Crabs, a Stomach-Ache and a Volcano

On a Sunday morning ritual, when I was sharing my lunch recipe on Facebook, my friend Richard from Manila sent me a message with a photo of a bottle labeled “Purung Talangka”.

“Sir, orig ba to,” he asked. Through a decade of friendship, Richard has gotten familiar with Kapampangan cuisine and considers Pampanga his second home. He asked me to check if his neighbor’s crab paste was genuine. “Nope,” I said.

For years, I’ve seen this delicious paste being mass-produced due to high demand. Authentic tabang talangka paste comes from female Asian shore crabs, which have more fat on their bottoms than males. It appears expensive due to its rarity.

Tabang Talangka sautéed with garlic, which is the purest and most genuine version available. Even after being stored in the refrigerator for many days, a real one does not harden.

Some vendors use blue or mud crab innards as extenders, while others mix it with corn starch and Annatto to look like the real thing. In fact, price is the best indicator of authenticity. Richard claims his neighbor sells 150-gram “Purung Talangka” for only 200 pesos. But the pure and authentic Asian shore crab paste costs 1000–1500 pesos in Pampanga.

“She would prepare a kilo of salt and generously pour it on top of them as if burial in funeral service was taking place until it was completely mixed and their power struggle came to a halt. This functions as a preservative. She then covers the lid, shakes them off like a salsa dancer…”

When I was a kid, the abundance of crabs during the rainy season was comparable to the Walking Dead movie’s zombies. Because we lived along the river in a barrio called Betis, these little crustaceans would stagger like a battalion in the early morning, climbing until they filled up the dry part of the river bank to avoid being carried by the stream, which becomes faster when high tide occurs. But this means death for them, as they become sacrificial prey for our evening meal.

In my science subject during college, I discovered that the “lilingkas la ding talangka” phenomenon occurred as a result of climate change, as Mt. Pinatubo erupted a few years later in that decade. The water was becoming too hot for the crabs to survive. I was a witness to a large-scale mass migration of the sensitive crustaceans.

A crab is crushed between both fingers to extract the tomalley and innards. For easier and faster extraction in the past, a pressing device consisting of wood and stainless steel was used. However, unlike when done manually, this technique results in a lot of waste for a crab.

I recall becoming acquainted with the appearance of a female crab as we manually picked them up with our bare hands. A female crab contains more tomalley and meat than a male crab, even when compared to a larger-sized male crab.

During the rainy season, the crabs were caught using a traditional “bakut” fishing net. Tatang Jose, a distant relative in his 60s, owned a riverside home. He’d walk down to the river, swim, and mount the bakut to the base of the bridge, which would act as a sieve as the crabs descended from their spawning habitat upstream. Locals, including my cousins and uncles, jump to the center and fold the massive to bring it to the shore hand-in-hand when the bakut floats like a giant shoulder embracing the massive river current. Everyone in the community has a snag in the catch.

As a result of numerous years of siltation and river bank reconstruction, the Betis River is in its current condition.

My Inda (mother) prepares the burung talangka on those days by cleaning the mud off the decapods trapped between their legs. She would prepare a kilo of salt and generously pour it on top of them as if burial in funeral service was taking place until it was completely mixed and their power struggle came to a halt. This functions as a preservative. She then covers the lid, shakes them off like a salsa dancer, and waits a day before eating them.

“…like a thick yellow paint you smudge onto your canvas, it stains your dining plate, drop a teaspoon of calamansi, and pour a bit of those minced red chilies? ”

Children were not permitted to eat during those times because the “burung talangka” dish is only for adults and can cause stomach aches in children. Later, I discovered that the cause of this is amoebiasis, as crabs carry feces when they attempt to leave the water in search of spawning grounds.

However, we disregard this risk. Don’t you think it’s heaven on earth when you squeeze the fat out of a female crab’s body, pour it on a smoking hot white rice, like a thick yellow paint you smudge onto your canvas, it stains your dining plate, drop a teaspoon of calamansi, and pour a bit of those minced red chilies?

One might think that their abundance makes them less interesting, as you can become bored with the endless supplies when the source is right in your own backyard. But this was not the case, as they were always in high demand. Crabs, when cooked, continue to be a high-end dish even today.

“ Sige sir, isa na lang kunin ko, para sa aligue pasta. Dyan na lang ako bibili ng tunay sa susunod, “ Richard’s response after my confirmation.

With the silt and lahar that the Pinatubo brought us, my family followed the same migration path as the crabs. But Richard’s message transports me back two decades past.

It reminds me of Tatang Jose smacking the water lilies and floating logs with his jungle bolo to clear the entangled bakut, my uncles and cousins excitedly filling the sack with the catch, and my Inda’s pampering hands slowly putting a crumpled piece of steaming rice smeared with a yellowish paste into my mouth, while continuously blowing to avoid burning my lips. The cool breeze from her mouth reminds me of passionate love, whereas my memory of the community is like a giant claw that clings. It’s mental, emotional, and perpetual.

By Ruston Banal. Check out the profile through this link.