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of the combined vinegar, soy, and
crushed garlic is instantly recogniz-
able—something that people take
for granted growing up but that is
transformed into the smell of home
when one has left. An Internet blog
-
ger who calls himself “The Wily
Filipino” muses:
“Anthropologists have always
prioritized only two or three of the
human senses… and the sense of
smell always ends up taking a back
seat. But smell is crucial to adobo—
the sting of vinegar in the nostrils the
minute after you pour it into the sim-
mering pot, the deep smell of chicken
cooking after the second hour—it’s
instantly recognizable anywhere.”
Although adobo is now eaten
by Filipinos of all classes, appar
-
ently this wasn’t always the case.
Historians note that in early colonial
times it used a lot of lard and was
typically made up in large quantities
and stored in the same clay vessels in
which it had been cooked; the vin-
egar and lard acted as preservatives.
As the Filipina novelist and essayist
Gilda Cordero-Fernando points out
in her book Philippine Food and Life,
such large-scale provisioning “im-
plied a surplus,” a sign of privilege.
Adobo was not everyday fare for the
Indios (natives), but something that
the colonists and principalia (wealthy
remnants of a pre-Hispanic native ar-
istocracy) could keep for long periods
of time against the visits of priests or
local dignitaries.
But somehow adobo ceased to be
the food of the conquerors. As I see
it, it was a dish intrinsically suited
to the natives’ sour-and-salty taste
preferences. First it became a dish
served to the peasantry on special
occasions like fiestas while the gentry
feasted on more elegant offerings.
Over time, people adapted it to lo
-
cal ingredients (palm or sugarcane
vinegar instead of Spanish wine
vinegar) and began making it with
the soy sauce brought by Chinese
immigrants (instead of salt). Dur-
ing the American occupation (1898
–1946) following the 1896 revolu-
tion against Spain, adobo became
typical everyday fare for an emerging
Filipino middle class. It was during
this period that Filipino cookbooks
first were published, and they show
home-cooked adobo holding its own
despite the powerful influence of
American-style convenience foods.
The 1960s saw the dramatic rise
of a local restaurant culture fueled
by increasing industrialization and
urbanization, with migrants from the
provinces trying their luck in the big
cities. These changes helped push
adobo to the forefront of a growing
popular or street-food scene as a
standby of the carinderias (open-air
food stalls with cheap but filling fare).
But at the same time they helped
bring the dish to other kinds of eat-
ing places, especially a new breed of
avowedly Filipino restaurants that
made a point of serving dishes associ-
ated with traditional home kitchens
—in contrast to the days when adobo
was usually the one token “native”
dish served in the more respectable
urban restaurants. By now Filipinos
as a group had begun identifying
adobo as their national dish.
As adobo moved across class lines
over the centuries, it also acquired a
huge number of variations that make
the whole meaning of “adobo” con-
fusing for non-Filipinos but that have
helped it to transcend not only class-
linked but regional identities and to
become a badge of national identity
as universal as Yankee Doodle Dandy.
Here is another secret of the dish’s
appeal: the ease with which you can
produce your own version. It is the
simplest thing to make because you
literally throw everything in the pot
and wait while it stews and the sauce
reduces. The ingredients are few,
inexpensive, readily available—and
incredibly flexible. Its very simplic
-
ity has made it easy for Filipinos to
apply their own variations over time.
In different islands and provinces,
people simply added to the basic
recipe whatever was locally thriving,
available, or specially liked, whether
it was coconuts from the plantations
or snipe and frogs to replace Span
-
ish pork and chicken. As Corazon S.
Alvina writes in an important con
-
tribution to the cookbook The Food
of the Philippines, “Every province
boasts of having the best version of
adobo. Manila’s is soupy with soy
sauce and garlic. Cavite cooks mash
pork liver into the sauce. Batangas
adds the orange hue of annatto,
Laguna likes hers yellowish and pi
-
quant with turmeric. Zamboanga’s
adobo is thick with coconut cream.”
There are not only regional adobo
variations, but countless personal
variations with their own changes
in technique or ingredients. As the
Filipina writer Felice de Sta. Maria
puts it, “There are as many adobo
recipes as there are cooks, and as
many favorite recipes as there are
childhoods.” I would be hard-pressed
to find another Filipino dish with this
many individual versions.
But the story doesn’t end there. It
continues in every part of the world
to which Filipinos have moved. It is
the Filipino diaspora that has elevat
-
ed adobo to iconic status. Filipino
college kids have been seen on U.S.
campuses wearing “Got Adobo?” or
“Love, Peace, and Adobo Grease”
T-shirts. You can buy adobo-themed
mugs, aprons, caps over the Web.
Adobo
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