Long ago, Filipino folk subsisted only around nature’s bounty: by hunting, fishing, and digging for root crops. However, massive storms struck the community, and an extended drought brought about unexpected hunger. Desperate to feed himself and his beloved wife Banag, a man named Danas set out on a daunting journey to bring food back to his village. Traveling far and wide, he stumbled upon a peculiar sight: a field with grass as far as the eye could see. Swaying in the wind, they sang melodies that seemed to carry meaningful wisdom—gather the precious white kernels hidden within golden grains. This will provide food amid the world’s challenges.
This is just one of the many Filipino folk tales that explore the origin of rice in the Philippines. Known to us as alamat, these stories vary in their retellings across the diverse islands and regions of the Philippines, serving as conduits through which our ancestors imparted their culture and wisdom, explaining the discovery of essential elements and their significance in our lives.
Blessed with agricultural lands and a climate ideal for cultivating rice, the Philippines holds a profound connection with this staple crop, which stands as one of the pillars of Filipino identity. Rice is an essential part of every dining table; we have it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and sometimes even merienda. Even in fast food chains where rice is not customarily served, rice meals are a staple in local franchise menus. At festive gatherings like birthdays or fiestas, there is always a giant pot of rice ready to accompany the myriads of dishes available. We begin and end our day with it, making it a staple food in our daily lives.
Beyond being a staple in our cuisine, rice as a crop is also associated with many local customs and traditions. During the new year, it is a tradition for Filipinos to put rice grains and salt on the table to absorb prosperity and wealth for the year ahead. At weddings, throwing rice over the newlyweds is a practice we do to shower blessings in their lives. I vividly remember moving houses as a child, and the first thing my mother brought inside the house was a bag of rice, claiming that doing so would bring abundance throughout our stay in the new house.
As a rice-producing country, we have developed a whole vocabulary related to this grain. Every step of a rice's journey—from planting to preparation and consumption—is labeled differently. Our vocabulary is so particular that we avoid using general terms like “cooked” or “uncooked”, instead using precise terminology that captures its nuances. Across the Philippine languages and dialects, and even within the lingua franca itself, many terms denote the diverse forms and states of rice.
Starting from the cultivation process, as farmers sow its seeds into the fields, rice begins its journey as palay—the purest and rawest form of rice before being husked in rice mills. Following harvesting and milling, palay then transforms into polished white grains we know as bigas.
Sacks brimming with bigas are then dispatched to markets for retail. Within the bustling aisles of public markets, the assortment of rice available is staggering, each boasting distinctive names—Dinorado, Angelica, Sinandomeng, Wagwag, Jasmine—and varieties for consumers to choose from.
Nearly every Filipino household maintains a stockpile of bigas, ready to cook to accompany every meal. The conventional cooking method involves rinsing the grains once or twice, and then adding the appropriate amount of water. Some adhere to a precise 2:1 ratio using measuring cups, while others use the tactile hand method, gauging water height by dipping fingers into the pot or rice cooker just above the grains. If the water reaches the second line in your middle finger, that is the right amount. In this process, rice is known as sinaing in Filipino households. Rather than simply asking, "Is the rice cooked?" we inquire, "Is the 'sinaing' ready?"
Once the sinaing completes its transformation into cooked rice, it sheds its former identities and emerges as kanin—a fragrant, freshly steamed rice with a distinctive aroma that makes you feel excited to eat. But even in this form, we use specialized terms to characterize the kanin’s outcome. For instance, when the grains are slightly separated and retain their shape, we refer to it as buhaghag. On a personal note, my preferred variety of rice is the opposite of buhaghag which is malata: rice that typically consists of medium to short grains that clump together when cooked. Rice shouldn’t be excessively malata though, or else it will resemble rice porridge or lugaw.
While rice prepared in an automatic rice cooker is perfectly cooked and free from burnt spots, those cooked on a stove may occasionally suffer from slight overcooking, especially at the bottom. This burnt part is known as tutong. Interestingly, some love tutong, especially when paired with fried dishes, as it adds a crunchy texture when eaten.
There’s really nothing fancy about freshly steamed rice; it's a plain white (or perhaps brown or red) dish with a grainy texture. Yet it's true magic lies in its versatility that undeniably complements any Filipino dish, be it the savory-sweet flavors of adobo, the tangy notes of sinigang, or the comforting, gingery warmth of tinola. It also enhances the taste of fried dishes like chicken, pork, or fish with its neutral palate.
What is more amusing to me is how seriously we take our rice—and the art of terminology. Every aspect of rice merits its distinct label. At the dining table, when grains of rice scatter or cling to the plate's edges, it's a moment we playfully term as "simi" in our household, though others commonly refer to it as "mismis."
After meals, any leftover rice in the pot doesn't meet the trash bin—it gets a second life. We set it aside for the following day, transforming into a new identity. No longer kanin, it becomes bahaw—a term reserved for rice that's a day old and ideal for the next day's breakfast. With a bit of culinary flair, bahaw is then reborn as sinangag, or fried rice—typically a simple concoction of rice mixed with oil, garlic, and a dash of salt. Paired with various accompaniments, from cured meats and dried fish to the humble hotdog and eggs, sinangag is a staple many cherish as the perfect start to a new day ahead.
Though I'm not an expert linguist, it is evident that our collective love for rice and its centrality to our culture has spurred the creation of these words made specifically to describe it. Rice has steadfastly accompanied us through the ages—to this day, it remains the main source of sustenance nourishing our bodies and souls. Our linguistic expressions and each term surrounding rice serve as a testament to its enduring presence in the daily lives of Filipinos: it reflects the depth of our connection to this humble yet glorious grain.
