A taste of home away from home

By Eunice Soriano

For the majority of my life, I lived in a smaller town that boasted a white culture and Western norms.

Due to a lack of Filipino peers in school and extracurriculars, my parents used food as a catalyst for me to connect with our culture. They would always have me assist in the kitchen, take me to restaurants or share long-winded stories about my lola’s (grandma’s) leche flan.

When my parents moved to Canada in 2004, my father, Erwin Soriano, said he and my mom immediately sought out Filipino restaurants to reminisce about their home country. They missed looking at menus that were filled to the brim with comforting and delicious foods like sisig, leche flan and sinigang.

“Even if I’m here in Canada, I still long for Filipino food; the traditional food that we eat and breakfast, lunch and dinner,” he said.

In their tiny apartment in Toronto, my mother, Analiza Soriano, said that she decided to take matters into her own hands by cooking up her favourite foods in such tight quarters. She is grateful for how easy it was to find each product that was instrumental in bringing each dish to fruition.

“Here in Canada, everyone is busy…Filipino ingredients are very accessible anywhere. If you can go to a small grocery or a big grocery [store], you can easily find the basic ingredients,” my mom said.

And while I was too young to recall the flavour profiles of each meal, I can proudly say that those moments shaped me into the proud Filipina I am today.

After a tiring day at school, running around at recess and learning new lessons in math class, I’m left holed up in my bedroom flipping through endless pages of homework until I hear the magical words echoing against the rigid walls.

“Ka-on na” my mom yells from downstairs, signalling that it’s time to “eat now” in Bisaya — my family’s native dialect. I perk up in excitement and hurriedly rush downstairs for dinner and am met with the smell of my favourite Filipino dishes.

In celebration of our heritage, my parents typically cook lumpia (a type of spring roll), humba (a braised pork dish) and sinigang (a sour soup), which keep me warm during the holiday season.

Once I take my first bite of food, a familiar sense of comfort washes over me and I’m transported to my home while I’m away from home: Cagayan de Oro, Philippines. In between bites, my parents and I chat about the exciting and lowest parts of our days. The plates on the dinner table act as a tether that ties us together and it has become a central part of my day.

My mother describes eating Filipino as soaking up not just the flavours. She highlights the experience itself.

“All Filipinos love to eat and it’s the food that brings us all together. One happy family, sharing food as we share food, we share our stories…we exchange ideas so it doesn’t only taste good, but it feels good,” she said.

As we make our way through each dish, I thank my mom for the meals she’s cooked after her long, monotonous day at work. I want to let her know how special her cooking is to me.

Though I did not grow up speaking my parents’ first language, Bisaya, I do understand most of it — or at least enough to get by. There are some instances where I need clarification to get it right.

“Mom and dad, how do you say ‘tasty’ in Bisaya?”

I learned that the correct word is “lami,” different from the Tagalog term “masarap,” which is the Philippines’ predominant language.

Regardless of the linguistic differences, I add them to the catalogue of words in my limited vocabulary. Years later, I probably use the Bisaya term most frequently.

Towing the line between being Filipino and harnessing Canadian values was something that I deeply struggled with. I harboured those feelings on the inside throughout elementary school.

When I looked around the classroom, I usually saw only one fellow Filipino. A feeling of defeat would settle in me, wishing there were more people with whom I could share cultural experiences with.

As my mom and I would make our weekly grocery store run, I remember begging my mom to purchase the lunch meals that my classmates were feasting on. Looking at the small plastic-sealed box, sealing away a tiny KitKat bar and some crackers, I knew it probably wasn’t a fortifying meal that I would particularly enjoy. But when I began stacking the small makeshift cracker sandwich, I was happy to fit in.

As I got older, there came a turning point when I was no longer willing to compromise my culture for conformity.

In the eighth grade, the other Filipina in my class would regularly bring one of my beloved dishes to lunch: an authentic Filipino longonisa, which is a pork sausage, sweet or garlicky depending on the region. Seeing the joy plastered on my face, she happily offered a slice to me.

Till this day, I hold that memory very close to my heart, framing it as the link that tied us to our cultural roots.

More importantly, my adoration for Filipino food has always stemmed from the fact that it connects me to my loved ones. Whether it’s a small gathering or we’re celebrating someone’s 50th birthday, the shining star of every function is always the food.

The moment I walked through the doors of my cousin’s house, I was met with loud chatter, laughter and tight hugs from my titas (aunts). After squeezing me for an eternity, she handed me a paper plate, ushering me to eat the food she put so much love and effort into.

While I savour each dish and serve myself more plates, I feel overwhelmed with happiness and pride.

With each bite, I inch closer and closer to the land of my ancestors. I can envision the smiles of my titas, titos, cousins, lolas and lolos. Even with the large distance between us, Filipino food transports me to Cagayan de Oro, where I am a carefree, happier version of myself who does not have to worry about a rigorous workload or bear the cold weather.

As I have grown, the hunger to share that passion with others — even those who aren’t Filipino — has grown stronger every day.

Over ten years, my journey in exploring my heritage has taken me everywhere. My connection to Filipino food, clothes, music, dance and sports has transformed the way I express my culture to friends, family and newcomers in my life.

Engaging with people who embrace their culture in stride has helped me come out of my shell, where I now wear my culture like a badge of honour. With every new experience, my relationship with food, family and my roots remains intertwined. The lessons I have learned from all of them are something I will never forget.