cia – Page 106 – Writing With My Mouth Full

Baby Back Ribs Adobo

In Memories of Philippine Kitchens, Amy Besa and Romy Dorotan say that if you have to master a Filipino recipe, it has to be adobo. Adobo in Spanish-speaking countries refers to the oil, garlic and vinegar flavor. Each country has added its own touch to it, whether they be black peppercorns, marjoram or bay leaves, but if you ask a non-Filipino about a Filipino food they’ve tried and liked, adobo is most likely their answer.

It’s hard to get my father to teach me how he cooks his own version, since he cooks by tasting the dish until it’s just right. When Dexter and Jaime gave me a copy of the new book from the Cendrillon founders, I tried their baby back ribs recipe. I’ve cooked adobo before, but I have to say that they got it right in terms of measurements–all I had to do was double everything to feed four people a couple of servings apiece. I’m going to use this recipe as my own from now on.

Ingredients:
3 racks of baby back ribs, about 4 pounds
2 cups white vinegar
2 tbsp soy sauce
8 garlic cloves, minced
6 bay leaves
2 tsps black peppercorns
1 tsp red chili flakes
2 tsps rock salt

1. Using a mortar and pestle, crush the garlic and the peppercorns until they are coarsely grounded. Rub the ribs with salt, and then with the garlic and peppercorns mixture.
2. In a Dutch oven, mix vinegar, soy sauce, chili flakes and bay leaves using a wooden spoon. Add the ribs and marinate overnight, turning the ribs at least once so that the other side also gets some of the flavor.
3. When ready to cook, put Dutch oven over medium fire, uncovered, and let boil. Then reduce heat, cover and simmer for 1 hour to cook the ribs. Remove ribs to a baking dish when done. Reduce the sauce by increasing the heat and cooking it, uncovered, for about 10 minutes or until the sauce has somewhat thickened.
4. Broil the ribs for about 8 minutes, enough to give the top part a crust. Transfer to a plate and pour over the reduced sauce. Serve with steaming white rice.

Hiking the Mourne Mountains (2004 Archives)

After a couple of hours of sleep in a hotel in Dublin, we set off for the Mourne Mountains in Newcastle. Martin McGuigan met us for tea and sandwiches to talk to us about Walk on the Wild Side and to tell us about the day’s itinerary. He has been running his company for about three years, but he has been involved in outdoor activities all his life. Who better to take you to walk up the Mourne than an active Northerner?

It had been drizzling on and off, so we made sure we packed our raincoats. During our drive, Martin sang the famous Mountain of Mourne song for us by Percy French. It was very appropriate because our drive along the coast consisted of dips and uphills, allowing us to catch a glimpse of the small-town lifestyle against the Irish Sea. I had a smile on my face when he was singingâ€”it was what I expected from the people I was to meet during this trip. I hadn’t been in the country for more than twenty-four hours, and I was already pleased.

We started our hike along the Bloody River, and Martin talked to us about the Mourne. Its highest peak is called the Slieve Donard, and it goes up to about 2,700 feet. The mountains only occupy a small part of the county of Down in Newcastle, but there are over twenty hikes to be done in the area, from short walks and strolls to longer treks. The Mourne is also known for the dry stone walls that encase the two reservoirs in the Silent Valley, which provides water for most of Northern Ireland.

I saw my first rainbow in Ireland, but we did not make it too far up because the rain would not let up. We paused to share the cake and tea that Martin packed, and we began our descent back to our car.

Cucumber Pickles

I’m going to be away for two weeks, so I thought I’d pickle again so that it’s ready when I return. At Fairway, they had some fresh Israeli cucumbers for sale. They were small enough to fit an old pickling jar I kept, so I picked up nine pieces with some dill and mustard seeds. This is totally not the Filipino style of pickling and I had to combine two other recipes I found on the Web until it sounded just about right to me. We’ll see in a couple of weeks!

Ingredients:
9 pieces of Israeli cucumbers, washed
1 bunch of fresh dill, washed and ends sliced off
2 tbsps mustard seeds
1 head of garlic, peeled and minced
2 cups of white vinegar
1 1/2 cups of water
salt

1. In a large bowl, submerge cucumbers in iced cold water for at least 2 hours. Set aside.
2. In a small pot, let the vinegar and water boil with some salt.
3. When ready to pickle, put half of the garlic and half of the dill at the bottom of the jar. Add cucumbers. Pour in the salted vinegar and water mixture. There should be enough to cover the cucumbers. Add the rest of the garlic and dill with the mustard seeds. Cover the jar with its lid and seal tightly.
4. Boil some water in a pot, large enough for the jar. When water is boiling, put the sealed jar and let it sit in the boiling water for 15 minutes. Turn off the heat and let the jar cool. When cool enough to handle, remove the jar from the water and dry with a paper towel. Store in room temperature for a couple of weeks before opening.

Pork Sinigang, Filipino Sour Soup

What would be your last meal on death row? It took me a while to answer that question, but the more I eat pork sinigang, the more I stick with it as the last thing I want to eat before I go. It’s my comfort food and it’s the dish I request from my father when I return from a trip. If you ask the Dr., it’s also his favorite Filipino food.

Back in the Philippines, I grew up eating it many ways. The only requirement is its sour taste, but the sourness always depended on where the cook was from. The most familiar to me is using tamarinds. We had a tree in the backyard and the tamarinds would be simmered in a pot to make the sinigang broth. Kamias, or bilimbi, was also used by squeezing them and straining the juice. Nowadays, though, Knorr makes the soup base with the concentrated flavor of the tamarind. They sell for 80 cents in Chinatown stores. I like this dish best when the sourness hits the back of my ears and my left eye uncontrollably closes, so I usually end up using the entire packet. I add a Serrano pepper towards the end to give it an extra kick.

As for the vegetables in sinigang, Filipinos use kang kong–called swamp cabbage or water spinach in Chinatown–but you can certainly use other vegetables that don’t have a bitter taste. Broccoli and long string beans, or sitaw, are easy. Okra is also good, as well as daikon radish and eggplant. I’ve tried daffodil leaves but they didn’t work.

Using a crock pot allows you to slow-cook your spareribs without paying attention to them. Leave it overnight or cook it while you’re at work. Eight hours will leave you with meat falling off the bones. My way is to slow-cook in a Dutch oven for at least an hour and a half, removing impurities that rise to the top using a ladle. Filipinos love their pressure cookers, but those things scare me. Besides, I like taking my time when I cook.

Ingredients:
6 spareribs
1 packet Knorr Tamarind soup base
1 tomato, halved
1 red onion, quartered
1 green Serrano pepper, cut in two
1 bunch kang kong
2 small eggplants
1 small daikon radish
salt

1. Use a Dutch oven with enough water to cover the spareribs and simmer for at least two hours. Remove impurities that float to the top.
2. When spareribs are ready, bring to a boil and add tomato and onion. Simmer until tomato is bruised. Add the vegetables and cook until tender. If using eggplant and okra, add them last to avoid overcooking.
3. Add tamarind soup base and salt to taste. Saltiness and sourness should be balanced. The vegetables will tone down the taste. Throw in the pepper before turning off the heat.

139th Street Barbecue

corner of 139th Street and Adam Clayton Powell Boulevard
no phone number
$25 for a whole rack of pork ribs
â™¥ â™¥

Amidst the condo buildings going up as fast as you can say gentrification, there still remains the open drums on the streets used as makeshift grills to sell home-marinated barbecue in Harlem. The Dr. and I stopped by earlier this year when we saw the smoke coming out of a corner street shrouded in scaffolding. We still haven’t figured out who runs the show, but as far as we know, a big black lady sitting down is the one who repeats everyone’s orders to the more-able “staff” around her: an older lady who spoons the sides in a container, an older man who slices the ribs apart and another who mans the grill. She is also in charge of how much to charge her customers because no one really knows how much the food really is, especially when it comes to people who look like us.

During our first visit, four ribs with a small tub of potato salad and two slices of white bread were $10; a second visit with an order of a whole rack without any sides, even bread, was $25. A third visit cost us $70 for two racks, four sides and a giant watermelon. We’ve caught the big lady giving the older man a look when they calculate our totals.

The ribs are really, really good. They have a tangy taste to them–a North Carolina style using cider vinegar. The meat doesn’t fall off the bones, but is tender enough to pull when you give it a bite. And in this rapidly changing neighborhood, very satisfying.