No, it’s not haute cuisine. It’s better. It’s my Papa’s adobo. My parents were visiting recently and he brought several packages of adobo, Papa-style. This is actually his adobo sa gata (adobo in coconut milk), enriched with — what else — coconut milk, flavored with some lemon grass. He includes papaya wedges, which I don’t really like in tinola, but love here. The soy sauce and vinegar and coconut milk really penetrate through the vegetable and Papa cooks the papaya so it retains just a tad of its chewiness.

Papa didn’t use to cook, at least as I remember, in the Philippines; the kitchen was Mommy’s (and the helpers’) domain. I don’t know what happened when we got to the US but he started cooking again here, more so since he retired a couple of years ago… although, he probably cooked a lot when he was single because he had his own place and was just waiting to find a wife:-D.

He cooks uncomplicated things, like this adobo (degreased and defatted because like my mom and me, he’s trying to avoid saturated fat these days), and every now and then he sends a package of these through Priority Mail, together with chocolates for the kiddies. He has also sent me bangus, those little marinated ones from Sarangani Bay, and bangus that he cut up and marinated himself…. sometimes he’ll even send me just the center cut (belly) because that’s the least-bony part of the bangus — is he awesome or what. In the winter they stay nice and frozen until they get here, and there are no worries of them spoiling since they are nicely preserved by the acid of the vinegar.

At parties he tries to bring something a bit fancier, like his breaded chicken nuggets, a little on the spicy side. He also makes this incredible broiled tilapia, the best of which is made from freshly caught (live) fish at the Asian market; he de-guts and takes the icky parts out but leaves them whole, scales and all. He then wraps it in foil with some seasonings and bakes it in a 350 degree F oven. The last few minutes of cooking he opens up the foil to broil the top. As the fish cooks it exudes its juices, making a natural sauce and if we’re lucky, a bit of broth for the rice. It’s perfect, even without the addition of a dip made from soy sauce and lemon juice…. or the Maggi seasoning that my kids, unfortunately, prefer.

He really enjoys cooking these days, mostly simple dishes he remembers from his childhood…. he also makes a mean achara, one of his favorite condiments — I remember him buying jars of this stuff, homemade, from someone in Mandaluyong. It was the kind that was strong, tangy, with a bit of a bite (:D) from the ginger.

Papa also bought these incredible ensaimadas from some vendor near where he worked — again, homemade — which we distributed at Christmastime to friends and family. They were small and muffin-sized but melt-in-your-mouth tender, topped and filled with the most exquisite cheese (probably Velveeta but memory always heightens the texture and flavor of things, if only because of nostalgia). And when he comes home from work, it’s usually with some sort of food as pasalubong; it could be something as simple as Campers chocolate bar, or perhaps lechon manok or puto bumbong or balut.

Papa and Mommy also instituted Family Day, every Saturday. It’s when we’d do something as mundane as sharing a can of frozen peaches… or we’d go out for some Shakey’s Pizza, or order some siopao, or pansit malabon. Later on it became an excuse for us teens (me and my cousins) to try some of the alcohol from their collection — mostly gifts that never got drunk because my parents weren’t particularly fond of them. It’s also why barhopping and trying different drinks weren’t of interest to me (and partly why, like my parents, we don’t make alcohol a big deal in our own household — it’s just there, like the furniture).

Papa also started this concept of the family drink: a large glass (a Blend 45 container actually) of icy-cold calamansi-ade or sweetened Nido milk (yup!) or even (believe it or not) Calcium-D Redoxon, those orange tablets that fizz in water when you drop them. He’d make this before dinner and pass it around the dinner table, and each of us would take a sip and pass it to the next person. It was probably his own benign version of tagay.

[sigh] I miss my folks; doesn’t help that they’re 17 hours away by car:(.

Gotta go, need to pack…. I’ll be in 2 foodie paradises (is that a word) this weekend and the coming week and will post again.