Charles himself), also raved about sisig in an article he wrote for the said magazine, and even traveled all the way to Angeles City (a mere two days before his famous stepbrother’s wedding!) just to sample an authentic version of this Kapampangan specialty.
Going Places: Sisig in the Age of Globalization
Nowadays, foreigners and Filipinos living abroad no longer have to travel hundreds of miles just to get their sisig fix. Maharlika, a joint that serves modern Filipino cuisine, recently opened in Manhattan, New York. While their specialties include Filipino fusion dishes like the Eggs Imelda (a riff on Eggs Florentine that sets a poached egg on a toasted pan de sal with taro leaves, coconut leaves, and prawns), their sizzling sisig is what draws the diners in. Described as “pig ears, snout, belly, cheek (cooked 3 times – boiled, grilled, sautéed) with onion, garlic, and lemon,” Maharlika’s sisig made waves in the multi-cultural city, even bagging the “Best New Food” award from Time Out New York, a leading food and entertainment guide in the Big Apple.
If hot, heavy sizzling plates aren’t your thing, you can always grab a sisig taco from Señor Sisig, a fusion food truck in San Francisco. The brainchild of two Kapampangan yuppies from Daly City, Señor Sisig combined all the good things about our favorite Filipino happy hour dish with the portability of Mexican taqueria dishes. Founders Evan Kidera and Gil Payumo based their sisig on an old family recipe, but made one key improvement. Instead of using a pig head, they marinate a pork shoulder for over twenty-four hours in a special blend of spices before charbroiling the meat to give it a succulent, juicy flavor. The resulting meat is then used as a filling for tacos, burritos, and nachos. And if you’re not a fan of pork, they also have chicken and tofu alternatives. Whatever your preference, the award-winning food truckis sure to have a sisig variant for you to enjoy.
Sisig might not be the most refined (or the healthiest) example of our local cuisine, but there is something uniquely and identifiably Filipino about it. Its origins reflect our heritage and culture, speaking volumes about how we Filipinos excel at taking something that others see as useless or disgusting and elevating it into a culinary phenomenon that is enjoyed and celebrated the world over. The little old lady from the railroad tracks would have been very proud indeed.
