Authentic? Get real!

I have never had traditional Ilocano pinakbet before, so I hope my handful of Ilocano friends don’t give me grief over my version of their iconic dish. Come to think of it, I don’t recall any of them making a fuss over food back during our boarding-house days. They were too busy gambling in the next room.

Not that our landlady gave us reason to grumble about food. She was Kapampangan, as was the cook, and they lived up to their much-touted culinary heritage. Nor am I suggesting that Ilocanos are a gambling lot. Some individuals are just more prone to gamble regardless of ethnicity or regional background. The same goes for other stereotypes. A braggart is a braggart, Ilonggo or not. The Waray war freak? The Ilocano kuripot? I have yet to meet a sufficient number of them to justify the clichés — and I know a fair share of Ilonggos, Warays, and gamblers. I guess it’s a matter of meeting the right (or wrong) people.

Shouldn’t the same go with food? Does it take an Ilocano to appreciate good pinakbet? It irks me when people qualify appreciation by invoking the “authentic” clause: “This is delicious, but it’s not authentic.” As if the recipe is writ in stone somewhere. I’m proud of my tinowa. I even admit that I am often hesitant to try other people’s version of the dish. Does that make me a snob? Definitely. But God forbid you should hear me claim it’s authentic. I won’t even call it traditional, although a case can be made for that (I’ll just hold off on the MSG, hah!).

Have you ever seen any restaurant or food outlet advertising its fare as traditional? Me, too. It has to be “authentic,” “original,” or “the best.” The problem with “traditional,” I think, is that it doesn’t have that ring of exclusivity to it. I don’t mind “best” or “original,” obviously. Every barbecue stand in our place claims to be one or the other. It puts the burden squarely on the food to live up to the very common claim (hooray for exclusivity!). “Authentic” cuisine, on the other hand, leaves no room for personality for its subtext that food should be done one way — and one way only — as if food were some kind of relic, immutable and rigid (and the act of cooking it a mindless exercise). Who wants to eat that? The only food I can think of that could conceivably be called authentic was manna. It came from heaven’s own kitchen, for crying out loud. And for all that pedigree the Israelites grew tired of the stuff. Hey, nobody’s perfect.

As for pinakbet, some insist on the traditional Ilocano method: cooked in a clay pot, with fermented fish and minimal stirring (if at all). Then there’s the variation that uses shrimp paste, called pakbet Tagalog. Fish or shrimp — it’s all the same to me. I don’t even bother with meat; if you chop the spices finely and mash them together into a rough paste along with fish sauce, sugar, and the fermented fish/shrimp, there’s all the flavor you need. That makes my pakbet even less traditional. Should you care? Not unless you’re some kind of culinary Taliban. Please don’t tell me I should build my own fire next.

Meatless Pinakbet

This version is on the dry side. If you prefer your pinakbet soupy, just add more stock or water and adjust seasonings. Use as much (or little) of each vegetable as you like.

• 1 medium red onion, minced
• 2 cloves garlic, minced
• knob of ginger, crushed and minced
• 1 finger chili, minced (optional)
• 1 red tomato, deseeded and minced


• 1 tablespoon fermented fish fry or shrimp paste
• 1 tablespoon fish sauce
• ½ teaspoon white sugar


• squash, cubed
• string beans, cut 3″ long
• ampalaya (bitter gourd), halved and sliced
• okra, cut into sections
• eggplant, halved and sliced


• 2 tablespoons oil
• vegetable stock or plain water
• salt and pepper, to taste

1. Using a mortar and pestle, grind/mash spices until you form a rough paste. Add the fermented fish fry/shrimp paste, fish sauce, and sugar. Mix well.
2. Heat oil in pan. Pour in spice mixture and cook for a minute, stirring often.
3. Add squash and stir until coated with spice mixture. Add ¼ cup stock or water, then cover pan and lower heat. Check periodically to see that water has not evaporated completely until such time that squash pieces are tender but not quite done. Add more stock/water, a tablespoon at a time, if necessary. This will take from 5 to 7 minutes.
4. Stir in string beans, cover, and cook for 2 to 3 minutes before adding bitter gourd. Replace cover and leave for another 4 to 5 minutes. If pan is too dry, add stock/water.
5. Add okra and eggplant, cover pan, and cook for 4 to 5 minutes or until okra and eggplant are cooked through. Season to taste, turn off heat, remove cover, and let rest for a minute or two before serving.