Traffic worsens whenever fish vendors make an impromptu market of the corner sidewalk in front of Andok’s. The area is at the heart of the commercial district. We parked the car in hazard mode, hoping the traffic aides would understand: it had been a good long while since we had seen bolináw.
Size is not everything, people say — it’s what you do with it that matters. Not so for me when it comes to anchovy fry. They have to be small. The ones pictured here are just about the right size; a fraction bigger and they would have been ideal. Much bigger and I think of baby lizards. In this case, they ran in the other direction: too small, as in tiny. I had to rethink my plan to make omelette with them.
My idea of tortang bolináw involves a crisp shell that gives way to a moist, hefty interior. In other words, you have something substantial to bite into. Anchovy fry too small turns to mush; too big, it’s flaky, with disconcerting bits of crunch from bone, and, in some cases, a pronounced bitterness as well. I remember my first encounter with Zubuchon’s fried saguyon (goby fry). I had found the crisps somewhat insubstantial, but now that I had fish fry near (if not even close) their size, I could appreciate why they were cooked that way. It’s about keeping the fish discernible, preserving their integrity, as it were. Looks amazing, too.
If only I could say the same of my bolináw crisps. I did not have time to sun-dry my fish, so I mixed them with a combination of equal parts cornstarch and flour, a quarter of a teaspoon of baking powder, some salt, and a small egg; spooned the mixture into hot oil and flattened into thin discs, then fried until golden brown. They were crispy, all right, but could have been crispier if I had used beer instead of egg. Far from bad, really, but I could have done better to make it worth holding up traffic for.
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