Scientists from the UK recently found that the sudden lack of the sense of smell and taste could be an early symptom of the coronavirus.  As Filipinos, for as long as we can smell the provocative scents and taste the robust flavors of Pinoy cooking, we are fine. Smelling and tasting give us a sense of normalcy.

In a severe crisis, we hold back our tears and our fears. As Filipinos, we often hide our true feelings. We worry that if we speak up about our greatest fear, it will actually happen.

As we experience the global pandemic, we have that dreaded feeling of helplessness, the fear of pain and the loss that may come.

So, we take our minds off that by cooking. We are quarantined at home. We isolate from friends. But we need to eat. So, the cooking commences.

We peel, chop and mince. We grate, pound and macerate. We stir, fry, boil and mix. And from all that, we inhale and smell the best of Philippine cuisine. As we stir the pots of adobo, kare-kare, binagoongan and pinakbet, the powerful hot vapors from the dishes, float upwards, to the ceiling, through the sides, on the drapes, the furniture and out the windows.

Chicken Adobo (Photo by Elizabeth Ann Quirino)

Keep doing all that. Keep pouring the patis, the pinakurat, the toyo with piercingly sweet calamansi, and the aromas will fly high, hitting our nostrils.

Feel the headrush when you dip tart, manibalang (slightly ripe) mango slices into a bowl of stinky bagoong guisado, its clusters of tiny shrimps clinging to the sides of the green mango strips. Do you feel your own salivary glands wincing as you read this?

Bagoong With Manggang Hilaw (Photo by Elizabeth Ann Quirino)

Doesn’t your face pucker up in a tight frown as you sip the sour, tangy tamarind broth of sinigang? Can that equal the bitterness of ampalaya (bitter melon)? Or when one mistakenly bites into the seed of a lanzones fruit and balks at the bitter taste?

Then there are food memories of pungent pusit (squid) grilling. How about a ripe durian fruit whose stink can be detected a mile away? Or the putrid smell of the Kapampangan balo-balo (fermented shrimps) – but once you get past that, the saucy condiment wrapped in crisp mustasa (mustard leaves) is the perfect pairing to ginger-flavored pesang dalag (boiled mudfish).

Imagine the scents from char-grilled pork barbecue skewer, its burnt corners glistening with garlicky sweetness and salty flavors all at once. How about the charcoal-grilled succulence of thick inasal chicken thighs? When we grill these in our backyard, our neighbors crane their necks from their porches to follow the scent of our food.

Pork BBQ (Photo by Elizabeth Ann Quirino)

When did you last scoop a spoonful of sticky latik (coconut confit), its sultry aroma of coconut cream, solidifying into tiny sprinkles tossed on gooey kakanin (rice-coconut cakes)?

Suman With Latik (Photo by Elizabeth Ann Quirino)

How can you ignore the earthy scent of burnt banana leaves with tupig in it, as you pry the wisps of the ashen tendrils off the sticky rice log?

And let’s not forget the screeching spiciness of a good old Bicol Express, the tiny siling labuyo (bird’s eye chilies) sliced thin and mixed into the meat with creamy coconut milk.

Ever experienced the dreamy, buttery aromas of baked ensaymadas (brioche) fresh out of the oven? Or the mesmerizing combined scent of butter-cheese and coconut on bibingka, on a chilly December morning? How about newly baked, pan de sal, warmly nestled in a brown bag, direct from the panaderia?

Or relish the sweet, aromatic fragrance of an iced pandan tea, as you stir the clear, light-green chilled beverage on a sweltering hot day?

Don’t forget how the aromas of garlic can make your head spin. Picture the peanut street vendor, stirring the shiny peanuts in garlic and hot, bubbling oil in a wok, on a makeshift stove by the sidewalk.

The hypnotic garlicky scents are also found in sinangag (fried rice), as you mix the rice grains seasoned with minced garlic.

“The smell of sinangag would wake me up from a coma,” my son Tim said.

Sinangag With Bagoong (Photo by Elizabeth Ann Quirino)

On the positive side of this pandemic, there is still much to be grateful for: A roof over our heads; a good meal; our health and family intact. We pray, and we keep going back to the kitchen. Cooking one recipe a day. Inhaling the powerful aromas. A dish at a time.

The coronavirus crisis is for our generation to bear. For as long as the pandemic is not under control, the virus thrives, morphs and spreads.

But know that this crisis will end someday. The lessons we learn will endure. Life will be more precious. Families and friends will be cherished even more. Good health will be a priority. And the aromas and scents of Filipino cooking will transcend generations, beyond ours, to our children and theirs.

For as long as we smell the potent power of Filipino dishes, we are alive and well. Let’s savor the memories of home those scents evoke. After all, for Filipinos, those unique aromas are a sign that life is good and everything will be okay.

Elizabeth Ann Quirino, based in New Jersey is a journalist and author of the “Instant Filipino Recipes: My Mother’s Philippine Food In a Multicooker Pot” Cookbook. She is a member of the International Association of Culinary Professionals and blogs about Filipino home cooking on her site AsianInAmericaMag.com.

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