← Back to Blog

Homemade Tocino -- The Sweet-Cured Secret Between a Daughter and Her Frying Pan

May. The birch trees are leafing out in that pale, almost-yellow green that lasts two weeks before deepening into summer's full color. The days are seventeen hours long. The temperature hit fifty-five today, which in Alaska is practically tropical and causes a citywide response of shorts and T-shirts that would be premature anywhere south of Fairbanks but here represents a collective decision to celebrate warmth however it arrives.

Mother's Day is next week and I'm planning. Last year I brought moose adobo. This year I'm going bigger — a full brunch at Lourdes's house, all Filipino breakfast foods, the silog collection in its entirety. Tocilog, tapsilog, longsilog, cornsilog — every sweet-cured meat paired with garlic rice and eggs, the table a carnival of Filipino morning flavors that celebrates Lourdes and her kitchen and the thirty-six years she's spent feeding people in a state that wasn't hers but became hers through the persistent application of garlic and love.

Jason offered to help. He's in that phase of the relationship where he volunteers for things that involve my family, which means he's either genuinely enthusiastic or performing enthusiasm so convincingly that the distinction doesn't matter. Either way, he'll be chopping garlic at 7 AM on Mother's Day, which is a commitment that Lourdes will note and catalog and add to her running assessment of whether this man is worthy of her eldest daughter.

I wrote a blog post about Filipino Mother's Day food — "Cooking for the Woman Who Taught You to Cook: A Filipino Mother's Day." It's about the paradox of cooking for Lourdes, who will eat what I make and appreciate the gesture and also identify fourteen things I did differently from her recipe. The post was funny and tender and the comments were full of similar paradoxes — daughters cooking for mothers who are simultaneously proud and critical, the love and the critique braided together so tightly you can't separate them, and why would you, because the critique is the love, always has been.

I tested the tocino cure this week — pork slices in sugar, salt, garlic, and annatto, cured in the fridge for three days. The meat turned a deep rose-red, the color of affection made visible, and when I fried it the sugar caramelized and the edges went dark and sweet and the kitchen smelled like every Filipino morning of my childhood. I ate a piece before it was ready to serve. It was perfect. Don't tell Lourdes I ate the test batch. Some secrets are between a daughter and her frying pan.

That test batch convinced me: this tocino recipe is the one I’m bringing to Lourdes’s table on Mother’s Day. Three days of curing, fifteen minutes of frying, and the kitchen fills with that caramelized-sugar smell that makes every Filipino kid stop whatever they’re doing and drift toward the stove. Below is the exact cure I used—the rose-red, sweet-edged, don’t-tell-Lourdes-I-ate-the-test-batch version—so you can make it for your own tocilog spread.

Homemade Filipino Tocino

Prep Time: 20 minutes + 3 days curing | Cook Time: 15 minutes | Total Time: 3 days 35 minutes | Servings: 6

Ingredients

  • 2 pounds pork shoulder, sliced thin (about 1/4 inch thick)
  • 1/2 cup brown sugar
  • 3 tablespoons white sugar
  • 1 tablespoon salt
  • 1 tablespoon soy sauce
  • 6 cloves garlic, minced
  • 1 tablespoon annatto powder (or 2 tablespoons annatto seeds steeped in 3 tablespoons warm water, strained)
  • 1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
  • 1 tablespoon pineapple juice
  • 2 tablespoons neutral oil, for frying
  • 1/3 cup water, for cooking

Instructions

  1. Mix the cure. In a large bowl, combine brown sugar, white sugar, salt, soy sauce, garlic, annatto powder, black pepper, and pineapple juice. Stir until the sugars are mostly dissolved and the mixture is a deep red paste.
  2. Coat the pork. Add the sliced pork to the bowl and toss each piece until evenly coated in the cure. Work the mixture into the meat with your hands for best results.
  3. Cure in the fridge. Transfer the pork and all the cure liquid to a resealable plastic bag or airtight container. Press out excess air, seal, and refrigerate for at least 3 days. Flip the bag or stir the container once daily to redistribute the cure. The pork will turn a deep rose-red—that’s exactly what you want.
  4. Cook the tocino. Place the cured pork slices in a single layer in a large skillet. Add 1/3 cup water and 2 tablespoons oil. Bring to a medium simmer, cover, and cook for about 8 minutes until the water evaporates.
  5. Caramelize. Once the water has cooked off, uncover and continue frying over medium heat for 5 to 7 minutes, turning the slices frequently. The sugar will caramelize and the edges will go dark and glossy. Watch carefully—the line between caramelized and burnt is thin and unforgiving.
  6. Serve tocilog-style. Plate the tocino alongside garlic fried rice and a fried egg sunny-side up. Serve immediately with a small dish of vinegar with crushed garlic on the side for dipping.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 385 | Protein: 28g | Fat: 18g | Carbs: 27g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 980mg

Grace Santos
About the cook who shared this
Grace Santos
Week 110 of Grace’s 30-year story · Anchorage, Alaska
Grace is a thirty-seven-year-old ER nurse in Anchorage, Alaska — Filipino-American, single, and the person her entire community calls when they need a hundred lumpia for a party or a shoulder to cry on after a hard shift. She cooks to cope with the things she sees in the emergency room, feeding her neighbors and her church and anyone who looks like they need a plate. Her adobo could bring peace to a warring nation. Her schedule could kill a lesser person.

How Would You Spin It?

Put your own twist on this recipe — what would you add, remove, or swap?