The second time around

Oi. I think I’m getting the hang of this. Saw dolphin shells at the market again, this time with a different vendor, and they were already scrubbed clean. My initial experience with taktakon was promising enough (if a little vexing) to whet my curiosity. Really, I wanted to do right by them. At ₱25 a pundok (batch), the risk-to-reward scenario could only be in my favor.

For this sophomore attempt, I needed to correct/address what went awry the first time: 1) I boiled the shells too long; 2) I did not remove the tough (top third) part of the meat; and 3) (according to the vendor) I threw away the dark intestinal sac, which is supposed to be the tastiest, tenderest part.

I topped the shells with water, just so, poured the liquid out of the pot into a bowl, mixed it with a heaping tablespoon of salt, and added it back. Then I covered the pot and turned the heat on to high. When the water came to a foamy, vigorous boil (watch out or it will spill over), I turned off the heat and let the shells steep/steam for a minute.

Drained and cooled, the shells did not even have to be jerked or shaken to remove the meat. Yes, they got their Visayan name from that very motion, and it’s fun watching the cooked snail fly out of its carapace — but only for so long. A safety pin works just as well. Stick it along the side of, and then under the operculum — it’s hard to miss, being that round “door” blocking access to what’s inside. The meat will slide right out with almost no effort. (BTW, I extracted 60 grams of meat from 600 grams of snails.)

The part connected to the operculum is the snail’s foot. I would describe its mouthfeel as cartilaginous, even tough. If that kind of thing floats your boat, hey, but for my money, I say out with it. As for the intestinal “sac,” snails are bottom feeders, aren’t they? I closed my eyes and popped one in my mouth. I had expected it to be gritty, but it was smooth and velvety, not at all icky. Oh joy!

With that, I was set. I marinated the meat in a combination of oyster sauce (1 tablespoon), water (¼ cup), soy sauce (1 teaspoon), sugar (½ teaspoon), hot sauce (½ teaspoon), and cornstarch (½ teaspoon). Then I sautéed sliced ginger (a small thumb), onion (half), garlic (2 cloves), and finger chili, added a splash of Chinese cooking brandy, and stirred in the snail meat, marinade and all. The sauce thickened in no time, so I added a tablespoon of water to thin it out, then turned off the heat.

Now this was more like it. I’m glad I did not give up on taktakon despite the rather unpropitious circumstances of our first encounter. I wish I could say the same of my suki. Maybe when she cleans up her act. And her shells.