CRITIC’S LOG: Ampao nasad

CRITIC'S LOG

Ampao nasad

Or "ampao again."  Not that ampao isn't a worthy topic to discuss.  It's among those categories of things seldom explored because it's always there.  It's about time we take a moment to ponder on the simple pleasures like the crunch of a mouthful of ampao.

APPETITE

Cebu Sensations - column

By Kristina S. Tabon

Photos by Marini & Brian Esguerra

Word count  602

Care for a crunchy treat?  Like a sweet sticky chewy rice crispy? If by that definition alone "ampao" came to mind, you're right.  I hoarded a small bundle while city-bound after a visit to the holy site at Simala, Sibonga, where an image of Mother Mary was reported to have shed tears of blood.  Now the Holy Mother may not be directly related to the story about this famous Carcar delicacy, but it is true that many a pilgrim's journey may often be accompanied by a rice crispy or two.  I must say that obliterating five packs of ampao is the best way to kill time on the 40-kilometer drive back to Cebu City.

As far as I know, no one's a stranger to ampao.  They're peddled by street hawkers at every jeepney stop and introduced to tourists the moment they get off the plane.   At Myrna's, a pack can be had for PhP20.00 while aggressive vendors at the Carcar Plaza sell them at PhP25.00.  Now you won't really feel like shelling out if they're shoving ampao at your face while you're buying chicharon, so if you don't mind a short walk just behind Jollibee (still at the Carcar Plaza), you'll find the humble abode of Myrna, who claim to have been the originals for the ampao south of Cebu.  Ampao are ubiquitous white cubes of crispy rice. And rice being our nation's staple food, every corner of the archipelago has its version of rice-based desserts. It is one of those classic Filipino desserts that always always reminds us of our childhood.  My ears used to feel like it popped every time I chewed a piece.  Nevermind that the toasted rice grated at my gums, I'd eat loads of them anyway.

In Cebu, ampao has a definite address. It can only be the right kind of sweet chewy crunchy if it's from Myrna's in Carcar City. Otherwise, the rice would be too dry, too sweet, and horror of horrors---not chewy at all!  It's making is quite the hands-on affair, usually consuming a whole morning. It starts as cooked rice---Myrna's uses Sinandomeng---that goes through a repetitive sun-drying process before the batch is cooked in a wok of sugar syrup.  It's this syrup that holds the rice kernels together.  While in this gooey state, a whole batch is eased unto a tabletop mold where it's pressed flat with a rolling pin.  They do this repeatedly until the rice crispies are packed so closely it's almost airtight.  It's this process that helps keep the ampao fresh for days, which explains why it's a favorite inexpensive baon among travelers.  

At this point, another block of wood is used as a ruler for the cutting process.  They use regular knives to cut the rice into symmetrical blocks and from there, they're packed and sealed, ready for the market.

Such a simple procedure creates this simple delicacy, the ampao.  And often, as in other cuisines and cultures, it's this simpleness, the availability of its crucial ingredients, and the ease of preparation that makes certain food work---across different palates.  I'll even go as far as saying, anyone can make ampao if they really wanted to.  You've got rice in your pantry, some sugar, a bit of calamansi to liven up the syrup, and the forever sunny weather.  All it takes is the will to make it just right, the way Myrna does.