Chef Bruce Ricketts travels to Basilan, a trip instrumental in bringing forth his newest contribution to the country’s gastronomic landscape.
The night before the flight back to Manila, Bruce Ricketts’ gaze holds still as the small boat he rides cuts through the narrow strait strewn with glimmering and flickering lights from settlements on the water. Days before, he met and forged relationships with people whose lives and livelihood revolve around the bounty that the open seas offer.
As the boat nears the concrete dock, cooling winds settle into salty balmy air, and his visit to Basilan nears its end. The trip toward the Philippines’ southern tip is an instrumental step in bringing forth Iai, his and partner Jae de Veyra Pickrell’s newest contribution to the country’s gastronomic landscape.
“Pride is not in the ingredients, but in the taste of the fish,” Ricketts says, addressing a group of fishers in Maluso, one of the towns in Basilan that he visited with Pickrell. The couple were joined by two of their staff from their restaurants in Manila who were there to observe and learn more about the food that they have learned to handle and process with meticulous care.
To the curious spectators, Ricketts demonstrated the technique of ikejime, a method of slaughtering fish that preserves the quality of its flesh by manipulating its nervous system and eliminating the stress hormones that negatively impact the taste of its flesh. Ikejime is used primarily in its country of origin, Japan, but fish processed this way is found in restaurants all over the world that seek to offer finer experiences.
Contrary to conventional thinking, Ricketts explains, pride ought to be derived from the superior quality of the fish that they catch, accentuated by technique, and not in the embellishments such as seasonings used to improve and potentially obfuscate the fish’s innate merits.
Embellishments also run contrary to Ricketts’ culinary ethos. Iai, like Ricketts’ other kitchens, will eschew the contemporary trend of belaboring the provenance of an ingredient to elicit an intellectual or emotional response. Instead, he opts to let his diners savor and enjoy the nuances of the food that he prepares. Only then will he engage with them and have a chat about the ingredients’ origins, stories, and terroir. Such is the rare integrity that he as a chef offers to his patrons: he spares them of the performativity commonly endured and celebrated in other establishments. Years of running various kitchens in Manila such as Mecha Uma, Sensei Sushi, and La Chinesca have also afforded him the privilege of making deep personal connections, with his guests and others whom he encounters everyday through his work.
Ricketts’ exacting attitude to his craft is steered by the principles of honoring people and honesty. Such a disposition can be traced to his roots in martial arts. The name Iai likewise betrays the chef’s background; it is an abbreviation of iaido, a discipline that hinges on preparedness. In the context of Iai’s kitchen, preparedness translates to the handling of fish and other produce that they use with the knowledge that Ricketts has gathered and the instinct that he has cultivated through years of study and practice.
Ricketts dedicates his efforts to his wife and collaborator, Pickrell. “Working hard is my love letter to Jae,” he shares in yet another display of honesty. Her role extends beyond running and bringing their restaurants to life; the former magazine editor continuously provokes and challenges her partner, nudging him out of his comfort zone and inspiring him to be better. Their new endeavor, Iai, radiates from the dynamics of their relationship.
The first time Ricketts and Pickrell went to Tabuan Lasa, the couple ventured on their own on a small boat and in the middle of pouring rain. It is a small municipality found off the main island of Basilan, surrounded by a stretch of choppy waters where the Sulu and Celebes seas converge. Whether out of conviction or conflict, and like many others in the region, the town has a history of belligerence and skirmish, truths that locals strive to remain locked away in memory. Though a portmanteau of the islands that make up the municipality, the name is translated from the local language as “market of love.”
Sometime after their arrival, the chef was introduced to one of the most accomplished fishers in the area, the town’s amiable mayor Moner Manisan. After suiting up the two jumped into the blue, bringing back a small and colorful catch. It was an opportunity for Ricketts to immerse himself in their culture, learning about traditional cooking and fishing techniques, age-old and time tested practices of providing sustenance to the community. He was there to discover and observe the people he considers, as Ricketts puts it, “masters,” custodians of craft and custom who transmit their knowledge to others. The wisdom that he picked up from these masters will guide his efforts at Iai.
As they walked along the jetty, the chef and mayor had a casual chat. Ricketts informed the mayor that the fish caught in the area have the potential to be sold at a premium in markets overseas if processed in the ikejime way. As he had done in Maluso, the chef imparted his knowledge and experience in processing fish to the fishing community at the Tabuan Lasa town hall. After a short talk on the benefits of drawing blood and mitigating the effects of deterioration by inserting a wire into the fish’s spine, he demonstrated how to process a burly grouper in ikejime fashion. The fish was subdued, its flesh unsullied by the effects of handling fish in the way that they were accustomed to.
To appreciate the contrast in taste and texture, the locals were given kinilaw made from a fish that was prepared the regular way and one that used ikejime. Accoutrements like ginger and vinegar were familiar, however the flavor and consistency of the fish was markedly different from the quality they have on a daily basis. It was crucial for the community members to perceive the distinction firsthand.
With boats as their main mode of transportation, the residents of Tabuan Lasa offered their visitors a look into their own lifestyle, sharing how boats are constructed. An artisan detailed the steps and costs in fabrication as he explained that the boats they make nowadays deviate from tradition because of a modification in form. In contrast to the older style, the new design has a sharper bow, allowing them to sail through waves more efficiently. No practice, regardless of its antiquity, is immune from innovation, especially when its advantages are palpable. Perhaps someday, new ways of doing things such as ikejime will also be embraced for the community’s benefit.
After a long day, Ricketts and his team spent the night in a cottage over the water, placing them in the middle of waves reflecting whatever light peeked through the dark sky. He had gone through the day learning and teaching, engaging in an exchange of ideas and stories with the mayor and other locals. It was likewise an interaction between what he knew and what was new to him, a conversation between tradition and introduction.
The new restaurant is but a continuation of Ricketts’ and Pickrell’s previous restaurant undertakings. Iai however will enjoy the freedom of a new beginning, not dissimilar to the freedom intuited when the couple balanced on a boat, rode out waves, and sailed across the open seas. There was a time when the main feature in Ricketts’ kitchen was fish that he imported from other countries like Japan. His and Pickrell’s trips to Basilan allowed him to peer into the world of Philippine-caught fish that he is poised to strike and serve with his signature Japonic cadence. Basilan’s pristine seas are an entry point, the overture of a new journey. At Iai, patrons will not only experience the best quality fish that the Philippines has to offer, they will also bear witness to a chef’s homecoming as he discovers and shares the marvels and pleasures of local seafood.