Thursday night. Almost the weekend, but not quite. One more night of eating in. I check the fridge–chicken. Just chicken. Less than inspiring, practically boring. Then I remember what I’ve been wanting to make. Feeling victorious, I announce “I’m going to make adobo.”
Having never made it before, my husband shrugs. “Up to you” he says. “We can go out and eat too.” Not exactly the vote of confidence I was looking for. He leaves to run some errands and I’m motivated more than ever to prove you don’t need a Filipino grandma to make good adobo.