Palapa on the table
The palapa is not only a condiment but also the fiber that connects every Maranao to his own realm.
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The palapa is not only a condiment but also the fiber that connects every Maranao to his own realm.
“Where do you want to eat?” is a question you always hear in our family! Why?
Food has always been the common denominator that bound both sides of my family. There is no better way to describe this than via the late nights our father would excitedly rouse us from slumber so we could enjoy his pasalubong — a basket of chicken tikka from the renowned Kashmir on Arnaiz Street, Makati; shawarma from that Shawarma Snack Center along Salas in Ermita; the never-ending pizza deliveries on PBA game nights; celebrating any and all achievements in the family; or just making us not scrimp on food even through challenging times.
In between these various kinds of cuisine would always be recipes from his province, especially delivered by his relatives — bowls of piaparan (meat cooked in coconut-based broth and spices), my mother’s favorite piaparan a udang (shrimp with grated coconut), kuning (turmeric rice), and of course, the queen of the Maranao table — palapa. I never really got around to these Maranao specialties even up to now, and who is to blame? Perhaps our father is, as he taught us almost everything about his culture except the dialect and her majesty, the palapa and her court. An exception to this is my Ilocana mother and my youngest sibling, who both eat Maranao cuisine.
Palapa is a condiment that I liken to atchara, which I love with my chicken inasal. Palapa, though, is made from a variety of scallions called sakurab, pounded ginger, chilis, and toasted grated coconut. Typically preserved in jars, it has a mostly pasty consistency, and many would sauté this in condensed milk, giving it contrasting flavors. When the queen speaks, the royal house and her domain listen.
The palapa is not only a condiment but also the fiber that connects every Maranao to his own realm. It has also evolved into the powdered variety; ask anyone from the Mindanao State University. Likewise, there has been a growing interest in the palapa among non-Maranaos. This unique condiment, once enjoyed only by Maranao-speaking people, is now slowly but steadily gaining ground in the food scene of Manila and beyond.
Pungent in smell and taste, its heat is a little unbearable for me. It is a reflection of my awkwardness in discussing the culture of the half of who I am. As earlier said, I prefer the atchara or even the coleslaw. For those with mixed identities, the struggle between two cultures may be normal, but sometimes agonizing. My parents, having practiced unity in diversity, our struggle was not that great.
We, in our family, are staunch advocates of genuine representation. It is hammered into our hearts and minds, making it part of what we are in our daily lives. However, I believe there are some things that need to be in place before I could continue where matters were left at.
There are matters I need to personally resolve, like speaking and understanding more than “Antona-a i bago?” (what’s new) or “Mapita” (tomorrow), “oway” (yes); knowing by heart the names of my more than sixty cousins and who among my father’s siblings are their parents; and of course, to acquire the taste for Maranao cuisine, including the palapa. Let the queen herself be the bridge to understanding. Yes, turn right with care.
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