Buko Salad (Filipino Fruit Salad)

Author Notes

Growing up, whenever there was a party at our house (and there were many) from birthdays to “meetings,” to other reasons to gather and feast, huge bowls of fresh fruit, diced jelly, and evaporated milk would tailgate Jollof rice, dodo, and other savory delights. We’d enjoy the chilled, creamy fruit salad topped with globes of vanilla ice cream and slices of cream cake, a sundae of sorts. These salads, to me, have always made a strong case for canned fruits, which are readily available and often preserved at the height of their ripeness. When drained of syrup, they become delightfully bouncy, chewy, and extra eager to drink in any sauce or marinade your heart desires.

So you might imagine my delight when, years later, I was introduced to Filipino buko salad. Made by Esther, my sister’s sister-in-law, the salad looked like the one from childhood—a sweetly streaked mosaic of colorful fruits bobbing in cream—but upon first bite, the familiar gave way to the unfamiliar. Instead of the fresh orange supreme; diced pawpaw (papaya), watermelon, pineapple, and bananas I was familiar with, there were chewy, jellied cubes of nata de coco and nata de piña, sweet, sticky and crunchy kaong, and soft macapuno. And, instead of evaporated milk, Esther’s buko salad was cloaked in a sauce of tangy cream cheese and luxurious condensed milk.

If you’d like it sweeter, add some more condensed milk. More tang? Up the cream cheese. Take these proportions as a jumping-off point, then do you. Do be sure, however, to serve this cold so the fruits can firm up.

Want to hear more about Nigerian food? On our new podcast Counterjam—a show that explores culture through food and music—host Peter J. Kim talks dodo, jollof, egusi, and more with comedian Ego Nwodim and Afrobeat pioneers Femi and Made Kuti—check out the episode here. —Kitchen Butterfly