As my love and understanding of the foods of the Philippines deepens, I find it stirs a great well of belonging in me – something I have spent a lot of time looking for.
I’e confessed of my desire to write about Philippine cooking in the context I find most interesting: culinary history. Learning as much as I can about the history of the Philippine islands – of the abundance of native produce in its lands, paired with the ingenuity of cooks who came to understand what their ingredients were capable of – is an ongoing mission. My goal? To share the striking beauty of the Philippines and its cuisine, by reporting on what culinary traditions exist, how they got there, and why it is necessary to document these techniques and practices before a generation of cooks so attuned to their environments across the Philippine islands, disappears.
Like many people of my generation – Filipinos and non-Filipinos – my attention span is short, and I wish I had the seemingly boundless energy that incredibly successful people have with their work. I have trouble defining what’s important to me, and following the general rule of growing up I’ve found that my priorities shift as time passes – not always in the upward direction of advancing your career, pay scale, apartment size or wardrobe quality – but in a linear pattern too, where I’m thankful to realize that to grow as a person, you need to build character and resilience, to develop confidence and belief in the things you do.