Nearly three years ago, before most Americans could pronounce sinigang, let alone find a place to enjoy the sour soup, Andrew Zimmern predicted Filipino cuisine would soon become the darling of diners who collect restaurant experiences like seashells on the beach. If you survey the dining landscape today, you might wonder whether the “Bizarre Foods” host moonlights as a soothsayer.
From Los Angeles to New York, Filipino cooking has expanded well beyond its no-frills “point-point” eateries (the suburban outlets where diners point to steam-table dishes they want) to more refined restaurants that cater to diners who want wine, not soda, with their meals.
Zimmern is not surprised, nor is he particularly impressed with his prophecy skills. As a globe-trotting food hunter, Zimmern has a rare vantage point from which he can monitor world cuisines. He knows what food is bubbling just below the mainstream. Chefs tell him about it. He might even see them tinkering with dishes to achieve that delicate balance of authenticity and American marketability.
“I had said to some people, ‘If there was a great chef executing Filipino food at a high level, everyone else would line up behind them,’ ” Zimmern says.
Yet regardless of who gets credit, one pertinent question remains: What has made Filipino cooking different from other Asian cuisines, which found acceptance much earlier in mainstream American dining rooms?
Knee-jerk pundits like to point fingers at balut and dinuguan, but these two are just fall-guy dishes: The former is a fertilized duck-egg embryo, something of a cross between an aphrodisiac and a drunken dare, and the latter is a stew of pork and offal simmered in vinegar and pig blood. But neither represents the breadth, depth and deliciousness of Filipino food any more than fried duck tongues and sliced pig ears represent the entirety of Chinese cooking. Filipino dishes, after all, not only draw inspiration from Spanish, Chinese and Malay cuisines but also channel spice, sourness and pungency, three of the trendiest flavors in American dining.
More thoughtful analysts note that as a U.S. colony in the first half of the 20th century, the Philippines assimilated countless American traits, including our primary language. When Filipinos immigrate to the United States, then, their English-language skills allow them to blend into American work and social life. Unlike Vietnamese or Chinese, they haven’t needed to open a restaurant as a way to cater to their own community, which often eats at home, or to generate income.
But that ability to disappear into American society has come with a cost, notes Nicole Ponseca, co-owner of Maharlika, a modern Filipino restaurant. Filipino immigrants have struggled to have much affect on mainstream culture, especially around food and drink.
Pinoy cuisine presents other challenges as well: It tends to be meat-centric, making it inaccessible to vegetarians. It tends to rely on pungent flavors, like the fermented baby shrimp paste known as bagoong. And it tends to feature home-style cooking, with dishes served family-style without courses.
New-school Filipino restaurants have taken different approaches to fixing those stigmas. Cliff Wharton, chef for the forthcoming Urban Heights in Bethesda, Maryland, grew up on lumpia, chicken adobo, sinigang (it’s pronounced “sin-ee-gong”) and rice noodle dishes like pancit palabok, and takes a pan-Asian approach, mixing Filipino dishes with those from Korea, Vietnam, China and Thailand.
Chef Tom Cunanan approaches it from a mix of new and old schools: seasonal ingredients and timeless flavors.
“We’re staying true to the soul and the essential flavors of Filipino cuisine,” Cunanan says. “I grew up in a household where my mother had a garden and cooked Filipino food every night for dinner. When I think of the soul of Filipino food, that’s where it’s at — my mom’s cooking.”
Chicken adobo
3 tablespoons vegetable oil
1/4 cup minced garlic
1/2 cup minced onion
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper, or more as needed
1/2 cup low-sodium soy sauce
1/2 cup white distilled vinegar
3 bay leaves
4 pounds bone-in, skin-on chicken pieces (white and/or dark meat)
6 hard-cooked whole eggs (optional; see note)
Adobo is a cooking process indigenous to the Philippines, a way of stewing meat or vegetables using vinegar, soy sauce, garlic, bay leaves and peppercorn. Here, the vinegar and soy sauce used in the marinade/sauce act as preservatives, and Filipino cooks will leave the adobo to sit for a few days without refrigeration. They often carry an adobo when they are traveling in-country.
And adobo is not limited to chicken. Other meats such as pork, beef, fish and squid are used, as well as vegetables such as Chinese long beans, called “sitaw” in the Philippines. Also, depending on where a person is from, adobo is cooked various ways: with or without soy sauce, fish sauce or coconut milk.
Serve with steamed white rice.
Make ahead: The chicken needs to marinate for 1 hour. The finished dish can be refrigerated for about 1 week or frozen for up to 6 months.
Combine the oil, garlic, onion, pepper, soy sauce, vinegar, bay leaves and chicken in a 2-gallon zip-top bag. Seal, pressing out as much air as possible. Massage to coat evenly, then marinate for 1 hour. (Alternatively, you can combine the ingredients in a large mixing bowl; turn the chicken pieces periodically to keep them evenly coated.)
Use tongs to transfer the chicken pieces to a platter.
Transfer all the marinade ingredients to a large pot or Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Once the mixture has come to a boil, reduce the heat to medium; cover and cook for about 30 minutes to form a sauce, stirring occasionally, and adjust the heat as needed to keep the sauce barely bubbling. Taste, and add pepper as needed.
Meanwhile, heat a large (dry) skillet over medium heat. Working in batches as needed, pan-sear the chicken pieces until they are golden brown on both sides, 10 to 12 minutes, turning the pieces so they brown evenly. Cover and cook for 10 to 20 minutes, turning the pieces once or twice, until the chicken is cooked through. Return to a clean platter.
Uncover the sauce; cook until it has reduced further and is slightly thickened.
Place all the chicken pieces in the pot of sauce, along with the eggs, if using, tossing gently to coat. Once they are coated and heated through, the adobo is ready to serve. Cut the eggs in half lengthwise, if desired. The bay leaves are typically presented with the dish but are not consumed. You can discard them before serving if you like.
Note: To hard-cook the eggs, use a thin needle to poke a small hole in each end of the egg (to make them easier to peel). Place them in a medium saucepan and cover with an inch or two of water. Bring to a full boil over high heat, then turn off the heat, cover and let sit for 15 to 17 minutes. Drain, cool and peel.
BBQ pork skewers
For the skewers
1/4 cup canola oil
2 medium onions, coarsely chopped (2 cups)
40 cloves garlic
1 cup low-sodium soy sauce
1/2 cup fresh lemon juice
8 tablespoons packed dark brown sugar
19 ounces (1 bottle) banana ketchup, such as Jufran Banana Sauce (see note)
3 teaspoons kosher salt
2 pounds pork butt (fat trimmed), cut into strips that are 1 inch wide and 1/4 inch thick
For the dipping sauce (sawsawsan)
1/3 cup apple cider vinegar
2 medium shallots, minced
1 Thai (bird’s-eye) chili pepper chopped (not seeded)
1 tablespoon sugar
You’ll need to soak any bamboo/wooden skewers in water for at least 30 minutes before grilling.
Note: The recipe calls for banana ketchup, which is sweeter than American ketchup. It’s available at some large Asian markets.
Serve with garlic rice.
Make ahead: The marinade can be made and refrigerated up to 3 days in advance. The pork needs to marinate overnight in the refrigerator.
For the skewers: Heat the oil in a large saute pan over medium heat. Once it shimmers, stir in the onion and garlic; cook for 5 minutes, stirring once or twice, until tender. Add the soy sauce, lemon juice, brown sugar, banana ketchup and salt; stir to incorporate and form a marinade/sauce. Strain through a fine-mesh strainer; discard the solids (or reserve the garlic for another use, if desired). Transfer to a container; refrigerate until thoroughly chilled.
Combine the sauce and pork strips in a gallon-size zip-top bag. Seal, pressing out as much air as possible. Massage to coat evenly. Refrigerate overnight.
Prepare the grill for direct heat: If using a charcoal grill, light the charcoal or wood briquettes; when the briquettes are ashen, distribute them evenly over the cooking area. If using a gas grill, preheat by setting all burners on high (450 degrees) and closing the lid for 10 minutes; you should be able to hold your hand about 6 inches above the coals or grate for 3 to 4 seconds. Have ready a spray water bottle for taming any flames. Brush the grill grate.
Meanwhile, make the dipping sauce: Whisk together the vinegar, shallots, chili pepper and sugar in a small bowl.
Thread 2 or 3 slices of marinated pork on each skewer. Reserve some of the marinade for basting, and discard the rest.
Grill, uncovered, for about 5 minutes; begin to baste the meat with some of the marinade as soon as the meat loses its raw look. Cook until browned and lightly charred, then turn the skewers over and grill for about 5 minutes on the second side or until the meat is cooked through, basting as soon as the skewers are turned. The pork should be crunchy and caramelized on the outside.
Transfer the skewers to a platter; serve with the dipping sauce.
Makes 8 to 10 servings (about 24 to 30 skewers)
Talk to us
> Give us your news tips.
> Send us a letter to the editor.
> More Herald contact information.
