To make such a meal more interesting, birds eye chili peppers, shallots, dried fish, turmeric, and limes (limo kasturi) are used. Sometimes the side dishes are quite exciting and zesty. The same pattern, more or less, exists in the Sulu archipelago, where cassava (kamote) is commonly eaten.
Because papeda is so dull, both texturally and flavour-wise, chopped ingredients and distinct chunks are prefered in condiments.
The "national" sambal of the Moluccas, tjolo-tjolo (katjule) is similar to Mexican salsas, being usually coarsely chopped shallots, birdseye chilies, green tomato, citrus juice, sweet soy sauce, and herbs (basil). Plus one ingredient commonly known as "grease-shit" ('tae minyak'). Which is left-over cooking oil from lots of frying, similar in concept to bacon grease in English working class cooking, or pepper oil for Cantonese food.
For charcoal grilled fish, the sambal is glopped on while cooking, and for most everything else served alongside.
[For most of my life I have avoided sago. Not so tjolo-tjolo.]
ZAMBOANGA TO JOLO
The Tausug and Samal on shipboard were accustomed to the motions, but the Tagalogs and Ilocanos got motion sick while the boat was still moored. Many of them did not make it to the railing in time. We were still waiting to leave nearly six hours after our "scheduled departure", and continued taking on passengers far beyond the alleged limit. Standard practice.
By the time we left, the "bathrooms" resembled a slice of hell.
The trip took five hours, a calm sea.
Lots of sick Northerners.
I was told not to leave the city beyond the port area (China Dock, Fishing Market), because the countryside was "unsettling". "Surely you mean 'unsettled'?" "Unsettling, present tense. There are many guns there." Filipinos are, in parts of the country, more attached to their weapons than pudgy American macho men or Japanese tourists at the range. Not all of them are freelancers, some are privately employed for that.
Necessarily I spent most of my time there walking around the neighborhood within a few blocks of the hotel, looking for food, and smoking my pipes.
The pipe above was one I had bought in Berkeley several years before.
In retrospect, it was not a journey I would make again. And I've forgotten most of the Tausug language in any case, because one seldom runs into anyone who speaks it in San Francisco. Other than a few dishes, what I ate was unexcitingly popular (and very good) northern stuff such as could be found in Manila or General Santos City, very decent Hokkien Chinese food, or local snacks of improbable derivation. Plus pastries. Ensemada. Puto. Pan de sal, and pan de leche. Pan de koko. Sausage empanadas. And too much cassava.
I did make it to Bud Dahu (Bud Dato), Maimbung, and Talipao, but those were quick visits, and we heard gunfire a few times. It's green there, but the climate is not suitable for growing rice. You go to the Chinese shop for that.
Several weeks afterward, I made it to Port Holland on Basilan.
You can probably understand why I had to go there.
No, it doesn't resemble Amsterdam.
Tobacco is grown extensively (in Batangas, Ilocos, and Pangasinan), but finding good pipe mixtures (or any pipe mixtures) is hard. It became necessary to arrange for a friend with the airlines to bring it in for me.
By the way, I'm rather fond of Mafran Banana Ketchup.
But I've heard Jufran is actually better.
We'll disagree on that.
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