Stories from the ethnic food aisle

When white bread just isn’t white bread – it’s Pinoy Tasty!

I’m not really a cook, but I’ve been known to dabble. Like any novice Filipino-Canadian cook trying to satisfy a craving for home cooking, I know my staples. I can cook rice (measured the Filipino way with the finger and not with a measuring cup). I can cook sinigang, adobo, kare-kare, and various forms of nilaga. In the morning, I know my silogs and my tsamporado. Whether it’s anything tasty or authentic I leave that for you to judge. All my life, shopping at the ethnic food aisle and the ethnic food store has been a regular part of my weekends since childhood. It’s dawning on me now how rich these places are for an oral history intervention.

Two of the artifacts coming out of Pananaw were groupings of Filipino candy (Choc nut, Cloud 9, and Maxx) and Filipino snacks (Boy Bawang, Chippy). While the former include the rich, chalky chocolate taste and sweetness of lemon drops, the latter explore all the goodness garlicky, salt and MSG can offer. In the oral history exercise, the group to receive the Filipino candy artifacts described their connection with the candy as part of their childhood memories. The student, a very recent arrival to Canada, explained how her grandparents used to “bribe” her with them. She told the story with a smile and we listened equally with the same grin. The Filipino snack group chose not to personalize their artifacts and instead described them in general terms. They noted the ingredients and that the artifact was manufactured in the Philippines. Perhaps, as 1.5 generation Filipino-Canadians, this group’s childhood memories of the Philippines were too distant to recall. It could have been merely a Filpino-Canadian snack to them and that was all they had to relate to. They perceived the snacks with the same ambivalence as any other passer-by in the store would. I guess the point worth making is that we connect to things in varying ways. I would like to argue that the ethnic food aisle is a rich place to understand how different these ways can be.

Over the years, working with immigrants and having hosted a few in my own home, I have become keenly aware of their discerning taste buds. Choosing the right ingredients, the most authentic ones, is what brings them back to what they know. I’ve learned this because I’ve substituted ingredients in my cooking to an array of comments, some good and some bad. Japanese Kikoman soy sauce instead of Pina Filipino soy sauce in adobo and apples instead of raisins in afritadacan raise a few Filipino eyebrows (Don’t even get me started on substituting white rice with brown rice!). There are certain things that Filipinos hold dear before they can consider themselves Filipino-Canadian, the taste of home is just one of them. Yet for my mom, a master cook and a queen in ingredient substitution, I have to say she always maintains the right taste. Everyone I know revels at her beef empanada, lomi pansit, nilugaw, to name a few. Despite the fact that over the years she’s added her touches (to reap the health benefits no less) of cinnamon, apple cider vinegar, and garlic, I swear her food is still deliciously Filipino.  The funny thing is she tells me she never learned to cook until she arrived in Canada over 30 years ago. So, her connection with the ethnic food aisle is something entirely Canadian (I dare say).

Next time you venture down the ethnic food aisle, stop and take in the reaction of its patrons. Do they get excited at the sight of an item? Do they marvel that some snack or ingredient is actually here in Winnipeg? Or, do they look through the aisle with suspicion? Maybe, they’re there searching in the aisle because of someone’s suggestion? Whatever they may be doing, think of it as a connection to a “thing” and their life beyond the kitchen table.