Burp and double burp

Going over an old post, I recalled one Sunday evening that had me rubbing my tummy in satisfaction after a filling dinner. It wasn't anything gourmet or some complex dish that had me double burping.

My humble dinner was fish balls... had right on the small stall near the church where I attended mass. Yes, I ate standing up, elbow-to-elbow with other customers (this was of course, pre-pandemic) while enjoying picking up the balls and rolling it in the perfectly balanced sweet-spicy sauce.

Fish balls are one of the more popular street food in the Philippines. And why not? For 10 or 20 pesos, you can have your fill of this fish paste formed into tiny balls and deep fried. They do turn flat once cooled but who cares, they're still delicious. Well, what really amps up the taste is the sauce.

Somehow, you can try replicating the recipe for the sweet and spicy sauce at home but it never really comes out exactly the same as the one used in stalls or mobile stores. There is also another kind of sauce, mostly sweet for those who don't fancy spicy, but it doesn't have as many fans.

When fish balls were initially introduced, the vendors were usually mobile - selling with a pushcart that was rigged with a compartment to hold a small gas tank used to fry the balls. Yup, it's always freshly cooked that's why there is often a long line in front of the cart as customers wait for their orders to be cooked.

Eventually, the pushcart evolved into two variations - a fixed stall like the one near the church - or the mobile version which was now a bike with a sidecar, which held the cooking equipment.

Source

And while fish balls were first served on 7-inch barbecue sticks, which held 10 pcs, with customers double-dipping in the sauce jar (yeah, quite unsanitary when you think about it) sanitation regulations later demanded they be served on oval paper plates and the sauce poured over the balls.

There was just something communal about standing around the stall or cart eating fish balls on a stick, while avoiding sauce from dripping on our clothes, and chatting with fellow eaters. As you're eating, the sense of affinity is palpable.

With the switch to paper plates, it was more convenient to have a flat area to set them on, and since there's hardly any space on the carts, people just eat hurriedly or take away their orders.

Besides, 20 pieces of fish ball usually requires soda or juice or sago't gulaman (water for me is fine) to wash it down and help fill you up. So, counter space is really necessary.

From an old blog, let me share some thoughts about my fish ball experience:

With fish balls, everyone is equal. It doesn't matter if you only have 20 pesos in your pocket, or 5,000 smackaroos. All you need is 10 pesos for 15 pieces of the balls. Sweet, spicy, or sweet spicy sauce? It is a very pedestrian experience that makes you feel good after because you are one with everybody... most of whom you don't know or will likely never encounter again.

Source

For anyone who's ever eaten fish balls from a vendor, you know you're mingling with people from all walks of life - girl, boy, young, old - but it doesn't matter. You're there for the experience, or to assuage hunger, in which case it doesn't matter who you're rubbing elbows with.

If there was rice available, someone who had a very limited budget, would be able to tide over a meal.

I had about 30 pieces of fish ball, if I remember it right, and with a bottle of clear soda, I think, I was quite full even without any carbs. Since I decided to walk home it was quite alright to be stuffed because I could walk it off.

To truly appreciate life, we have to try something pedestrian - at least once in our life. It may be out of our comfort zone, but sometimes it is such experiences that open our eyes to something exciting and new and even widens our horizon.

Since the pandemic, I haven't enjoyed street fish balls. We've had them at home but it just isn't the same. I much prefer squid balls (more expensive though) for home cooking, and I'd rather it be added to soup or noodles.

I wonder how the fish ball vendors survived during the lockdowns. Yes, most are scrappers and would find ways to feed their families and continue with some other microbusiness.

So, here's looking forward to my next fish ball jaunt when life goes back to some sort of normalcy.