A Reflection on Pinoy Christmas Fare

If you know anything about my family–the Mariano side, that is–it should be that we take our food seriously. We love food, and we're also the type that firmly believe that if you like it, you either have to learn to cook it, or find a regular source to buy it from.
When my grandmother was still alive, we (my cousins, my uncles and aunts) used to have Noche Buena in their Mandaluyong house. After her death, however, we've had to tweak with tradition. Now, we have Christmas Day lunch at the house instead of the Noche Buena–partly because it's less hassle for us, and partly because it frees my Auntie Hope and Uncle Willie for their parish activities the night before.
Even with the change in tradition though, some things have remained the same; and though we no longer serve exactly the same food as lola would prepare every Christmas Eve, my taste still leans towards her preferences.

Seafood
One thing that hasn't left the Christmas table since lola's death is seafood. I don't know about your family, but in mine we can't celebrate without some form of sea creature cooked and ready to eat on the table. Most of the time, lola would prepare steamed lapu-lapu, its side coated with mayonnaise and stripes of minced carrots, hard-boiled eggs and pickle relish. (I used to think this was a dish that developed during the American era, because of the presence of pickles. Only last year, after reading Gene Gonzales's Cusina Sulipeña did it occur to me that a similar dish existed in the late 19th/early 20th Century, but with capers instead of the pickle relish. I'm guessing that the pickle relish became a cheaper substitute after the Second World War.) In many ways, this fish dish represents what Filipino fiesta fare is for me–undoubtedly rich (what with the mayonnaise AND eggs, not to mention the capers), yet still light (the flaky, white flesh of the lapu-lapu offsetting the mayonnaise).  Unmistakably Pinoy.
Of course in recent years we haven't prepared this dish all that much, but have replaced it with other seafood dishes–prawns, crabs, Chinese hot prawn salad. Today, though, something compelled me to prepare it again. The lapu-lapu was tiny, we didn't have any pickles, and I lightly boiled the fish instead of steaming it–but despite all the flaws, I couldn't help but feel a wee bit of my childhood return to me as I took a bite.
(We also had crabs and rock crayfish cooked in loads of garlic and coriander today. Yum.)

Hamon and Queso de Bola
I'm pretty finicky about these two. Ordinary fiesta ham and local queso de bola are okay–fiesta ham makes for great sandwiches come January–but they'll never evoke Noche Buena as powerfully as Marca Piña edam cheese, and a good handmade, bone-in ham from Adelina's or Majestic. Lola herself wasn't particular about the cheese, at least not to my memory, but the ham would always be memorable. A couple of Christmases after she died, Daddy splurged on a leg of Majestic Ham (expensive even then at 500+ per kilo, back in the late 1990s) and I would happily eat the ham skin and fat (which I normally wouldn't do if it were any other ham!). If you have never tried Majestic Ham, you have missed half of your life. It's ham perfection.
Sadly, due to the sheer artisanal nature of Majestic Ham (every step of the curing process is done by hand, with premium ingredients, over months), it's become really expensive. So, we didn't have any this year. We made up for it with the queso de bola, though. (Apparently, my family loves the edam so much that my dad could tell what brand was served today–Marca Pato, which is "saltier" in his estimation, compared to Marca Piña.)

Embotido, Galantina, and their ilk
And by ilk, I refer to all the Spanish-influenced Tagalog dishes that take a heck of a long time to make and have a busload of ingredients. (I'm looking at you, morcon, chicken pastel, and relleno–yes, both of you, chicken and bangus!) Holidays for lola seemed to be incomplete with out the richness and abundance these dished symbolized.
It's no wonder these dishes stood for plenty in her book. I recently took a look at her recipe for chicken pastel and it listed eleven ingredients for the stew alone. My grandmother would serve the pastel with a shortcrust pastry cover, which requires even more ingredients (not to mention more work). Pastel was not just a stew, no siree, it was a pot-pie.
The recipes for embotido, galantina, and morcon are along the same lines–ingredients lists that could fill a page, and instructions that fill another page. Inevitably, ham, chorizo de bilbao, and vienna sausage are in them. And boy do they take a lot of time to make.
Two Christmases after lola died, Dad and I tried to make both morcon and chicken pastel for Christmas lunch. We were so distracted by the whole process that we nearly burnt the morcon.
Fortunately, today my aunt bought chicken galantina from a friend. It was excellent. I doff my hats to all people who have the patience to still make galantina the traditional way.

Dessert
Aside from the ubiquitous fruit salad (made with the classic fruit cocktail, and not the "fiesta" kind with the tough papaya chunks–is it just me, or are there a lot less grapes now in fruit cockatil?) dessert would be pretty variable during Noche Buena. Whatever it was, we would down it with a cup of hot cocoa–made from the then-excellent Ricoa powder–poured from lola's stainless steel teapot. Lola used to make leche flan, but she stopped when I was older. I'm thinking that she just plain ran out of time to make it, what with all the other things she made for Noche Buena (yes, chicken pastel. I'm not angry). We would also have, from time to time, some biko and ube halaya–never something lola made herself, but given as gifts or bought. With the amount of effort it takes to make either biko or halaya (you need biceps of steel!) I don't think my petite lola would have survived the Christmas season if she had to make that herself!
We still have the leche flan from time to time. Today, I served up JC's Christmas gift–his mom's famous leche flan. We also had a big biko (after a couple of years of not having any) from Ate Sarah, one of lolo's caregivers. As I write this, I'm eating a couple of biko slices with a mug of hot tsokolate de tablea (a gift from Lovelyn, made by a lola in Bicol). Now, that's what Filipino Christmas fare is all about–the bounty of the land and the work of people's hands, lovingly put together.

Happy Christmas, everyone! Happy eating!