The forest table of Sagada
The mountains came to Manila last Saturday, carried by the people who continue to understand, protect, and celebrate Sagada. For one afternoon, the Philippine Heritage Kitchen, together with Gulay Na!, transformed the city into a window to Cordillera—not only through its food, but through the people safeguarding its traditions.
The mountains introduced themselves at the table. The spread became an enchanted forest of wild mushrooms, indigenous vegetables, edible flowers, herbs, heirloom grains, and mountain harvests.
Chef Lao Castillo, who led the culinary team, smiled as diners approached the buffet. “Build your plate to look like a forest,” he encouraged.
It sounded playful, but it was the perfect invitation. Every guest became part of the experience, arranging food into an edible interpretation of the mountains.
Sagada on a table
On the table, Sagada unfolded through wild mushrooms, heirloom rice, indigenous vegetables, and time-honored preservation techniques, each reflecting the land and the communities it has sustained for centuries. To me, the menu reflected the very best of us as Filipinos—what becomes possible when people come together with a shared purpose.
Castillo did not work alone. He was joined by a remarkable group of Sagada advocates whose work extended far beyond the kitchen. Together, they created a meal celebrating not only the forests of Sagada, but also the people who care for them.
The afternoon’s most touching moment belonged to Castillo, who created his own interpretation of sinigtimang damayan—a fermented rice soup with whole, uncut mixed mushrooms. It was a dish he had never prepared before. Then Lope Bosaing approached him and said, “This reminds me of my childhood. This is exactly how my parents used to make it.”
And for Castillo, there could have been no greater compliment.
Fancy flavorful fungi
Nearby, chef Sandie Caluag, better known as Fungify’s Mushroom Queen, brought her playful spirit to the table with her whimsical “Shroomai”—a mushroom siomai made with tofu, oyster mushrooms, carrots, onions, and garlic. She also prepared a crisp squash noodle salad dressed with vinegar made from fermented mushroom stems.
Instead of discarding the stems, she explained, they are fermented into vinegar, transforming waste into something delicious.
Then there was Mark Capiral, who introduced himself simply: “I cook for my wife.” He may not own a restaurant, but the mixed mushroom paella he prepared became one of the afternoon’s highlights. Made with black rice, glutinous rice, locally foraged mushrooms from Sagada, and a deeply flavorful broth of dried mushrooms and vegetable stock, it celebrated the remarkable depth of flavor mushrooms can achieve. He even spoke passionately about supporting Sagada’s farmers, producers, and public markets so more Filipinos could discover the quality of their harvests.
Former cruise line chef Christian Reyes showed how humble ingredients become elegant appetizers. His mushroom canapés—one topped with creamy mushroom purée, the other paired with silky kalabasa—proved that sophistication often begins with simplicity.
Meatless meals
Shane Agir, who works in marketing during the week and coaches fitness on weekends, reimagined the smoky flavors of etag using a vegan pork belly made from textured vegetable protein. Paired with white beans and wild mushrooms, his dish showed that tradition can evolve without losing its soul.
Meanwhile, chef John Dumlao showcased meatless nuggets made from locally sourced red beets and Sagada oyster mushrooms, served with a smoky Inca-inspired barbecue sauce and grilled cabbage dressed in a passionfruit vinaigrette—made from locally grown fruit and regional vinegar.
His goal was simple: to show how local produce can become creative, sustainable, and deeply satisfying.
Desserts and drinks, forest-style
Heritage ice cream maker Cielo Castro-Magisa masterfully transformed the forest into dessert. Her atayan mushroom ice cream stones were fashioned to resemble the earthball mushroom just as it appears when foraged, and looked as though it had been plucked straight from the forest floor. It rested on pandan “moss,” dusted with mushroom powder, while cacao nibs became tiny mountain stones. Equally memorable were the palitaw made from upland glutinous rice, topped with mushroom bukayo and the sayote turon.
Completing the meal were beverages that Yrai Bustamante described as drinks celebrating Cordillera—a black rice horchata, mountain tea that served as a refreshing cold brew, a lightly fermented cassava and passionfruit tonic, and a cascara kombucha made from coffee husks.
Part of the forest ecosystem
Only after lunch did the creators begin explaining the philosophy behind the meal.
Author and Ministry of Mushroom’s Marco Lobregat—whose fascination with fungi has made him one of the country’s foremost mushroom advocates—spoke about mushrooms not merely as food, but as an essential part of the forest ecosystem.
Indigenous food researcher Kinja Tauli then broadened the conversation. She explained that the cuisine of the Cordillera cannot be separated from its ecosystems.
Forests, rivers, mountains, rice terraces, and home gardens shape every meal, she says. Rice may be the staple, but root crops, wild greens, mushrooms, and other forest foods have long sustained mountain communities. Drying, smoking, fermenting, and curing are not merely cooking techniques—but also ways of preserving harvests, respecting nature, and ensuring nothing goes to waste.
The Cordilleran way of life
The afternoon concluded with Lope Bosaing, a full-blooded Igorot, coffee farmer, and potter, who proudly spoke about ub-ubbo, the Cordilleran way of life rooted in cooperation—a tradition of mutual help where communities share labor, knowledge, harvests, and responsibility, recognizing that everyone’s well-being depends on one another.
Listening to them, I realized that ub-ubbo was not simply a subject discussed that afternoon. It was the event itself. Farmers, cooks, artisans, educators, entrepreneurs, researchers, and advocates came together, each contributing what they could, united by a love for Sagada.
That is what the Philippine Heritage Kitchen has always aspired to be.
More than preserving recipes, techniques, and ingredients, it celebrates the people and communities who keep these traditions alive—and generously share them with the rest of us.
