Filipino Fast Food.

This morning, after a morning of jeepney-jumping and darting between cars, I arrived at the Cartimar food court. The single piece of toast I’d had, while buttery, wasn’t quite enough to keep me fortified for traditional Manila commuting. So I looked for the quick Filipino breakfast that never fails to satisfy me: rice porridge. This is the goto extra special, from Goto Mama’s Nik & Nyl Goto Express. It’s filled, as you can see, with a potpurri of meat, fish, crispy garlic bits, and fresh green onion that keep you satisfyingly surprised. 

Goto, as Doreen Fernandez writes, is a meal “at the ground-level,” of Philippine culture. Goto is a common fast food of the masa, the most rib-sticking meal a construction worker, driver, vendor, or wayfaring Fil-Am food writer’s imagination could summon. A friend told me that when she was in college, her school held “Solidarity Days” with the poor; the money she and her friends would have spent on restaurants would be donated, and they’d eat goto, lugaw, or arroz caldo for the day instead.

Fish balls, hard boiled eggs, beef tripe, chicharon; name an animal protein, and it is likely esconced in the rice porridge of this 50 peso Goto Extra Special. The warm, dense quality of the broth brings literal weight to the term “rib-sticking.”

Before you set in on it, though, you must remember the ritual of adding calamansi juice and any amount of soy or fish sauce you like. Fernandez writes of this practice, too, that the Filipino “accepts nothing passively, but takes active part in the creation of his food… . In the Philippine experience, the diner cooperates and participates, and the creation is communal.” Liquid seasoning is called sawsawan, and “The sawsawan is itself another indigenizing process,” she writes, an element of Filipino food that makes it unique from other cuisines that are meant to be eaten as served by the chef.

For my sawsawan, I prefer calamansi lang; just the tart juice of the tiny limelike fruit is enough seasoning for me. A little sourness, a friend at the table for sharing, and lo, a communal, participatory, self-seasoned Filipino fast food breakfast. 

*From “Culture Ingested: Notes on the Indigenization of Philippine Food,” 2003.

This is the Adobo Flying Saucer from Aristocrat in Malate, one of the oldest restaurants in Manila. Aristocrat began as a rolling canteen selling fish and adobo sandwiches; a storied original native Filipino fast food restaurant, before it had a brick-and-mortar establishment and eventually opened several branches over the 75-year life-span of the brand.

In this toothsome handheld disk, small chunks of tangy, leftover chicken adobo are encased in plain, toasted white bread. The soft blandness is a nice balance to the vinegary pop of the adobo, working in much the way white rice makes adobo so satisfying.

The Adobo Flying Saucer seems to me a melding of post-war American ingredients and old-fashioned Filipino meat marinading. And I suppose as a hapa myself, I can relate to it.

This is my favorite quick Filipino fast food beverage; a young coconut, busted open with a straw stuck in. I needed a moment to get accustomed to the surprising lack of sweetness in fresh buko; there’s something meaty about it, something substantial and filling. Now I crave it.

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I have a lot of affection for this particular brand of donut. My aunt introduced it to me in 2007, on my second trip to the Philippines; GoNuts. When GoNuts opened its first store in 2004, thumbing its nose to Krispy Kreme’s non-arrival in Manila, GoNuts sold 10,000 donuts per day, prompting a reporter to dub it, pugnaciously, “The Manny Pacquiao of the Donut World.” 

GoNuts openly defied the then-absent Krispy Kreme, offering its way-bigger-sized glazed donuts at a price fit for the masa. Seven years later, ordering it at one of GoNuts’s stores in SM Megamall I do find that I prefer it to Krispy Kreme, which has since arrived in the country.

How to describe the pleasure of of an Amazing Glaze? The just-yielding-enough dough, the light sheen of sugar that dissolves into a well-rounded, sweet-but-not-too-sweetness with each mouthful?

Some bloggers have done local donut taste tests and have pledged their allegiance to the corporate donut king. On an in-country flight this weekend I saw a lot of Krispy Kreme donut pasalubong* boxes; one woman carried four on her way to Dumaguete. But, personally, if I were to take home a batch of donuts, I’d pack several of these instead.

*”Bringing home ‘pasalubong’ to relatives and friends is a Filipino custom. It could be anything from the smallest item like candies or food to the latest TV set. One gives a pasalubong when one has been on a trip to the market, neighboring town, or abroad. The value of the pasalubong item is not very important but the thought that you remembered your relatives and friends is what matters most.” Thelma Cleto-Salumbides, Salitang Pinoy

I’ve been told that I need to have a few more words on this blog, and that is true! But instead of adding more words I’ve let it go quiet for too long, while I settle into some semblance of a routine in Quezon City, Philippines. My camera and my notebook have been busy, though, documenting the various kinds of fast foods I’m trying out.

I have noticed the Filipino love, of course, for the hamburger. I myself love hamburgers. When I am hungry, even if I am anticipating the greenest, most organic, body-friendly meal ahead of me, I always imagine a two-hands-necessary hamburger.

This particular hamburger is set on my dinner table at home. It is from Angel’s Hamburger, a native Filipino fast food chain that is very humble, small, and ubiquitous; a 24-hour, open-air stall, with metal bars on its windows, in which a yellow-clad, single chef flips burgers for hours. It calls itself, patriotically, Ang Burger ng Bayan; the burger of the country. Angel’s burgers are sold in twos; 32 pesos for Buy One Take One. Mostly the domain of students and other hard-up workers on the go. (This cheeseburger had a twin, but I gave it to Armina, the security guard who sits outside guarding rear view mirrors on our street.)

My personal tastes desire that a hamburger be savory, salty, with no hint of sweet. My Fil-Australian roommate prefers his burgers topped with slices of pineapple. His preferences are rooted in Filipino culinary history; sweeteners have always been available to the indigenous Filipino, thanks to native tropical fruits, even before the Spaniards and Americans brought their own versions of pies and sweets. 

This burger had a slightly sweetish pan-de-sal-esque bun; the cheese also a bit sweet, but the patty was slender, savory, and just greasy enough. I could certainly have eaten two. 

Boneless bangus, Claire de la Fuente Grill and Seafood, Tiendesitas, Ortigas

Chicken with rice, calamansi, and soy sauce, Mang Inasal, Philcoa, Quezon City

Mini bibingka, Bibingkinitan, Trinoma Mall, Quezon City