[Ilonggo Notes] Delicious and salacious Ilonggo bingka and puto

Filipinos often play around with words and use sexual innuendo when referring to food, and our ubiquitous rice cakes, which are daily fare, bear this out. 

“Bibingka” (AKA bingka), or baked rice cake, is used as a naughty reference to female genitalia. Decades ago, when out with friends, flirting, doing casual hook-ups, if one in the group catches the eye of someone else, we’d joke, “Aba, ang benta ng bingka mo,” (Hmm, your bingka is a best seller) which would send the group into peals of laughter. 

While “puto” (steamed rice cakes), are most likely an adaptation of the Malaysian word “puttu” (“portion”), others claim that the term refers to the male version of “puta” (whore, homosexual), a derogatory term in Spanish. Then there is the more explicitly named “monay” bread, with its characteristic shape. 

Perhaps these terms are ways of reacting to sexual repressions imposed by religion and society. But anyway, coded language, alliteration, double-entendre, and subversion of the terms all make them hilarious.

Puto, the steamed, slightly fermented rice cakes, mixed with coconut milk and sugar, are common in all parts of the country. And Iloilo has several distinct versions. One type has banana leaf as base, smooth, sweetish, and part of it would stick to the leaf, which I’d often scape off using fingers and tongue. This is “puto Manapla,” presumably because of its origins in Manapla town in Negros Occidental.

Another type, slightly grainier in texture, has a touch of coconut milk; both were often vended door-to-door in the mornings. Later, another popular version cropped up, which was produced in Santa Cruz street in Villa, and named after the owner. Ted’s rice puto was smaller, shaped in a mold with ridges, was a bit heavier/dense. 

Ted said he always used a special type of rice — because other types would not just cut it. Unfortunately, Ted passed away recently, and his descendants no longer make it. 

I used to go biking, looking at the sign outside his little home/shop, for the handwritten sign on a blackboard, which either read, “wala na puto” (No more puto) or, “May puto pa” — meaning, it had not yet sold out. 

Later, other variations were added by entrepreneurs: food colors – orange, green, purple; a sliver of cheese, a minute piece of ground pork, and these were christened “cheese pao,” ‘ube pao” and “puto pao” (from the chinese siopao, or steamed bun). 

Another popular iteration is a bunch of three puto wrapped in banana leaf, or “puto sa dahon;” some call this “puto likit.” Sellers say it is actually made in Guimaras island, or in some parts of Pavia town. 

All these types of puto go well with savory soups such as La Paz batchoy or with dinuguan, a pork blood-and-entrails stew. One other version of puto, is made of malagkit (sticky rice) and taro (ube), with coconut strips; it is purple and is gooey, finger-stickingly good; this is known as “puto tikoy.”

During the Christmas holidays, “puto bumbong,” an import from Luzon, is popular; it has a characteristic tube shape, violet color, and topped with shredded coconut and muscovado sugar. In an effort to attract more youthful buyers, some toppings now include grated cheese and condensed milk. Then there’s “puto lanson,” which is made of grated cassava, and said to have originated in Iloilo. This may be the only puto that does not have a grain of rice.

The word “puto” is also sometimes used to mean “bankrupt” though how it became so is not clear. I would hear references to “daw na puto nga Intsik” (someone looking like a Chinaman who lost all his money, or perhaps, was literally “f*cked up”).   

Molo, my hometown and a former parian (chinese quarters) in the 18th to 19th century, was home to dozens of Chinese traders and mestizos, so this may have not been an uncommon sight then!  

“The many faces of bibingka” (2023), notes that the word “bibingka” may have originated from the chinese “bi” (uncooked rice). In some parts of Indonesia, a rice and coconut concoction very similar to the Ilonggo bibingka exists; while the Goan dessert, “bebinca” — almost identical in name, (said to be Indo-Portuguese in origin), has 7-16 layers, and is topped with almonds and nutmeg, is totally different from the Philippine bibingka.

I had my first taste of an Ilonggo bibingka over six decades ago. On Sundays, Dad would take us to Villa beach for a swim. Villa back then had fine blackish-gray sand, gently sloping shores, with bamboo tables set out under coconut trees and sheds roofed with palm fronds, long before Breakthrough and Tatoy’s became bywords. We’d go for bingka on the way home.  

These thin, little rice cakes, made with rice flour, eggs, sugar, and shredded young coconut, would be cooked in a makeshift oven of flattened galvanized iron, with coals (wood, dry coconut husks) on top and below. The mixture would be ladled onto a little round mould cut from a tin can of evaporated milk, about an inch thick, and lined with banana leaf. Sometimes the edges would be a little burnt, making it “tostado,” which would be an additional treat for me. 

Years later, similar versions of this “Villa” bibingka would find its way to the other districts of Iloilo, around the plazas, in Molo, Mandurriao, and Jaro. Our neighbors, the Tacorda family, have a pop-up stall in the Molo plaza, and have been selling bingka for almost 50 years now. 

The next version of bibingka that I recall is a plumper, softer one, much more like a cake or mamon (muffin), with token coconut strips. This would be the classic “Bingka ni Neneng.” It could be topped with salted egg or cheese and would also have a banana leaf base. It would have a dab of margarine. 

These were popular pasalubong from Manila for a while, just for the novelty; in the ’80s it was even popularized in a song of the same name. This would be billed as “Royal Bibingka” as though to “elevate” it. Yet another version of the bibingka is made of balinghoy (cassava), and it would be called “cassava bibingka;” it would be more moist, often with a sweet caramelized topping.

Then, there is Bingka sa Mohon — at the Mohon (boundary) of the city proper and Oton town; the barangay is of the same name. Mohon’s bingka is renowned for its larger size, rectangular shape, thicker and gooey texture, and lots of young coconut strands. This is sold in a homemade cardboard box, and literally goes like hotcakes, usually all gone before noon.   

The blog Flavours of Iloilo notes that Felicidad Animas first cooked this up in the 1950s, and the business remains with the family. This is my favorite of all the bingkas, and an ode to it is below:

Ang bingka ni Neneng
Matambok-tambok
Ang sa Molo ya
Manipis, higad garagumo
Ang sa Villa iya
Ang lubi nagasobra
Pero sa akon
Sa kanamiton
Wala makadaug
Sang Bingka sa Mohon

(Neneng’s bingka
Is plump and fluffy
The one in Molo
Is thin, edges crispy
The Villa Bingka
Overflows with coconut
But for me, the tastiest-
None can top
The bingka of Mohon)

A discussion about Iloilo’s bibingkas extends beyond the city’s limits and would not be complete without mentioning a few more distinct versions — the bingka from Balasan (a northern Iloilo town), available in December up to the Jaro fiesta month (February) in the Jaro Plaza.

Ilonggo food writer Joy Rosal describes the RCJ Balasan bibingka (after the initials of the family who originated it), as “distinct for the nicely glazed top and rich creamy inside, the right proportion of young coconut strands, glutinous rice, refined sugar, eggs and milk.”

And, many others swear by Leling’s bingka of Sta. Barbara town, about 12 kms from the city, which has a puto-like texture but nicely browned with a slightly firmer top, thicker and topped with coconut strands.  

The persistence — and popularity of both puto and bibingka in Iloilo to this day, is part of its gastronomic heritage — the landscape and climate that grows rice, coconuts, and sugar abundantly.  Furthermore, the innovations in using locally available material (banana leaf base, coconut husks for the fire, cassava, makeshift tin ovens and pans), and its inexpensive price, make it a truly local treat. Surely, “mabenta ang bingka asta san-o. (Bingka will be a best seller forever).” – Rappler.com