For Filipinos, the sight and smell of a whole roast pig signifies a celebration. Lechon is a a treat and highly anticipated in most festivities whether it be a birthday, a fiesta or a graduation.

by LESLEY TAN-RICE

WHILE LOCALS KNOW it unmistakably as the spit-roasted whole pig served during family gatherings and special occasions, the term lechon can be a bit of a misnomer.

Stemmed from the Spanish word leche or milk, lechon in the Philippines, particularly in Cebu, is more similar to how babi guling in Bali, Indonesia, is prepared – stuffed with a mix of spices and aromatics, skin basted with oil, coconut water or soda and roasted over a spit – like an outdoor rotisserie.

While we have Spain to thank for naming our roast pig, the method of cooking predates the colonization era.

There are two prevailing theories on how Filipinos learned to roast pig. One is that Austronesian tribes travelled through land bridges, settled in the archipelago of what is now known as the Philippines, and passed down the methods of spit-roasting. Another is that the Chinese, who came to trade with the natives before the Spanish arrived, taught Filipinos their pig-roasting techniques.

LINGUISTIC IDIOSYNCRACIES 

If we were to be quite fastidious about it, lechon in its most literal definition should be a cochinillo, or what we call lechon de leche – a linguistic redundancy, or roast suckling pig that lived solely off the milk of its mother.

There may be ethical dilemmas surrounding the ideal age when a pig is slaughtered to satiate our stomachs, but most agree that authentic lechon de leche must be between three to four weeks old, just when piglets are in the process of weaning. According to Market Man in a May 2012 blog post: “Unless you trust the actual source of the pig, any cooked lechon de leche presented to you that is heavier than about 2.5 to 3 kilos in cooked weight (unstuffed) is not authentic lechon de leche.”

Lechon in the Philippines is also called inasal na baboy, a Filipino term derived from two different languages: the Spanish asar, which means to roast, and the Malay babi, which means pig – together, reflective of how the Philippines has adapted linguistic terms from colonizer and neighbor. 

SPICES OF LIFE

The difference in roast pigs is in the base spices. In the Philippines, two main methods of preparation are recognized: the Visayan way, wherein the pig is stuffed with herbs, and the Luzon way, which uses in general only salt and pepper, and includes a liver-based sauce on the side.

It’s all about the stuffing to get the distinct aroma and flavor of Cebu lechon. Different purveyors within Cebu province and surrounding islands use a variety of herbs and fruits. Lechon stuffing commonly consists of bay leaves, lemongrass, spring onions, star anise, garlic, salt, black peppercorn and saba banana, although some lechoneros or manginasalay (roasters) use different ingredients and methods. 

For example, Zubuchon uses Western herbs like rosemary and thyme, sprays its pigs with coconut water, then brushes the skin with olive oil before cooking.

In Carcar, Cebu – where queues form at the public market for the prospect of snagging pieces of favored parts, with crisp skin of course – the pigs are stuffed with epazote or pasote, a pungent leafy herb, also known as pigsweed or skunkweed. Pasote traces its roots to Mexico, and by way of the Galleon Route, became endemic to the Philippines, and is prized in Carcar as an essential ingredient for lechon stuffing.

In Bali, Indonesia, where the inhabitants share a similar genetic makeup with most Filipinos (strengthening the first theory of the Austronesian migration and settlement among the neighboring islands), babi guling’s seasoning is similar to how Cebu lechon is prepared, with the inclusion of indigenous ingredients to give it complexity. 

Babi guling’s base spices, also known as genep, include bay leaves, lemongrass, galangal, ginger, red chilies, shallots, garlic, candlenuts, kaffir lime, turmeric, long Javanese pepper, sand ginger, cumin, pepper, coriander, cloves, and nutmeg. The Chinese style of roast suckling pig is seasoning it with five-spice powder, salt, red and white vinegar, rice wine, and maltose syrup, then roasting it for hours in a roaring furnace to achieve its shiny deep red coat swathing tender, fragrant meat. Also known as shao zhu in Mandarin, or siu jyu in Cantonese, a whole pig symbolizes completeness and good fortune, and traces its roots to the Qing Dynasty, where it was a mainstay in court banquets. 

HISTORICITY AND FAMILY NARRATIVES

A streamlined historical reference to the chronological origins of Cebu’s lechoneros are slim; however, next-generation lechoneros who have continued their family business claim to be the first roasters in Cebu.

In Talisay, Leslie Enjambre’s grandmother, Susana “Nanay Sana” Enjambre, started selling lechon in the 1940s at Maroca, a popular swimming pool frequented by locals. The business has been passed on to Nanay Sana’s granddaughter Leslie, who shot to mainstream popularity thanks to the first season of Netflix’s Street Food series.

In an interview with lifestyle journalist Cheryl Tiu, Leslie claims she can roast up to 70 pigs on a busy day. Another family of Talisay lechoneros, the Garces family, also traces their legacy to their matriarch, Lola Mila, who perfected her lechon recipe in 1945 and founded the eponymous lechon business in the 1950s. It has since changed ownership and storefront name to Mila’s daughter Ruthy. 

NO PART WASTED

Whether a pig is 8 or 18 kilos, most leftover lechon becomes paksiw, or a stew cooked in vinegar, garlic, onions and pepper. No part is wasted, as innards are soured with pineapple, tamarind or starfruit, boiled in vinegar, star anise and black pepper, and mixed with julienned ginger, bamboo shoots, carrots, bell pepper, and finger chili to make paklay.

A whole lechon can feed more than a dozen. It is the focal point for gatherings, milestones, and family reunions. While adobo is unofficially known as the national dish of the Philippines, chef and restaurant owner Dedet dela Fuente, affectionately known as the country’s “Lechon Diva,” makes the case for lechon as the rightful national dish. In an interview with KrisFlyer.com in February 2019, she states that as a single dish, lechon is a feast in itself. 

With the myriad ways of preparing, seasoning and presenting lechon in its entirety or in parts like belly, legs (pata), ears and snout (sisig), and even blood (dinuguan), lechon presents a sustainable, nose-to-tail dining experience that respects the traditional way of eating and pays homage to how our ancestors ate. 

So what makes Cebu lechon so special that even the late Anthony Bourdain called it the best pig in the world?

It permeates all the senses in the best way possible. The uniform smooth golden-tanned coat is a sight to behold. Then there’s the sound of a snap when pulling out a wafer-thin crust to the lips. The tender porcine meat tantalizes with the combined flavors of herbs, spices, and smoky earthiness from coal embers.

Authentic Cebu lechon keeps you craving for more and is perfectly balanced that you don’t need any sauce at all (unless you really wish to, vinegar with spices is acceptable). It is both craft and tradition, sustenance and party showpiece, a way of life and a means of living, altogether. It is an enduring symbol of our people’s migration, settlement and adaptivity, a story of our unique identity.