By The first hard freeze. Twenty-three degrees on Tuesday morning. The grass crystalline. The birch leaves all fallen. I am a leaver. The leaves go back to the ground. The ground feeds the trees. The cycle is the cycle.
The Filipino Community Halloween Pageant was Saturday. Lourdes had volunteered me for the food. I made lumpia and pancit and kalamansi cookies — experimental shortbread with the lemon-lime juice from Filipino limes. The kids loved them. The grandmothers said, "Interesting." Interesting in Filipino-grandmother is sixty percent of the way to "no." I took the note.
Mia came in a butterfly costume. She was not allowed to eat a lumpia because she had a stomach bug earlier in the week. Mia stood next to the lumpia table with the focus of a nurse triaging a trauma. Mia said, "Lumpia." Angela said, "No, baby." I gave her a kalamansi cookie. The cookie was better than nothing.
I sat with the grandmothers for forty minutes after the kids left. The ninety-one-year-old, Auntie Rosa, came from Cebu in 1962 — the first wave, before Lourdes. She told me the story of her crossing on a freighter. Three weeks at sea. She was sixteen. She arrived in San Francisco with a single suitcase and a letter from a cousin in Anchorage. She is ninety-one and still has the letter. I asked if I could photograph it. She said yes. The photograph will go on the blog. The blog is becoming, accidentally, a community archive in addition to a recipe collection.
I made caldereta on Sunday. The kitchen smelled of garlic and tomato. The kitchen has smelled like that for thirty-four years of Sundays — first Lourdes's kitchen, now mine. The continuity is the inheritance.
After the pageant, I kept thinking about the lumpia table — specifically about Mia standing next to it like a small, determined sentinel, and about how much of Filipino cooking lives in a single sheet of rice paper. The wrapper itself is the thing. So that week I started making rice paper chips: same material, stripped down, baked until they shatter. No filling, no folding, no grandmother-grandmother deliberation. Just the crunch that reminds you where you started, and a recipe simple enough to belong to anyone who wants to carry it forward.
Rice Paper Chips
Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 12 min | Total Time: 22 min | Servings: 4
Ingredients
- 8 rice paper wrappers (8–9 inch rounds)
- 2 tablespoons neutral oil (vegetable or avocado)
- 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
- 1/2 teaspoon fine sea salt
- 1/4 teaspoon ground black pepper
- 1/4 teaspoon smoked paprika (optional)
- 1 teaspoon sesame seeds (optional, for topping)
Instructions
- Preheat. Heat your oven to 400°F (200°C). Line two baking sheets with parchment paper and set aside.
- Cut the wrappers. Using kitchen shears or a sharp knife, cut each dry rice paper round into 6 to 8 wedges, like slicing a pizza. Work quickly — the rounds are brittle and will chip at the edges, which is fine.
- Oil and season. Spread the pieces in a single layer across the prepared baking sheets. Brush each piece lightly with oil — use a pastry brush and don’t soak them. Sprinkle evenly with garlic powder, salt, pepper, and paprika if using. Scatter sesame seeds over the top if desired.
- Bake. Bake for 10 to 12 minutes, rotating the pans halfway through, until the chips are golden, puffed in spots, and crisp. Watch them closely after the 9-minute mark — they go from golden to too dark quickly.
- Cool and serve. Let the chips cool on the pan for 3 to 5 minutes. They will continue to crisp as they cool. Serve immediately with dipping sauce, or store in an airtight container at room temperature for up to 2 days.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 118 | Protein: 1g | Fat: 7g | Carbs: 13g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 295mg