Gourmet locavore

The Good Life with Eli F.J. Tajanlangit

Surprisingly, or maybe not surprisingly, it was the vegetables that stood out among the toppings of the crostinis that were served as appetizers: chopped roasted carrots, aubergines, zucchinis and the like with truffle mayo and salsa verde.

The other crostinis had Tuna Tartare and Chicken Liver Pate with Balsamic Grape Reduction, and they were nice and interesting, but the roasted veggies proved sexier, the various tastes and textures – sweetish one moment, subtly acidic the next, then creamy with whispers of sour layered on various levels of crunchiness and crispiness of the vegetables and the bread – almost made one forget this was just the openers, the palate teasers.

The main event really was billed as a Crab Fest, which, to this locavore advocate, was as much a gourmet dinner as it was a celebration of our local resources. Sure, the meal used materials like truffle oil and processes like crabfat foaming and bisques, ingredients like pesto and caviar, and Wagyu beef, but the main star of the table was really our Saravia Blue Crabs that, until recently, went straight to the global markets. This night, restaurateurs, chefs and foodies got together to savor Negros' own crabs, grown and fished in the wild waters of the province.

The night's dinner spread, if anything, proved how our own local resources, grown in our gardens and farms and seas, can be worthy additions on the global dining table, and how they can side by the side the world's tastes and flavors.

Whipped up by chef Jomi Gaston, the meal was divided into three courses. First came the Jumbo Lump Crab cake, a supple piece using the main meats of the crustacean and seared on both sides to trap the juices and flavors in between. This was served with crabfat squash puree, tomato basil salad, arugula pesto, sweet peas, polenta croutons, pine nuts and lemon oil.

The next course was Crab Bisque, on which sat Clawmeat Ravioli, white bean and pancetta salad, salsa verde, surprising bits of lemon zest and a dollop of caviar.

Then the third course: Jumbo lump and braised Wagyu beef cheeks, clawmest saffron risotto, green beans and walnut, blue crab fat foam and truffle oil.

The meal ended with Calamansi Cheesecake – imagine New York's famous cake using our good old fruity tart kalamunding – topped with fruit compote and mixed berry sauce.

The festival courses, if one looked closely, was really a playful symphony of flavors – arugula dancing with crabfat swimming in quash puree; tender beef cheeks sliding in crabfat foam and truffle oil; crab bisque with unmistakable bite of teeny-weeny bits of lemon zest, dissolving into a burst of caviar.

Come to think of it, these were tastes and textures from around the world, romancing our very own kasag, which to this day, we have confined mostly to the steamer, and, sometimes, in omelettes. Nothing wrong in that, of course, after all, live crabs steamed and eaten right away with steaming hot rice, dipped in aged coconut vinegar, is one of our proud culinary offerings that no other culture can copy because it is ours and ours alone. Crabs, somehow, take on the character of their places of origins, and ours, don't you agree, has the sweetish edge to them others don't have.

But I thought serving crabs in the ways of other cultures is one important manner by which we can bring our flavors to the world. I guess crabs with caviar on the side or crab bisques will have a better chance of engaging the world foodie to try our food.

Besides, being locavore does not necessarily demand confining our flavors to uga tabagak and laswa because keeping our local resources exclusively within our culinary culture wouldn't be locavore, anymore, there's another word for that: Parochialism.*

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