As a kid I remember my mom telling me that I had to eat ampalaya because it was “good for the blood.” Sometimes the bitterness was mild and I ate my eggs and ampalaya with ease. Other days, the bitterness hit hard and I quickly wolfed down my plate with a grimace on my face. I don’t know if it’s the decades of practice or just a deep appreciation for all that ampalaya has to offer us, but this extremely bitter cucurbit (appropriately called bitter melon in English) has found its way into my heart and home.
When my lola was diagnosed with diabetes, my mom drove around to all of the pharmacies and big grocery stores in Lake County, Indiana looking for ampalaya tea. She couldn’t find any. So she expanded her search and went to the Filipino market an hour away from our home. She bought the tea in bulk and packed up that year’s balikbayan boxes with those bitter sachets to send to lola. That year I came to understand the importance of those ethnic food markets.
I’ve struggled to find the foods and flavors of my mom’s cooking at the Wegmans, Price Choppers, and Stop & Shops of Syracuse, New York and Boston, Massachusetts. My infrequent visits home would always come with a long list of dishes my mom needed to make: chicken adobo, sinigang na bangus, dinuguan, monggo and malunggay in coconut milk, and of course, champorado. I’d spend a week, or sometimes just a weekend, soaking up all those familiar flavors and smells and leave feeling nourished and connected to my roots.
I remember walking into an Indian market in Somerville, Massachusetts some years ago. The Market Basket was too packed and I just needed a few staples: rice, onions, and tomatoes. That’s when I saw them. They looked a little different. More spikey, like a relative of romanesco broccoli, but the handwritten sign in all caps sharpie confirmed what I knew. It read: BITTER MELON. That day I bought two and made myself ginisang ampalaya with egg.
Even though Boston doesn’t have a Filipino market, I’ve found the ingredients needed to make my favorite Filipino dishes by scoping out the Latinx markets, Chinese markets, Korean markets Caribbean markets, etc. Sometimes I find what I’m looking for under a different name like, moringa instead of malunggay. Or annatto instead of atsuete. And sometimes I don’t find what I’m looking for, but I find a very similar substitute like gạch tôm xào dầu ăn instead of bagoong. But the most exciting thing has been getting fresh grown ampalaya in my CSA box. Holding a lot of gratitude for the BIPOC farmers committed to growing the food of our ancestors.
-Leilani