By CLAUDE TAYAG, The Philippine STARPublished Feb 17, 2022 5:00 am
My column last week on the Kapampangan mula elicited so many comments from several kabalen (province-mates) living here and abroad. Not only did they have similar experiences as kids, growing up in their respective grandparents’ mula, but also they were all pining for the same dishes I had as a child.
But, the best comment, which I received through e-mail, was from eminent food historian Felice Sta. Maria: “It is a well-written recollection, Claude. I love the way you mention the feeding of children. It is the combination of rice, viand and broth that we learn to enjoy while young. It is the Filipino way. Love you for writing about it and your whole family experience.
“What comes to mind from food history is that your mula was strengthened by the grid-iron city planning of the Spanish when the old barangays were demolished and residents were moved under the bells.
“The personal garden was important to the Spanish food security and tribute system. There were ordinances sometimes with the King’s approval, other times the Governor-General’s. What to plant in the garden was specified, at times under penalty of fine or lashes. Domestication of pigs and chickens was also ordered, both for family or community food self-sufficiency and in order to pay tribute to the King and to the church/parish.”
A nation’s cuisine is shaped not only by its landscape, with all its regional climate and topography, religious and historical laws, but also by economic and political conditions that regulate production and trade of such.
I thank Felice not only for her heartwarming and encouraging words, but more importantly, for shedding light on the mula from a historical perspective. It’s no wonder every town and province under the shackles of the Spaniards, and then the Americans, had the same setup.
Speaking of the Americans during the Commonwealth period, Felice published a paper, “Food Literacy in Adult Education of the Philippine Commonwealth, 1937-1945,” in The Journal of History, Vol. LXVI (Jan-Dec 2020) pages 301-350.
She wrote: “The Americans encouraged home gardening in the 1930s, not only to stabilize the food supply and to use excess harvest for home enterprises, but also to prepare for the impending World War 2.
The rural enhancement effort encouraged having a front ornamental garden made of flowering plants, and then at the back the kitchen garden. For backside fencing, the following were recommended: madre de cacao or kakawati (multi-purpose herbal treatment, effective as antiseptic and anti-parasitic properties), as well as malunggay and katuray, which were considered good veggies. Same fencing was also recommended for schools.”
As for home kitchen gardens, Felice wrote further: “Sinkamas (jicama), eggplants, sigarillas (winged beans), peanuts, bataw (hyacinth beans), patani (lima beans), kundol (winter melon), patola (Luffa gourd), upo (bottle gourd), squash, radish, mustasa (mustard green), white onion, tomato, garlic, ginger and sesame.
“Imported veggies were also promoted for home and commercial gardening like cabbage, cauliflower, sayote (chayote), and several varieties of onions and tomatoes. Root crops like ube, arrowroot, sweet potato, taro, and cassava were also promoted and were planted in large-scale farming.”
Thus, a nation’s cuisine is shaped not only by its landscape, with all its regional climate and topography, religious and historical laws, but also by economic and political conditions that regulate production and trade of such. A regional/national cuisine is the sum total of its history.
By the way, our aunt, Imang Esmie Suarez, whom I mentioned in my column last week, though busy with paperwork even on weekends as a school principal, nevertheless took care of bathing and tucking us four tykes aged 3 to 6 years old into bed. Just imagine the smell of dried sweat and grime on our necklines, having played outdoors the whole day. That in itself was no easy task for anybody. God bless her soul, as well as our Tatang Geni, our three grandaunts, brother Bam and cousin Nico. Their memories are etched in the meals I have shared with them.