I started getting bored when the agenda in a meeting I was in a few weeks ago shifted to figures. (I simply cannot stand reading and analyzing figures!) A friend’s text message came to the rescue and the silent exchange led to a discussion about food and a particular dessert (including its origin) that I wasn’t really familiar with or to make matters worse, something that I have never heard of at all!

Since his description of the delicacy intrigued me so much, he asked his mother (Nimfa Soneja, originally from Catanduanes) to cook it especially for me. After a week of waiting, my friend Nestor arrived at the ‘orfanage’ with a big white kaserola (pot) containing the especially-cooked dessert.

Kaluko, pronounced kah yuh’ kho (kayuko) as Catanduanons are known for being bulol (speaking in stutter), Nestor tells, is a delicacy indigenous to Catanduanes, a southern island province located the Bicol region. It is made of the ‘enlarged base’ of gabi (taro) stuffed with its own grated meat and grated buko (young coconut) meat then simmered in coconut milk, raw sugar, and pandan leaves. Above photo shows chilled, sliced kaluko (kayuko).

While searching for some reference to support this post, I came across an entry in Wikipedia about the taro as follows:

Taro (from Tahitian or other Polynesian languages), more rarely kalo (from Hawaiian), is a tropical plant grown primarily as a vegetable food for its edible corm, and secondarily as a leaf vegetable. It is believed to be one of the earliest cultivated plants. Taro is closely related to Xanthosoma and Caladium, plants commonly grown as ornamentals, and like them it is sometimes loosely called elephant ear. In its raw form the plant is toxic due to the presence of calcium oxalate, although the toxin is destroyed by cooking.

According to Dr. Ched Umali-Garcia, a plant geneticist from the University of the Philippines, and chief consultant for plants and soil sciences of BioSolutions, the ‘enlarged base’ of the gabi is technically termed corm. Gabi corm is a ‘modified stem’ as in the buko ng saging (shoot of the banana plant). The term vegetable food is used to refer to plant parts that are eaten.

Taro photos from Wikipedia.

What is so interesting about this Wiki reference to taro is its name in Hawaiian – kalo. Could it be that the term kaluko (though pronounced differently by Catanduanons) was influenced by the taro’s Hawaiian name? I guess this one’s something that I would need to be dig further down.

Above: A sliced portion of the freshly-cooked kaluko.

Here’s the recipe as shared by Tita Nimfa . . .

KALUKO | KAYUKO [ Stuffed Taro | Gabi ]

Ingredients:

4-5 pcs. medium to large gabi (taro)
1/2 kg. brown sugar
1 cup grated buko (young coconut) meat
2-3 cups coconut milk

Method:

Peel gabi and cut into halves lengthwise (make sure that you will know their pairs). Grate the middle portion of gabi — gently for it will smash easily.

Combine the grated portion of gabi with the grated coconut meat together with the half portion of brown sugar. Place the mixture back to the gabi and attach one to its pair.

Place all the gabi in a pot (large enough to hold all the gabi), pour coconut milk and the remaining brown sugar and cook for 20 minutes or until the gabi is fork-tender but not mushy.

Allow to cool before serving.

When it was presented to me on the table as we were having dinner, the cooked sweetened gabis looked like ostrich eggs coated with a red coloured glazing from the thickened coconut milk and raw sugar.

A sweet savoury aroma wafted in the air. The unique blend of the textures and flavours of the gabi, buko meat, coconut cream, raw sugar, and the hint of pandan made the taste of kaluko simply exotic and divine. The enticing aroma woke up our ‘mama’ (who has fallen asleep waiting for it!) when the yaya brought a slice of the delicacy into her room.

And as Nestor prepared to leave, I was in frenzy opening all cupboards (including five refrigerators) in the two kitchens and the lanai. I couldn’t find it! There was a sudden hunt for the missing white kaserola that contained the kaluko when it arrived at the ‘orfanage.’ It was past one o’clock in the morning and all the maids were halfway through dreamland already so I couldn’t ask for help!

Giving up, I showed Nestor to his car. As we stopped at the port cochere, there it was! Shining in its spotless white glory and sitting pretty on the antique commode . . . placed dutifully (and strategically, to be noticed) by yaya Ichu as if a ‘thank you’ note left by the door . . .

Thank you, Nestor . . . thank you, Tita Nimfa . . .