Wazzup Pilipinas!?
Before Google Maps, before food blogs, and before the word ‘Philippines’ even existed—Antonio Pigafetta sat cross-legged on woven mats, sharing rice and pork with islanders who had no idea they’d just hosted the first Europeans to ever circumnavigate the globe.
In a world desperately trying to stay alive on rotting ship rations and dwindling hope, Pigafetta—the noble Venetian chronicler aboard Ferdinand Magellan’s ill-fated expedition—found salvation in the uncharted isles of what we now call the Philippines. But what he found wasn’t just land, safety, or shelter. What he found was food.
And he wrote it all down.
Landfall and a Banquet of Firsts
It was March 1521. After three harrowing months crossing the Pacific, the surviving crew of Magellan’s fleet staggered onto the shores of Homonhon, an island untouched by European eyes.
They expected resistance. Instead, they were greeted with kindness—and more surprisingly—a feast.
Pigafetta, ever the attentive scribe, recorded with astonishment:
“They presented some fish and vessel of palm wine, and figs more than a foot long…”
Those “figs” were bananas. The palm wine was what we now call tuba, fermented from coconut sap. For men who had barely eaten anything fresh in weeks, it was a banquet worthy of kings. But this was only the beginning.
Dining with Datus: Porcelain Plates and Pork in Gravy
In Cebu, the grand welcome intensified. They met with Rajah Humabon, the local chieftain, who hosted them in royal fashion. Pigafetta captured this cultural marvel as vividly as a modern food documentary.
“Two large porcelain dishes were brought in, one full of rice and the other of pork with its gravy… After half an hour a platter of roast fish cut in pieces was brought in, and ginger…”
Ginger, already used as a spice in Asia for centuries, was the main seasoning in the Visayan dishes. The use of porcelain dishes hinted at established trade routes with China, a level of civilization that stunned Pigafetta and countered European perceptions of “savages.”
And then came the etiquette.
“They ate with their fingers. The king’s cup was always kept covered and no one else drank from it but he and I.”
Here, Pigafetta wasn’t just tasting food—he was tasting culture. He was welcomed as a guest of honor and made to drink from the king’s own cup. In those small moments, the seeds of cross-cultural diplomacy were planted.
The Coconut: Nature’s Miracle, Island’s Bread
Pigafetta didn’t just eat—he analyzed. His obsession with the coconut reads like a scientific dissection:
“Under that shell there is a white, marrowy substance one finger in thickness, which they eat fresh with meat and fish as we do bread…”
To a Venetian nobleman, it was a miracle tree. He noted how it provided water, wine, vinegar, oil, rope, and firewood, all from a single plant. It was the Philippines’ first ambassador to Europe—delivered not through trade, but through taste.
The Bat That Tasted Like Chicken
Not all meals were so familiar. On Gatighan Island, Pigafetta described a surreal encounter:
“We killed one of them [flying foxes] which resembled chicken in taste.”
Yes, Pigafetta and crew ate fruit bats, creatures “as large as eagles.” For a crew starved of meat, these sky-beasts were both frightening and nourishing. To the locals, they were just dinner.
Rice and Ritual
In the pre-colonial Philippines, rice was life, and Pigafetta saw this firsthand. He described the cooking method using bamboo tubes and earthen pots, often lined with banana leaves. He also took note of millet and other grains, showcasing the diverse diet of early Filipinos.
But more than the food itself, Pigafetta was deeply fascinated by the ritual of eating. Meals were communal. Food was served low to the ground, shared from common plates, and eaten by hand—practices that still persist in Filipino homes today.
A Gourmet Historian Ahead of His Time
What makes Pigafetta remarkable isn’t just that he wrote it all down—but that he wrote with respect, curiosity, and awe. While many European accounts of indigenous cultures were condescending or dismissive, Pigafetta’s chronicle was wide-eyed and almost reverent.
Through food, he found humanity.
Through rice and pork, he found diplomacy.
Through coconuts and palm wine, he found survival.
His journal wasn’t just about geography or conquest—it was about connection. He listed over 400 words from local dialects, including 160 Cebuano terms. Many of them were food-related. His work is now regarded as one of the earliest—and most accurate—ethnographic records of Southeast Asia.
Why It Matters Today
Today, the Philippines is hailed for its diverse and flavorful cuisine. From adobo and lechon to kinilaw and halo-halo, Filipino food is a fusion of indigenous, Asian, Spanish, and American influences.
But long before fusion, before colonization, before even the name “Philippines” existed—Antonio Pigafetta sat on a woven mat, savoring fish soaked in ginger, eating rice with his fingers, and drinking palm wine under coconut trees.
And he told the world.
Final Word
In a voyage marked by hunger, mutiny, and death, Pigafetta’s food journal survives as a rare light—a taste of the Philippines before the storms of colonization.
It was not gold or spices or conquest that first united East and West.
It was a meal.
“In food, we find memory. In memory, we find history.”
Let us never forget that one of our oldest recorded stories begins not with a war, but with a warm meal shared among strangers.
Ross is known as the Pambansang Blogger ng Pilipinas - An Information and Communication Technology (ICT) Professional by profession and a Social Media Evangelist by heart.
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