Like, verb

“Why don’t you like chicken?” a friend asked recently. That got me thinking. I like to say I don’t like chicken, but what does that mean, exactly? I certainly do not dislike it enough to forgo Buffalo wings, and certainly not enough to keep me from swooning over Sunburst’s sinfully delicious deep-fried isol (chicken butt), which may sound gross to the uninitiated, but they don’t know what they’re missing.

So what am I really saying? The words of Roger Ebert come to mind: “The one thing you can never be wrong about is your own opinion. It’s when you start giving your reasons that you lay yourself open.” He was referring to criticism, of course, but in my case it might as well be self-doubt. I don’t even have to start thinking of reasons, because how can I not like something that I confess to enjoying? Last I looked, that was what liking was all about.

I’m the type of person who broods over this kind of thing. I obsess over words the way some people do over their weight or Justin Bieber (did I spell that right?), which is to say, somewhat unhealthily. Just last week I took issue with the same friend for casually using rebuke (verb) when I felt berate, reprimand, or admonish would have suited her purposes better (she wasn’t the rebuking type, I can tell you that). I’ve looked them up in several online dictionaries, by the way, and most said they were interchangeable, so imagine my elation when I came upon this explanation of the subtle but important (to me, anyway) difference.

Like is a very common word. I had always assumed that everyone knew what it meant, but I’m not so sure anymore. I blame Facebook, which is turning the concept of liking something on its head (let’s not even go into how it defines friendship). Babies you like; good news, too. Bad news? You’d be surprised. “Typhoon Ondoy — 2,124 people like this.” “Root canal surgery — 151 people like this.” “Kris Aquino — 174,460 people like this.” I’m still reeling from the shock of that one, although liking Kristeta is at least a matter of personal taste, whereas finding something agreeable about tragedy or a painful dental procedure is… well, tragic. I did not invent those numbers, if you must know.

So do I like chicken or not? I guess I do, after all — on occasion (or should I say “from time to time”?). People often try to get me to eat exotic meat by telling me it tastes “just like chicken.” “No thanks,” I always say. “But it’s even better than chicken!” they’d counter. And that’s when I give them the official line. That usually shuts them up. When it doesn’t, you get a post like this. Sorry if I wasted your time. Let me make up for it by sharing a recipe for chicken adobo. Friends say it’s good. Somehow I feel compelled to add that they’ve actually tasted it. How odd is that?

Adobo Chino

Our old cook taught me how to prepare this dish. The name distinguishes it from traditional adobo, which has no sugar. It’s best enjoyed a day or two after.

• 1 kilo chicken, chopped
• 10 cloves garlic
• 1 tablespoon rock salt
• ½ cup vinegar
• 4 tablespoons soy sauce
• 1 tablespoon brown sugar
• ½ cup water
• 10 black peppercorns
• 2 leaves dried laurel
• pinch of MSG (optional)

1. Wash chicken pieces thoroughly. Drain.
2. Crush garlic; do not remove peel. Mix with salt and vigorously rub onto chicken. Let sit in the refrigerator for at least 30 minutes (or up to 2 hours, if possible).
3. Heat up some oil and fry chicken (including garlic) until it loses its raw color (but not necessarily browned). Depending on the size of your pan, you may have to do this in batches.
4. Pour in the vinegar. Do not stir; let boil for a minute or two before turning over chicken pieces. Wait until liquid has reduced by half, then add soy sauce, pepppercorns, laurel leaves, sugar, and MSG (if using). Stir and let simmer for a minute before adding water.
5. Turn heat to low and cover pan. Cook for another 45 minutes to 1 hour, turning chicken occasionally, or until the pieces are tender and browned.