Culinary Colonialism - A Prelude

Ah, colonialism …

We European types have always liked nothing better than invading other peoples' countries and indulging in an invigorating spot of mass murder, rape, pillage and enforced Christianity (with the added delights of torture and burning at the stake that we followers of Jesus have revelled in for centuries, abandoning His message of compassionate love in favour of one of brutal, murderous hatred in His name), followed swiftly by the ruthless exploitation of the population as a slave/subsistence workforce and the theft of any natural resources available whilst of course ensuring that those whom we exploit and oppress can buy only OUR manufactured stuff at prices they cannot possibly afford and therefore become unsustainably indebted to us (a commercial policy the US still excels at); sucking nations dry before throwing away the husk and moving on.

One small side-effect of this exceedingly profitable recreational pastime was that as kids here in England we only learned about those nations who had been forced into The Glorious British Empire (upon which the sun never sets).
At school we were taught everything a pedant needs to know about India and "Rhodesia" and in fact all of that quarter of the land area of the planet that was coloured pink on the map and was therefore OURS to exploit; we were taught that Australian aborigines and African and Asian peoples are subhuman and should be grateful to be exploited by superior pink beings (though the Maoris are "people" because they kicked our ass and gave as good as they got).
We were given schoolbooks full of photos of naked "native maidens", whose bodies we could safely ogle without corruption as they were clearly not "people" (yeah, right … my entire generation has the hots for non-white girls thanks to that policy).

I love the caption to this one:
"Three Shy Maids Of Borneo."

We were taught to look down our noses at Yanks and Aussies because most of their populations were descended from our own convicts and the other poor, diseased and unwanted trash we kicked out.
We even learned about boring places like Canada … though I can't remember any of that.

But lording it over a quarter of the planet (even more when we "owned" our American colonies) meant that if another European country had done the invading and exploiting of a nation we were taught bugger all about the place.

Which is why - until I met Joy - I knew next to nothing about The Philippines.
Sure, I knew about the War and the Japanese occupation and the belated American attempt at colonialism and Marcos and his Missus and Islamic separatism and The Beatles' ill-fated visit, but before all of that the islands had been part of Spain's empire and - as Spain and France are our traditional enemies - the place didn't exist on our mental map.

I tried looking for a book on Filipino history and culture … with no luck (plenty of tourist guides but nothing about the people themselves).
If I dial up the Amazonians or pop into Borders there are shelves of histories on every single one of our Empire's furthest flung and tiniest outposts, but histories of the Philippines? Zilch.
The only one available is a contemporary account of the Spanish invasion, written by a Catholic priest and … er … rather biased and uninformative to say the least. Not to mention distinctly unsavoury … He writes gleefully of the brutal sacking and occupation of an archipelago of small, happy and un-warlike nations by a bunch of sex-starved Spanish sailors bringing death by God, gunfire and syphilis in exchange for gold, girls and cheap labour.
Looking at today's tourists, not a lot has changed.
Mercifully, the Filipino people have a happy knack of coming up smiling no matter what we force them to endure.

But more to the point - to a gluttonous gourmand such as I - their cuisine is totally unheard of in this country!
England has one Filipino restaurant (in West London and Joy says it's crap).
One!

So … Let's redress the balance in our own small way.
Some of you may remember the wonderful Jong launching his Filipino catering business a little while back.
Well, Jong has been generous enough to start teaching Old Dive about just what I've been missing.
Hoorah!
Discovering an entirely new cuisine is as exciting to a foodie greedo like me as waking up to discover I've grown an extra cock (and at my age, far more satisfying).

So … If you would care to step up the gangplank of our Spanish galleon, come and join Joy and myself as we invade and exploit Jong's kitchen and embark on this wonderful voyage of colonial culinary discovery.

Recipes will be posted at irregular intervals as and when I have managed to master them.

End of prelude.