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A trowel (/ˈtraʊ.əl/), in the hands of an archaeologist, is like a trusty sidekick — a tiny, yet mighty, instrument that uncovers ancient secrets, one well-placed scoop at a time. It’s the Sherlock Holmes of the excavation site, revealing clues about the past with every delicate swipe.
During Media Noche, we gather around a table meant to usher in the New Year. We lay out noodles for long life, rice desserts, kakanin, and 12 or 13 round fruits for prosperity. We pass these around without thinking beyond taste and family tradition. But every item on that table holds a timeline that reaches far beyond our own memories. Long before these items became holiday staples, the plants in them were wild species that people learned to shape through observation, selection, and continuous replanting.
The practice of Media Noche itself came to the Philippines through Spanish colonial rule. The phrase means “midnight,” referring to the meal eaten after the ringing in of the New Year. This custom grew out of Catholic and Iberian traditions that emphasized family gatherings, thanksgiving, and shared food. It merged easily with local celebrations and soon became a familiar part of Filipino life.
However, another element on the New Year table comes from a different source — the round fruits did not originate from Spanish customs. This part of the celebration draws from Chinese traditions brought to the Philippines through centuries of trade and migration. In Chinese belief systems, round shapes signal continuity, while fruits such as oranges and pomelos are linked with abundance. Filipino households absorbed this practice and adapted it according to what markets offered, giving us a New Year ritual shaped by multiple historical streams. These layered influences do not stop at custom and symbolism. They extend to the plants themselves, whose histories reflect long processes of movement and selection.
Before agriculture could exist, people had to domesticate plants. Between 10,000 and 6,000 years ago, communities around the world shifted from gathering wild plants to deliberately growing them. This change unfolded gradually rather than all at once. People learned how soil, water, climate, and timing affected plant growth. They observed which plants produced consistent yields and saved seeds from those. Agriculture developed through accumulated decisions grounded in repeated practice. Rice provides a useful place to start.
Rice is often treated as the centerpiece of Filipino identity, which makes its history especially relevant. Domesticated rice began along the Yangtze River in China around 9,000 to 8,000 years ago. Another domestication event took place along the Niger River in West Africa around 3,500 to 3,000 years ago (Oryza glaberrima). There are also wild varieties and relatives of rice, which show that domestication built on existing plant diversity.
Wild rice typically sheds its grains easily, allowing seeds to disperse and reproduce without human intervention. Domesticated rice, in contrast, has non-shattering grains, more uniform ripening, and larger seed size, traits that make harvesting efficient but require human management for reproduction. These differences reflect selection shaped by farming practices rather than natural pressures alone. In Asia and Africa, early farmers worked with wild Oryza species that grew naturally in wetlands and floodplains. In the Americas, “wild rice” refers to different species (Zizania), native to North America, underscoring that grass domestication occurred in multiple regions even when it did not lead to the same crop.
In the Philippines, despite the long-held idea that our ancestors practiced wet-rice agriculture deep in the past, there is no archaeological evidence for early domesticated wet-rice systems in the archipelago. What we do have is wild, dryland rice from Andarayan Cave in Cagayan dated to about 3,000 years ago, on pottery tempered with rice husks. These finds suggest that ancient communities knew and used rice, but they do not point to irrigated rice fields. Studies across the region suggest that wet-rice systems in the Philippines developed relatively late, shaped not by ancient tradition but by political change and shifting landscapes.
As we reflect on the foods that anchor Filipino celebrations, it is worth looking closely not only at rice and vegetables but also at the ritual round fruits of Media Noche, which come from domestication histories that stretch well beyond the archipelago.
Filipino households welcome the year with apples, oranges, grapes, pears, melons, and other round fruits. Their origins span many regions. Grapes were domesticated in the Near East around 6,000 to 5,000 years ago. Citrus fruits emerged from hybridization among species domesticated in Southeast Asia and southern China between 6,000 and 4,000 years ago. Apples came from Central Asia, and pears from China and the Near East, both spreading along ancient trade routes. Watermelon began in Africa more than 4,000 years ago before moving into Asia. Melons were first cultivated in the Near East and South Asia. These fruits, displayed for luck, are on the Filipino table because of long histories of movement and exchange.
Beyond fruits, many vegetables on our tables also carry deep histories. Along the Mediterranean coast, broccoli, cabbage, kale, kohlrabi, and Brussels sprouts all came from one wild species, Brassica oleracea. Around 4,000 to 3,000 years ago, people selected plants with larger buds, thicker stems, or compact heads. Over time, these choices produced the familiar vegetables we cook today.
More locally, taro grew widely in Island Southeast Asia before domestication began at least 4,000 to 3,000 years ago. Communities selected plants with larger corms and lower acridity. Taro adapted to terraces, wetlands, and dry fields and was a main source of carbohydrates in many parts of the Philippines before rice became dominant only 300 to 400 years ago.
Sweet potatoes, domesticated in the tropical Americas around 5,000 to 4,000 years ago, reached Polynesia long before European arrival and entered Island Southeast Asia through oceangoing migrations and trade.
Chili peppers were first domesticated in the Americas around 6,000 to 5,000 years ago. They entered Asia after the 16th century and became part of Filipino cooking, with siling labuyo functioning as a semi-domesticate that responds to human selection.
Across these examples — rice shaped in distant river valleys, round fruits linked to multiple cultural traditions, vegetables derived from a single coastal plant, and taro carrying timelines from different regions, and chili peppers adapting to new environments — domestication appears as a long process of close observation and steady selection.
And perhaps there is something more in these histories. By the time all these plants reach the tables in the Philippines, they already carry stories of movement and exchange. The New Year feast may feel traditional, but it also reflects centuries of interaction across Asia, the Pacific, Africa, Europe, and the Americas. Our meals trace histories built on connection rather than isolation, formed by people who shared seeds, exchanged knowledge, and adapted to new conditions.
When we prepare Media Noche, cook rice, slice camote, or add chilis to our food, we take part in histories formed over thousands of years. Agriculture may have begun around 10,000 years ago, but its legacy appears in every meal — including the one we share as we welcome the New Year. – Rappler.com
Stephen B. Acabado is professor of anthropology at the University of California-Los Angeles. He directs the Ifugao and Bicol Archaeological Projects, research programs that engage community stakeholders. He grew up in Tinambac, Camarines Sur.
