Masi is a Cebuano kakanin made of glutinous rice dough filled with sweet peanut and muscovado, a Filipino take on mochi. A chewy Cebuano delicacy with a nutty heart, this heritage snack blends Chinese influence with Visayan kakanin tradition.
When you think of Cebuano delicacies, bibingka and rosquillos often come to mind. But for locals in the town of Liloan, another treat reigns supreme: Masi. These chewy balls of glutinous rice, stuffed with crushed peanuts and muscovado sugar, are a snack so simple yet so comforting that once you try one, it’s hard to stop at just a bite.
Growing up in the Philippines, I was used to seeing kakanin, those sticky rice-based sweets that appear at fiestas, markets, and family gatherings. But Masi, in particular, carries with it a sense of pride for Cebuanos. Vendors still wake early to sell them wrapped in banana leaves or in little paper cups. Some accounts even recall children carrying trays of freshly made Masi through the streets, calling out to neighbours to buy a few pieces for merienda.
From Fujian to Cebu: Tracing Masi’s Origins
The word Masi comes from the Hokkien Chinese “麻糍” (mácí), meaning glutinous rice cake. The connection makes sense when you look at the dish: it closely resembles Chinese peanut mochi (nuo mi chi), with its sticky rice wrapper and sweet nutty filling. Cebu’s long trade history with Chinese merchants, particularly from Fujian, likely brought this cooking style to the islands.
Filipinos, however, made it their own. Instead of being just another mochi variant, Masi joined the wider family of kakanin, a pre-colonial category of rice-based delicacies deeply tied to ritual and community. Over time, Masi became Liloan’s claim to fame, a treat that locals and travellers alike now seek out as part of Cebu’s culinary identity.
The Original Purple Masi
While many modern versions use white glutinous rice, several sources note that the earliest Masi was made with purple glutinous rice, known as pirurutong or tapol. This heirloom variety gives the dough a natural violet hue, along with a slightly deeper flavour. Because pirurutong is rare and expensive today, cooks often substitute with ube or even food colouring.
This “purple Masi” or Masi Tapol is still made by traditionalists and offers a beautiful glimpse into Cebu’s food history. Whether purple or white, though, the essence of Masi remains the same: a balance of chewy rice and sweet, nutty filling.
Why Masi Matters
For many Cebuanos, Masi is more than just food, it’s nostalgia. It’s waking up early to buy a few pesos’ worth from a passing vendor. It’s a fiesta table where sticky rice treats sit proudly alongside savoury dishes. It’s also proof of how Filipino cuisine evolves: taking inspiration from Chinese cooking, adapting it with local rice varieties, and turning it into a cultural symbol of Cebu.
Today, Masi is both humble and celebrated. You’ll find it for ₱2 – ₱5 apiece in Liloan markets, but you’ll also see it featured in restaurant menus or even fusion desserts by creative chefs. Some call it “Cebu’s mochi”, and while that description fits, Masi’s story, and its place in Visayan food culture, makes it uniquely Filipino.
I really enjoyed your post about “Masi”, it’s not just a recipe but a window into Cebu’s rich culinary roots. The way you describe the process, from soaking and steaming the glutinous rice to forming those delicate, chewy balls filled with sweetened peanuts, makes the dish feel approachable even for someone outside the Filipino tradition. I especially appreciate your notes on texture — how the right stickiness brings everything together — and the tip about using purple glutinous rice for a beautiful twist. Reading your post made me want to try making Masi myself, not just to taste it, but to experience its story through cooking.
I love that you used black glutinous rice here too. The colour is gorgeous and I bet that filling amazing too.
They sound delicious and look delightfull I hoipe to be able to try masi one day..
I really enjoyed your post about “Masi”, it’s not just a recipe but a window into Cebu’s rich culinary roots. The way you describe the process, from soaking and steaming the glutinous rice to forming those delicate, chewy balls filled with sweetened peanuts, makes the dish feel approachable even for someone outside the Filipino tradition. I especially appreciate your notes on texture — how the right stickiness brings everything together — and the tip about using purple glutinous rice for a beautiful twist. Reading your post made me want to try making Masi myself, not just to taste it, but to experience its story through cooking.
The purple color is beautiful Raymund! I’ve heard of black rice but never purple. My youngest loves mochi so would be all over this!
What a fabulous color!