The Myth of the Chorizo de Bilbao
/No festive Filipino table with cocido, puchero, menudo, callos or even paella is complete without at least one chorizo de Bilbao sausage in it, and no self-respecting Pinoy cook/chef would admit to using a substitute except under pain of Spanish Inquisition-style torture or Iron-Maiden death.
In the old archipelago, we know them as coming in the traditional 4-lb. green tin, filled with lard. In recent years, and specially in foreign markets, it is available in smaller packs.
A Sausage by Any Other Name
But isn’t a sausage a sausage by any other name . . . that would smell as pungent? One would think so.
Chorizo (or generic sausage) is basically a pork sausage to be enjoyed on its own or really as a flavor catalyst to whatever dish you are preparing.
Growing up, when I would sneak up behind my Garcia grandmother or our cooks at home, it reminded me of the Chinese kekiam sausage—a far more dried version. It’s also closer to linguiça, which is how the Portuguese call their pork sausages. Or it could be viewed as a more refined version of lardon which, in French cooking, is small cubes of bacon you start out with to get some cooking fat/lard going, and a tasty start at that.
What makes the chorizo de Bilbao so unique and etched in Filipinos’ gastronomic muscle memory? It’s not even made from the finest-sourced or most exquisitely cured hams and pork like the prosciutto de Parma from Italy, or from the wild-acorn-fed cerdos (swine) of the Spanish hills from which serrano jamon or jamon iberico (prosciutto) is made. Quantity-wise, it is closer to your pepperoni/Italian sausages (sweet or hot) or the longaniza, but it is the bilbao’s heavier paprika content that gives it its unique character.
Yet when you ask contemporary Spaniards in Iberia today where to find this chorizo de Bilbao, you will get a totally puzzled, quizzical reaction. This chorizo does not exist in Spain. The chorizo de Bilbao is a genus all its own, a known-only-to-Filipinos food since it was an entirely Philippine-made creation but branded as something coming from the old Iberian mother country.
Sometime after World War II, one Vicente Genato, later purveyor of Genato Commercial Corporation products, conceived of a sausage for Filipino dishes but wanted to imbue it with “Spanish origins.” Since the Genatos traced their roots originally to Bilbao, Spain, the capital of Basque country, “Bilbao” would be a good enough appellation or the European practice of attaching the geographic region or hometown (e.g., champagne bubbly must come from Champagne, France; burgundy wine from the Burgundy region of France; asti spumante drinks from Asti, Italy, etc.) to denote a product’s authentic origins and characteristics.
Genato must’ve figured then that chorizo de Bilbao sounded Hispanic enough and who cares if word got around that it’s all a fictitious appellation? Ole!
But things got a bit trickier in the late 1960s-1970s when Genato introduced his chorizo product to expat Filipino communities in North America, where because most food matters are more regulated than in the Philippines, his product had to jump through many legal hoops and various corporate pretenders—some of whom trademarked “chorizo de Bilbao” and others didn’t—making appellation-conscious gourmets all the more confused, somewhat similar to that brouhaha of Selecta Ice Cream back in the 1990s in the Philippines.
Like the “Selecta Ice Cream” Reborn Saga
If some readers will recall, “Selecta” was started by the Arce family in 1935, and it became known as a niche ice cream brand (especially its macapuno flavor) and was available mostly in the metropolitan Manila area only. Similar smaller brands, Sison and Milky Way ice creams sold only in certain locations, somehow survived against the giant Magnolia product line of Andres Soriano’s enterprises.
In 1990, the Arces sold the “Selecta” brand and supposedly the formulae to RFM Corporation (originally, a Salvador Araneta company). But then in a few short years, the brand started to lose its quality, partly because RFM also tinkered with the original recipes. This alarmed the Arces (who may not have had a legal leg to stand on once they sold the brand to a rival).
Nonetheless, the newer-generation Arces staged a comeback by using their original formulae and marketing it themselves under the new “Arce Dairy” name.
All this made for great confusion for ice cream aficionados, like the entry of the chorizo de Bilbao brand in the US market for sausage cognoscenti. So there are conflicting versions of the chorizo de Bilbao marketed abroad today.
So, in preparation for this piece, I bought myself a pair of these sausages – the first time in my 74 years since I generally do not cook elaborate, traditional Filipino dishes. I quickly realized it cannot be used for halo-halo; however, a creative cook can throw it into minestrone soup, a favadas (bean soup, Basque-style), a sopa de frijoles Canarios (Canary Islands bean soup), a sopa de lentejas (Colombian-style lentil soup) or any type of stew that needs an added, non-MSG boost of flavor.
Reciprocal Love between Manila and Madrid
Yes, Virginia, it so happens that there exists a “sister city” relationship between Bilbao and Iloilo City. However, while there are chorizos de Cebu, de Bacolod (and perhaps de Pampanga, too?), there is no truth to the rumor that Andrew Tan, a Manila taipan who has invaded the Spanish business community in a big way (even more than the Ayalas by buying the Fundador brand and distillery and getting his Spanish businesses listed in the Madrid Stock Exchange), is launching a chorizo de Iloilo in Spain this season in a reciprocal, loving, Fil-Hispano abrazo to disabuse Iberians of their “ignorance” of the revered Filipino chorizo de Bilbao.
SOURCES:
• Still in Search of Chorizo de Bilbao | Mag Luto Tayo! (wordpress.com)
• Ariel Arce Arce Dairy Ice Cream (esquiremag.ph)
• “Chorizo de Bilbao” at iba pa.. – FilipinosAround
• Andrew Tan's Emperador Properties Set to Go Public in Spain
(esquiremag.ph)
• Doreen Fernandez once lived in this bed and breakfast | ABS-CBN News
Myles A. Garcia is a Correspondent and regular contributor to www.positivelyfilipino.com. He has written three books:
· Secrets of the Olympic Ceremonies (latest edition, 2021);
· Thirty Years Later . . . Catching Up with the Marcos-Era Crimes (© 2016); and
· Of Adobo, Apple Pie, and Schnitzel With Noodles (© 2018)—all available in paperback from amazon.com (Australia, USA, Canada, UK and Europe).
Myles is also a member of the International Society of Olympic Historians, contributing to the ISOH Journal, and pursuing dramatic writing lately. For any enquiries: razor323@gmail.com
More articles from Myles A. Garcia