The Kobayashi family and Blueberry Layer Cake

To the right of the photograph is my Japanese aunt Setsuko, to the left is her husband Kiyoshi, myself and my mother in the middle, having green-tea buckwheat noodles in hot dashi sauce for lunch, in their sunny dining room. The Kobayashis are my Japanese family by invention. My inspiration for Japanese country cooking comes from them.

Uncle Kiyoshi was born to a traditional farming family. He is now retired as the head-master of an elementary school, and is back at the farm, very busy growing all kinds of vegetables, herbs, fruits, and planting and harvesting rice, and processing pulses and vegetables. This is where I spent my childhood weekends.

It was where I tasted my first strawberry, grown by Kiyoshi and the legendary Grandpa, who past away a few years ago. Grandpa could speak to birds, (yes he could!) and was a master at finding the very best bamboo shoots for eating, which are those few inches below ground. His sole could feel the subtle difference in the earth. I would walk with Grandpa to the mountains, he would point at an empty spot in the ground, and we would start digging. There it was! A cone of creamy white peaking. Trying not to scar the tender crop, we’d dig very gently around it and pat the earth away; we would take them home and Setsuko would make ‘Takenoko gohan’, a bowl full of steaming rice with chunks of delightfully tender bamboo shoots sweetened with mirin, sake and a touch of soy-sauce.

Our faces would be steaming from the hot bath before dinner, then we’d tuck into an autumn feast: Salt-grilled Sanma fish, smokey and charred from the grill, topped with finely grated white raddish, soaked in ice-cold ponzu. There will the accompaniments from Grandma, finely sliced sweet Japanese cucumbers from the garden, subtly flavoured with sugar, rice vinegar and little Japanse white fish, ‘Chirimenjako’.

There will always be soup, served a few moments after the beginning of the meal; sometimes a clear soup, called ‘osuimono’, with a slice of poached ‘fugu’, dressed with finely sliced yuzu zest, the elegant Japanese citrus. ‘Fugu’ is the puffer fish Shimonoseki city is famed for. Often the soup will be Kobayashi farmhouse’ signature miso broth, creamy as the soya when it’s first steamed and mashed, with ‘wakame’, seaweed from the Karato fish market, and chunks of ‘hoku hoku’ / ‘hot and puffy’ cubes of sweet orange pumpkin. Dinner was an artwork by my aunt Setsuko.

Their house is situated at the foot of mountain wilderness, where there are wild boar, Japanese racoons, foxes, and on the rare occasion, monkeys. If you know anything about monkeys in Japan, they are dangerous and make news headlines having attacked locals.

Apart from the occasional visit from wild animals, Shoya, the village where the farm lies, is a haven of peace and calm, with sparkling fireflies, ‘Hotaru’, in early summer evenings. After sun set, they glow like little fairy dust that you can catch in your hands and let go again onto bamboo leaves before going to bed. The existence of ‘Hotaru’ is the sign of good and clear water.

The water trickles down into the fields and into their taps, after filtering through the mountain moss and rocks for over 100years, Grandma told me. Magically, it is ice cold in summer, and slightly warming in the winter. People from all over the prefecture come to collect this water for drinking and tea ceremonies. The water is silkier, somehow softer. It is in this water that their rice grows. Their rice is round and plump, shiny and glossy once cooked, like little pearls.

They have a big row of blueberry bushes in the shady part of their vegetable garden, where there’s a healthy fig tree, and a ginger tree that blossoms magnificent smelling white flowers. In the morning uncle Kiyoshi would pick and put them on the dining table in a large vase; I would pick the perfectly ripe figs for breakfast. Sleepy eyes are woken by the scent of ginger flowers and hot cakes with figs, honey and melting butter.

A couple of weeks ago, aunt Setsuko told me that they have a bumper harvest of blueberries. Several basketfuls that she’s made into jams, sauces, frozen assets and milkshakes, but she still has a lot left over and they are still baring fruit. I wish! I suggested to her to sprinkle them into the usual pancake the moment it hits the pan, as recommended by Heidi Swanson in 101 cookbooks.

Another wonderful recipe for blueberries is this blueberry layer cake that I’ve made several times now. It’s a midway between cheesecake and blueberry muffin that I thought was an epitome of American cafe culture. It tasted good, like the survival of the fittest of two cafe desserts just got married. It’s one of the easiest cakes I’ve ever made, and perfect for summer. A cooling cheesecake frosting to tackle the 30 degree tropic heat in Shimo, with luxurious bursting berries! It’s my favourite cake, and it makes me think of Central Perk!

Blueberry Soured Cream Layer Cake with Cheesecake Frosting

(Recipe adapted from bbcgoodfood. Ingredients adjusted to make two smaller cakes for the layer, and added lemon zest in the frosting. I also mixed 1/2 the blueberries in a tbsp of cornflour to stop them from sinking. It worked perfectly! The original recipe, a larger and flatter cake is just as tasty.)

230g soft butter

230g golden caster sugar

4 large eggs

280g self-raising flour

1 + 1/3 tsp baking powder

2 + 1/2 tsp vanilla extract

190ml carton soured cream

500g punnets blueberries

For the frosting:

300g Philadelphia cheese

150g icing sugar

Lemon zest from 1 lemon

Preheat the oven to fan160C/ conventional 180C and butter and line the base of two  18cm victoria sandwich tins with non-stick baking paper. In a bowl, coat 1/2 the blueberries with a tbsp of cornflour.

Put the butter, sugar, eggs,flour, baking powder and vanilla in a bowl. Beat with a wooden spoon for 2-3 minutes, or with a hand electric beater for 1-2 minutes, until lighter in colour and well mixed. Beat in 4 tbsp soured cream, then stir 1/2 the blueberries coated in cornstarch, with a large spoon. Don’t add the cornstarch left behind in the bowl.

Tip the mixture into the tins and spread it level. Bake for 25 -30 minutes until a skewer inserted comes out clean. Cool for 10 minutes, then take out of the tins and peel off the paper or lining. Leave to finish cooling on a wire rack.

To make the frosting, beat the soft cheese with the icing sugar and the remaining soured cream in a bowl until smooth and creamy. When the cakes are completely cool, put one cake on a plate. Spread half the frosting, scatter half of the remaining blueberries, and top with the other cake. Spread the rest of the frosting, scatter the remaining blueberries. The cake will keep in the fridge for a couple of days. Bring it to room temperature for about an hour before serving.

Buttermilk hotcakes served with maple roasted pears @ Gail’s Hampstead

I arrived back to London from Switzerland on an early morning flight and the first thing I did was go to Gail’s bakery in Hampstead for breakfast. ‘Buttermilk hotcakes served with maple roasted pears, toasted pecans & organic Greek yoghurt’. Divine pillows of fluffy amazingness. They made me totally proud of the current English breakfast culture.

Eggs on English muffins were tempting too, but at Gail’s even the pancakes had a very modern English identity. I think of American pancakes as piled high in a fountain of maple syrup, maybe with a bit of crispy bacon. I think of French pancakes as the delicate crepe suzette with Normandy creme fraiche.  But Gail’s  hotcakes were somewhere in between. Fluffy enough to be American, but the pears and yoghurt were elegant. It left me feeling light and happy.

I thought the wonderful array of breads show what new London baking has become: multicultural and high quality, expensive but tasty. The lavender apricot preserve is wonderful! Good coffee too!

Gail’s bakery website

Swiss butter shortbread

Butter is particularly delicious here in Switzerland, creamy and full of flavour. I read somewhere that Normandy butter is slightly fermented, and Swiss butter definitely has that little extra something that makes butter butterier, and it makes gorgeous shortbread.

This must be the only sweet cookie in the world with just 3 ingredients – perfect for a traveller! They smell gorgeous when I open the tin, and have a lovely crumbly and crisp texture, quite different to shop bought. These are travelling to Japan for my aunt’s birthday.

When I took a wonderful pastry class at a cookery school in London, the teacher told us ‘short’ in pastry means ‘rich’ and ‘melt-in-the-mouth’. This shortbread was more about how you handle the dough than fancy ingredients – chilling well and not kneading the dough added so much to the melt-in-the-mouth texture.

Simple shortbread cookies

(I adapted the recipe from Joy of Baking, but didn’t add vanilla, or use another bowl for the flour and salt, and whisked by hand)

260g flour

225g salted butter at room temperature (I used Swiss butter but any French butter would work well)

60g icing sugar

Beat the butter with an electric or hand whisk until smooth and creamy. Add the sugar and beat until smooth and fluffy, 2minutes by electric, or 5minutes by hand.  Gently fold in the flour and salt just until incorporated.  Flatten into a disk shape, wrap in cling film and chill for at least an hour. I chilled mine overnight. If the dough is too hard too roll, leave at room temperature for 20minutes before rolling.

On a lightly floured surface roll out the dough into a 1/4 inch (0.6 cm) thick circle.  Cut into rounds or other shapes using a lightly floured cookie cutter. Bring together the scraps and re-roll till all the dough is used up. Place on the baking sheets lined with baking paper and refrigerate for  at least 30 minutes or more.

Preheat the oven to 170c. Bake for 8 – 10 minutes, or until cookies are very lightly browned. Cool on a wire rack.

Pinakbit or Vegetables with Smoked Fish and Anchovy

Considering how much I complained about my mum putting ‘Tinapa’ smoked fish in my suitcase, trying to persuade her noone really wants Tinapa from London, I seem to be the one who’s been enjoying it most, and giving the chefs massive compliments with the various ways they’ve been cooking it.

I love smoked fish. I remember the first time I ever tried smoked salmon. My dad was given a luxurious pack of Hokkaido smoked salmon as a work present. Refrigerated deliveries are quite common in Japan. Even live crabs arrive through the post as ‘Thank you’ or ‘Congratulations’ gifts or ‘Season’s Greetings’ or regional specialties as souvenirs direct from holiday destinations. I remember standing in the kitchen, my dad and I going through the whole pack, on its own, no bread, no crackers. It was before I knew anything about blinis or bagels with cream cheese. I didn’t actually know what I was eating, except that it was extremely delicious. I still don’t know whether it was the Hokkaido smoked salmon that was incredibly good, or if it was my younger taste buds that were particularly keen on this new discovery. That smoked salmon seemed particularly delicious. It was densely pink all over with very little streaks of white, and not as pale as the ones I’ve become familiar with.  Cold Northern waters around Hokkaido must be home to great salmon, and my dad did assure me by saying ‘Trust me, that Hokkaido smoked salmon was good.’ There’s only one way of finding out I guess! Below is the photo of us, the devourers of Hokkaido smoked salmon.

Tinapa, the Philippine smoked Bangus fish is not as refined and sophisticated as smoked salmon. It’s usually grilled or fried with its head intact, and had with a simple tomato and green mango salsa with rice. It looks a bit like kippers but not anywhere near as salty, and tastes a bit like smoked mackerel but not as oily. It’s country-bumpkin food that might even be acquired taste. The reason why I want to share the recipe for Pinakbit is because the Spanish Bacalao or salt cod stew is so popular in the West that I’ll be surprised if Pinakbit couldn’t be enjoyed as its quirky Asian version, served with rice instead of potatoes or bread. There’s lots of great smoked fish in England that would be an interesting alternative to Tinapa.

Tomatoes, Green beans, okra, aubergines, sweet potatoes, pumpkin and ‘Ampalaya’ (bitter gourd), is the typical ‘Pinakbit’ mix of vegetables, and the smoked fish is flavouring. It’s a curious mix of sweet, sour, bitter and salty. Because the aubergine is sliced differently, and not fried, they are stewed and soft; they taste miles away from the Mediterranean style aubergine that soaks up the olive oil like a sponge, rich and almost creamy.

My favourite in pinakbit (apart from the fish) is the Kalabasa pumpkin. It’s worth the effort to find the green skinned, orange fleshed type, and if you can’t find that, it’s probably better to settle for parsnips or increase the sweet potatoes because butternut squash or pumpkin with the pale sand coloured skin is not sweet enough for Pinakbit, apparently.

Pinakbit is often made with pork instead of smoked fish, which is equally delicious. If you have any left over meat or fish, smoked or unsmoked from the day before, just use that. I bet Pinakbit was one of the ways to use up little scraps of meat or fish. Many great dishes spring from frugality, I guess that’s no different across the continent!

…Evidently, interior design is not their forte, but that saucepan contains generations of culinary magic!

Recipe – Mendoza sisters’ Pinakbit or Vegetables with smoked fish and anchovy

Serves 4

2 tbsp oil

1 onion, finely chopped

2 garlic cloves, finely chopped

1 small Asian aubergine, halved lengthwise and quartered

100g okra, left whole

150g green beans trimmed

100g sweet potato, peeled and cubed

100g Kalabasa pumpkin

1 tbsp anchovy paste, to taste* see note

2 fresh tomatoes, chopped

1 Tinapa, or 150 – 200g smoked fish such as mackerel, haddock or cod, flaked into bite size or 200g pork cut into 2cm cubes* see note

½ cup water

Rice, to serve

If using pork, heat oil in a medium saucepan on high heat and cook for 3 minutes or until slightly crisp at the edges, then add the garlic and onion. If using smoked fish, skip the pork and begin by sautéing the onion and garlic for 3 minutes.

Add tomatoes and anchovy paste and stir, continue for a couple of minutes to emulsify with the oil a little, then add all the vegetables except the aubergines, the smoked fish if using, and ½ cup of water. Stir, cover and simmer for 10 minutes or until the vegetables are almost cooked.

Add the aubergines and continue simmering for further 10minutes, or until all the vegetables are cooked. Taste and add more anchovy paste if you think it needs it. Serve with rice, with lots of sauce spooned over.

Notes*

*I’ve seen anchovy paste in tubes, in the canned fish section of supermarkets but you can get the Filipino version in Asian supermarkets. The Filipino paste is fermented and have a greater depth of flavour and is not as salty. Depending on which brand you use, you should adjust the amount of paste.

*All smoked fish have different saltiness so if you’re using very salty smoked haddock, which most supermarkets’ are, an idea might be to soak it in cold water for 15 minutes before rinsing and using, and adjust the amount of anchovy paste accordingly.

Warning! No pepper!

Ginataang Kalabasa at Hipon or Pumpkin and Prawns in Coconut milk

I’m in Switzerland staying with my Filipina aunt, Anna, known as Aneng. She’s my mum’s sister and lives near the Swiss-Austrian boarder on top of the mountains. The view from her house is a large valley dotted with farm houses and little villages with church towers, and snow capped mountains ahead. Driving up to her house, my ears pop because of the change in air pressure. Temperature up here is a lot cooler than down in the cities.

This morning I woke up early to the sound of cow bells and went outside to pick blackberries to bake a blackberry coffee cake, for when more relatives arrive in the afternoon. A little walk from the house takes you to farmhouses with sheep, goats, rabbits and orchards. The apples are just turning that blushing red. This area of Switzerland is called Appenzelland and you can visit the Appenzellar cheese factory a short drive away. A few years ago I tried the potato rosti topped with ham and melting Appenzeller cheese at the cafe in the factory. Croque monsieur, Swiss style. It was wonderful, but it’s so rich that unless you’re caught in an Alpen snow storm trying not to starve, best enjoyed once a year.

Unless we have ‘guests’, non-family members, the cooking that goes on at Aneng’s house is mostly Philippine. There’s always a Swiss ‘alternative’ for her Swiss husband that always ends up as a side dish to the main event. It’s supposed to be Swiss, but I’ve never seen purple yams in a German potato salad outside her house!

When my mum visits, the sisters get excited together about cooking, more cooking goes on and I’m lucky enough to hang about to taste, watch and learn. Yesterday, they cooked Ginataang Kalabasa at Hipon – pumpkin and prawns cooked in ginger and coconut milk. It’s amusing to watch them cook together. Neither of them agree in advance about who’s doing what but they know exactly the next (and correct) step to every dish so they continue each other’s work. So Aneng would saute the onion, garlic and ginger for the Ginataan, then while she’s taking care of another dish, the Fish Escabeche, mum continues with the Ginataan. Then they would swap around, mum continues with the Escabeche, Aneng with the Ginataan, upon convenience. Team work.

Pumpkin is one of my favourite vegetables and tastes wonderful in coconut milk. What I like about (good) Philippine cooking is the simple flavours compared to other Asian cooking. For example Ginataang is almost like a Thai curry, minus the curry paste, herbs and spices. You taste the basic ingredients for what they really are. In that sense the quality of the ingredients is probably even more important.

The pumpkin by the way, came from North London in a suitcase. It must be a Philippine thing, my mum fills up her own suite case with ‘presents’ ie, vegetables and food-stuffs, then moves onto filling my suitcase with them too. In North London, Burnt Oak, you can get all the Filipino vegetables that you can’t get in Switzerland, so the Kalabasa pumpkin ended up in there carefully wrapped in clothes. I did manage to transfer the ‘Tinapa’, smoked fish, from my suitcase to hers, just incase it leaked onto my clothes.

The Kalabasa pumpkin, with its dark green skin and orange flesh, is much denser and sweeter than butternut squash or pumpkin with pale skin that you find in an English supermarket – these are too watery and unfortunately won’t do. I only ever find them in Asian and ethnic shops in London, and have seen similar ones in Japanese supermarkets. The Japan Centre in Picadilly circus had Kabocha pumpkin. They are equally good.

Please try making this incredibly easy stew, (after a visit to an Asian supermarket for the pumpkin…) enjoy the gorgeous smell of stewing coconut, and let the magic marriage happen in the pan. Asian cooking at its simplest. No sprinkling coriander or grinding spices today. Warning: no pepper! Apparently it clashes with ginger.

Aneng’s Ginataang Kalabasa at Hipon

2tbsp oil

2/1 onion, finely chopped

3 garlic cloves

5cm or 30g piece ginger, peeled and finely sliced

2/1 Kalabasa or Kabocha pumpkin, peeled and chopped into 2cm cubes

1 large mild green chilli, left whole

Salt

250g prawns* see note

Heat the oil in a saucepan on high heat and saute garlic, onion and ginger for 5minutes, do not brown. Lower the heat to medium high and add the pumpkin and a little salt, stir, cover and cook for 5minutes.

Add coconut milk and bring to the boil, then reduce to medium and cook for 10-15minutes or until the pumpkin is just cooked through. From time to time give it a little stir, just to check it’s not burning or sticking. Add prawns and and continue to cook, covered, for further 4-5minutes. In the last minute of cooking, add the chilli and stir. Check and add salt if you think it needs it. Don’t forget, no pepper! Serve with rice.

Note*

Aneng cooks prawns with the shell on because it adds flavour to the sauce, none of us mind peeling prawns at the table but it’s messy so it’s probably better to peel them before cooking. I’ve got an idea, if your prawns have heads and you want to shell them before cooking, pop the heads in at the top so that you can remove them before serving. That way you still get all the flavour.

Tip

Don’t overcook the pumpkin so that they keep their shape and don’t disintegrate into the sauce.

Step by step guide to Lumpiang Prito

There were often big parties at our house in Japan. The Filipino community of our city would gather and feast. My mother would cook an enormous Philippine buffet, Santa-Barbara village style, and everybody will be wondering around the house and garden with paper plates and plastic cups, gossiping and nibbling all afternoon. Above is a photograph of some of the Philippine ladies of Shimonoseki city, my mother, second from the left.

I remember the huge dish of Biko, a purple sticky rice cake topped with coconut caramel, sliced into diamond shaped cubes. Every chewy mouthful tasted like a piece of heaven.

On birthdays there was Lumpiang Prito – Philippine spring rolls. Golden tubes were arranged like a flower around a small dish of fluorescent pink sauce. You’ll see me wondering around, a Lumpia in hand, enjoying its familiar taste.

Recently, my mother decided to make Lumpia again after my Chinese friend Claire and her family invited us for a beautiful dinner and I found myself talking about the Filipino spring roll. Watching my mother make them again, it made me want to write a Step and step guide because what seems familiar to me might be interesting to the world.

I think the traditional Santa-Barbara spring roll suits the organic-vegetable-loving palate. With a light, sweet name like ‘Lumpia’, you can just think of it as another way to enjoy seasonal vegetables. Maybe make a Lumpia instead of a zucchini tart. Maybe I will grab a pack of wrappers and canola oil instead of all-butter puff pastry next time I think of making a quiche.

It would be a really useful recipe to have after a visit to a farmer’s market in any city and you don’t know what to do with all the vegetables you bought on a whim. If I’d paid more attention when I was little, I’d have known what to do with that huge pumpkin I once ended up with!

For the filling: julienne all the vegetables except the bean sprouts. Heat oil in a wok or frying pan and saute onion and garlic for 1-2 minutes or until soft but don’t brown. Add the minced beef and stir fry for further 3 minutes or until the meat has lost its raw colour. Add the rest of the vegetables and stir fry for 5-10 minutes, or until the vegetables are cooked but is still crunchy.

Remove the vegetables into a colander set over a pan to drain. (You can use the liquid as stock for another dish.)

Whilst the filling cools, make the dipping sauce by mixing all the ingredients in a little bowl.

To wrap: Have a glass of water ready for the seal. Lay one sheet of wrapper on a chopping board, with the angular side facing towards you. Place 2 heaped tbsps of mixture on the lower third, as seen below.

Fold the bottom third of the wrapper over the filling leaving the top third clear.

Fold the right corner over the middle, then fold the left corner, like an envelope.

Roll the filled part upwards until a small triangle of wrapper is left at the top.

Dip a finger tip in a little water and run it across the edge of the triangle. Roll upwards to seal.

To fry: Have a plate lined with kitchen paper ready. Heat a wok or a small pan with enough oil to deep fry. It’s hot enough when you drop a piece of  bread and it crackles and bubbles energetically. Gently lower the spring rolls and fry in batches. Lift out when golden brown, it takes about 3-5 minutes, and drain on the kitchen paper.

Apparently the oil was too hot in this picture, because there are black spots:

Nevertheless, they were very crispy on the outside, and very soft and steamy on the inside. Actually it’s difficult to go wrong!

Chicken Adobo

That is my mother before I was born. Her Grandmother taught her all the Filipino dishes that she cooks today.

When I was growing up, ‘Adobo’ was the default dish my mother cooked. Any bird that came into her hands was usually ‘adoboed’. To ‘adobo’ is to stew meat, seafood or vegetables in soy sauce, vinegar, garlic and onion. To this basic marinade, she adds bay leaf, pineapple and capsicums in this recipe.

As a child, I had Adobo so often that I didn’t like it very much. ‘Not boring Adobo again!’ I preferred simple Japanese home cooking because we lived in Japan. Ebi-fry, Japanese potato salad, tonkatsu, tempura – what normal people ate – were the dinners of my choice.

I still proudly remember the time my friend stayed for dinner. My mother made miso broth with clams and negi (a vegetable that tastes of chives and spring onion), and my friend exclaimed ‘I’ve never had anything so delicious!’ I realised then that my mother’s quotidian cooking was very special.

It is only recently that I realised the cleverness of Adobo. My great grandmother lived to the mighty age of 107. She told my mother that ‘Adobo’ was a method of preservation before refrigerators. It made food last for days in the equatorial climate of the Philippines; Adobo is really a kind of pickle.

Flavours improve with time and is even more delicious the next day. It is the perfect picnic food because it is easily transportable, has a sauce of its own, and good hot or cold.

Reduce the sauce so that it is dark and intense. It is always served with rice, so it should taste a little too strong on its own. When you serve it, mix the sauce into your rice and you are sure to say ‘napaka sarap ang Adobo!’ ‘Adobo is so delicious!’

Lola Berta’s Adobong Manok

(Grandmother Berta’s Pickled Chicken)

Serves 6

12 chicken drumsticks and thigh pieces*

1 onion, roughly chopped

3 garlic cloves, finely sliced

1/2 cup, soy-sauce*

1/2 cup, rice or cane vinegar*

1 tsp black pepper

2 bay leaves

1/2 large red chilli, finely sliced

200g can pineapple chunks in juice

1/2 red capsicum, sliced into strips

1/2 yellow capsicum, sliced into strips

Rice, to serve

In a saucepan or a casserole, add everything except the pineapple and the capsicums. Open the can of  pineapple and tip in the juice but keep the pineapple. Mix thoroughly, lifting the meat from the bottom to the top several times.

Put the casserole on high heat and bring to a vigorous boil. Do not cover. With a wooden spoon, carefully stir without damaging the meat for about 5 minutes. When you are certain the liquid is bubbling energetically, turn the heat down to medium-low and add the pineapple. Put the lid on and simmer for 30 minutes.

Keep checking that the chicken is not sticking together and that all the chicken is cooking evenly in the sauce. Lift the chicken from the bottom of the pan to the top twice during the cooking time.

After 30 minutes, or when there is only 1/2 cup of sauce left, stir in the capsicums and turn the heat off. Replace the lid and wait 5 minutes. The Adobo is now is ready to serve. In the Philippines it is served in a deep serving dish at the table alongside a large dish of rice, and family or guests help themselves.

Notes:

*You can also seal the chicken pieces before mixing with the other ingredients. This is not traditionally Philippine but inspired by British stews that lock in the flavours before cooking in liquid. Adobo is a dry stew, so there is no danger of flavours escaping from the meat, but caramelising does achieve a darker, almost smokey flavour. Just spread 2 tbsps of oil in a separate non-stick frying pan and brown the meat all over.

* Preferably the Philippine brand ‘Datu Puti’ available at Asian supermarkets

Tagalog Version

Ang unang larawan ay ina ko bago ako ipinanganak, lahat ng pagkaing Pilipinong niluluto niya ay natutuhan niya sa kanyang lola.

Noon ako ay lumalaki, ‘Adobo’ ang palaging niluluto nang aking ina. Anumang ibon na dumating sa kanyang mga kamay ay karaniwang naging ‘adobo’. ‘Adobo’ ay karne, gulay o seafood na niluto sa toyo, suka, bawang at sibuyas. Sa recipe na ito, ang aking ina ay nagdadagdag ng laurel, pinya at silli.

Noong bata pa ako, hindi ko gusto ang Adobo, dahil ang ulam namin ay palaging adobo nalang. ‘Adobo na namaan!’ Mas gusto ko ang Pagkain Hapon dahil sa Japan kami naka tira. Pritong hipon, Japanese ensaladang patatas, tonkatsu, tempura, kung ano ang laging kinakain nang mga Hapon.

Hindi ko makakalimotan ang karanasan ko na komain ng haponan ang kaibigan ko. Ang aking ina ay nag luto nang  miso soup sa shell at negi. Nagulat ang aking kaibigan sa sarap, sinabi nya, ‘ngayon palang ako naka tikim nang ganito kasarap!’ Napaka suerte ko pala, ang kinakain ko sa araw-araw ay espesyal na pala sa iba.

Ngayon kolang napatunayan na ang Adobo ay isang lutuing napaka halaga. Ang suka hindi lang nagpapatinkad nang lasa, nakaka silbeng preservative pala. Yung lola nang ina ko, nabuhay hanggan 107. Sinabi daw nya, noong araw na walang refrigirator, ang Adobo ay hindi nasisira kahit sa init nang Pilipinas.

Ang Adobo ay hanggang tumatagal sumasarap. Magandang baon, madaling dalhin, malamig man o mainit masarap parin. Kung kayo’y mahilig mag pa party napaka gandang ihanin ang Adobo.

Masarap na Adobo’y walang sabaw para matiim ang lasa. Pag inihaing mo, isamang sarsa para pag kain nyo na kasama ang kanin, talagang sasabihiin nyo ‘napaka sarap ang Adobo!’

Adobong Manok ni Lola Berta

Para sa 6 tao

12 hita at legs ng manok

1 sibuyas, hiniwa

3 bawang, hiniwa

1/2 tasa, toyo *

1/2 tasa suka *

1 tsp black na paminta

2 laurel

1/2 siling labuyo, hiniwa

200g pinya sa juice

1/2 siling pula, hiniwa

1/2 siling dilow, hiniwa

Sa isang kasirola, pag samasamhing lahat ang sankap maliban sa pinya at silli. Isama ang sabow ng pinya at paghaluin.

Ilagay ang kasirola sa kalan, huag tatakpan hanggan hindi kumukulo. Pag kumulu na, haluin na maingat, para hindi masira ang manok. Ilagay ang pinya at takpan.

Hinaan ang apoy at lutuin nang 30 minuto. Haluing dalawang beses para pantay ang luto nang manok.

Pag karaan nang 30 minuto, at nakita mong tuyo na ang sabaw, ilagay mo ang silli at patayin ang apoy. Takpan at pakaraan nang 5 minuto, puwede mo ng ihain ang Adobo mo.

Nota

* Mas mabuti ‘Datu Puti’ Philippine tatak na nabibili sa Asian supermarket