EXPLORING KONJAC AS A POSSIBLE SUBSTITUTE FOR RICE

EXPLORING KONJAC AS A POSSIBLE SUBSTITUTE FOR RICE

Food and food consumption is not just about filling our stomachs—it is part of our culture. What we plant, what we cook, and what we eat are shaped by the traditions, habits, and perceptions we inherit.

Take for example certain provinces in the Visayas. For generations, people there have been eating boiled corn grits as their staple instead of rice. They say it has made them healthier and stronger. Yet, in Metro Manila and many parts of Luzon, boiled corn grits carry a stigma—it’s seen as “poor man’s food.” Ironically, even many of the poor themselves refuse to eat it because of that perception.

In parts of Mindanao, cassava is a common substitute or supplement for rice. Some might look down on it too, but it is what keeps many families nourished and alive. And if we look farther back in history, there’s the story of European sailors marooned in the South Pacific who survived mainly on taro, or “gabi” as we call it in many Filipino dialects.

So, here’s my question: If it looks like rice, cooks like rice, and tastes like rice—would you call it rice?

I recently tasted boiled konjac for the first time. To my surprise, it looked like rice, cooked like rice, and yes—it even tasted like rice. I was told it was prepared the same way as ordinary rice. I had to ask myself: Could this really be a substitute?

From my limited research, I found that konjac (Amorphophallus konjac) is a root crop that grows well in upland and sloping areas—places where rice is hard to grow unless you have rice terraces. Unlike rice, konjac doesn’t require irrigation; it thrives as a rain-fed crop. That means planting it will not compete with our rice lands.

Konjac is already well-known in Japan, China, and Indonesia. Its tuber is rich in glucomannan, a type of soluble fiber used to make shirataki noodles, flour, and even jelly. But before you eat it, the tuber must be processed to remove its natural toxins—usually by grinding it into flour, washing, treating with calcium hydroxide, and boiling.

Here in the Philippines, konjac farming is still a niche idea, but our climate and soils are well-suited for it. It grows best in warm, humid places with partial shade and slightly acidic soil. That’s practically a description of many upland areas in Luzon, Visayas, and Mindanao. Imagine planting konjac in the Cordilleras, Bukidnon, or the interior zones of Negros and Panay—areas that already have the right environment.

So why not start small pilot farms? Barangay-level livelihood programs could explore konjac cultivation alongside other crops in agroforestry systems. Farmers could intercrop it with fruit trees or coconut, making use of shaded land that otherwise might be underutilized.

And here’s another thought—why not cook konjac together with rice? If it can stretch our rice supply, even by 20% or 30%, that could mean savings for households and less pressure on rice imports.

The truth is, our food culture is shaped by perceptions. If we can overcome the stigma that certain staples are “only for the poor,” we open ourselves to more diverse, resilient, and nutritious diets. Corn, cassava, taro, and now possibly konjac—these are all part of our agricultural heritage waiting to be embraced.

Promoting konjac will require awareness campaigns, farmer training, and small-scale processing facilities. But given the global demand for low-calorie, high-fiber foods, the potential market is not just local—it could be regional or even international.

If other countries can turn konjac into a billion-peso industry, why can’t we?

So, should we give konjac a try? My answer is yes. It doesn’t compete with rice lands, it can grow where rice doesn’t, and it can help diversify our food sources. Who knows—someday, it might just become a proud part of our Filipino food culture.

Ramon Ike V. Seneres, www.facebook.com/ike.seneres
iseneres@yahoo.com, 09088877282, senseneres.blogspot.com

10-07-2025