Beyond ‘apan-apan’

The Good Life with Eli F.J. Tajanlangit

Perhaps because its name already connotes derision, or maybe the derision comes from the way we have regarded it all this time, tangkong, or kangkong in Tagalog, has never really been given the importance it deserves in our culinary culture.

Topped by that presidential line – Pupulutin ka sa kangkongan (You’ll be picked up among the kangkong) – the low regard we have for this vegetable has stopped us from fully enjoying its nutritional as well as gustatory values, even its economic potential.

These thoughts came to mind after taking Good Friend L’s bowl of mongo-ubad or chopped banana pith stew, the good old Negrense dish that she did with a few twists: she used diced chicken flesh, and topped it with kangkong leaves. I must confess this was the first time I truly appreciated the culinary worth of the tangkong, its bold green flavor complementing the combined flavors and textures of the mongo, ubad and chicken. Another tip from L: make sure the pith is boiled to the right tenderness.

Until this nourishing bowl of soup laced with tangkong leaves, the height of honor that I have for this leafy veggie is when they are done as crispies – fried leaves covered in batter. But crispy kangkong, if you come to think of it, derives its excitement from the batter and the dip, not exactly from the leaves. Use a nice batter and you’re done; if that fails, make it up with the dip, which is usually garlic mayo, but can also be played with, like adding bits of capers of bacon to it. I used to call crispy kangkong “biskwit” because after a while, all you taste is the flour in the batter or the tangy creamy dip. The kangkong leaf shrinks in the frying, and I guess most of its flavors shrink as well.

The old Visayan way of serving kangkong is as “apan-apan,” really adobo if you check closely, except that this one has ginamos, salted krill that’s ground to a paste.

Apan-apan has found its way to the menus of our restaurants, such as in Imay’s, and Business Inn. The national chain ChowKing has its own version – steamed kangkong tops served with sweet and oily ginamos. BI also serves it sautéed in black beans.

But our ways with kangkong have barely scratched the possibilities of this edible leaf and stem – a pity because it is one resource we have in abundance, it is something that we can even export. How, after all, did the world start eating sauerkraut but because some country, maybe Germany, had an excess of this pickled cabbage and could sell them to the world and turn a profit? Ditto the kimchi of Korea. Who knows, bottled apan-apan just might hit it off well in the world, given the global search for local flavors now.

The point here is, our hopes of competing in the highly-competitive world, whether in food or elsewhere, is in the area where we have an excess of. It is only in things like kangkong and weeds which grow abundantly here can we compete. By the way, sugar, our number one export, is a weed.

I guess, that should start with knowing kangkong even more intimately, or beyond the apan-apan. To this day, I don’t think we are even aware that kangkong comes in different varieties, and I am sure, they have distinct qualities that should work well in certain dishes. There is kangkong with purple leaves, kangkong with small and elongated shapes, kangkong with giant leaves.

In the hand of our brilliant chefs, who knows what these seemingly lowly leaves can develop to.*

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