Gutsy

When talk turns to penny pinchers, my mother is quick to offer her own as an example. “But at least we ate well,” she would just as quickly point out. “Tia Angeling, on the other hand, may she rest in peace…”

Family lore has it that her father’s spinster cousin would lug jars of dayók all the way to Manila back when she was a medical student at UST. Dayók is made with fish guts, which some people rank pretty low (if not lowest) on the totem pole of things fermented or preserved. Even the help could not stifle an “Ewww” when she realized what was in the recycled Tanduay Jr. bottle.

“Hey, don’t knock it until you’ve tried it. Here.”

She gingerly took the opened bottle to her nose, remarking that it did not taste fishy or anywhere near gross at all. Then she stuck a finger into the neck for a taste.

“Not bad, I guess.”

“See?” The truth was, I had not dared try it myself. It smelled clean (with a hint of vinegar), and that was reason enough for me to buy it (at ₱60, not exactly cheap). But I was less prepared for how slimy it looked once out of the bottle. Well, did I expect fish intestines to look anything but what they were? I dipped a finger into the brine. Lola Angeling, this one’s for you.

Actually, it tasted fishier than it smelled, if no more than regular ginamós — nothing that biasong or kalamansi juice couldn’t neutralize (or at the very least mask). The problem was how to present it to my audience. For now, I decided it stood a better chance hidden, like here:

There’s dayók all over those mussels, all right. I have featured a similar dish a while back. For this take, I pounded together ginger, garlic, onion, spring onion, and finger chili until pasty, added a bit of sugar, black pepper, about a tablespoon of dayók, a dash of fish sauce, and the juice of a kalamansi, and pounded some more. The paste I sautéed in a little oil until quite dry, then I added cleaned mussels to the wok along with a cup of water, put a lid on the pan, and waited for the shells to open up.

A tip: if the broth turns out too briny or salty from the mussel juices, add a leaf or two of cabbage to the pan (remove mussels so they don’t overcook). Simmer for a few minutes, or until the broth tastes right, then remove and discard leaves. Pour sauce over mussels, garnish with chopped parsley, and serve with lemon wedges. All’s well that looks (and tastes) well. Angeling had lived well into her 80s, hadn’t she?