A is for ado, adobo, anniversary

This blog debuted with a recipe for crispy pork adobo (in poem form, natch!). That was seven years ago to the day — an eternity in Internet time. I had not featured pork adobo again since, which now seems odd, as it’s a dish that I serve at least twice a week (and every day if my brother-in-law’s in town, but only if he had his way).

In his Little Adobo Book (1999), Gene Gonzalez lists the ingredients of a basic pork adobo: pork (“preferably with fat”), vinegar, peppercorns, garlic, salt, patis (fish sauce), and oil, with variations such as soy sauce (in place of patis) and bay laurel. It’s worth noting that Chef Gonzalez does not use the terms “traditional” or “authentic,” which get thrown about a lot these days. When it comes to adobo, it’s probably safe to guess the prehistoric version only had meat, vinegar, salt, and lard. You want authentic, it’s the nearest you’ll get.

Too rudimentary? If you have never tried adobo without fish or soy sauce, you’d be amazed how its taste isn’t diminished by the absence thereof. The other month I finally got to try the adobomb at Everything Yummy (IT Park branch) that Therese had been vaunting about. It was good (and dark; see photo below), though it didn’t even come close to blowing me away. Which is not to say that my version will. But if you are serious about adobo, you owe it to yourself to try it the way it was more or less originally flavored.

You will perhaps note that my recipe includes “imported” spices (bay laurel and peppercorns). Or that it involves oven-roasting. Can you tell I’m not a stickler for authenticity? I only want to show that you can make perfectly good adobo without patis or toyo, the way our ancestors did. I love adobo, not obsessed with it. And if you think that the oven part smacks of arte, I’m convinced it really makes a difference. See for yourself.

The first and third photos are of the adobo after five days, unrefrigerated (it stayed in the pan it was cooked in the whole time) and gently reheated each day. That should convince those of you who maintain that you can’t properly brown adobo without patis or toyo. And you haven’t even tasted it! For another, the dish has no sugar so it stands up to repeated frying. It would take intent or carelessness on your part to burn the pork. Do not do that, okay? I’m just saying you can.

Anyway, have you heard of the Tagalog saying “Ang babae, parang adobo, hindi kumpleto ’pag walang toyo”? Literal translation: “Like adobo, woman is not complete without soy sauce” — although the toyo referred to in this case is figurative, shorthand for “toyo sa utak” (soy sauce-muddled brain), which is how we refer to the moody and the unpredictable. The author of this witticism is not only probably guilty of misogyny, but most definitely ignorant of adobo history. Still, there is enough truth in it, even if it’s only funny if you don’t have to deal with it yourself. I should know: I come from a clan of difficult women.

Two-Step Pork Adobo

As the name suggests, this dish is cooked twice: first in the oven (on the lowest setting) to allow the meat to cook through without drying up, then sliced into chunks and slow-cooked over the stove-top. If you have time, let the dish sit a day or two before serving for maximum flavor.

• 1 kilo pork, sliced into 1″-thick slabs
• 1 tablespoon rock salt
• 2 tablespoons oil or lard
• ¼ cup vinegar
• 10 cloves unpeeled garlic, smashed
• 4 dried bay laurel leaves
• 1 tablespoon black peppercorns

1. Rub meat with salt. Marinate for at least 2 hours, preferably overnight (in the refrigerator).
2. Preheat oven on the lowest setting (gas mark 1). Place pork slices on a rack over a tray and roast for 30 minutes, then turn heat off. Leave meat to cool inside the oven (if you’re not in a hurry).
3. Slice meat into chunks (allow for shrinkage). Heat oil in a wok. Add garlic and sauté until browned a bit before adding meat. Fry for about 5 minutes, turning meat occasionally for even browning.
4. Pour vinegar into the pan and wait until the sour smell has boiled off. Do not stir or cover pan at this point. Add bay laurel leaves, peppercorns, and enough water to cover half the meat. Cover pan and wait for liquid to boil, then lower heat. Simmer, stirring occasionally, until water evaporates and leaves behind rendered pork fat. Check for tenderness and taste (you may need to add more water and/or salt). If not serving immediately, allow dish to cool completely before covering pan. Let sit for a day or two for flavors to meld (recommended). To serve, you can either gently reheat or shallow-fry (for crispier adobo).