Disappearing bananas

 From ancient, seeded varieties to today’s Cavendish exports, bananas have shaped Philippine history, cuisine and economy.

BY SOL VANZI

Feb 14, 2025 08:32 AM

  

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BANANAS in all their different varieties (Photo from Unsplash)

Man has been eating bananas for thousands of years, consuming the first varieties, which were small and fully seeded. Over time, the fruits grew, developed various shapes and tastes, and became the most popular commercially grown tropical fruit.

Bananas have been a part of the Philippines' history since ancient times. The Philippines is one of the regions where bananas are thought to have originated and now is one of the exports supporting our economy. Various sources estimate our annual banana exports at between 3.5 million and 6 million tons of Cavendish bananas.

According to Philippine export data, the country shipped the most bananas to Japan, which recorded a share in value of 37%. The Philippines stood as the second-largest banana exporter in the world.
For local consumption, Filipinos prefer Saba bananas, which are native to the country. Saba is the most popular type planted in home gardens and small farms because of its versatility as a main ingredient in many Pinoy dishes for breakfast, snacks and main courses. 

Although there are dozens of banana varieties, only a handful are available in local markets; there are only two or three sold in supermarkets. Most Manileños are familiar only with señorita, lakatan, saba and Cavendish.
Señorita is a must-buy for local and foreign tourists who visit Tagaytay. Visitors are attracted to the whole bunches of small yellow bananas neatly clinging in tight rows and selling for less than P100.

Cavendish bananas, developed for export and grown commercially in Mindanao, are like what Tagalogs of old called bungulan. The fruits are long and green and stay green even when ripe. Very aromatic, it is best used fully ripe, mashed for fritters, pancakes, muffins and banana bread.

Lakatan is the prettiest choice for fruit baskets and pasalubong. It is also the most expensive. It tastes best when slightly overripe, as indicated by tiny brown spots on the skin.

Lakatan has yellow skin and almost orange firm flesh. No wonder it is the most expensive fresh banana in the market. 

Saba bananas are the most widely sold at all stages of ripeness. Some buyers prefer fully ripe saba; others prefer fruit that is almost ripe, while Visayans choose fruit that is really green to eat boiled instead of rice with salted fish called ginamos.

Saba fruit has high levels of nutrients, making it a good choice for consumption. It is rich in starch, with a carbohydrate content similar to a potato. It is also an excellent source of vitamins A, B and C and contains dietary fiber and iron. Saba fruit has its highest nutritional value when consumed raw.

Ripe bananas do not travel well; boiled bananas do. Throughout my long career as a journalist, I have depended on boiled bananas during stakeouts and long coverages. They do not need special packing, do not spoil, and are very filling and nutritious.

In my travels all over the Philippines, I still run into banana varieties I knew as a kid but that are now very rare: Gloria, morado and tindok. Gloria has yellow skin and white firm flesh that cuddles dozens of black seeds that resemble whole black pepper.

Morado has short, fat fruit protected by thick reddish skin.

Tindok fruits are large, more than a foot long and as fat as a baby's arm.

Perhaps it is time to focus our attention on our disappearing fruits, lest we find ourselves singing, "Yes, we have no bananas. We have no bananas today!"

How men won women’s hearts at the turn of the century

A century-old love: The timeless tale of Lolo Andoy’s devotion and the test that won Lola Tina’s heart

BY SOL VANZI

Jan 31, 2025 08:38 AM

  

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GENTLEMAN FARMER Lolo Andoy helped in the rice field and drove a calesa for extra income between planting and harvesting seasons

The love story of Lolo Andoy and Lola Tina, typical of their time at the start of the 20th century, could inspire today’s young men and women to be good, honest, brave, and faithful. It is a tale worth retelling.

My grandfather, son of a farmer-tenant, grew up in Imus, Cavite. He helped in the rice field and drove a calesa (horse-drawn cart) for extra income between planting and harvesting seasons. Sakate made trips to gather grass for his horse, which took him to Barrio Salinas in the adjacent Bacoor town. The southern edge of Salinas was thick with tall bamboo, which protected the homes and little children from falling into the Binakayan–Bacoor River that snakes through Imus, Bacoor, and Kawit.

The prettiest and most sought-after lass in Salinas was Florentina, a shy 15-year-old orphan with dark, ankle-length hair, ebony eyes, and a very light complexion. She cooked well, made the finest embroidery, and was the top village modista (dressmaker). She planted and harvested palay as well as any man, yet looked every inch the real dalagang Pilipina of every young man’s dream. 

With all these attributes, she could have chosen any of the landed, moneyed poblacion suitors who trekked to her village to win her hand. Lolo knew his chances were slim; he was a poor farmer’s son with nothing to his name. But he was the most persistent of the many swains who wooed Lola.

For a year, he helped plow, harrow, plant, and harvest the rice fields of Lola’s aunts and uncles. He bathed and fed her family’s carabao daily. He fetched water from a well one kilometer away for Lola’s cooking and washing chores. He carried Lola’s washing to and from the river.

Finally, Lola was convinced he was it. But the family that raised her wanted one last test: he had to gift Lola with "isang palayok ng atay ng biya" (a clay pot of fresh goby liver), to be stewed in fresh tamarind and served for what would be their engagement dinner. It was a tough challenge; Lolo and Lola prayed hard for success.

Lolo was told of the test after the rice harvest and took it like a man. With quiet dignity, he continued to serve Lola’s family until the first rains of May fell when he announced that he would soon leave for Laguna to fish. After weeks of preparation, he left with a carabao, a cart, several banga (clay water jars), a salok (small fish net with handle), salakab (hand-held bamboo fish trap), bingwit (hook and line), rice, and a palayok (covered clay cooking pot) to cook rice in.
It rained for many, many days while he was gone. When the rains stopped, Lola began to worry. One starless night, he showed up at the foot of her nipa hut’s three-step bamboo stairs. 

In one hand, he held aloft strings of gutted, salted, and kippered daing na biya (salted split goby). The other arm cradled, like a chest of precious jewels, a simple clay pot brimming with tiny morsels the color of Lolo’s burnished skin. He had done it! He passed the test.

So, big deal, you’d say. That’s easy to do these days, with air-conditioned supermarkets selling all kinds of frozen and chilled fish. To accomplish Lolo’s task, all one has to do these days is purchase several kilos of biya and ask the fish vendor or the maid to cut out all the livers. But remember, this all happened more than a hundred years ago.

There was no refrigeration, there were no modern paved roads, and no South Luzon Expressway. There was no electricity, and no bags of tube ice from 7-Eleven to keep food fresh for days. Imus was half a day away, on foot or on the back of a carabao, from Laguna de Bay, the closest source of biya.

THE TEST Lolo Andoy's Fishing skills, combined with an already proven farming ability, would serve his family well

Salakab fishing
The fish had to be caught by hand, with hook and line, salok or salakab. Each fish he caught had to be pabiyay (kept alive in clay jars) until he had caught enough to fill a clay pot with livers. And then he had to rush home, many hours away, with the fresh livers.

As Lola explained during kitchen lessons when I was six, Lolo’s feat proved many positive things about his character.

1. Lolo was a good provider. His fishing skills, combined with an already proven farming ability, would serve his family well.
2. He was intelligent. He devised a system of keeping the biya fresh for the duration of the expedition. Nothing could be fresher than live fish.
3. He was patient. Very few men, even in those good old days, would go through the process of catching thousands of biya without using a net, which could damage, kill, or weaken the fish.
4. He was thrifty. Although the test only called for the fish liver, he patiently cleaned and kippered the fish bodies, then salted and dried them so they would be kept during the rainy season. Other men would have simply thrown away the fish bodies after taking the livers.
5. He was a good homemaker. He gutted, scaled, and kippered the fish neatly, and not a single liver had any trace of bile. Had he been sloppy, a single drop of bile would have turned the entire pot of liver into a vile, bitter, and inedible mess.
6. He truly loved her. Why else would anyone go through such a test? 

To make the long story short, Alejandro and Florentina got married, had five children and thirty-something grandchildren, and lived happily together for 60 years. They were an ideal couple; he was hardworking, and she was the perfect wife, mother, and grandma.
I grew up looking forward to Sundays when she would serve paksiw na biya (stewed in vinegar), pinangat sa sampalok (simmered in young tamarind fruit), or isinapaw (cooked by the steam of boiling rice). Whatever the recipe, the biya livers were always cooked wrapped in banana leaves and served separately, exclusively, for Lolo Andoy, who never tired of retelling how he captured Lola Tina’s heart.

Real Italian pasta at home, any time

When the rain falls and the air grows chilly, few things bring more comfort and cheer than a warm, hearty plate of pasta

BY SOL VANZI

Dec 5, 2024 10:29 PM 

Our four adopted kids were pasta lovers from day one. The only problem was their definition of pasta was soggy spaghetti drowning in sweet banana ketchup. It took many months and dozens of meals before they learned to love pasta’s varied shapes and colorful, flavorful sauces.

These days, the biggest problems when making pasta at home are the availability of ingredients and the prohibitive prices of vegetables.  Green pepper, onions, and garlic are priced at P300-P400 per kilo. Fortunately for us amateur and professional cooks, there is a product in the market that makes real Italian pasta using genuine Italian ingredients without paying astronomical prices for herbs and vegetables. We are actually greeting the holidays with real Italian pasta sauces that are cheaper than if we bought the ingredients at local supermarkets and veggie stores.

On rainy days, there’s nothing quite like a plate of pasta to warm your heart and soul. With Filippo Berio’s range of authentic Italian sauces and pestos, you can bring the flavors of Italy into your home with ease. Whether you crave a spicy Arrabbiata, the freshness of Basilico, or the luxury of Truffle Pesto, these recipes are perfect for turning any meal into a comforting, satisfying experience. 

 

Pasta: Ultimate comfort food on rainy days
As the rain pours outside and the air turns cooler, nothing beats the comforting warmth of a hearty plate of pasta to brighten up your day. With a collection of versatile and authentic Italian pasta sauces, you can easily elevate your home-cooked meals, transforming even the gloomiest day into a cozy, satisfying experience. Let’s explore several exceptional products, each paired with a quick and easy recipe for a heartwarming meal.

Arrabbiata pasta sauce 

For those who crave a spicy kick, this sauce is made from 100% Italian tomatoes, fiery red chili peppers, and extra virgin olive oil. It is the ideal choice to add a burst of bold, spicy flavor to their pasta. 

Recipe to try: Penne arrabbiata
This quick and simple dish hails from the Lazio region of Italy. The spicy arrabbiata sauce paired with penne pasta creates a delicious, vegetarian meal in minutes

Serves: 2 | Prep time: 15 to 20 minutes

Ingredients:

160g penne pasta
Filippo Berio Arrabbiata Pasta Sauce
Fresh basil leaves for garnish
Salt

Procedure:

Cook the penne in salted water according to the pack instructions.
In a pan, warm the arrabbiata pasta sauce.
Once the pasta is ready, drain and stir it into the sauce.
Serve in warm bowls, garnished with fresh basil. 

Basilico pasta sauce 

A taste of Italian tradition, this sauce captures the essence of Italy’s culinary heritage. Made with 100% Italian tomatoes, fresh basil, and extra virgin olive oil, it’s a delightful, vegan-friendly sauce that brings a refreshing touch to your meals.

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Recipe to try: Tomato basil soup with grilled cheese

Enjoy the ultimate comfort food combo with this rich and creamy tomato basil soup, paired with a perfectly golden grilled cheese. Using Basilico Pasta Sauce, this quick soup is packed with authentic Italian flavors and is ideal for cozying up on a rainy day.

Serves: 2 to 3 | Prep time: 20 minutes

Ingredients:

1 jar Filippo Berio Basilico Pasta Sauce
1 small onion, chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 red bell pepper, chopped
1 tbsp Filippo Berio Extra Virgin Olive Oil
1 cup water
1/4 cup heavy cream
1 tsp sugar
Salt and pepper, to taste
4 slices thick bread
2 tbsp garlic butter
1 cup shredded cheddar cheese

Procedure:

In a large pot, sauté onions, garlic, and bell pepper in olive oil until softened.
Add the Basilico pasta sauce and water, stirring well. Let simmer, then add cream, sugar, salt, and pepper to taste.
For the grilled cheese, spread garlic butter on bread slices, add shredded cheddar, and cook in a buttered pan until golden brown.
Serve the soup hot alongside the grilled cheese and enjoy this comforting duo warm.

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Truffle Pesto

For a Luxurious truffle indulgence and a unique and elevated twist on a classic pesto, the truffle pesto sauce combines summer truffles' rich, earthy flavor with other high-quality ingredients. Perfect for adding a touch of luxury to everyday meals, it beautifully pairs with everything from pasta to grilled sandwiches.

Recipe to try: Tagliolini with truffle pesto
This simple yet luxurious pasta dish from Piemonte brings together the creamy richness of truffle pesto with delicate tagliolini pasta for a meal that feels both hearty and indulgent.

Serves: 2 | Prep time: 10 to 15 minutes

Ingredients:

500g tagliolini pasta
2-3 heaping teaspoons of Filippo Berio Truffle Pesto
50g parmesan (grated or shaved)

Procedure:

Boil tagliolini in salted water until al dente, then drain.
Stir in the Filippo Berio Truffle Pesto and toss well.
Serve topped with shaved parmesan.

Classic Pesto 

A traditional Ligurian delight made with fresh Italian basil following an authentic Ligurian recipe, This classic pesto recipe is a versatile and flavorful addition to any pasta dish. It offers the essence of Italy’s pesto in every jar.

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Recipe to try: Avocado and pesto grilled cheese—This decadent sandwich combines creamy avocado and mozzarella with the rich flavors of truffle pesto for a gourmet take on a beloved comfort food.

Serves: 4 | Prep time: 10 to 15 minutes

Ingredients:

8 slices Italian loaf bread
1/4 cup Filippo Berio Truffle Pesto
1 ripe avocado, sliced
6 oz mozzarella, sliced
1/4 tsp each of salt and pepper
2 tbsp Filippo Berio Olive Oil

Procedure:

Spread pesto on one side of each slice of bread. Layer avocado and mozzarella, then top with the remaining bread slices.

Heat a skillet over medium-low heat. Cook the sandwiches for 2-3 minutes on each side until golden and melty.

Traditional pandesal, to the rescue!

How our favorite breakfast bread can save dollars, reduce imports, and help farmers

BY SOL VANZI

Feb 1, 2024 09:30 AM

  

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AT A GLANCE

• Our mad dash to the bread bag ensured that the pandesal was still hot and not soggy from the steam of freshly-baked bread.

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FILIPINO BREAKFAST STAPLE No Filipino breakfast is complete without hot, fresh pandesal

Every barrio in the Philippines has a community bakery, its own panaderya that supplies freshly baked pandesal from dawn to midnight.

Growing up at the south end of Pulang Lupa in Las Piñas, we were awakened daily by the honking of the pandesal delivery bicycle, which sent us kids rushing to our front yard where the day’s ration of pandesal was carefully nestled atop a gumamela bush, out of reach of dogs, cats, chicken, and other free-range creatures.

Our mad dash to the bread bag ensured that the pandesal was still hot and not soggy from the steam of freshly-baked bread. We paid for the bread by leaving money in a paper bag atop the gumamela bush every Sunday morning. We never lost a single bag. 

Pandesal was the breakfast staple in our five-generation household. There was no dietary precaution against pandesal raising the blood sugar of my grandparents and great-grandparents.

The old pandesal recipe saw drastic changes, especially during the hot “pandesal” craze. The staple shrank, was tinted with yellowish food color, and sweetened.

Community bakers, according to Lucito Chavez, president of the Asosasyon ng Pilipinong Panadero (APP), are pushing for the nationwide adoption of a “standardized pandesal” formula, using less sugar to avert future price increases.

The standardized formula will return pandesal (salty bread) to its traditional recipe. 

The pandesal currently being sold by both community and industrial bakeries, Chavez explained, has deviated significantly from the traditional formula, requiring a huge portion of sugar, which has recently become expensive.

Agricultural products like squash, camote, potato, sweet potato, carrot, malunggay, as well as ube, can be incorported to pandesal to as much as 25 percent. These local products face supply and quality challenges due to poor post-harvest capacity, lack of a robust cold chain infrastructure, and high transportation cost.

The United States Department of Agriculture (USDA) projects the Philippines will import 240,000 MT of refined sugar this crop year 2023-2024.

Tinapayan Festival, a community bakery which has been around for 40 years, introduced nutrient-packed, cost-efficient pandesal varieties that solve the rising prices of fuel, sugar, and wheat. Use of bountiful vegetable harvest in pandesal is a novel and practical solution for farmers’ seasonal problems while providing nutritious and affordable bread. 

Filipinos’ love affair with soups through the years

BY SOL VANZI

  

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Rain or shine, it is always a good time to have a bowl of soup

I am a soup person. Rain or shine, I love a bowl of soup with dinner. Sometimes, a bowl of thick soup is dinner.

Like many people my age, I grew up knowing only one kind of sopas—a broth with elbow macaroni and some kind of meat: canned corned beef, ground beef, chopped Spam, or bony chicken parts. The broth is enriched with evaporated milk. It was always served as breakfast, snack, or merienda, an alternative to goto and arroz caldo and very seldom as a separate lunch or dinner course.

Sopas

Goto (Image by Judgefloro)

SOUP AS MAIN COURSE  

Soup can be as simple as canned relief goods sardines with miswa noodles, as rich as San Francisco’s seafood cioppino stew, or as grand as cognac-flamed lobster bisque.

Tinolang Manok

Bulalo

When Filipino groups or families eat out, the soup course ordered is often a viand like sinigang, tinola, or bulalo. The Pinoy way of dining does not follow the Western appetizer-soup-main course program. Very few will dare eat a bowl of sinigang by itself without rice. 

Sinigang

Foreign cuisines offer hefty stews that pass as thick soups but are often served as main course: chili, goulash, minestrone. Taken with bread, they are filling and nutritious.

CHINESE SOUPS  

Unlike Filipino meals, Chinese lunch and dinner are more structured, with soup served separately at the very beginning, before or right after the cold cuts. The most popular among Pinoys are hototay (sea cucumber), nido (bird’s nest), corn and crab, spinach, and hot-and-sour.

In panciterias, the gooey pork gawgaw is often ordered with fried rice, and hardly ever consumed alone.

The Chinese noodle soup we call mami is not meant to be a meal. Hard times have forced millions to serve it as a viand poured over rice. Similar to mami but more substantial with fat noodles and thick gravy is lomi, laden with egg and meat.

La Paz Batchoy

In Iloilo, the Chinese wanton dumpling stars in a bowl of batchoy with pork organs and fried garlic. Also well-loved in Visayas and Mindanao is balbacoa, a collagen-rich stew of tenderized cow’s feet and head, sometimes seasoned with Chinese herbs. 

WELCOME RAMEN AND UDON

Before ramen restaurants became popular here, we knew ramen as the cheap instant noodle distributed during calamities. In normal times, instant ramen provides sustenance to students, dorm dwellers, travelers, campers, and street people. 

Ramen

High-end ramen shops have changed that image; air conditioned and classy spaces in popular malls now sell ramen bowls for the equivalent of $8 and long lines greet every opening.

Udon

Another Japanese noodle soup dish has entered the picture. Born in Osaka, the udon has fat white noodles made right in the premises. The noodles float in a light broth that is not cloyingly thick. Two of Japan’s most famous udon chains now have shops in Metro Manila. I love Tsurumaru at Robinson Ermita. Amazingly inexpensive!

From kuhol to escargot

 ‘You are what you eat’ is no more true than with snails

BY SOL VANZI

  

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AT A GLANCE

• There was just enough time to wine-purge the kuhol and boil them in wine-spiked water with bay leaves and onions—a merciful death. They were drunk and felt no pain.

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One of the most expensive meal starters is escargot, French snails cooked in garlic butter and served in their shells. The snails, raised in grape farms, spend their lives munching on grape leaves, which give them a distinct flavor and tenderness. Kept alive while being fed organically grown vegetables and milk until it is time to cook them, French escargot is very pricy and rare. Away from these farms, escargot meat is sold in cans with their shells in separate packs.

During trips overseas early in our marriage, Vic kept ordering escargot whenever we dined at a European-themed restaurant, inspiring me to serve him the dish in our home. The problem was where to get French snails. I researched and learned how escargot are raised.
Months of experimentation with thousands of native kuhol finally rewarded me with snails that are indistinguishable in taste and texture from the ones raised in France. 

Over several decades, I have served escargot-style snails to hundreds of dinner guests who were delightfully surprised to learn that the snails were raised in my kitchen.

What kuhol eat

I loved eating ginataang kuhol just about anywhere until I joined my cousins gathering kuhol from the ricefields one rainy day when I was 10.
The fields were flooded, rousing the hibernating kuhol from slumber and sending them creeping and crawling all over. They climbed stubs of newly harvested rice, crossed rice paddies, clung to stalks which they left leafless. They were eating everything!

Snails voraciously gobble up all plant matter along their path, leaving black thread-like waste matter as they move on. A snail is like a tube: Food comes in, goes through its body, gets digested, and is expelled as waste. The body absorbs the flavor of whatever food it ingests. When one buys kuhol, one never knows where they come from and what they ate.

“You are what you eat” came flashing through my mind as I decided to raise my own clean kuhol, dissatisfied with Grandma’s simple system of leaving snails overnight in a covered basin with a little water. 

Observing that Lola’s snails still bore traces of mud and scum after an evening soak, I experimented. I threw out the water they were soaking in, rinsed the snails twice and poured in fresh water. Then they were fed freshly chopped kangkong leaves.

The next day, their water was clearer, although still dotted with dark threads of waste matter. I rinsed them again and sprinkled stale bread crumbs that they readily grabbed. A few hours later their waste secretions were lighter colored and no longer slimy.

I went one step further and rinsed them one more time, scattering more bread crumbs as their last overnight meal. The next morning, there was not a single speck of dirt in their pale beige secretions. Over the family lunch that day, Grandpa noted that my ginataang kuhol tasted very fresh and the gravy was without sand, soil, and foreign matter, unlike the stuff they had gotten used to. My kuhol diskarte became a family secret.

Seventy years later, the wife of my grandson served an excellent bowl of adobong kuhol at the baptism of my first great-grandchild. When guests asked where she got the clean-tasting, grit-free snails, she looked at me, smiled and said, “Secret!”

 

Deliciously drunk

Our first wedding anniversary dinner with friends at our tiny Hong Kong flat was my first chance to impress our colleagues, all foreign correspondents like Vic and I were at the time. When I found escargot plates and special snail tongs with tiny forks to match, I decided to serve French-style escargot. 
It was February 1978 and the nation was preparing to elect delegates to the first Batasang Pambansa  or National Assembly.  Ninoy Aquino, campaigning behind bars, was heading the opposition ticket. International news agencies sent crews to cover all the press conferences and anti-government rallies. I was commuting between Hong Kong and Manila weekly. On one such trip I brought to Hong Kong a box of snails all purged and ready to be cooked.
They had spent four days purging on veggies and bread and were ready for their last meal—bread soaked in wine. 

My early morning flight was perfect. There was just enough time to wine-purge the kuhol and boil them in wine-spiked water with bay leaves and onions—a merciful death. They were drunk and felt no pain. After 15 minutes, they were tender enough to be drained, removed from their shells, and tossed in a garlic-parsley-butter bath.
 

The last step was to return them to their shells, arrange the shells on the snail plates, fill the shells with more butter mixture, and bake them for five to 10 minutes or until bubbly. They were perfect with crusty bread.
 

At the end of the meal, a couple of our guests wanted to try their hands at snail farming. I gave them dozens of snails in bamboo baskets lined with lettuce leaves. It was one of the most memorable meals Vic and I hosted.