There are food moments that linger — not just because the dish was delicious, but because of the warmth, the people, and the unexpected joy of discovering something truly special. That’s exactly what happened to us in Davao, when we were introduced to a cut of tuna we had never even heard of: silik.
It was a working trip for a couple of days, and during the weekend in between, we visited our dear relatives in the city. My Auntie Reggie, ever the gracious host and a true Davaoeña at heart, had prepared a feast for the Manila contingent that we didn’t see coming. Her spread featured family favorites alongside Davao specialties: lechon, her puso ng saging salad (which was a standout), kare-kare, and shrimps infused with kaffir lime leaves (another winner in my book).
But what really caught our eye were the big slabs of what looked like tuna — though not the familiar panga (jaw) or buntot (tail). She smiled knowingly and said, “Try it, that’s silik.”
The first bite was a revelation. The texture was unlike anything we’d had from tuna — a beautiful mix of crispy skin, tender meat, and melt-in-your-mouth, gelatinous fat. It delivered the satisfaction of rich, buttery tuna, loaded with collagen. The balance of flavor and texture was incredible: smoky, salty, slightly sweet from the char — and completely addictive.
The fat content alone puts silik in a league of its own — richer, more indulgent, and perfect for grilling. No need for marinades or sauces; the meat speaks for itself, elevated only by fire and salt.
Apparently, in Davao, silik is easy to find in wet markets, especially near the port where massive yellowfin tuna are brought in fresh from the sea. It’s a cut locals know and love, but it rarely makes its way out of the region — let alone to Manila.
Back home, I became mildly obsessed. I searched fish markets in Navotas and Malabon, asked seafood vendors, even tried frozen tuna distributors — but nothing. It’s either sold fresh on-site in Davao or reserved for those who know to ask. In Manila, it’s as if silik doesn’t exist. What a shame.
Tuna is a staple in Filipino cuisine — from kinilaw and tinola to the beloved panga — but silik opens up a whole new experience. It’s a reminder that even within something familiar, there are hidden gems waiting to be explored.
It also makes you appreciate the culinary wisdom of the regions — how coastal communities make use of every part of the fish, and understand flavor not just in theory but in practice. In Davao, silik isn’t exotic. It’s just good food.
We’d love to see it featured more prominently — in restaurants, weekend markets, or even on Manila’s grilling circuit. It’s time silik had its moment.
So if you ever find yourself in Davao, head to the market, ask around, or better yet — spend time with a local who knows how to grill it just right. You might be lucky enough to enjoy it the way we did.
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The author may be reached at kaycalpolugtu@gmail.com or follow her at Instagram @kaycalpolugtu and @aplateofbahaykubo.