Chomporado | Filipino Chocolate Rice

There’s nothing more comforting than a bowl of chocolate rice! Oh, never heard of it before? That was my college roommates’ reaction when I overheard them listing off ways they would eat chocolate. When they expressed how awesome it would be to eat what they thought to be of their own imagination, I told them that rice and chocolate is indeed a thing in the Philippines. That would be my first time making Chomporado for people other than my family. Growing up, Tatay would make Chomporado every Sunday. He would prep it Saturday evening, soaking the glutinous rice overnight in the pot he would cook it in the following morning. He said soaking it cut down the cooking time. Years later I would watch a Tasty video on what beans and grains you could soak for easy cooking and they put a big red “X” on rice. But I still do it the way Tatay did, which includes tossing in a handful of chocolate chips along with cocoa powder. I don’t know if there’s any culinary science behind this that makes the Chomporado better, but I swear that’s what makes it! But honestly, who could argue with adding more chocolate to a recipe?

Okay, there is the exception of having too many chocolate chips in chocolate chip cookie dough. Anyway, it’s kind of like that saying of moms who have a top secret ingredient in their recipe, “add a touch of love.” Adding that handful of chocolate was Tatay’s touch of love to Chomporado.

Although I grew up eating Chomporado on Sunday mornings, the most significant memory of this chocolate porridge was on Christmas back when I was a teenager. Inay, who was hosting Christmas breakfast, was busy cooking a variety of dishes (quintessential Filipina mom) and I volunteered, excuse me, I was given a unique once in a lifetime opportunity to cook alongside Inay. (Filipino moms like to be in charge in the kitchen which means no one gives a helping hand cause it will only interrupt their flow — a trait I now have.) I was making Chomporado, a meal I had so often that I didn’t think anything of it. How could it compare to Inay’s fried rice and pandesal with Queso cheese and Spam? One of the first family guests to arrive was my cousin’s new husband. He had been in the States less than a year and when he saw the pot of Chomporado, he gasped and excitedly served himself a heaping bowlful. I looked at him puzzled, not understanding why he would be so excited about Chomporado. He told me that this was the poor man’s breakfast. In the Philippines if you can’t afford breakfast meats, you had Chomporado. He hadn’t had it since he had immigrated and this Chomporado brought him back home.

Since having a family of my own, Chomporado has become a Noche Buena (Christmas Eve) staple, just like it was when I was last home for Christmas. From the first time my cousin’s husband felt it remind him of the Philippines, through my first time making it for my roommates away from my family in Tennessee, and especially this year as I make it on a year in which few of us can be with those we love most—in other words, when we can’t be at home—Chomporado has been a way of making home come to me.

Enjoy!

CHOMPORADO

-serves 8-

2 cups of sweet glutinous rice

8 cups of water

1/4 heaping cup of Dutch cocoa powder

1 cup of cane sugar

a handful of semisweet chocolate chips (about half a cup)

milk of choice for serving.

tuyo or dried fish is authentic, but optional.

METHOD

Combine rice, cocoa powder, and sugar in a pot.

Whisk until rice is is coated in cocoa.

Pour in 8 cups of water and on medium heat, bring to boil.

Once boiling, turn heat down to low.

Partially cover with lid and let simmer for 30-40 minutes until rice is soft. Stir occasion to prevent sticking. If water is cooking out fast, add a cup of water at a time to get desired consistency.

Turn off heat and add chocolate chips. Stir to melt in the chocolate chips.

Traditionally, Chomporado is served with evaporated milk (as I had growing up), but others use sweetened condense milk. Now, I just use oat milk because the creaminess of this plant based milk resembles the canned evaporated milk I grew up with.

I also grew up eating it with dried anchovies, but since marrying my American husband, his palette wasn’t too fond of the smelly and salty little things so I stopped buying it. Which unfortunately, resulted in me loosing my taste for it. Now, I have to at least have one serving with dried fish cause culture — you know the whole don’t-forget-where-you-came-from thing.

• When eating this porridge any other time of the year, we usually have it alone, but for breakfast on Noche Buena, we have it along side pandesal with Edam cheese and bacon.

• There’s nothing better than Valerio’s pandesal, but if you’re out of delivery range or your Asian market doesn’t have Filipino baked goods (ah, my sad life) this is a yummy pandesal recipe from The Little Epicurean!

I’m cooking Chomporado in the Great Jones 8-quart stainless steal pot, Big Deal. The Riza Magazine is a Great Jones affiliate and commissions are made from sales through our links. Thank you for supporting The Riza.