Stinks so good, but don’t ask my neighbor

We share our floor in Cebu with someone who perfumes the hallways with the acrid frying aroma of what I assume is some treat from a distant homeland — Korea, maybe. “They ought to be ashamed of themselves,” Ma mutters. I agree, and more. “We should pay them back in kind.” Imagining: buwad nukos — dried squid, the kind that comes with ink sac and happens to be stinkiest of all.

The idea leaves me giddy — and then, I realize, giddy for a different set of reasons, namely runny scrambled eggs and tomato and onion salsa on the side (and don’t forget the pinakurat (spiced coco vinegar)). Suddenly I feel for those damned Koreans; why couldn’t they stick to kimchi?

Until I took up cooking, I had not imagined the extent to which taste could evoke a sense of place. I only knew that Tagalog lechon was bland, or that Bikolanos liked their fare spicy. I once made the mistake of scoffing at my Kapampangan landlady’s suman (rice cake) — to me a lazy heap of discrete elements piled one of top of the other, lacking the synergy of budbud back in Leyte — and for which remark I would thereafter pay by lugging grease-stained boxes of nilambiran, dawa, and tres Marias every time I returned from vacation; Ate Ghel liked them so (and I obviously liked her as well).

Smell, however — that’s something else. Although we know it is an integral part of taste, we recognize there is an offensive side to, say, ujáp/bagoong alamang (fermented shrimp paste) just by its aroma. I could say the same of patis (fish sauce), which someone once amusingly likened to that of dog vagina’s. There are all kinds of fish sauce, BTW, and by that I mean brands. The best I have tried so far is Top Choice, from Thailand. Worst? Lorins, a rung lower than Rufina (and both local). If that sounds like hairsplitting, try comparing them side by side — there is an appreciable difference in aroma, smoothness, and overall taste.

Trivia

In some parts of the Philippines, patis refers to soy sauce, and toyo to fish sauce.

These days I use Suree (also Thai, from S&R; Top Choice having vanished from Metro Ayala), its mellower bouquet of dog snatch permeating my kitchen and Pok Pok-style chicken — and, no, I have not been setting up a gag. It’s just that this nước mắm-glazed dish of crispy chicken wings (cánh gà chiên) skyrocketed into popularity as the signature of Andy Ricker’s restaurant chain Pok Pok, hence the name (their cookbook has it as “Ike’s Vietnamese fish-sauce wings”). Phát Phở serves a wonderful version, with sesame seeds in lieu of garlic. Pokpok, as you must know, is Pinoy slang for prostitute.

I have linked to the recipe above. It’s a bit confusing, so I have decided to rewrite it (with minor modifications). Also, since a number of similar (or adapted) recipes online call for Three Crabs-brand fish sauce, unfamiliar to me, you will have to adjust the marinade/glaze as you go along until to your liking, especially if you are using stronger-flavored fish sauce. As for the unavoidable stink-fest, I also assume you are already in the clear with the neighbors, if any.

Pok Pok-Style Crispy Chicken Wings

This dish can also be made with other chicken parts, chopped bite-size. For the wings, I only used mid-sections and tips. You can also include the drummettes, together or separately. For fish sauce, I used the Suree brand.

• ½ kilo chicken wings (mid-sections with tips)
• 
  For the marinade/glaze:
  ¼ fish sauce
• ¼ cup sugar
• 4 cloves garlic, finely minced
• ¼ teaspoon salt
• 4 tablespoons warm water, divided
dash of sesame oil, to finish
• 
  For breading:
  ¼ cup flour
• 2 tablespoons cornstarch

1. In a bowl, combine fish sauce and sugar. Stir well until sugar is dissolved.
2. Sprinkle salt onto garlic cloves and mince until fine. In a separate bowl, steep/soak garlic in 2 tablespoons of warm water for 5 minutes, then drain liquid into bowl with fish sauce-sugar mixture. Gently mash garlic against strainer with a spoon to get as much water out as you can. Set garlic aside.
3. Take half of the liquid and use that to marinate chicken wings. Toss well to coat. Cover and refrigerate along with the reserved liquid and garlic. Let sit for at least 4 hours (or overnight), tossing chicken every hour or so.
4. Drain marinated chicken well, then dredge lightly in combined flour and cornstarch.
5. Heat about an inch of oil in a frying pan. At 325℉, fry chicken in batches until golden brown and crispy. Transfer to a plate lined with paper towel to remove excess oil.
6. In a smaller, cold pan, put in garlic and half a tablespoon of oil. Turn heat on to low and fry garlic until golden, stirring every now and then. Transfer to a plate lined with paper towel to remove excess oil.
7. Take your remaining fish sauce mixture and combine with 2 tablespoons warm water and a dash of sesame oil. Transfer to a wok or pan big enough to accommodate all the chicken pieces and boil until reduced by half. Add chicken to pan and toss until evenly coated with glaze. Sprinkle with fried garlic. Serve.