A Sausage Unlike Any Other in Quezon
When food conversations turn to longganisa in Quezon province, they almost invariably stop at Lucban or Sariaya—towns whose garlicky, vinegar-forward sausages have become market staples and tourist souvenirs. Sampaloc, a small upland town two hours from Lucban, has rarely figured in that narrative. Yet it is here that one of the Philippines’ most distinctive sausages is still being made, anchored to an ingredient that has all but vanished from Filipino kitchens: pasotes.
Pasotes—known internationally as epazote or Mexican tea—is not a subtle herb. The shrub can grow to around 1.2 meters and carries a sharp, almost medicinal scent that locals describe as a cross between oregano, citrus, mint, and anise. In the carefully balanced world of longganisa, it is a bold, almost reckless choice. It cuts through the richness of pork, perfumes the sausage as it fries, and leaves a slightly herbal finish that has no counterpart in the more familiar variants from Lucban, Vigan, or Pampanga.
A Galleon Trade Legacy
The story of pasotes in Sampaloc is, in many ways, the story of the Philippines itself. The herb arrived in the archipelago during the Manila–Acapulco galleon trade and then quietly embedded itself in a handful of provincial kitchens. It was once more widely used: it still appears in Vigan, where it flavors the old dish pipian, and it once lent aroma to lechon in Carcar, Cebu. In Sampaloc and neighboring Quezon localities, it used to season vinegar and a dish known as “bombay,” made from carabao offal wrapped in leaves.
As backyard cultivation dwindled and tastes shifted toward easier, more standardized seasonings, pasotes quietly fell out of favor. In many towns, it disappeared entirely. Lucban, now strongly associated with its own longganisa, reportedly used pasotes in earlier recipes but no longer does so. That leaves Sampaloc’s longganisa as possibly the only sausage in the country still anchored to this herb—a claim that should be taken with a grain of salt, as nothing in available accounts confirms it definitively, but it is certainly among the very few.
Inside Inang Flor’s Kitchen
At the center of this survival story is one woman working from a modest sari-sari store on N. Tumagay Street. Flor “Inang Flor” Paleracio, now 67, learned longganisa-making from her father, Arsenio, and has been producing sausages commercially since 2000. Her mother initially resisted passing on the trade, but Flor persisted, eventually mastering a process that still looks much as it did decades ago.
She does not use a meat grinder. Instead, she chops pork by hand into small, uneven pieces, giving Sampaloc longganisa a coarse bite rather than the uniform texture of factory-made sausages. The chopped meat is mixed with garlic, salt, onion, black pepper, and vinegar. At this stage, the mixture could almost pass for another Quezon-style longganisa. The turning point is the pasotes, which Flor grows herself in pots, harvesting the leaves fresh for each batch.
Why This Matters for Filipino Food Tourism
The Philippines has been named one of Michelin’s most exciting food destinations for 2026, with the guide noting standout Filipino dishes including sisig, sinigang, inasal, and adobo. Yet the country’s culinary wealth extends far beyond these acknowledged classics. Dishes like Sampaloc’s pasotes longganisa represent a layer of Filipino food culture that is at once deeply historical and urgently endangered.
For travelers willing to venture beyond the established food trails, Sampaloc offers something rare: a taste of the galleon trade era, preserved not in museums but in hand-chopped pork and backyard herbs. It is a reminder that the most compelling Filipino food stories are often found not in the country’s culinary capitals but in its quietest towns.