Turon Wars (Part 2): How Big Business Is Swallowing Up Our Beloved Tindahans

http://bloggingmama.com/turon/

The first thing anyone notices when they check out the turon on display in SM, Waltermart or any other bigger commercial establishment is the consistency of what’s being offered for sale: from the size to the color to the taste of each turon, the ones you buy from their in-store grocery are always the same. It’s not like the ones you buy outside from the average street vendor—everything is uniformly done.

Turon, on the other hand, varies from one tindero or tindera to another—perhaps one is more generous with the caramel, or the other fries theirs a little bit longer, making the turon darker and crisper. The bananas could be sweeter or smaller one day, or cut a little bit bigger the next. But each turon was made in their homes, as part of a plan to provide for their families—perhaps to pay for day to day expenses or offset tuition costs.

The average price of turon in SM and other malls ranges from 15 to 20 pesos, while the turon you buy from a street vendor will be 10 pesos from the walking tinderas, or 12 pesos if they have a fixed stand somewhere. A couple of extra pesos will get you a larger turon or turon with cheese or langka (jackfruit) if you feel like giving your taste buds a break from your usual snack. Nowadays, many people who are more stringent about food preparation and hygiene, or who prefer to eat inside an air-conditioned food court, buy from these malls. But these small comforts which you think are only bought with a few extra pesos in your wallet have been making it harder for these street vendors to make a living.

Think about it: it’s true that it’s very convenient to just go to the mall and buy yourself a piece, but isn’t it just as convenient anyway to buy one from someone just around the corner of your village? Furthermore, these big malls are selling these turons to increase their profit margins—profit margins that don’t necessarily guarantee better salaries or working conditions for their contractual workers. Meanwhile, buying from the nearest manang fanning her bananacue pile will help her substantially—you could be helping fund her child’s education, or perhaps their groceries for next week. Your patronage of their homegrown businesses—which, let’s face it, are done in environments not really that much more or less sterile as that used to source your big mall’s turon—will have a big impact on their lives.

These larger businesses have been crowding out smaller family-owned establishments over the span of decades, and street vendors. What you gain from them in terms of flavor consistency and comfort, is lost by the individual sellers, who end up scrimping on basic necessities just to pay for the goods which keep their livelihood going. Just think of the street vendors along the roads of universities or near public transportation hubs—those who take the time to chat them up find out that their turon and bananacue business provides for many family members, perhaps even as the only means of income for that group of people. Surely it is better to try turon even from the nearest vendor and help both your tummy and their budgets.

We should be ethical consumers and think about what we do with the things we buy. What is the essence of turon, if not as a homemade, beloved and familiar treat that we first learned to savor with our family and friends? Turon is a Filipino food meant to be shared and to bring comfort. When you next think of where to get your sugar fix, have a peek at what’s in manang’s bilao instead of enduring a trip to the mall. You may find yourself coming back for that perfect rush of carbs and caramel.