Longganisa: A trip to the past (Filipino Sausage)

The mountains, a few small rivers and a couple of waterfalls, then the sea, the plains, and finally, the volcanoes (yes, plural)!  In a mere couple of hours I'd get to see my lolas (grandmas) and lolos (grandpas), run amongst the trees of guava, avocado, and my favourite, chico.  Oh yes, there was jackfruit and star apple too, sweet and shy neighbours to the shady arms of the tamarind tree.

No, I am not describing some tropical paradise from a book or the latest episode of a dating show, nor did it come from an ancient storybook. 

These were the sights I would see every time my mama and papa would take us down from the city of pines to my grandparents to Tarlac, and eventually, Pampanga to pick up some cured meats we sold back in the city.  Of course half the time, my head would be buried in a bag, retching, because of the downward spiraling direction of the highway on the mountainside and the car's rocking back and forth (motion sickness sucks!).  But every now and then I would come up for air and feel the slow stickiness growing on my skin that only comes from the humidity of the lowlands. 

I also had a few landmarks I waited for.

The waterfalls by the cliffs.  A group of trees on top a rocky mountaintop.  The woven basket and wooden furniture vendors.  The sea.  My favourite goto-han (soup/noodlehouse of sorts) that served the best arroz caldo and mami in the world.  The dried seafood and green mangoes by the treelined highway.  Tarlac's centre town.  The sugar cane village tucked in Hacienda Luisita where my ma grew up.  Then when we keep going, we would pass the ghost towns of Mt. Pinatubo, where the only signs of life were the roofs of the many churches, rising ever so slowly from being buried from the volcanic ashes.

This would usually be when this little girl would fall asleep until we pass by the farm fields leading up to Pampanga.  I'd wake up just in time to see the beautiful Mt. Arayat in all her glory.  I would strain and stare, until she disappeared and we were deep into my papa's city - a sleepy town 20 years back.

Nowadays, you cannot and will not get me in a car for a 'long drive'.  It just isn't the same.  I dislike long drives in the prairies for this reason.  Nothing to see for miles and miles.  Blech.

Despite my lingering over these memories, my post isn't about the beauty of the islands. 

My family do these trips a few times a year so my ma can pick up her supplies for her livelihood.  Selling tocino and longganisa.  She would fill our truck with all shades of pork to bring back to sell in the city until we left for Canada. 

I would help her make small and meduim packages of cured meat, mostly requested by the mountain city's college population.   The packaging of the tocino was much more complicated for me at the time, so instead, I would count and recount the sweet and sometimes spicy sausages then seal them with my little hands.  Little did I know I would be making my own 20 years later.

So you see, tocino and longganisa doesn't just remind me of yummy Filipino breakfast food.   It was my childhood.  And by default, I am and will always be picky about these meats.  If I can dig my vivid memories of the scenery from those trips, I hope I can trust my tastebuds just as well.

One thing I feel I must say is that there is absolutely no reason why people should add food colouring to these meats.  The curing process (traditionally, with salitre) creates the natural reddish hue to the meats.  I am not using salitre but instead am using aswete, a perfectly suitable red-coloured spice that complements the meat well.   See?  No need for chemical Red #32 or whatever.  The existence of food colouring on the ingredient list makes me wary of how they made their meats.  And being wary isn't a good sign when it comes to meat, right?

Skinless Pork Longganisa (Sweet, Pampangga style)

makes approx 24-30 sausages, depending on size

1 lb ground pork

6 cloves of garlic, finely minced

1/4 cup brown sugar

1-2 tbsp sea salt (less if desired)

2 tbsp ground black pepper (less if desired)

2 tbsp aswete, sifted (annato powder)

splash of cane vinegar (white will do, too)

oil, for shaping sausages

Sift the aswete over the brown sugar, sea salt, and black pepper and mix thoroughly.  Combine with the ground pork, minced garlic, and the spalsh of vinegar.  Cover and let sit for at least one hour in the fridge, overnight is better.

When marinated, shape them into 4 inch sausages, or whatever size you prefer, using oiled hands to smooth them out.  I personally find it easier to cook smaller links.  If you plan to freeze some of them, lay them out on a baking sheet, lined with plastic wrap or waxed paper and let them freeze individually.  Then just place layer them over each other, plastic and all, then seal in a container.  Otherwise, they'll all stick together and it's not so fun prying them off each other afterwards!

If cooking fresh, pan fry on a lightly oiled skillet until golden brown and inside is thoroughly done. Some caramelization will occur due to the sugar. Trust me, you want that.

If cooking frozen ones, put a small amount of water to slightly boil the longganisa until the water dries up. Add a splash of oil and continue pan frying them until a golden, caramel colour.

Best serve with rice. My favourite way to eat these is with steamed jasmine rice, steamed greens, and a dipping sauce of kalamansi and bagoong (anchovy sauce) with siling labuyo. 

*Note: Meat can easily be replaced, the salt/sugar/pepper ration can vary to your preference. Don't be scared of the 2 tbsp of black pepper, it cuts through the richness and sweetness of the meat.  Sifting the aswete will ensure you don't end up with clumps of orange-red specks in your longganisa.

By the way, if you ordered tocino and your rice becomes stained with a weird shade of reddish pink, you cannot eat that again. That is, quite literally, all shades of wrong. Take it from the longganisa and tocino girl. The only colours that your ulam should leave behind on your rice is the caramelized sugars, a lil bit of the oil, and the spices.  

Not a lipstick stain.