Out of the west

The concept of terroir has to do with how a confluence of factors (geography, geology, environment) expresses itself in an agricultural yield. We normally hear the term used by wine enthusiasts to compare the taste of wines made by the same vintner using the same process, from the same grape variety grown in the same vineyard, if in slightly different locations and varying soil composition and exposure to the elements, among others. There is a difference, they insist — often a world of it. For someone like me who can’t tell a burgundy from a cabernet, that sounds like so much horse manure.

Yet how come my father can tell, say, a pugapo (grouper) fished west of our place from that caught slightly southwest? I’ve tried fooling him many times, saying this one’s from Cabulihan when it’s from Mantahan (or vice-versa), and still he knows. By taste. He insists that the former has a hint of mud. Huh? I take a bite. What mud?

I tell people this and they are, to a person, incredulous. It’s preposterous, they say. Fish is fish. Why should it taste differently from place to place, especially in such near proximity? Believe me, I’ve asked myself that. Is it diet? Water temperature? Salinity? Whatever it may be, it makes the task of buying seafood more complicated for me than it already is, because not only is Pa maddeningly fastidious about the kind of fish he eats, but on top of that I also have to consider where it’s from. I come upon spectacularly fresh maya-maya and pass on it on account of not being caught in the right place. “Oh,” I say, “my amo (master) is very picky.”

I’m tempted to say that my father is a super-taster, except that he often complains about my food not having enough salt. My mother, on the other hand, claims the opposite. “Something’s the matter with your taste buds,” she tells him. I’ve given up trying to figure them both out. I plonk a bottle of Knorr Liquid Seasoning on the table and leave them to it.

I don’t need to tell you that my father refused to partake of the steamed fish pictured here. “Langsa,” he’d said after a forkful. I ate some and could not detect any fishiness. If I didn’t know better, I would swear something was really wrong with him, and not just the taste buds. What I could not deny was that that damned fish came from out west.

Steamed Pugapo

Adjust the amount of spices and sauce according to the size of the fish you are using. This recipe also works well with maya-maya (red snapper), even shrimp.

• pugapo/lapu-lapu (grouper), cleaned


• knob of ginger, julienned
• spring onion, chopped, white and green parts separated
• mung bean sprouts (optional)
• salt and pepper, to taste

For the sauce:
• 3 tablespoons Chinese cooking wine
• 2 tablespoons light soy sauce
• 1 tablespoon water
• 2 teaspoons sugar
• ½ teaspoon sesame oil

1. Arrange fish on a platter that fits in your steamer. Season with salt and pepper, then let rest for 15 minutes.
2. Top fish with ginger and spring onion (white part only). Combine sauce ingredients, adjust to taste, then pour over fish.
3. Steam fish until cooked through. If using bean sprouts, garnish over fish and cook for another 2 to 3 minutes.
4. Remove platter from steamer and garnish dish with spring onion greens. Serve immediately.