Ningnang mais (grilled maize/corn) confection

Looking at the picture, I can’t help but cringe. My only (flimsy) excuse is that I’m making this by myself for the first time. It does taste like how it should but aesthetically, I’m sure to get a failing mark if this were a graded exercise. Perhaps by the time I use up two dozen eggs, it will look better. But as always, I’m getting breathless and much ahead of the story.

When Purplegirl volunteered to host Lasang Pinoy 14 with the theme La Espanyola (spelling is deliberate, just to show how Filipinised it is), I was excited and thought it would then force me to sit down and write my thoughts on Spanish-influenced food.

I have read and heard it asserted that 80% of Filipino food is Spanish in origin. Instinctively, I question the basis of that assumption. How did they come up with that estimate? Has there been a systematic study that gave them such a result? Well, I may have to track that down sometime in the future but I believe it is worth noting that even in my province, which has been highly Hispanised, 80% would be too high an estimate. Even old rich families do not eat Spanish influenced food everyday.

I agree though, with the assertion that a lot of fiesta food is Spanish in origin. Who, after all, introduced fiestas? Meat dishes with rich sauces immediately come to mind. It is worth noting however, that not everything with a Spanish name can be traced to the Iberian peninsula. Many Chinese-influenced dishes have Spanish names. One is morisqueta tostada which is Chinese fried rice. Arroz caldo is more related to the Asian congee than to the drier varieties of arroz con pollo found in Latin America.

Asado as commonly known in the Philippines is closer to the Chinese char siu pork (the Capampangan version comes close to some Latin American recipes with the use of lime, calamunding/calamansi, clavos de comer, pimenton and tomatoes except that it also has soy sauce) while the debate rages if adobo is indeed Mexican-influenced or indigenous. I tend to agree with the food historian Raymond Sokolov when he asserts that adobo is Spanish in name only. Quoting Doreen Fernandez citing Sokolov, “the Spaniards/Mexicans saw the dish the Filipinos were already cooking, recognized its similarity to theirs, and called it “adobo de los naturales,” which are the words used by dictionary maker Pedro de San Buenaventura (1613).”

I have a lot more to say about the issue but the topic at hand is about Spanish-influenced Filipino food. If I continue with my exposition, Purplegirl might just kick me out of the house!

Despite what I have discussed, one area that the Spaniards have indisputably left their mark is with desserts. Rich custardy confections can only be Spanish in origin. In a previous post, I tried to trace the history of the many egg yolk desserts in the country. How do you explain those that use up lots of whole eggs then?

It seems these are recipes originally taught by nuns in convents. The eggs are from devotees who offer the eggs when they go to the convents to ask the nuns’ prayers for their petitions. To this day, the nuns of Sta. Clara in Katipunan Avenue and Betis, Pampanga (those I’ve seen first hand) receive eggs by the truckloads.

The recipe I am posting is another version of the more popular brazo de Mercedes. I suggest you read Stel’s and Stef’s posts to better appreciate the technique.

One of the principles I was taught at home is that food should not only taste good but it also has to be presented well. This is one iron-clad rule of the Capampangan kitchen. If it doesn’t look appealing, then it should not be on the table and it is reflected in the way food is presented especially during parties.

Savoury dishes are often artfully spooned into large bandejados (platters) with carved fruit or vegetable garnishings on the edges. Sweets and desserts are shaped into different patterns. The recipe below is one version that is rarely done nowadays. It is in essence a brazo shaped into a roasted cob of maize (corn). It tastes a bit different too. Imagine rich custard with the additional texture of corn bits. It is both familiar and novel to those more accustomed to brazo de Mercedes. A few old ladies in Sta. Rita used to make it for special occasions not too long ago but it was Mrs. Lillian Lising-Borromeo of Mexico town who showed me the step-by-step process during one private session we had at La Moderna Bakery in Guagua.

On hindsight, I shouldn’t even have attempted this for Lasang Pinoy! It looked so easy when we were making it. I’ve made brazo de Mercedes before and it turned out well. How come I had to repeat this twice and it still turned out an aesthetic disaster? I suppose it was because during Mrs. Borromeo’s demonstration, she gave the general instructions while the master bakers and pastry decorators did much of the work. And it looked so easy!

Anyway, I should redeem myself by at least finishing with the instructions.

Ningnang Mais

Custard
50 g. butter (approx 2 tablespoons)
1 tbsp. flour
1 can (300 ml.) sweetened condensed milk
1 can (370 ml.) unsweetened evaporated milk
4 egg yolks, lightly beaten
1 1/2 cups grated sweet corn or 1 can cream-style corn
zest of 1 medium lime

Meringue
2/3 cup egg whites (approx 4 pcs)
1/3 cup white sugar

Start with the custard because it has to be cool before filling the meringue.

Over low fire, melt butter in a heavy saucepan then blend in the flour. Take off heat then gradually pour the milk and the lime zest into the pan. Return to the stove and stir gently until fully integrated and thick. Take off heat as soon as it is reduced by a third of its original volume then add the eggs and stir gently till fully combined. Bring back to the stove stirring over low fire till thick then add the corn. Let it simmer until very thick and able to form soft peaks. Set aside to cool.

Cut pieces of foil paper that will fit a cookie sheet or a shallow baking pan. Foil is needed to be able to peel the thin meringue without tearing. Grease the foil lightly.

For the meringue, combine the egg whites with the sugar and whether using an electronic mixer, a manual spiral or whatever those seemingly frail old ladies used long ago, whisk until it forms very stiff white peaks. This should take between five minutes to an hour, depending on your equipment. Since the recipe given to me does not contain cream of tartar, you can’t stress how stiff the mixture should be, especially if you’re a slowpoke like yours truly. You’ll find out the reason soon enough.

As soon as the meringue is ready, transfer it into a pastry bag with a fine tip or if you are such an experienced decorator not needing any special equipment (like the ones I was with), roll a sheet of wax paper into a funnel and cut the tip. With up and down motions, form a continuous line of beads on the greased foil paper. Repeat this step until there are around two inches on the sheet. They should be thick enough to withstand being peeled away from the foil but thin enough to look like whole corn kernels on the cob after they’re baked. This is where I failed miserably. The meringue was as stiff as it could be but since I was so slow, it was already watery halfway through the process.

As soon as one sheet is done, place it into a preheated (medium temp) oven but an oven toaster will do as well. Check the meringue after two minutes. To make it look like corn broiled over charcoal, cover some parts of the meringue with foil paper then continue baking. Some areas should be a lot darker than others. Obviously, I overdid this. My ‘mais’ isn’t that burnt to be inedible but… but…

Take out of the oven and let cool for around a minute. They have to be peeled off the foil while still warm though. Invert the ‘corn kernel’ sheet and spread the custard in the middle. Roll with an overlap just enough to close the meringue. Pinch both ends to simulate a cob of corn.

For those with a sweet tooth, enjoy eating with a nice cup of tea!