A Feast Feasible for 500 pesos

This year, a new script was handed to the Filipino public: 500 pesos is enough for a Noche Buena feast. It spread online like a bitter joke—shared, mocked, questioned, repeated—until it became one of those moments when the country collectively sighs in disbelief. For families who actually stand in grocery aisles calculating every peso, this wasn’t just unrealistic—it was insulting.

This message tried to paint the Filipino Christmas as something cheap, something easily solved with loose change. But Filipinos know better. We know that Noche Buena is more than what’s on the table; it is an emotional anchor, a reminder of who we are and what we’ve survived.

And so we push forward—stretching, adjusting, improvising—because the season asks us not for perfection, but for presence.

But maybe we can still stretch.

Here are a few dishes we can realistically manage within a ₱500 budget.

Fruit Salad

If you think about it, fruit salad shouldn’t work. Too many differences in one bowl: textures that clash, colors that argue, flavours that compete. Yet somehow, when mixed, it becomes something unmistakably Filipino: messy, sweet, alive.

Much like us.

Even when prices rise, when we disagree, fight, and grow tired, there is a stubborn sweetness that keeps us together. Every Christmas, families gather around plastic tables or old wooden ones, finding a way to be one despite everything pulling them apart. Fruit salad becomes a reminder that unity doesn’t mean sameness—it means choosing sweetness despite the chaos.

Hamon

Then there’s hamonado, that dish that tries to look grand even when it’s made from the cheapest cut available. We drown it in syrupy sauce to soften what is tough, to sweeten what life has made difficult.

And isn’t that us, too? We laugh in the face of hardship, mask exhaustion with good humor, and bury frustration in jokes shared over the stove. We carry on, even when the meat of the year has been tougher than expected. Hamonado teaches us that we’ve mastered the art of softening our own struggles; sometimes too well.

Fried Chicken

Some families skip complicated dishes altogether and just fry chicken. No one skips what is crispy, simple, and familiar. It doesn’t pretend to be more than it is, yet everyone reaches for it.

And perhaps that’s why the dish becomes a quiet metaphor for the kind of leadership we crave: nothing flashy, nothing coated in false promises, nothing wrapped in extravagant packaging. Just someone who shows up, feeds the people, and doesn’t disappear once the cameras leave.

In a season filled with artificial lights, sometimes the most comforting thing is simplicity.

Queso De Bola

And then there’s the round, red cheese, the honored guest on every Filipino table. Queso de bola is more than a holiday staple; it’s a symbol. When it appears on the table, even in the smallest size, it signals a quiet triumph: Kaya pa. We’re still here. We survived another year.

But it also exposes the unevenness of our celebrations. Some can buy the biggest brand; some settle for the generic one. Some skip it entirely. The cheese becomes a tiny reminder of class, of difference, of the small ways we measure stability. And still, we buy it—not because of taste, but because it feels like Christmas.

DTI Math

It started quietly enough. DTI released its yearly Noche Buena price list and confidently stated that a full Christmas meal could be put together for half a thousand pesos.

According to DTI, the cheapest ham costs about ₱170, a price even many public markets struggle to match. Processed cheese starts at ₱56.50, though at that amount, it feels more like a cheese-flavoured idea than real dairy.

Pasta can go as low as ₱32, but only if you buy a packet small enough to feed one very patient person, or if you are willing to bargain hard in the market. Fruit cocktail begins at around ₱61, made up mostly of syrup, some mystery cubes, and a strong sense of uncertainty. Add all-purpose cream at ₱36.50, and the total comes to about ₱385.

Well, it will work—if you follow DTI math. DTI math is a special kind of calculation where numbers behave nicely in spreadsheets but struggle to exist in real kitchens with real families.

In 2020, a medium-sized ham cost around ₱135 to ₱189, while queso de bola ranged from ₱199 to ₱320. Today, inflation has pushed these items into near-luxury status. Ham can now reach ₱930, and queso de bola sits between ₱210 and ₱445. Christmas, it seems, has been upgraded.

Using this logic, four people are expected to share one small ham, a simple plate of spaghetti, and a tiny bowl of fruit salad with pieces so small they feel symbolic. What’s served is not a feast, but an idea of one—a somehow ‘festive holiday meal’, reduced to its bare outline.

To live, not just to survive.

This is why the ₱500 claim feels deeply out of touch. It asks families to shop like financial analysts, eat like birds, and believe with the faith of someone who still thinks government budget meetings are easy to follow.

It assumes a home where no one asks for rice, soft drinks, hot dogs, bread, second helpings, or happiness. In a holiday where people are meant to feel full, it imagines Christmas as a minimalist experience—ham as decoration, pasta as design, fruit salad as emotional support.

So why did DTI push the ₱500 idea so strongly? Because somewhere along the way, technical feasibility was mistaken for real-life practicality. The meal was built in a way that everything works under perfect assumptions, as long as human needs are left out.

This year taught us something sharp and undeniable: Filipinos deserve better. Better policies, better understanding, better respect for the truth of our lived experiences. You cannot compress dignity into 500 pesos. You cannot price-tag tradition. You cannot quantify joy through grocery lists. Whatever quantity any department says, be reminded that Christmas is a celebration, not a challenge.

But even in disappointment, there is warmth. We owe each other gentleness. We owe each other compassion. We owe each other the patience to grow, stumble, and rise again. Christmas doesn’t need to be extravagant to be meaningful. It just needs honesty—init ng loob, hindi presyo.

If we can offer that to one another, then perhaps despite everything, there remains something tender to celebrate.

And maybe that is enough.