I had to tame myself at the sight of this package of pretzels neatly tucked in my pantry. It is salty, it is screaming with tons of calories! The label says, "CRISPS, thin, and crunchy...parmesan" to add to my agony. And it also tasted oh so good for the begging hormones. Well, a few nibbles won't hurt for a late afternoon snack.
"COCO JAM Made in Oriental Mindoro,Philippines," says the label in bold letters. With that on cue, I finally gave in and let inventiveness take its course in my journey to a fusion of afternoon delight. I'm calling it a marriage between the West and the East, my pretzel crisps dipped in silky-caramelized coco jam; something salty and something sweet, something so European and yet so Oriental. And I was all swept away in blissful wonder as the two contrasting flavors blended beautifully in my mouth.
Now, for my coco jam rant. How it's made the old-fashioned way.
Coconut is the main ingredient of this kind of jam. For the sweetness that would act as preservative, we didn't want to use the ordinary refined sugar. We preferred using the brown muscovado blocks as they were made from sugarcane molasses.
In the Philippines, we call it many names depending on what province you're from: sangkaka, matamis na bao, muskobadong bilog. My husband would recall that in the barangay where he grew up in, sangkaka and hot-steaming rice used to be a perfect meal combination to the local folk.
When I was a kid, coconuts were grated the old-fashioned way with a metal grater. Every Filipino home used to have this indispensable kitchen tool because most dishes were made with coconuts and its derivatives especially the coconut milk or what we call the gata. But the Filipino family has constantly evolved particularly on how we're handling our kitchen affairs. With everyone else's busy schedule, buying the ready-to-cook gata in powder or liquid form has been a welcome option as they are made accessible at supermarkets these days. With the attractive, hygienic packaging, and competitive prices, for busy moms, who can resist?
So many a times when I was a kid that I would accidentally scrape my own legs against this tool as it was always unscrupulously stored beside the tungko or kalan
( the old-fashioned Filipino wood-fueled oven ) for ease of access.
This serrated metal was attached to a scaled-down wooden chair that looked like a footstool, hence, one had to grate the coconuts while sitting down.
But I've never tried using a kudkuran or kurkuran or stool grater before. Paggagata / naggagata- the process of manually expressing fresh coconut meat was always left for the bigger and older boys to do. Wasn't it surprising to find out that my friendly neighbor still has this working at her kitchen? WOW. I thought that this stool would be museum worthy. So, I've asked her if she wouldn't mind bringing it over to my house for posterity's sake. Please note that this stool is sturdy built with coco lumbers. My second WOW.
The grated coconut meat would then undergo manual hand pressing by the batch of about a handful to render precious milk. The sangkaka would then be melted in water to caramelize in low flame. Once a gooey consistency had been achieved, the fresh coconut milk would then be added as it gets constant stirring.
Now, therefore, coco jam my dears, is a product of patience, manual labor, and love.
I love storing coco jams, not in the fridge, but only in a dry pantry, lest we alter its perfect gooey consistency. I bought these jams from a souvenir-deli shop located inside the pier terminal during our recent trip to Calapan City, the capital of Oriental Mindoro.
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