Beefing up bihon

It just occurred to me that when mention is made of instant pancit, people automatically think Canton (egg noodles). Having spent most of my life in retail, I can tell you that instant pancit bihon (rice noodles) is a slow mover, a drag in the inventory.

And yet when eating out, we are just as likely to order bihon over Canton. Along with sotanghon (mung-bean vermicelli), they are the most popular of Filipino pancit dishes. Pancit, of course, being a moderately dry dish of rehydrated noodles with a smattering of vegetables and morsels of meat and/or seafood. As such, it is subject to many variations, like fried rice, and in a home setting is a great way of using up odds and ends in the kitchen; a little bit of this and a little bit of that, cooked and seasoned just so, and you have a standalone meal — although I promise not to make a face if you pair it with rice. I often refer to restaurant-made pancit as a “racket,” and when someone asks how so, I smile a little bit more. “Because it makes everyone happy,” I would say. “Aren’t you?”

Good pancit starts with good noodles. Here I used Super Q bihon. For the meat component, a 210-gram can of Purefoods corned beef (for 2 “sheets” of bihon, roughly 250 grams). Corned beef? In pancit? Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it. As with clams in Canton, beef brings a distinctive taste and aroma to the dish.

Another important factor is the broth. You do not need a bouillon cube for this. I save the liquid I boil pork for lechon kawali or sisig/dinakdakan with, for example, and that was what I used here. Chicken or vegetable broth is fine, too. Taste for saltiness, though; you may need to thin it with water. For every “sheet” of bihon, 1½ cups of broth (add more as necessary).

To start, give the noodles a quick rinse. Drain. In a wok or equally large pan, heat a tablespoon of oil and sauté corned beef with onion and garlic slices until a bit dry. Add julienned carrot and thinly sliced green beans and sauté for another minute. Pour broth into wok and season to taste with dark soy sauce and a dash of sugar. Add noodles once the liquid boils, turning every once in a while to evenly immerse in the liquid. Gently break up noodles into individual strands (two forks come in handy for this). When bihon is al dente, stir in sliced cabbage and red bell pepper, ground white pepper, and a drizzle of sesame oil. Wait 2 to 3 minutes, working the mix to evenly cook and distribute ingredients. Season as needed, garnish with chopped spring onion greens, and serve with sliced kalamansi on the side.

Come to think of it, it is more or less how you cook Canton and sotanghon guisado as well. The only difference is in mouthfeel, and it’s not a negligible one. Canton is richer and denser (from egg), while sotanghon is slimier and limper. Bihon is kind of in between. Do I like it over the others? Not really. It’s just different, is all. But more than anything, it reminds me of Terê and Titang’s pancit from grade school, and how my cousin broke his mother’s heart spurning her noodles for their blantantly “commercial” version. Now there was a racket.