Women and the burn: Papaya rosettes and the tender geometry of my childhood
ILOILO CITY—It was her fingers that catches my attention. They are in a rush, but were graceful, dexterously manipulating the thin slivers of caramelized green papaya.
The firm, pale slivers have to be shaped into rose petals all the way to the stem, with “yema” (dense custard) in the middle as the “pollen tube,” before it is transformed into the beauty and flavors of earthy, sweet, and almost otherworldly confectionery art.
Nanay Rosita’s heat-reddened fingers have been rubbed down to glossy nubs, doubtless the result of constant motion. At 73, Nanay Rosita’s fingers are surprisingly not arthritic—though one could argue that their busyness has precisely kept the usual affliction at bay.
The art and business of making papaya rosettes is quite literally hot. One piece sells for only P15, so several women trained by the Iloilo Provincial Government decided not to pursue the making of the rosettes, also called “dinulce nga kapayas,” and the older term “glazed papaya.”
Dying food art
Rosita Macahilo-Dairo cannot explain why she persisted in going through this torture daily for almost four decades, but she has gotten so good at it that she can make 20 pieces of papaya rosettes in 30 minutes.
She says women from 13 villages in Dingle town of Iloilo trained in the making of papaya rosettes but many either could not pick up the skill or simply stopped altogether since their hands could not bear the arduous work.
“There’s only me, Perlita, and Tessie that I know here in Dingle who make these.”
She explains that the two women are already 78 and no one is taking over their business. They had all been trained by their townmate Estelita Valencia, now 86, and who in turn was trained as a 12-year-old by Natalia Muyco who was said to have pioneered this heirloom confection.
My sweet memories
As a child, I looked forward to my grandfather coming home with a packet of papaya rosettes. I enjoyed the sugar frosting and then after a few seconds of hesitation, I would finally bite into the toasty sweetness of the petals that had light, buttery undertones. There was some sort of sunny disposition to it that I can now actually describe as a tropical flavor mellowed by slow-cooked caramelized sugar. I would eat all the petals and save the best for last: the rich and creamy yema center.
Imagine the thrill when I finally saw how my favorite childhood confection were made. The road to the village of Potolan in Dingle where Nanay Rosita lives is lined on both sides by a patchwork of rice paddies; and as I approached her house, papaya trees heavy with elongated fruits showed up like a welcome sign.
She ushers me to her kitchen where she brings out a spokeshave wood planer called “sapiyon” and proceeds to shave the green papaya she skinned earlier. The spokeshave has an adjustable spoke razor with dual handles for easy control, and measures about 9 inches with a flat bottom and a tough carbon steel blade. Nanay Rosita shaves the slivers with a width of about 4 inches to 6 inches and a thinness of 2 millimeters to 3 millimeters.
To be sure, my attempts to do the same ended up in a sorry mess. I feel that shaving green papaya is an inborn skill: Keep wrists relaxed while firmly holding the spokeshave firmly; tilt the blade slightly downward at approximately 15 to 20 degrees to allow the edge to catch the surface; in a continuous stroke while maintaining pressure, pull toward your body and collect the slivers in a bowl of cold water so they don’t dry out or turn brown.
I also find out that I need to adjust the depth of the blade because if I go in too deep, I will get gouges; too shallow and I will not get anything at all.
Nanay Rosita then brings me to where a “karaha” (cauldron for sugar reduction) with white sugar is already boiling over low heat. She then prepares blanched shaved strips of green papaya to remove the bitter sap.
“You have to put in the papaya slivers and be mindful the sugar doesn’t turn brown on it,” she says, while carefully mixing with a flat wooden spatula.
This in itself is also a skill perfected by years of practice. She then put several very hot caramelized slivers on a plate and rushes to their open-air, elevated terrace. With her bare hands she shapes them, making sure the yema sits like a queen in the swirl of white rose petals.
Within 10 to 12 minutes, the papaya rosettes has cooled enough for me to tuck into the freshest piece I have ever eaten. So, my childhood suspicion of the rosettes being cooled by mountain air was right all along and I had every right to marvel at this confection back then.
Now, I am truly awed and mesmerized by the love, dedication and tradition that goes into the making of each confection.
