As good as it gets

Habitually for about two months now I have been craving adobo. No, I’m not pregnant (I wish!) and it’s not so bad an addiction that I have to have a taste of it even at the most inconvenient time. It just has evolved into some sort of comfort food for me and though it’s no new treat for my taste buds I look forward to the pleasure of enjoying every morsel just the same.

My love for this staple Pinoy fare was rekindled when Richard suggested the adobo flakes rice at World Topps in Timog. It’s one of those boxed-meals that are mushrooming all over but this one really is a must-try. The rice is a hefty serving and the adobo flakes on top of it are crunchy but not to the point that it wounds the insides of your mouth. Before you start digging in, I suggest that you pay attention to the small container that is taped to the box. It holds the toyo and a piece of sili labuyo. Pierce the latter and pour the whole thing in the box. Then indulge. It is yummy, to say the least. When I was down with the flu last week, I only had the appetite for World Topps adobo flakes. Richard swears by the sisig rice as well while both my brothers rave about the spicy salpicao rice, but I’m so enamored of the adobo flakes that at this point I just refuse to try anything else they have to offer.

Perhaps you will all agree with me that the adobo is probably the singular most dynamic food we have in our culture. It morphs and varies at every household you go to and is always at its best a day after it’s cooked when the flavor has intensified. It can be served dry, saucy, with liver or bay leaves, a bit spicy, flaked, cubed and can either be pork, chicken, or beef or a combination of two or all three. Whoever cooked it in whatever way and wherever you partake of it, chances are it will be good and will always, always taste homey.

Personally, I cannot say I like it best in just one way. I love our yaya Hilda’s chicken-pork version. It’s not too dry but not too saucy either and she always maintains that her secret ingredient is the chicken. It has to be native (bisaya na manok, as we call it back home; ulikba in Manila and Luzon) and the taste will be unsurpassed especially when it’s wood-fried. Oh well, there goes her secret.

But then I cannot rave enough about my friend Chechel Joson’s version of adobo. It is to die for! She uses beef ribs, loads of garlic and whole peppercorns but she cooks it a total of three times to make the meat really tender as well for the flavors to blend. And her secret weapon is...you’ll never guess. Achuete! And Queensland butter. Sinfully delicious but definitely worth every inch you put on your waist because of it. How she does it, well, that’s the privilege of being her friend.

It escapes me why, for a dish that’s really proudly Pinoy, the adobo has not found its prominence in international cuisine. Even locally, only few hotels carry it on their fine-dining menu, which is sad because it deserves stellar billing, too. Perhaps it is because of the way it looks? Is it just too brown and monochromatic as compared to the soft peach of say, a salmon? Well, prime rib is brown and monochromatic, too; but then there’s that side dish of mashed potatoes, carrots and corn kernels to complement as well as jazz up the presentation. We can’t say the same for the adobo, though but I would never dream of eating it with mashed potatoes or greens. It’s still best with tuyo and plain or garlic rice. I think the best bottled tuyo is Carmel’s (call 911-3443 for orders). I used to buy her tuyo in hordes when I was still based in Ormoc and up to this day with all the other bottled tuyo available on the market I still think hers is unrivaled. Aside from that she also has very good bottled dulong and daing flakes.

If we gobble up all the canned products available on the market with much gusto, for the convenience as well as the taste, shouldn’t someone try to can and market real Pinoy adobo, too? It’s a hit everywhere, even Filipinos who have migrated abroad serve it to their foreign friends who all love it. My friend Clemen, who was with the US Navy, would always recount how when their Filipino chef would cook this dish up, every bit would be consumed. There would not even be any leftovers to speak of.

Wouldn’t it be nice if there were such a thing as canned adobo the way there is Spam and corned beef for those times when you want to eat it but are too tired to go through the whole cooking routine? This would come in handy especially for our foreign counterparts. Or you can always make a huge batch, freeze it and just heat it portion by portion, as your craving dictates.

Funny how adobo can be likened to a lost love. You forget about it until you come across someone or something that triggers the memory. But unlike a lost love that you will dissect and rationalize somehow, rediscovering the adobo is a no-brainer. All you have to do is hie off to the kitchen and get a pot, ask your cook to whip up the best that she can, or go to your tita’s house and bug her for some. It’s something you can simply and purely enjoy, no strings attached. And when you spoon in that first bit, remember – that is as good as it gets.