Salchichon de Pili and some lessons from Pili101

It has always fascinated me how certain food, its taste, smell and perhaps even just the sight of it, can trigger cherished (or not) memories and sometimes with stunning clarity. Of those particular foods, I could list many which I fondly associate with either one of my grandmothers. One such example is mazapan de pili or salchichon de pili which Mamaita, my paternal grandmother, used to make. She would send them over from Dumaguete along with her homemade chorizo and bulad (dried fish), among other food she was famous for, and of course budbud. When I was a kid, seeing those logs wrapped in silver foil never failed to elicit a squeal from me. I absolutely loved the stuff. So much that eating it made my toes curl in delight!

Naturally, whenever I came across a silver log I would assume it was salchichon de pili. Until that one afternoon after I had come in from playing outside with my neighbors, hungry and looking for merienda (afternoon snack). Something shiny caught my eye from inside the fridge. There it was, a silver log tucked into the shelf of the refrigerator door under the eggs. My eyes nearly popped out of their sockets and I could barely contain my glee. My sailvary glands went on overdrive as I fumbled with the foil for a second before I discovered, to my utmost dismay, not salchichon de pili, but chicken embutido! I was confused. Was this some kind of cruel prank? When my head cleared and realization set in, I actually felt slightly cheated and betrayed. I've never been able to trust those silver logs again.

During my last visit to Dumaguete, I made sure to include the recipe for salchichon de pili in those that I copied from Mamaita's files. I couldn't wait to try it out. I didn't realize though that raw pili nuts would be so difficult to find in Manila. Then when I chanced upon some at the Asia Food Expo last year, I grabbed 2 packs of 2 kgs each. They were still in their shells and I knew this would be a problem but that was ok, beggars can't be choosers. So yay right?! Umm, not quite. You see I have a bad habit of buying stuff and then putting them away, and then either forgetting I have it there at the back of my cupboard or freezer, or just keep putting off making something with it for another time, until eventually that thing becomes inedible. Sadly, this is what happened to my precious pili nuts.

So here is lesson #1 for me. The man who sold it to me had said it would keep in their shell without refrigeration for 6 months. But what he forgot to tell me was that these nuts are loved by weevils (those pesky bugs you find in flour or cereal of other dry goods). How appropriately named they are, weevil... we evil! They were all over my pili nuts! I was so disgusted I didn't even bother checking if they managed to penetrate the shell and threw them all away. I felt so bad.

But my sadness over this loss was shortlived. A few months later an officemate went to Bicol and upon my request, brought me a bag of raw unshelled pili nuts. And this brings me to lesson #2 on pili101: these are some tough nuts to crack! Nothing I tried worked. Not the mortar and pestle, nor boiling them in water for two hours (yes I tried that), nor jumping on them with chunky boots, nor running them over with the wheels of my car (ok so I didn't go that far but I'd be lying if I say it didn't cross my mind). My dad finally got involved. Ever the resourceful McGyver that he is, he came into the kitchen looking armed and dangerous and most importantly to me, very confident.

This, my friends, is lesson #3. On a wooden slab my dad positioned a nut under the blade of a bolo which he held with one hand. Then he took his trusty old hammer in his other hand, and then in one swift motion, he banged on the blade. And there it was. The shell cracked in half, revealing the nut within still intact. A huge smile spread across my face as I looked up at my dad ... my hero! :)

But that was just one nut and there was more to do. I tried to do it, it was really such a pain. My dad's trick worked, but it was difficult for someone like me who is accident-prone. They don't call me Murphy for nothing (my friends think that if anything can go wrong, it would go wrong on me). Luckily, I had the help of our cook who finished the job in about an hour or so.

Do not get the unshelled pili nuts...

Unless you want to spend hours with a hammer and bolo cracking these suckers open

Now this is what you want, gorgeous shelled pili

which easily slip from their skin after a quick plunge in hot water

My first attempt wasn't very successful. I used one of Mamaita's other recipes which called for egg yolks and a measure of ground pili nut. What happened was I measured the pili whole, and though it didn't taste bad at all, it tasted more like yema. There was too much egg for the amount of pili so it overpowered the delicate flavor of the nut. So lesson #4 would be? You got it, follow the recipe correctly especially when attempting something for the first time.

I think the gods of pili heaven have been watching and smiling down at me because about two weeks after that first failed attempt, they sent a good friend of mine on an overnight business trip to Bicol where he picked up some raw shelled (!) pili and gave it to me as a birthday present. Thank you, A! :)

This time I was determined to get it right. So I consulted my aunt, the oldest of my dad's siblings, who was Mamaita's apprentice in the kitchen. I used the recipe she gave me which was how she remembered Mamaita making it. It was different in that it didn't call for any eggs. I thought that was a bit odd but tried it anyway, having much faith in her culinary skills.

It turned out to be an excellent copycat of Mamaita's. Some might think that it could probably benefit from a pass through a real grinder but I thought the texture was just right. The sweet smell and nutty flavor were exactly how it ought to be, my memories came flooding in. Oof! It was soo good, it made my toes curl! Perseverance really does pay off. :)

Salchichon de Pili

1/2 kg shelled pili nut
1 1/2 cups vanilla sugar (if using regular sugar, add 1 tsp of vanilla extract)
3/4 can evaporated milk

Bring a pot of water to a boil. Turn off the flame then drop the nuts in and let soak for about 2 minutes or until the skin slips off easily when you squeeze one end gently with your fingers. Using a grinder or, in my case a mortar and pestle, gently grind the pili, making sure not to let too much of it's precious oil escape. Once ground, fold in with the sugar and milk. Cook the mixture in a pot for 1.5 hours over slow heat, stirring often so it doesn't burn or stick to the bottom of the pan. Here is where you will need the will power to stop yourself from picking off the wooden spoon and wiping it out before you even take it off the stove.

After cooking and allowing the mixture to cool a bit, it's time to mold into a shape of your choice. You could spread it into a loaf pan, about half an inch thick, then slice it into squares. I like mine shaped like a salchichon or sausage, as pictured above. You may wrap it in wax paper or aluminum foil and store in the fridge for later consumption.

Sometimes my aunt and grandmother added raisins or glazed fruits for variety.