Like sticky rice? You'll love this sticky Filipino rice cake

Regardless of the weather or your age, you'll want to bite into biko – a Filipino rice cake sweetened with caramel and coconut.

If you like Thai sticky rice, you should try Filipino biko. Source: Maida Pineda

You’ve probably had the Thai dessert of sticky rice and mango. But have you tried biko? Filipinos love rice. We eat rice for breakfast, lunch, dinner and snacks. Naturally, we love sweet rice cakes. Biko is a Filipino rice cake made with glutinous rice, coconut milk and brown sugar and is also known as kakanin. It is often topped with latik. In the northern provinces of the Philippines, latik refers to the coconut curds, produced by rendering coconut cream. The oil separates the curds. After simmering, it browns into crisp coconut granules called latik.

But in other parts of the Philippines, latik is a rich thick sauce, made of coconut cream, and brown sugar. It is reduced until a thick caramel consistency is achieved. Muscovado, unprocessed sugar cane juice, might get used, which leads to a distinct toffee flavor. The latik is spread over the glutinous rice cooked in coconut milk, sugar, and water. Then, it is baked until the latik bubbles on top, leaving a brown glaze on the rice cake. Once cooled, it is cut into small squares. Filipinos usually eat these for snacks or dessert. Biko is sold along with other rice cakes in markets – with street vendors peddling them in baskets, going from house to house or offices.

When I was young girl, my mum loved ordering biko from La Tasca, a restaurant in Manila known for good biko with a thick layer of latik. The latik oozed, much like a cake with extra frosting. It was sticky, gooey, sweet, and simply decadent. As a travel writer gallivanting throughout the Philippine archipelago for years, I sampled different types of biko sold by women, carried in a bilao, a woven tray traditionally used for winnowing rice grains. The cheaper the biko, the less latik syrup there was. Every New Year’s Eve, Filipinos insist on having biko at the dinner table. The sticky rice is said to bind families together and bring good fortune.

Most households don’t make biko at home. Why? It’s easily available from street vendors and in the market. But it’s also not easy to continuously stir a wooden spoon over medium heat to thicken the coconut cream without burning it in Manila’s 30˚C weather.

To feed my craving for biko, I recently made a batch in my Melbourne home. It was no big production, for it only required a few ingredients I already had in my cupboard: glutinous rice, brown sugar, and coconut milk. The process is easy: wash the glutinous rice, then cook it with water and coconut milk. In another pan, I cooked the coconut milk and brown sugar until a thick caramel consistency is achieved. On a 27˚C summer day in Melbourne, I broke a sweat stirring until I achieved perfect latik thickness.

Every New Year’s Eve, Filipinos insist on having biko at the dinner table. The sticky rice is said to bind families together and bring good fortune.

I called my friend Mia, who lives a few kilometres away, to ask if she’d like some biko.

“Of course, I do,” she replied. “But wait, you made some? Isn’t that difficult to make, requiring you to mix big cauldrons?” In her mind, she had visions of manangs (older Filipina women) labouring over the stove to prepare the sweets.

I laughed. In my head, I too had the same image of these lovely women dressed in cool floral summer dresses continuously stirring and sweating. I walked over to meet her and hand her a container of biko. Minutes after arriving home, I received a message saying, “Sarap! Ubos na.” It was delicious and it is all gone she said.

Another container of biko is stored in the freezer for another Filipina friend I'll see later in the week. Biko can be kept for up to three days in an airtight container in the refrigerator, and longer in the freezer. To serve, simply heat in the microwave for a few seconds.

Because I'm not living in the Philippines right now, I can’t wait for the street vendors to come bearing kakanin or biko to me here in Melbourne, nor can I easily find them in the market.

After making the sweets at home, I'm faced with the task of cleaning my kitchen sink filled with sticky and gooey pot and pans, baking pans, and spoons, but I smile as I realise this: “I have become that old Filipina woman labouring on the stove making rice treats.”

 

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