Hailing from Batac and Vigan, these addictive savoury snacks from Northern Philippines are so delicious we need to talk more about them
Growing up in the capital of Manila meant that to me, Ilocos empanadas were not comfort food. Although, upon trying it for the first time in a stall along Katipunan Avenue, the attraction was instant. What I initially thought would be exotic turned out to be oddly comforting in its familiarity. It possessed the satisfying crispiness of a well-fried lumpia. That meaty filling balanced by fresh, thinly-sliced vegetables reminded me of a properly-constructed sandwich. Just like grilled meats and seafood doused in spiced vinegar—in this case, a dark, port-like sukang Iloko—it induces your mouth to water, magnifying the flavours. Since then, I have been truly hooked.
It was during my more recent travels to Northern Luzon when I learned more about my now-favourite Filipino snack. Historically, the empanada was brought to the Ilocos province by Spaniards and its former Latin American colonies during their occupation. A Spanish empanada, on the other hand, is made out of a wheat flour crust and stuffed with a filling of meat, vegetables, cheese, or sauce. The basic Ilocos empanada has a rice or galapong wrapper stuffed with shredded green papaya. Other fillings such as longganisa and egg are more recent innovations to showcase the flavours of the region. And, since baking is a Western import and not a method of cooking indigenous to the islands, the empanadas of Ilocos are deep-fried in oil.
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I have always wondered why the Ilocos empanada is not as prolific as, say, shawarma—something one sees in almost every street corner or food court—when its flavours, relatability, and price-point make it such a marketable product.
The answer lies in its preparation. Irene Santos of the famous Irene’s Empanada in Vigan once explained the hidden complexities of making the seemingly simple street-side snack.
It begins in the wee hours of the morning when she prepares the rice wrapper, something that needs to be concocted fresh every day, never frozen. "Madaling mapanis (it spoils easily)," I remember her saying. These are fashioned into balls and rolled out until they are thin yet not to the point that they will break when stuffed and immersed in the hot oil. It is a dying art, something deemed too tedious and fussy for what is considered street food. Irene only decided to open a branch in Pasig because her daughter agreed to manage it, and she admitted that she would not have entrusted it with anybody else.