A forgotten Cebuano stew that drew me in with its sweet aromatic profile, old-world charm, and a mystery that practically begged to be cooked again. A Cebuano chicken stew scented with star anise, Mallorca liqueur, aromatics, and light soy, recreating a lost Spanish influenced Visayan recipe.
Every now and then, I come across a Filipino dish that feels like a ghost. Not the kind that haunts in a frightening way, but one that flickers in and out of existence, whispered online, hinted at by elders, barely captured in writing. Recently, that ghost was Perdis, a Cebuano chicken stew said to be inspired by the Spanish perdiz estofada and touched with flavours from both Chinese and Spanish influence in the Visayas. As someone who enjoys chasing down heirloom dishes, I was hooked the moment I read the first fragment of information.
There were no proper recipes. No pictures. Hardly any documentation. Just a handful of passing mentions: “chicken cooked like partridge,” “flavoured with sangke,” “some families call it Kim Ke or Tim Ke.” That was it. For a dish that clearly had roots stretching into multiple culinary traditions, I couldn’t let it remain half-forgotten. I rolled up my sleeves and began piecing together the clues.
Tracing the Roots: From Perdiz to Perdis
The most obvious starting point was the name. Perdis almost certainly grew out of the Spanish perdiz estofada, a dish where partridge is slowly braised in wine, aromatics, and spices until tender. During the galleon era, ideas travelled far, and so did cooking techniques. When this method reached the Visayas, local cooks adapted it using the proteins they had on hand. Partridge became chicken, wine became the regional spirits available at the time, and techniques from Chinese communities blended with local cooking instinct.
What fascinates me about Filipino cuisine is how these adaptations aren’t accidental. They are deliberate choices influenced by trade, community life, and whatever ingredients families could afford or grow. Perdis is a clear example. Spanish technique created the backbone, but Cebuano cooks shaped the dish into something their own.
The Cebuano Signature
Cebu had no shortage of ingredients that could give Perdis its distinct character. Mallorca liqueur, a sweet, citrusy, herbal drink adopted from Spanish spirits, was once a common fixture in Cebuano kitchens. It offered the sweetness and perfume that wine once contributed to Spanish braised game. Then there is sangke, or star anise, an unmistakable symbol of Chinese influence. Cebuano cooking has long woven Chinese flavours into local dishes, as seen in humba, old festive stews, and even celebratory morcon adaptations across the region.
So imagine these elements meeting in one pot: sweet herbal notes from Mallorca, the warm licorice scent of star anise, the umami backbone of soy sauce, and the gentle acidity from tomatoes. Together, they create a chicken stew that feels simultaneously familiar and entirely unique.
The Mystery of Kim Ke and Tim Ke
One of the more curious discoveries was that Perdis occasionally appears under different names: Kim Ke or Tim Ke. These names suggest a Chinese-Filipino linguistic imprint, likely from Hokkien or early Chinese trading influence in Cebu. The combination of soy sauce and star anise supports this idea. These alternative names hint at a time when communities blended not only their food but also their language, creating dishes that lived quietly in family kitchens rather than in cookbooks.
The name variations also explain why the dish became obscure. Without standardised naming or documentation, it simply faded as families shifted towards more popular Cebuano stews like humba and adobo.
Bringing Perdis Back to the Table
Since no recipe survived, recreating Perdis meant detective work. I studied how Cebuano stews evolved, examined Spanish estofado techniques, and looked at how Mallorca liqueur was traditionally used. I compared the structure of aromatic Cebuano chicken dishes and considered how Chinese influence tied everything together. From these patterns, a flavour profile emerged: sweet, lightly herbal, aromatic, and subtly spiced, with soy adding depth but not the darkness of adobo.
When I finally cooked my version, it tasted exactly like something that could have existed a century ago in Cebu. The Mallorca gave the stew a soft sweetness with a hint of citrus. The star anise lifted the whole pot with its warm perfume. Ginger, garlic, and tomatoes formed a gentle Cebuano base, and the chicken absorbed every bit of the sweet–herbal broth. It felt like discovering a lost heirloom.
A Dish Worth Preserving
Perdis is not bold like humba, nor sharp like adobo. It sits somewhere between the sweetness of estofado, the aromatic structure of Chinese, red-cooked chicken, and the gentle warmth of old Visayan festive stews. What I love most is its fragility. A dish like this can disappear simply because no one writes it down. But bringing it back, even though research and culinary intuition, gives it another chance to live.
For me, cooking Perdis wasn’t just about making a stew. It was about reconnecting with a part of Filipino culinary history that nearly slipped away. These dishes, the ones whispered rather than documented, are the ones that often tell the richest stories.
What a beautiful-looking dish! The anise and cinnamon proudly proclaiming their presence but so simple and ‘pure’ otherwise. Made with red wine perchance as the liqueur is new to me . . . and, as usual, thoroughly enjoyed the history – thank you :) !
With cinnamon stick, star anise, soya sauce and spring onions, I seriously thought this were something Chinese or even Hokkien. Isn’t Mallorca liqueur a herb liqueur?
What a beautiful-looking dish! The anise and cinnamon proudly proclaiming their presence but so simple and ‘pure’ otherwise. Made with red wine perchance as the liqueur is new to me . . . and, as usual, thoroughly enjoyed the history – thank you :) !
With cinnamon stick, star anise, soya sauce and spring onions, I seriously thought this were something Chinese or even Hokkien. Isn’t Mallorca liqueur a herb liqueur?
I love all the sweet spices used in this. If it’s been forgotten, I’m glad you remembered!
This dish looks wonderfully comforting and full of flavour – rich, hearty, and the kind of meal that really draws you in.