Singapore, Java: it’s all cassava to me. Until I read up on its history, I had always wondered how this tuber came to be variously named after a country and an Indonesian island.* It’s so widely cultivated around the world that we assume it has always been around in these parts, but as it turns out, this most American of plants (Mexico/Brazil/Central America) was only introduced to the Far East in the mid-1800s — in Singapore and Java.
If you ask me, cassava is best showcased in a sweet, glutinous cake. We always get ours from Yoyi’s in downtown Ormoc — a bit out of the way, I agree (if you can even call a two-hour drive that), but that’s how good it is (Lucy Torres-Gomez recommends Flores, which I have to try next time I’m in the area). So making my own was not exactly the smartest use of the cassava Kap gave us. There just was a lot of it, where was the harm? Also, a friend of Ma’s was in town and staying with us. Tita Helen took one look at the tubers and gave me a tip: When extracting coconut milk, use coconut water on the second pass. “I’m telling you, it makes all the difference in your cassava cake.”
I dunno. I was too dismayed at how it looked. The top layer was a sickly white and burned in places, with none of the rich golden sheen promised by the recipe (not Tita’s, by the way; I somehow forgot to ask for it, and the cake’s appearance definitely had nothing to do with her advice). The following day, Ma went to a party and took a whole pan’s worth with her. It was wiped clean. I didn’t know if that was due to how yummy my cake was, looks notwithstanding, or how crummy the dessert selection at the party had been. Maybe they simply ran out of sweets. I was too afraid to ask.
Onward. I scaled down my ambition and settled for cassava fries. How hard could that be? Slice, boil, dry, fry, season, serve. Except I never made it past the second stage; I boiled the cassava for 30 minutes and got mush. It’s what happens when you disregard your own admonition to be circumspect about everything you come across on the Net. More so if it’s from About.com. You might as well ask Kris Aquino for relationship advice.
Fortunately, it wasn’t too long ago that I had made croquettes. Mash the boiled cassava with a bit of butter. Season with salt and pepper. Then take some cubed cheddar cheese, roll each cube in finely minced red and green finger chilies, wrap with mashed cassava, and form into balls. Dip each ball in egg wash, roll in breadcrumbs (I used toasted grated coconut) and fry until golden brown. Serve with your dip of choice. For that, I puréed sautéed onions, garlic, and more finger chilies with a half-cup of mayo and a fourth of cream, plus a pinch of salt, some sugar, and a squeeze of lemon. Don’t eat the flowers though. They’re decorative.
I did manage to make cassava fries eventually. It took all of five minutes to boil the slices. Try adding salt to the boiling water, but not too much — the cassava will absorb the flavor quite well. Pat them dry and deep-fry until golden brown. Season with sea salt (if you did not put any in the water) and serve with ketchup (or the sauce above, plus ketchup). Ma didn’t even have to give them away. They were so good, she cut short her siesta after one bite.
They didn’t make up for the cake, of course — I’m still not over that. I want my showcase, and as God is my witness, I swear, one of these days I will have my perfectly golden cassava cake and eat it, too. In the meantime, if you have a tip to share, I’m all ears.
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