Friday, January 07, 2011

satti on my mind



there's nothing better than slurping up that gooey orange-colored sauce laced with the flavors of garlic, curry and chili peppers. i venture into muslim culinary territory, which is so unlike larsian's bbq or AA's must-haves, and where the satti sauce is front and center, and the bbq (halal, of course), a humble accompanying instrumentalist.

i'm talking about satti. or satti de zamboanga (or, as some say, satti ala zamboanga). like zamboanga's (or basilan's) kare-kare, the chavacano's version of satay is not an identical food dish to indonesia's grilled skewers of meat dipped in a delectable peanut sauce. while it shares its origins with indonesia, malaysia, singapore, brunei and thailand, our satti has a character that's all its own, a spicy sweet taste that lingers in your taste memory, and a bright color that cautions diners of its chili intent (pun unintended).



for novices, seeing "puso" rice pieces drowning languidly in satti sauce seems outlandish, even downright blasphemous -- who dares soak puso in an orange soup? (wait till you see the beef skewers) and that first taste -- it may jolt your senses and stop you in your tracks. it may may even make you second-guess the true nature of how to enjoy skewered grilled meat eaten with palm leaf-wrapped rice. ("had i done it wrong all this time? i mean -- really?")

but for chavacanos, muslim filipinos and satti lovers, its rich and spicy goodness is what the experience is all about. once you've acquired the taste, you won't long for anything else -- except two more skewers of beef or ten, and another bowlful of satti.

i first tasted satti a little more than seven years ago on my first visit to zamboanga city and isabela de basilan. satti is not for the faint-hearted who shy away from the eastern promises of spices and chilis. it is rich and hearty fare, a cultural tradition every chavacano passes on to his sons and daughters, and one that was picked up by the suitor who meets the father for the first time across a long wooden communal dining table in dark, smokey satti place, at the corner of strong boulevard.


it's a dish you can't forget, won't forget, and would oblige any chavacano returning from home to bring some back. that bright orange color, rich aroma, and the rush of chilis in your mouth -- like an old friend come home with many wonderful stories worth telling.





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