Hey Mom, Pass the Adobo with Some Filipino Heritage on the Side, Please

Sharing a home-cooked meal as a Filipino-American family is a chance to pass on more than just food. It is a chance to ingrain Filipino culture and build lasting memories. Just as Marcel Proust eloquently recalled his memories attached to a madeleine, a small and shell-shaped French sponge cake in his novel Remembrance of Things Past, our children will be able to remember us and everything connected to us, including our Filipino heritage with just one taste of a favorite Filipino dish. For many of us adobo is our madeleine. Experiencing adobo through sight and smell, but most importantly taste we recall, consciously and unconsciously, the people and life events connected to the dish. 

Adobo is the unofficial national dish of the Philippines. It symbolizes and mirrors the diversity of the Filipino culture. “There are as many recipes for adobo as there are Philippine islands.” So said Sam Sifton in his January 2011 New York Times Article, “The Cheat: The Adobo Experiment”

 (http://www.nytimes.com/2011/01/09/magazine/09Food-t-000.html?_r=0) and rightly so. The only things that every Filipino will ever agree on is that vinegar must be one of the ingredients and that the cooking method used must be stewed. Everything else about adobo is up for debate. 

It might be possible to regionally explore the differences in the dish, but even within the regions themselves there are countless variations. It is even likely to find more than one way to create the dish in a single household. In that way, not only does adobo represent the Philippines as a country but it represents each individual Filipino too. It is a very personal dish. The specific ingredients used, the particular cooking steps, the way it is served and what accompanies the dish all reveal a little bit of who we are and from where in the Philippines our ancestors come. For example, if one finds bagaoong listed as one of the ingredients, it might be a fair assumption that the cook’s ancestors came from the northern part of the islands where the fermented shrimp is preferred over salt. If chilis are found on the ingredients list, then perhaps the cook’s past generations hailed from the Bicol region where their appetite for all things extremely spicy-hot is well known, and if turmeric, cumin or coriander is used to make adobo then the cook’s family may have come from the southern part of the islands where influences of Southeast Asia predominates. There may be other reasons for including or excluding ingredients like allergies, personal preferences, or religious restrictions.  All these factors play a role in the identity of adobo.

Not only are there numerous ways to create adobo in the Philippines, but in the United States as well. Filipinos who immigrated to America brought over their own traditional recipes but might have had to adjust them based on what was more readily available in American grocery stores. Filipino-Americans may have their own interpretations of the dish also. This adds yet more variances to a dish that is already diverse and makes the possibilities for what adobo can be limitless. 

Adobo was the very first Filipino dish I learned to cook from my grandmother and with the growing intensity of the dish’s deliciously vinegary-soy and bay leaf infused aroma every time I prepare it, so too do the memories of my Lola grow. By the time my own family sits down together at the dining room table and starts enjoying the meal, all my senses are engaged in vivid memories of the past. It makes me happy to know that I am passing a little bit of my grandmother on to her great-grandchildren. 

Over the years I have adjusted my grandmother’s recipe to accommodate my husband and children’s preferences for more onions and sauce. Sometimes I add pork to her chicken-only version but it is always served with rice. Despite my minor tweaks, my recipe is decidedly more Filipino than my husband’s whose more mid-western American interpretation includes beef short ribs and a more elaborate cooking method. In addition, his adobo is not necessarily served with rice and can optionally be topped with an Italian gremolata, a condiment made from parsley, garlic and lemon zest. Sometimes I give his version of adobo a French twist by topping it with thinly sliced onions that have been caramelized in butter. Either way this adobo version is dressed, it is absolutely delicious, decidedly decadent, and worth every dollar and hour invested in making it. It is also hearty and soul-soothing during Chicago’s cold and harsh winter months. One look at our beef adobo short ribs and I can be rest assured that there are some Filipino-Americans and even more Filipinos who will tell me that it is NOT adobo, but one taste of it will tell them that the Filipino adobo flavor profile is on point. There is no mistaking the distinct vinegary-soy flavors. The contrasting accompanying flavors of the gremolata or caramelized onions is uniquely my husband and me and will hopefully be something that our children will fondly remember about their Chicago born and raised, Filipino-American parents.

Braised Beef Adobo Short Ribs

Prep Time:  10 minutes Cook Time:  2-1/2 hours Yield:  4-6 Servings

Ingredients

• 2 lbs beef short ribs (where the bones are almost straight with 1"-2" of meat on top)
• Kosher salt, to taste
• Grapeseed oil
• 2/3T whole black peppercorns
• 1-1/3C homemade chicken stock (or purchase Kitchen Basics Natural Chicken Stock)
• 1C sugar cane vinegar (Datu Puti works great but distilled white will work as a substitute)
• 1/3C soy sauce (do not use a "less sodium" version)
• 10 cloves of smashed garlic (use more or less depending on your taste; I like to smash it because it releases its oils which infuses the dish with subtly different flavors)
• 2 bay leaves (1 leaf for every 1 pound of protein)

Cooking Instructions

1. Dry the short ribs thoroughly.
2. Generously season the ribs with Kosher Salt.  (Note:  Do not season with pepper because the braising liquid will become gritty.)
3. Heat a Dutch Oven (cast iron or heavy oversized pot will work) over medium-high heat.  Add the oil and brown all sides of the short ribs (probably 4-5 minutes per side).
4. Remove the ribs from the pot and set aside on a plate(s).
5. Remove excess fat/oil from the pot.  Carefully deglaze the pot by pouring a little of the stock in.  Be sure to scrape the fond (the dark brown bits full of flavor) off the bottom of the pot with a wooden spoon.  After the fond has been scraped off, add the rest of the stock.
6. Add the rest of the ingredients (e.g. vinegar, soy, garlic, and bay leaves) to the pot.
7. Put the ribs back into the pot.  The liquid should come almost up to the top of the meat but not completely immerse it.  (If there is not enough liquid then add a little more stock.)
8. Bring to a boil, then lower the heat to maintain a gentle simmer (a few bubbles here and there; just make sure it's not a rolling boil).  Cover the pot with a tight lid and simmer for 2 to 2-1/2 hours.  (Don't start checking to see if it's done before 2 hours of simmering because you'll just lower the temperature by removing the lid and prolong cooking time.)
9. Once the meat is tender, discard bay leaves and whole peppercorns.Let the entire pot rest for at least 30 minutes before serving (in order to let the meat absorb some of the braising liquid).
10. OPTIONAL:  Create a sauce with the braising liquid by thickening it to desired consistency:  remove the protein from the pot, turn the heat up to medium-high, let reduce to about half, remove from heat, strain and serve over the protein.  Alternatively, make a beurre manié (equal part combo of flour and butter) to thicken the sauce instead of reducing it (which can make it too salty).

Serving Instructions:  Serve it on a plate with sweet potato puree or another carbohydrate of choice, placing a short rib or two on top of it, spoon the thickened braising liquid over the rib(s), then top the rib(s) with a gremolata if desired.