Abu Yog

I’m trying to, but I can’t think of anyone who wasn’t bitten in the Philippines.

Robbed, stabbed in the back, swindled out of tens of thousands of dollars, you name it, someone who went oud-hunting in the Pinoy jungles can tell you about it. 

The reason for the double-dealing and rampant treachery is because there was big money at play – and even bigger agarwood. If you know anything about what went down in those jungles, you’d know that things happened at breakneck pace… 

You were never the only player on the ground. There was always someone who got there before you, or someone who came after and had no intention to let you have your turn.  

You can imagine how a similar story unfolded during the pioneering days wherever a shovel struck a thread of gold, or a sunburnt man rinsed a muddy but softly glistening stone to reveal its real worth. It was a time when all it took was a new gang to annex the spot or seize the man – before another band tried to do the same, and then another.

No surprise, the biggest investors were the Chinese, but they were by no means allowed to dominate. Hunters and brokers from literally every corner were in the thick of it.

From teams out of Cambodia and Thailand to the big guys in Dubai and Saudi, it was like hearing breaking news that diamonds were discovered and watching throngs of people backed by big bank accounts rush to the scene.

One guy from Vietnam was arrested by officers who wanted a piece of the pie for themselves. The officers were in cahoots with the dealers. As soon as the wood was paid for, the buyer was ratted out to the local authorities who knew exactly when and where to lie in ambush for the unlucky buyer. He was imprisoned and deported twice. Undeterred, he made his way back by boat a third time and struck gold.

It’s quite surreal that this happened in real-time. Even more surreal that a lot of it went down during Lockdown. It’s equally strange to know that it’s not happening anymore. The game in Abuyog lasted only about nine months.

When listening to stories of oud escapades in the Philippines, there’s one refrain you keep hearing: ‘Leyte, Abuyog, Leyte, Abuyog!’  When collectors talk about agarwood from the Philippines, that’s what they mean.

This particular spot in Leyte, called Abuyog, now ranks alongside Nha Trang and Myitkyina as one of the legendary jungles that are no more. 

It hasn’t sunk in yet. People who think these are stories haven’t caught on; it hasn’t hit them that Abuyog is done. They hear of new Abuyog wood, not knowing that whatever they’re being pitched now only piggybacks on the fame of actual Abuyog. Smells nothing like it, but costs the same…

The thing to note here is that all this talk is about oud wood. If it was such a mission to get your hands on the raw materials, imagine what it took to turn those precious pieces into oud oil…

Because of the fierce competition, Abuyog agarwood was expensive from the get-go. Now that the jungles are done, the price of any and all harvests is only determined by those lucky enough to own any.

I get asked for my Abuyog agarwood by collectors and brokers who know I have vintage Nha Trang, Cambodian, Laotian, and Terengganu wood straight from the palatial archives of Sultan Qaboos. Rather than true vintage Indochinese wood of proper Royal provenance, these folks would rather I part with my Abuyog instead. (Ahem. I ain’t parting with any of them.)

That’s why Abu Yog (the oil) is so special to me. It’s not just that we can’t easily do another Filipino distillation. It’s that we can’t get this specific aroma again – never mind the sinking grade black carving dust it was made from, which is now the stuff of oud folklore and history – not to say fairy tales or wishful thinking.

Abu Yog showcases facets of vintage Vietnamese and Cambodian ouds, but while those would be bitter, Abu Yog has at once this peppery bite and cooling effect. In olfactory terms, there’s a deep blue current gushing through Guallam’s red.

This stands in dead contrast to other Filipino oils that you might have come across… non-Abuyog harvests (of questionable caliber), typically shipped to and distilled in India. These tend to have generic tangy, fruity profiles, if not fermented, while others are punctuated by notes of burnt chocolate or coffee. To be fair, because of the high costs of even average-quality wood, plus logistics, even these mediocre oils could cost a few hundred dollars a bottle.

Artisanal Filipino oud is a different story. Thanks to previous experience with ORII and Pinoy, you know what’s possible with high-grade Filipino materials. Add to that your experience with the ambient blue dripping purple cooling smell of raw Abuyog agarwood, and you know what to aim for.

Nha Trang and old Cambodis have a regal scent to them. The softly spicy, bitter red just says Royal to me. Then you see Sidi Kruger’s infatuation with Brunei’s blue, which is sublimely inviting; that sense of regality replaced by the sheer succulent scent of sinking blue.

Abu Yog dangles in between. There’s that tinge of olde Guallam, the thick liqueur texture of a 70s Cambodi, the regality of its red – drenched in the peppery blue-purple resinous cool that defines the inimitable scent you get from oud that drank from the soil of Abuyog. Easily one of the most succulent nectarean elixirs on Earth.

This is not a ‘new gen’ oud. It doesn’t begin and end with fleeting top notes. This is full-spectrum oud that – take just one swipe – is so lush you need to catch your breath before you’re done taking a single whiff, and go back for more! 

PS: If you’re lucky enough to own ORII or Pinoy, you might be wondering where Abu Yog fits in. ORII and Pinoy are quite dissimilar, aside from the Filipino DNA they share, but they’re a lot closer to each other than Abu Yog is to either of them. Abu Yog is a whole new journey that will increase your love for both ORII and Pinoy precisely because of how unique it is.