In the Philippines, you can buy cigarettes by the stick, margarine by the cup, and soy sauce/vinegar/cooking oil in single-use sachets. There is a Tagalog word for this: tingi — retail taken to the extreme, which flies in the face of common economic sense that buying in bulk is more cost-effective. And yet I can not help but be scandalized every time I behold the display at S&R — a showcase of First World excess that summons up images of conspicuous consumption.
“Buy only what you need.” It would sound philosophical if it were more a state of mind and less about the state of one’s wallet. Tingi is not for sissies — it is about surviving on a budget that barely covers a combo meal at Jollibee, let alone a jumbo pack of toilet paper at S&R. There is nothing meta about poverty. Or having to forgo that sachet of shampoo for a can of sardines: Would you rather smell good on an empty gut? As the saying goes, that’s what you get for being the fruit of a poor pecker.
To be born in this country is to have the odds stacked against you. The government insists that only 30% of Filipinos live below the poverty line, but that is just so much hair-splitting. By its standards, you are not so if you manage to feed a family of five the equivalent of ₱12 per meal to a person. I leave it to you to imagine what kind of food that amount buys. Coke Sakto (200ml) retails for ₱7. And that’s for tepid. That is why I advocate buying Pepsi instead; not only is it cheaper, but diluted with lots of ice, it offers more for everyone and actually tastes like Coke. You save enough for a post-prandial cigarette — maybe two, even, if you are not particular about the brand.
I’m not being flippant. I count among my friends a number who struggle to make ends meet each day. And yet they belong to that class of people that government considers well above the threshold of penury for being able to spend slightly more than ₱100 for a family meal. That puts them above 70% of the general population! If by now you are wondering what you need to earn a day to be deemed really poor in this country, it’s ₱50 — the price of a Coke 1.5; nothing extra for ice.
In this country, you can buy ginger by the knob, onion by the stalk, and garlic by the clove. But if you want to save, forget about purchasing individual spices and go for Magic Sarap — now na! It’s already got salt, MSG, sugar, chicken fat, spices, and “flavor enhancers” (which I gather is industry gobbledygook for “more MSG”). It counts among its endorsers film star Judy Ann Santos, who I believe knows her food, though not her politics (didn’t she endorse Jamby Madrigal?). Then there’s Kris Aquino, who acts as if she knows her way around the kitchen — and yet can never hold on to her men (not that anyone’s counting). What is it again about a man’s heart and his stomach?
But I digress. I will be first to admit that Magic Sarap makes everything taste good. It’s supposed to, dammit. Which is not to say that it is an absolute kitchen necessity. If we keep Magic Sarap in stock, that is only because my father insists on it in his porridge. If you ask me, what really brightens up lugaw is a slice of ginger peeking out from under the mush, a smattering of green onion, toasted garlic, and a drizzle of chili oil. For umami, some manok bisaya. Juday would agree. Do you really think she spikes her kids’ food with Magic? Have you noticed that the commercials never once tout the stuff to be healthy? There’s food for thought.
I’m having trouble here. I want to talk about that parsley in the photo but I keep getting derailed. Must be the fever (no kidding). I purchased a bunch of the herb at Rustan’s on a recent trip to Cebu. No tingi there, of course. Since when did Rustan’s cater to Filipino sensibilities anyway?
I don’t really know why I bother buying parsley. I have gone without it for most of my life and never felt I missed out on something. Same with basil, cilantro, or thyme. I need to remind myself that it would be better to buy them in a pot rather than harvested, because once I deposit them in the refrigerator they sit there, wilting and forgotten. When garnishing a dish, my hands automatically reach for spring onion. Actually, I go for the scissors and venture into the garden to snip off a leaf or two.
In most cases, it is best to use only the freshest produce. I don’t think it makes economic sense to buy more produce than you can use for the next three days, and will even confess to being mystified by the Western (or is it only American?) fascination with storing/preserving all manner of perishables. Apples and peaches I get — but parsley? In ice?
Mystified, yes — but also curious. Why not? Where’s the harm in trying? I have never been less than forthcoming about my kitchen misadventures, of which there have been many, with more to come. And the parsley was just sitting there, waiting for its date with the trash bin. Well?
As you can see from the photo above, parsley holds up remarkably well to being frozen. I had expected the leaves to be “cooked” by the ice, but they kept their color well. Except when thawed — that’s too much to hope for. They won’t look too good garnished on top of a dish, but good enough minced and mixed into a sauce or stew.
In which case it suddenly came to me: So why not simply make pesto? There is nothing that can not be improved by pesto, from salad to pasta to pizza. And pesto needs nuts! I don’t need to tell you that I have grown quite obsessed about using up my mother’s collection of nuts.
See, this is how I arrive at my epiphanies: sideways. Now my mind is all worked up imagining the dishes I can use the pesto in. Maybe tomorrow. With this damned fever, all I’m in the mood for right now is some lugaw.
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