Buttermilk Berry Bibingka, a (Not-Too-Sweet) Expression of Filipino-American Identity
+ more on Arlyn Osborne's debut dessert cookbook, "Sugarcane"
**Just as a heads up: some of the links in this post are affiliate links, meaning I’ll earn a small commission at no extra cost to you if you decide to purchase the amazing books, ingredients, etc. through them. Thank you ever so much in advance for your support of this newsletter ❤️
The recipe box is a collection of recipes and techniques from my favorite cookbooks—everything from up-and-coming titles to tried-and-true favorites from my collection. (Though you may see some original recipes here from time to time, too 😉) You can check out TOD’s archive of past recipes here if you’re looking for some meal inspiration.
For Arlyn Osborne, cooking has always been what she’s needed it to be at any given moment—a way to meditate, process thoughts, work through confusion, or communicate feelings that might’ve been otherwise difficult to say out loud. It’s a way of saying “congratulations,” “I’m sorry,” “I love you,” and “I’m glad we’re friends” when the words just can’t seem to fall out. Not to mention, it’s been Arlyn’s way of making sense of her identity having grown up mixed-race (her mother hails from the Philippines, while her father has English roots), figuring out how she fits in either culture—or even how to justly be both.
“I do think it’s important to really see the diversity, even within the Asian-American community,” Arlyn tells me. “It’s very broad; not everybody’s experience is necessarily the same. I’m half-Asian, so there’ve been times when I feel like I’m not Asian enough to do a certain assignment or contribute to certain conversations.”
“It's challenging being mixed; it is kind of its own category,” she adds. “It’s a unique experience because you are in the middle—navigating how to interpret that grey area where I may not be Asian or white enough for a given circumstance—and that’s really confusing for me. But food has been a really great way for me to let it be what it is. Why can’t I be myself? Why can't it be enough? If I can interpret myself through food, this is what it is—my recipes.”
If Arlyn’s recipes are her form of self-expression, then her debut cookbook, “Sugarcane: Sweet Recipes From My Half-Filipino Kitchen” is her life story told through food. Growing up, the food that graced her family table fit into either one of two categories, Filipino or American—“coexisted but never coalesced,” as she writes, “much like [her] cultural identity.” But here, Arlyn’s collection of recipes celebrate the best of both worlds, combining Filipino flavors with Western techniques. Bold desserts like a two-tiered buko pandan chiffon cake topped with raspberries, sweet and nutty ube milk crinkle cookies, or black forest champorado weave a personal narrative that, to Arlyn, illustrates what it means to be Filipino-American.
“It was during the pandemic, actually, when I got this idea,” Arlyn tells me. “It was when everybody was making banana bread, remember that? I was like, ‘All right, I’m gonna make this.’ I was sheltering in place at my mom’s house. I opened her fridge and saw a jar of ube jam and I was, like, ‘Oh, I’m just gonna throw this in there.’ And it turned out really well. I was thinking about it later that night, it was keeping me up. ‘This is the thing. This is the book I want to write.’”
Enter a perfect example of Arlyn’s twist on a classic Filipino holiday favorite, buttermilk berry bibingka—a byproduct of a childhood filled with making (and thus, eating) boxed mix cakes. Arlyn writes about her memories perusing the baking aisle at the grocery store, surrounded by picture-perfect frosted multi-tiered cakes printed on the boxes. She had her go-to prepackaged blends—“Duncan Hines for fudgy brownies and always Betty Crocker for vanilla cake,” she adds. And at the Asian grocery store, there was one brand of boxed mix that never failed to yield the satisfying bibingka—White King.
Bibingka is a Filipino rice cake baked in fragrant banana leaves, with garnishes that run the gamut from melty cheese to salted eggs, or from macapuno (jarred coconut strings) to coconut flakes. Bibingka in itself can vary as much as its toppings; Arlyn notes that some use coconut milk in their cake while others use whole milk, or even include condensed milk for extra sweetness.
Her rendition of bibingka employs white rice flour, which yields a more delicate cake (as opposed to the typically-used sweet rice flour, which creates a mochi-esque chew with a tight, stretchy crumb). The addition of buttermilk adds extra moisture, not to mention a bit of tang. Whole berries are scattered over the top of the bibingka just before it’s finished baking, making for a fresh, fruity, and “not too sweet” dessert.
“This bibingka doesn’t look anything like one on the box,” Arlyn says, “but I can promise you that it is delicious.”
Makes 1 9-inch cake
Thawed frozen banana leaf, cut into a 13-inch round (optional)
1½ cups (360 grams) buttermilk, at room temperature
1½ cups (300 grams) granulated sugar
6 tablespoons (84 grams) unsalted butter, melted
1 large egg, at room temperature
1 teaspoon vanilla bean paste or extract
1¼ cups (137 grams) rice flour
½ cup (62 grams) all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
½ teaspoon kosher salt
¼ teaspoon baking soda
8 oz (225 grams) mixed fresh berries (about 1½ cups)
Preheat the oven to 375°F.
Press the banana leaf into a 9-inch round cake pan. (Alternatively, grease the pan with cooking spray and line the bottom with parchment paper).
In a large bowl, whisk together the buttermilk, sugar, melted butter, egg, and vanilla. Whisk in the rice flour, all-purpose flour, baking powder, salt, and baking soda. The batter will be fairly loose.
Pour the batter into the prepared pan. Bake until the surface is just beginning to form a skin in places, about 15 to 20 minutes. Remove the cake from the oven, but leave the oven on.
Add a berry to the center. If it doesn’t immediately sink to the bottom, go ahead and scatter all the berries over top. If the test berry sinks, return to the oven and bake for another 5 minutes before testing again. (Ultimately, some of the berries will sink to the bottom. But they shouldn’t all disappear).
Continue to bake until a toothpick inserted into the center of the cake comes out mostly clean with a few sticky crumbs, 35 to 40 minutes.
Transfer the pan to a wire rack and let cool for 15 minutes. Run a small offset spatula around the perimeter to loosen the edges. Invert the cake onto the wire rack. Remove the banana leaf or parchment. Invert again onto another wire rack so it sits right side up. Serve warm or at room temperature.
Recipe adapted from “Sugarcane: Sweet Recipes from My Half-Filipino Kitchen” by Arlyn Osborne. Copyright © 2024. Used with permission of Hardie Grant Books. All rights reserved.