It is often said that food is memory. For Filipinos, it is also identity, history, and love served in generous portions. Earlier this month, at the Embassy of the Philippines in Brussels, I had the privilege of discovering this profound connection through the story of Teresita “Mama Sita” Reyes, a woman whose passion for food transformed not only kitchens across the Philippines but also the way a nation tells its story to the world.
The evening unfolded like a feast of flavours and stories. Hosted by Ambassador Jaime Victor Ledda, the event celebrated Filipino gastronomy and the legacy of Mama Sita. I was fortunate to meet Clara Reyes-Lapus, one of Mama Sita’s daughters, whose words painted a vivid picture of her mother’s life and mission. Listening to her and tasting traditional dishes like adobo, caldereta and the irresistible rice champorado, I realised that what Mama Sita achieved went far beyond food. She built a bridge between generations, between islands, and between the Philippines and the world.
A legacy born from family and faith
Teresita “Mama Sita” Reyes was born in Manila in 1917 into a family that would define Filipino cuisine for more than a century. Her mother, Doña Engracia “Aling Asiang” Reyes, founded the Aristocrat Restaurant, a Manila landmark that elevated home cooking to restaurant quality and became a Sunday tradition for families of every background. Ambassador Ledda himself recalled, “My mom and dad got married at Malate Church. I was baptised there, and every Sunday we would go to Aristocrat to celebrate family day. That tradition continues to this day.”
From this foundation, Mama Sita grew up immersed in the aromas of native dishes and the values of hospitality and hard work. She learned early that food was not only sustenance but a language of love, gratitude, and nationhood. Though she travelled widely and tasted cuisines from around the world, she remained convinced that Filipino food could stand among the best. Her conclusion was both simple and visionary: Philippine flavours deserved to be known everywhere.
The entrepreneurial heart of Filipino flavour
In the years following the Second World War, Mama Sita raised eleven children through food ventures that mixed creativity with resilience. She revived her mother’s old canteen, sold local sweets in schools, and eventually developed ready-to-use mixes that brought Filipino classics like kare-kare, adobo, and sinigang to home cooks everywhere. These mixes did more than simplify recipes; they empowered Filipinos abroad to recreate the tastes of home, preserving identity across oceans.
During our conversation in Brussels, Clara Reyes-Lapus described how her mother’s mission continues through the Mama Sita Foundation, which she now leads. “My role is to see to it that there are ingredients and that farmers get to plant what is needed,” she explained. “Otherwise, you don’t get the taste. As much as possible, we want to source from the Philippines, but sometimes it’s difficult.”
Behind every jar of sauce or packet of seasoning lies an invisible chain of communities of farmers, traders and chefs who keep culinary heritage alive. The Mama Sita Foundation works to protect this chain, supporting local agriculture and promoting sustainable farming so that the authentic flavours of the archipelago endure.
A culture written in recipes
Culinary historian Felice Prudente Sta. Maria, author of When Mangoes and Olives Met at the Philippine Table, calls Teresita Reyes “an essential chapter in Philippine food history.” Through her research and writing, Sta. Maria has documented how Filipino cuisine reflects centuries of encounters, indigenous, Chinese, Spanish, and American, yet has remained distinctly Filipino. The richness of these influences is not a dilution of identity but its expression.
When I mentioned the idea of Filipino food as “fusion cuisine,” Clara smiled and gently corrected me. “We don’t like to label it that way,” she said. “We mix and match because of our history, but we have made it our own, distinctly our own.” Her words echoed in my mind as I tasted kare-kare, a thick peanut stew traditionally served during fiestas. It is a dish that demands patience and care, peanuts roasted and ground by hand, and, as Clara explained, “When you have a fiesta and you don’t have kare-kare, people get angry.” Food, here, is emotion, memory, and respect.
The taste of history: Rice champorado
Among all the dishes I tasted that evening, one stood out: the rice champorado. Humble yet profoundly symbolic, it captures the Philippines’ long dialogue with the world. Culinary historian Felice Sta. Maria described it beautifully in a recorded presentation: “Rice is such an important component in Philippine culinary heritage. Our ancestors believed that every grain had a soul, that it had to be honoured and never wasted.”
The champorado mix produced by the Mama Sita Foundation uses balatinao rice, an heirloom variety from the Cordillera highlands in northern Luzon, and cacao from Davao. Sta. Maria traced the story of how this combination came to be. The Spanish missionaries, she explained, brought chocolate to the Philippines from Mexico between 1650 and 1700. At first it was a bitter drink used to stay awake during long hours of prayer. Filipinos soon sweetened it and made it their own, blending it with rice instead of corn to create what is now champorado, a dish that carries within it the memory of the Manila–Acapulco galleons, the Mayan emperor Montezuma, and the devotion of Filipino farmers.
As I tasted the warm, dark bowl of champorado that night, I could feel that history on the spoon, the sweetness of the cacao, the earthiness of the rice, the quiet pride of a culture that has always found joy in transformation.
Food as diplomacy and preservation
Events like the one at the Philippine Embassy are not merely culinary showcases. They are acts of cultural diplomacy, reaffirming how food can unite people across borders. In Brussels, among ambassadors, journalists, and food lovers, Filipino cuisine became a living ambassador of its own. The generosity of the dishes mirrored the warmth of the people serving them.
Ambassador Ledda captured this sentiment in his closing words: “Thank you so much for sharing the story of Teresita Reyes. You are inspiring all of us right now. Mabuhay Filipinas, Mabuhay Filipino cuisine.” It was more than a toast; it was a declaration of continuity.
For Clara Reyes-Lapus and her siblings, the mission continues. They know that defending culinary heritage is not only about preserving recipes but ensuring that farmers, artisans, and cooks can sustain their livelihoods. “We must make sure the ingredients survive,” Clara told me. “Otherwise, the taste disappears.”
A nation told through its kitchen
The story of Mama Sita and her descendants is, in many ways, the story of the Philippines itself, resilient, generous, and inventive. From the family kitchens of Manila to Filipino restaurants in Europe and North America, her legacy endures wherever someone stirs a pot of sinigang or pours hot chocolate over rice.
As I left the embassy that evening, I realised that Filipino cuisine is more than a collection of recipes. It is a chronicle written in flavours, a dialogue between past and present, a reminder that to cook is to remember.
Mama Sita once believed that Filipino food could stand among the best in the world. Today, through the foundation that bears her name, her dream has become a movement, one that preserves, celebrates, and proudly shares the heritage of a nation through its most universal language: food.
