WARTIME HUMBA Visayan braised pork dish that ensured the survival of the Romualdez family during the war

One of the rewards of being a journalist is the opportunity to peek into the hearts and minds of famous people and learn aspects of their lives that have not been written about.

Take former First Lady Imelda Marcos whose entire life, it seems, has become fodder for local and international media. From magazine articles and TV documentaries to an award-winning movie and now, a Broadway musical, it seems that everything about her has been made public.

But wait, there’s more! Here’s something very few know—her life, and the lives of her entire family, were saved by a Visayan dish of Chinese origin.
Traveling with her around the Philippines and in many countries, I noticed that given a choice, she preferred to eat at Chinese restaurants and almost always ordered pata tim, the Chinese braised pig knuckle. Asked about it, all she would say was it reminded her of her family’s heirloom dish humba.

Bad time to be white
I waited for years to find out more details, but she was always surrounded by people she did not feel comfortable sharing sentimental memories with.
When I finally had the gumption to ask her for details, she narrated that during the war, her family was forced to leave town and stay in the forest because the Japanese mistook her father, a Spanish mestizo, for an American.

While in hiding, food was a major concern. As rice was difficult to obtain during the war, they survived on gaw-ay, a purple variety of gabi (taro), which grew abundantly around their hideout. For protein, they relied on a steady supply of pork from hogs they raised in the verdant woods, along with various vegetables.

They had to limit their cooking to once a week, because smoke from a cooking stove could betray their position. Their solution was to butcher the hogs one at a time and cook large batches of humba. The Romualdez version, handed down from Imelda’s Chinese grandmother, uses herbs and spices as seasoning and preservative.

Long and slow simmer
Humba is simmered until the sauce is thick and glossy. Most of the pork fat is rendered while cooking and covers the meat completely. Slow cooking produces meat that is “chopstick tender” that could be cut to serving pieces without need for knives.
For long-term storage, Imelda’s father had secured large clay jars called tapayan in Tagalog and burnay in Ilocano. Filled with humba, the jars were perfect containers, tapered to keep a thick layer of melted pork fat covering the meat. This method of preservation is used by the French in duck confit and pork rillette. The family made sure only meticulously clean ladles were used to take humba from the jars.
To this day, humba is cooked and served several times a month in the households of the Romualdez family. It is also a mainstay during special occasions and family gatherings. Few who partake of the pork dish during those feasts are aware that it saved the lives of the entire Romualdez clan.

Red in the snow
A Chinese friend lent me an old Hong Kong cookbook with English translation, which identified pata tim as “pig knuckle red-cooked in snow.” Further research taught me red cooking is a cooking process rather than a specific recipe. Much like our adobo.

Red-cooking, or hong shao, is a common style of braising originally from the Shanghai region, but now used throughout most of China and Chinese communities around the world. Red-cooked dishes are exceedingly simple, deeply aromatic, and require just a few pantry staples.

The red-cooking technique involving ingredients—pork and other meats, chicken, tofu, eggs and vegetables—in light and dark soy sauce, Shaoxing wine, sugar, and spices, such as star anise and Sichuan peppercorns, results in a red-brown color and a unique rich, caramelized flavor. Adjusting the soy and sugar results in the particular finish one is after—salty or sweet, light or sticky. You can turn almost anything into a delicious, savory dinner.

There are two main methods: blanching the main ingredient then slowly braising it in the sauce, or browning in oil and the sauce then simmering in water until very tender. The color of the finished product is the result of caramelizing sugar with the spices, then browning the meat in the caramelized sugar mixture. Only then are liquids (water or broth) added.

Some Filipino cooks use Coke, 7-Up, pineapple juice, and even apple juice to personalize their humba and pata tim. Young culinary school graduates experiment with red or white wine.

A secret shared by a friendly sidewalk food hawker in Wanchai, Hong Kong was to wash the meat thoroughly, blanch it in boiling water, then a final rinse before starting to cook.

Canned Pata Tim
Years before I learned about humba and red-cooking, I got hooked on a Mainland China product called double happiness pork with mushrooms and chestnuts. I tried to replicate the pork dish at home, but my grandma’s kitchen had neither sangke (star anise) nor kanela (cinnamon). Now I know it is nothing but red-cooked pork leg.
These days the rage is chinese canned red-cooked pork tendon, which is supposed to be good for whatever ails you. But can it save lives?