12 November 2015

As good as it gets, for now

Braised pork leg

An impromptu trip a while back had us trooping to Orange Brutus at two in the morning for some pre-journey sustenance. It had been a decade, easily more, since I last ate at Brutus, so of course I ordered humba. Burger and fries I can always find anywhere, but their signature braised fatty pork counts as one of the best in my book.

Is it still? Let us just say that I remember it being better. On the other hand, the grilled pork belly at MyJoy, another Cebuano fast-food institution, has not fared half as well over the years. Truth is, Brutus’s humba beats mine any day — it has that “it” factor that inspires me, all the more for remaining elusive, if maddeningly so. These guys have it down to a science. Food CIA, anyone? I’ll settle for a disgruntled employee.

Kidding. I actually met the owners a long time ago. Cooked them dinner, as a matter of fact. How mortifying was that? (They also own Grand Majestic, Golden Cowrie, and Harbour City, with and among others.) If you have to know what I served, it was clear corn soup out of a can, ha-ha. Imagine if I’d cooked humba instead. Come to think of it, maybe they would have taken pity on me, dispensed a tip or two.

Humba (braised pork leg)

Not that I’m being too hard on my humba. What rankles is knowing exactly how I want it to taste. I still refuse to concede that there is any proprietary ingredient involved; I have tasted enough good humba to realize it is often abilidad (kitchen mojo) that carries the day, but something less personally contingent would make life easier, no? If I can be blamed for anything, it’s that I hardly bother to be methodical, so here, for example, I used pork leg (Brutus sticks to belly and shoulder). Far from bad, really; after a two-hour simmer, the meat was tender but not dried-out, the ligaments gelatinous, the skin jiggly but still a tad gummy. Neither too sweet nor salty, with just a hint of sour in the background. Nice color, too, if more deep brown than golden. Even close to Brutus’s it ain’t. What the heck, bring on the rice and achara.

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