Rethinking Sinigang as an Act of Solidarity and Self-Pride

THE KITCHEN GAVE YOUNG DANIEL CANCINO A SENSE OF PURPOSE, PRIDE, AND COMMUNITY. NOW HE'S PAYING IT FORWARD.

- By ANNICCA ALBANO

Daniel Cancino doesn't use sampaloc in his sinigang. The Toronto chef believes Filipino cooking is all about adapting. So, on June 9, he rustled up his rendition of the classic sour soup using Cape d'Or Salmon, green strawberries, and rhubarb broth—ingredients that are all local, some even donated. It was a dish that reflects what it means to be Filipino-Canadian to him. And it was only fitting, he thought, to serve it at a fundraising dinner for the victims of the Lapu-Lapu festival car-ramming attack in Vancouver.

"It was unfortunate that it took a disaster to bring us all together," Cancino laments. But in times of grief or joy, Filipinos gather around food, he adds. That evening, as he cooked shoulder to shoulder with fellow Filipino-Canadian chefs, many of whom were now friends, he felt a quiet pride, one he hadn't always carried.

Vancouver, after all, had been part of Cancino's own journey. Born in Hong Kong and raised between Parañaque and Dagupan until the age of 10, he moved to Richmond, B.C., when his eldest brother enrolled in university. Being the bunso, he had no say.

Small and shy, Cancino often felt out of place. His parents gave his days some structure with chess competitions and lessons in violin and piano. While he was doing well by every Asian parent's standards, the cafeteria told a different story. Cancino remembers classmates turning up their noses at the adobo his mom packed. On TV, he saw balut used as a gag on Fear Factor. It seemed to him the cuisine existed as a curiosity, familiar only to those with Filipino nannies or friends who threw potluck parties.