Pineapple Sauce -- The Strange and the Good Are Not Opposites

Mother's Day. I cooked Lourdes a feast at her house — pork sinigang, garlic rice, lumpia, halo-halo. Angela came with the kids. I cooked Lourdes a feast. I gave Lourdes a card I had written by hand. She read it twice. She put it in her apron pocket. The apron knows.

Lourdes is 76. She is slower. She still cooks. She still tells me to find a husband even though I have one.

I made adobo Sunday. The recipe is the recipe. The recipe is the constant.

I skipped the blog this week. Some weeks the kitchen is enough.

The kitchen window faced the inlet. The inlet was silver in the late light. The light was the inheritance.

The grocery store had no calamansi. I substituted lime. The substitution was acceptable. The acceptable is the working version of perfect.

A blog reader sent me a photograph of her grandmother's wooden mortar and pestle, used since 1962. The photograph was holy. I wrote her back. The writing back is the work.

I took a walk on the coastal trail Saturday. The light was good. The body was tired but moving.

I taught a Saturday morning Kain Na class on basic adobo proportions for new cooks. Eleven people in the kitchen. Half of them had never cooked Filipino food before. By eleven AM the kitchen smelled the way it should smell. By noon they were all eating. The eating was the lesson landing.

The break room had cake Tuesday. Someone's birthday. We ate the cake. We did not ask whose birthday. The cake was the cake.

The neighbors invited us over for a small dinner Thursday. They are an Iñupiaq family — Aana and her grandson Joe. We ate caribou stew and rice. I brought lumpia. The kitchens of Anchorage have always been the small UN. The food is the proof.

I sat on the balcony in the cold for ten minutes Sunday night with a cup of broth in my hands. The cold was the cold. The broth was the broth. The body held both.

I checked email at the kitchen table while the rice cooked. There were one hundred and twenty unread messages. I closed the laptop. The unread can wait.

Lourdes called me twice this week. The first call was about a church event. The second was about a recipe variation she had remembered from her childhood. The remembering was the gift.

I made coffee at six AM. The coffee was the start. The start was always the same.

The light was good Saturday morning. I sat on the porch with a cup of coffee and watched the inlet for forty minutes. The watching was the small therapy. The therapy was free.

A reader from New Jersey wrote in about her grandmother's adobo, which used pineapple. I had never heard of pineapple in adobo. I tried it. It was strange. It was also good. The strange and the good are not opposites.

I read a chapter of a novel before bed each night this week. The novel was about a Filipina nurse in California. The novel was good. The novel was, in some way, my own life adjacent.

Auntie Norma called Sunday to ask if I had a recipe for a particular merienda from Iloilo. I did not. I said I would ask Lourdes. I asked Lourdes. Lourdes had it. The chain.

The salmon in the freezer is from August. Joseph's catch. The bag is labeled in his handwriting — "for Grace." I will use it next week.

Pete and I had a long phone conversation Tuesday. We talked about the family — his and mine. The talking was the keeping.

When that reader from New Jersey wrote in about her grandmother’s pineapple adobo, I almost scrolled past it — but I didn’t, and I’m glad. I tried it that same week, and it was strange, and it was good, and I kept thinking about the sauce left in the pan. This pineapple sauce is what I’ve settled on: bright, a little sweet, a little tangy, the kind of thing that makes you reconsider what you thought you already knew. Make it alongside your next batch of adobo, or spoon it over rice and see what happens.

Pineapple Sauce

Prep Time: 5 minutes | Cook Time: 15 minutes | Total Time: 20 minutes | Servings: 6

Ingredients

• 1 cup crushed pineapple (with juice), from one 8 oz can
• 1/4 cup pineapple juice (reserved from can or additional)
• 2 tablespoons soy sauce
• 1 tablespoon rice vinegar
• 1 tablespoon brown sugar
• 1 teaspoon garlic, minced (about 2 cloves)
• 1/2 teaspoon grated fresh ginger
• 1 teaspoon cornstarch dissolved in 2 tablespoons cold water
• 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
• 1 teaspoon neutral oil (such as canola)

Instructions

1. Sauté aromatics. Warm the oil in a small saucepan over medium heat. Add the garlic and ginger and cook, stirring, for about 1 minute until fragrant but not browned.
2. Add pineapple. Stir in the crushed pineapple and pineapple juice. Let the mixture come to a gentle simmer, about 2 minutes.
3. Season. Add the soy sauce, rice vinegar, brown sugar, and black pepper. Stir to combine and simmer for 5 minutes, letting the flavors come together.
4. Thicken. Give the cornstarch slurry a quick stir, then pour it slowly into the saucepan while stirring. Cook for 2–3 more minutes until the sauce thickens to a glossy, spoonable consistency.
5. Taste and adjust. Taste for balance — add a touch more soy sauce for salt, vinegar for brightness, or sugar for sweetness. Remove from heat and serve warm alongside adobo, grilled meat, or spooned over rice.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 45 | Protein: 1g | Fat: 1g | Carbs: 10g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 310mg