Made my grandfather's adobo "recipe" last night. My maternal grandfather, Esteban de los Reyes (Changed to Steve Reyes by US Immigration) was, not only one of the kindest humans I have ever known but also an excellent cook. A bartender by trade, not only could he pour the beverages, but he brought generations of ancestral Filipino love to the kitchen. Although fading, memories of his fried fish and adobo still fill my heart with such sweet memories: hanging out on warm summer Stockton days, drinking and spilling tea with my mom, and knowing that when you walked into the house, there would be food to feed your soul. Damn, I miss him. Gpa shows up every time I cook adobo. And thanks to an invitation from my friends over at Food and Faith Podcast for their upcoming book, I am finally writing down what could loosely be called a “recipe.” Before we get started, if you are here to debate the exact origin of adobo (yes, it comes from 500 years of Spanish occupation) or you want to say the...