Right now? It's Morcon. I have vague childhood memories of Nanay Andang, my paternal grandmother, making it for those rare Sunday parties when they would host lunch that stretched on to merienda cena.
On the round, rough, dining table, they were served sliced with those bright yellow and orange centers, alongside the halayang ube - grated purple yams mixed with sugar, condensed and coconut milk, painstakingly churned overnight in a large "kawa" with a large wooden spoon until they become creamy and almost solid. The purple yam mixture is then mounded onto those two, old Italian glass oval plates, which I have managed to stash before I came to settle for good in America, hoping to re-create Sundays when I can host parties for family and friends. In which case, I would be the 3rd generation descended from the Ferrer clan to use those plates - these having been in my great grandmother's possession at the turn of the 19th century, buried together with the celadon flower pots of long ago that have heretofore been lost or broken to survive the Japanese Occupation. Perhaps I should bring it back to Los Angeles which I now call my home.
Morcon is essentially a beef roulade or "roll", similar to an Italian Braciole or French Paupiette or German Rouladen. It is Spanish in etiology, though the latter's denizens would recognize it as a typical tapas slice akin to jamon serrano or sopresatta, not a braised roll as the Philippines knows it. A decade back, Tes, a good friend re-introduced me to the delights of the dish. She crashed the apartment in Makati too many nights she was almost a 3rd roommate, in addition to Jen. That apartment in my IBM days was raided by Club G most often for an ocassional dinner or dance practice, and Kiko would sneak in when I wasn't around, for what reason I would keep to myself. Though I can say I introduced him in the first place.
While Jen was lost in her own world upstairs, Tes and I would cook up a storm and talk about too many things while I had a steady hand on the red wine bottle. One thing I learned about the basics of preparing Morcon was that any thread would do, and that it needs to be as stiff as a dick that's cocked, though twice or 3 times the size, relative to your exposure. Then and now, my perspectives in terms of size have changed considerably, though I cannot claim to be a connoseiur :). But bigger is better. We are still on the topic of the morcon, of course.
The recipe calls for beef flank or beef round, sliced into a small mat where you would roll a mixture of chorizo de bilbao, boiled eggs, stuffed olives, carrots and sweet pickles, in typical Japanese maki roll fashion. This last time, I wasn't nozzling a red wine bottle (I was stinking sober) since I rarely imbibe these days, and the Mexican butcher couldn't understand shit of what I was describing with my hands and my broken Spanish. He thought I was being disgusting and he was wiggling his bushy eyebrows while he snickered so I said forget it ... just give me those damned beef slices and pointed to what I wanted, right by the Carne Asada pile. Note to self - need to bring interpreter when I go shopping here for Anthony Bourdain's Pate de Campagne meat ingredients.
It didn't come out good - the meat was too thin, and rather dry - a repeat experience which I have lamented to Tes on the last 3 or 4 locations I have done the dish alone. I have a stinking suspicion it was because the meat slice is too thin, so next time I will start with a whole round and do my own slicing.
It was a hit with the nurses and the dietician at work though, amateurs at this kind of cuisine as they are, having been exposed mainly to Caldereta, Pancit and Adobo - which I am starting to hate.
I am, however, not giving up on this exercise, and armed with my lessons of the past, will try to reprise the legendary Morcon for Thanksgiving Lunch in 2 versions - my Osso Buco braising gravy, and a typical Spanish tomato sauce.
Here's a typical Morcon recipe
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