the adobo chronicle
the first time i cooked the favourite filipino dish -- pork adobo -- it was a disaster worse than the explosion of the chernobyl. some of the pork cubes were burned beyond recognition, others were pale, some were wrinkly and disheveled. it did not look pretty and appetizing at all. worse, it did not taste like the adobo of my mother or the one that we ordered in restaurants; but nevertheless, my guests, famished teen-age boys who just finished playing basketball at a court a few minutes away from my flat, lapped it up as though it was the best tasting viand ever. &&&&&&&&&& it was a rainy sunday afternoon and some streets in manille were flooded. i was watching a movie on dvd -- the age of innocence -- lazily tucked in the comfort of my two-year-old sofa with a blanket covering half of my body. it was the nth time that i watched the movie, but i didn't mind. the rains always bring out the romantic in me, triggering a cravin...