Some people say lechon paksiw is better than the roasted pig it is made from. I say they’re Tagalog, seeing as how their lechon is underseasoned in deference to their beloved sarsa (gravy), making the day-after incarnation with vinegar, soy (or fish) sauce, and spices the tastier treat.
But why regard it as some kind of contest? Paksiw is good in its own right, especially if you have a top-notch main ingredient to start with. I have had different versions of the dish and enjoyed them all (with extra rice, please). Heck, I never make paksiw the same way twice. I put in what feels right (or is available) at the moment.
Spice-wise, the mainstays in mine are crushed garlic, dried bay leaves, and black peppercorns. When I have star anise I add one or two as well, but it’s not a must for me (same with finger chili). They go in with the vinegar —the cooking kind, not too sour.
How much vinegar? I usually add a cup for a 5-quart Dutch oven’s worth of chopped lechon, then leave it to boil on high heat without stirring, cover off, for 5 minutes. Then I get in there with a large spoon to give the pieces at the top a shot at the vinegar. I generally wait for the smell of the vinegar to dissipate before adding Sprite (a trick I learned from Eva) or plain water (1 cup). When that comes to a boil, the lid goes on and the heat is reduced to medium-low for a gentle simmer.
I prefer to season paksiw when the liquid has at least reduced by half. Our lechonero is quite aggressive with the spices and salt; that’s how my folks like it so there you are. The point is, always taste paksiw before seasoning, especially when the pieces are from the heavily salted cavity. I use either soy sauce or fish sauce, but rarely both at the same time. And don’t forget sugar. Lechon paksiw needs a little sugar to even out the taste. A teaspoon or two does the trick nicely.
Some lechon are tougher and some chopped bigger than others, so you’ll have to keep an eye out for when the pieces have turned tender enough to your liking (some people prefer the meat falling off the bone). Gently move the pieces around every now and then so that the dish cooks evenly. Mine usually takes 40 minutes from the moment I first put the lid on.
I once left lechon paksiw to simmer away and came back just in time as it was starting to burn, giving off that peculiar smell we call anghoy. I had to transfer the contents to another pot, careful to leave behind the crust that had adhered to the bottom of the first. The dish came out dryer than usual (of course), but on the other hand, it acquired a new flavor dimension that I could only describe as “almost nutty.” In fact, it turned out to be one of the better versions of the dish that I ever made. I’m just saying.
Ingredients and technique aside, the only other thing that makes for great paksiw — be it lechon or fish — is time. Let it sit unrefrigerated for a day or two (or even three; it keeps well) to let the flavors come together. Reheat gently before serving and savor the difference. Even a Tagalog can do that, and that’s not a compliment.
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