Bread & batter

Although it’s only June, I can already say I’ve logged more land miles this year than in any other, even if only in and around my home island of Leyte. Ostensibly it’s for this or that beach, river, spring, or resort (rarely, that), but what I find more exciting is to venture into a new town, eat local bread, and maybe chance upon the odd meat, seafood, or produce.

Odd to me, that is. We were in downtown St. Bernard, gorging on delicious torta that we bought at a local bakery, when I spied this ambulant vendor offering humongous sections of squid. “Dalupapa,” Jenny had said matter-of-factly (the vendor referred to it as kulipapa). Purpleback squid, I would later find out.

St. Bernard is perhaps more familiar to you for the mudslide at Ginsaugon that claimed over a thousand lives in 2006 (though we were nowhere near the site). The town lies nestled at the crook of picturesque Cabalian Bay, but is more often referred to as one of Southern Leyte’s Pacific outposts, facing as it does the (northern) Pacific Ocean, which is home to purpleback squid. On a side trip to the Sogod public market, I finally saw several whole dalupapa — a very common sight in these parts, apparently (too bad we were in too much of a hurry to take photos). I could not help being awed by their size; compared to the squid sold in Maasin, these were monsters. The slice I bought, the vendor had told us, came from an 11-kilo specimen.

Back home, I deep-fried strips of the squid coated with a light beer-based batter. Using only a quarter kilo of squid, it still yielded a lot, although by far the most amazing thing about the whole exercise was the amount of spatter it caused. By the time lunch was served, everything within spitting distance of the stove was slick with oil (in some places with bits of squid): counter, floor, ceiling — and yours truly. If the squid had turned out tough, chewy, and/or langsa (fishy), I would have written it off then and there, but the fried calamares was tender, if a bit over-seasoned (my fault, that one).

The problem, I figured, was that I did not dredge the pieces in flour before coating them with the batter, and indeed the second batch did not spatter or fly hither and yon. I served it over steamed rice with shaved carrot and shredded Napa cabbage, drizzled with teriyaki sauce. If I had to do it over again, I would substitute half the flour in the batter with cornstarch, then top each bowl with poached egg. Another mode of preparation would be to slice the grilled squid and serve it on a hot plate with a serious amount of spices, maybe even with coconut cream. Or as a quick adobo, preferably with some ink.

But those will have to wait. In the meantime, I’ve taken to keeping a cooler in the trunk of the car for more serendipitous (if perishable) discoveries on future trips. As for the torta, Jenny had twice been to St. Bernard since our trip (her line of work entails lots of time on the road) and in each case came back empty-handed. “They were out.” “Oh, it was the fiesta and the bakery workers had too much to drink the night before.” I’m telling you, that torta was so good, I would not be surprised if she had eaten them all on the long drive home.