My Published Articles for ViewsHound: Anthony Bourdain Prediction about the Adobo

Saturday, February 14, 2026

Anthony Bourdain Prediction about the Adobo

From My Food Readings This Week

Why is Adobo a favorite? https://bourdainworld.com/food-travel/the-filipino-dish-anthony-bourdain-believed-would-be-a-major-trend/?fbclid=IwZXh0bgNhZW0CMTEAc3J0YwZhcHBfaWQMMjU2MjgxMDQwNTU4AAEed5TJkqj-v66YaaoHJbyK53aaK4P2QA51MN202cxbcwwC73kzoL3nEIOxS94_aem_oVVagWLQOiuRrlM0U89TMg#goog_rewarded

Adobo is a beloved Filipino dish, and its popularity can be attributed to several factors:

Flavor profile: Adobo's unique blend of vinegar, soy sauce, garlic, and bay leaves creates a rich, savory, and slightly sour taste that many people find irresistible.

Versatility: Adobo can be made with various proteins like chicken, pork, beef, or seafood, and even vegetables, making it a versatile dish that suits different tastes and dietary preferences.

Cultural significance: Adobo is often considered the Philippines' national dish, and its aroma and taste evoke a sense of nostalgia and comfort for many Filipinos.

Accessibility: The ingredients are readily available in most markets, and the recipe is relatively simple, making it a staple in many Filipino households.

The Chicken Adobo- Most Popular Dish of the Philippines

Anthony Bourdain's prediction about Adobo becoming a major trend might not be surprising, given its enduring popularity in the Philippines and its growing global recognition. Have you tried Adobo before?I didn't see you at the Happy Hour today so thought I would send a photo showing the wonderful food and drinks you missed.

AI Overview: While Anthony Bourdain did not make a singular, famous, direct prediction solely about adobo, he was a vocal proponent of Filipino cuisine and predicted it would become the next big food trend in the United States, often highlighting

sisig as the dish that would win over American palates.

Prediction for Filipino Food: In an interview with CNN Philippines, Bourdain indicated that Filipino food was poised to break through in the U.S., similar to how Korean food gained massive popularity.
The Role of Sisig: He believed that sisig, a sizzling dish made from chopped pork (head and liver), was the ultimate gateway dish for Americans to get into Filipino cuisine.
Adobo's Position: While he praised adobo and explored its various recipes in Parts Unknown, he viewed it as part of the broader, "less intimidating" entry point for newcomers, along with dishes like sinigang.
Context: He noted that American palates were changing, making them more receptive to the sour, bitter, and savory notes inherent in Filipino cooking.

Note: While some social media posts and articles attribute the "next big thing" prediction directly to Anthony Bourdain, the specific quote "I predict, two years from now, Filipino food will be what we will have been talking about for six months" is generally attributed to Andrew Zimmern. However, Bourdain strongly agreed with the sentiment and praised Filipino food extensively.

Lastly, I received this note and Photo from Maureen B

I didn't see you at the Happy Hour yesterday so thought I would send a photo showing the wonderful food and drinks you missed.

My Reply: Thanks, Maureen for the Photo. I thought you had lumpia? Just Dreaming, I guess!

Top Five News of the Day:🧠 1. Global Security & Geopolitics at the Munich Security ConferenceLeaders at the 62nd Munich Security Conference are confronting rising geopolitical tensions, including the war in Ukraine, security cooperation, and Arctic sovereignty. Denmark’s prime minister warned former U.S. President Trump is “very serious” about interests in Greenland, and Ukraine’s president urged quicker military support against Russia. 
🚨 2. Search Operation Near Missing Woman’s Home in ArizonaLaw enforcement, including the FBI and sheriff’s deputies, have sealed roads outside the home of an 84-year-old woman reported missing near Arizona. The intensified search underscores worries about her welfare. 
🇨🇦 3. Canadian School Shooting VigilIn Canada, Prime Minister Mark Carney and opposition leaders joined a public vigil for victims of a recent deadly school shooting, marking a somber moment and highlighting national discussions on safety and community healing. 
⛷️ 4. Winter Olympics 2026 HighlightsThe Milano-Cortina Winter Olympics delivered historic moments, with Norway adding more gold medals and multiple standout performances across skiing, biathlon, and curling — including unprecedented podium results for several nations. 
🌍 5. Africa’s Tech Leap with Alpha Antenna DeploymentIn a major tech development, MTN and Huawei completed the first large-scale deployment of the “Alpha Antenna”across Africa, a network upgrade expected to significantly expand AI-powered connectivity across the continent. 

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Guest Article from Susan Creamer Joy

In The Silence, by Susan Creamer Joy.

Today's guest article is from Susan Creamer Joy. Susan is one of my favorite authors in the ViewsHound community. Susan writes, draws, paints and cobbles together art from found objects making a variety of creations from jewelry to religious shrines. She frequently sports burns on her fingers from her soldering iron, paint on her palms and ink under her fingernails, but her hair is usually combed. When she is not losing time in the creative vortex of her studio, she is likely to be putting her knowledge of metaphysics and esoteric principles including Tarot, numerology, astrology and graphology to good use in consultations. Her children are grown, her husband still works and her four dogs believe she needs serious help. The title of her article is "A Matter Of Love And Death". Thank you Susan.

By the time they reached my bedroom door, I was already sitting up – my stomach ratcheted in the tense grip of an unnamed anxiety; my pillow, unburdened of my drowsy head.

To this day I cannot explain how I heard them coming up those stairs in their bare feet or how I knew that my father struggled to hold his composure as my mother unnaturally clutched at the folds of her dressing gown and followed him through the dark just a little too closely.

As the wooden groan of those old stairs tore into my bones that morning like a hacksaw, all I could see between the predawn shadows was the letter I’d written just hours earlier to my boyfriend, Chris, propped against the lamp on my desk across the room awaiting an envelope.

I had not slept well. It was late November and there had been so many changes since the middle of August when he left for the Air Force in Texas to begin basic training and I began my third new school in as many years.

The conspiracy between fate and the last surge of the Vietnam draft had broken apart the every-waking-minutes of our two-year union with unceremonious indifference. All that night my sleep had been infested by difficult dreams and by the illogical fear that truth and reality were merging into a darkness only a martyr could grasp; and at sixteen, martyrdom seemed reasonable only for the nuns among the poor in Bangladesh

I tried to remind myself that he would be home on leave for Thanksgiving in another few days. It was the only tether to calm I could find, but reviewing the facts offered little relief from my baseless fears.

Chris had been girding his pacifist sensibilities preparing to fight in an unpopular war that had not yet slaughtered its last innocent. I was hovering just over the line of inclusion at an exclusive girl’s school – missing him – and finding myself at odds with these young women and their attachment to propriety and with the prep-school veneer that blinded them to the fact that they were no better than anyone else.

Neither one of us was coping well with the worlds into which we were respectively summoned, and although we both knew that the best hope for any future together depended upon our individual successes apart, it was far from comforting most days.

But in spite of our discomfort, we each did our best; and, of course, there were the letters: Thin, plain-paper sheets with row after row after row of inky blue words penned with the intensity and awkward locutions of a love learned too soon. It had come down to just that little, but without them, I would have had nothing.

Chris was learning to fly. I was learning to drive, and both of us were aching to transport our souls to an earlier time through the hallowed intercourse of memories and dreams. Of course, as with all progress, there was the positive element: We were both clean and drug-free for the first time in years.

Now, without pretense, both healthy cognition and sincere motivation surfaced regularly in my psychology and prompted me to care about myself and to arbitrate against all temptation for a better standing in the world, in school and in my own eyes. I even did my homework.

No longer was I escaping today but, instead, living for my day of escape. Lying still in the dark of my room, I listened to the slow, padded footfall of my parents approaching and looked to the floor and to my history book half hidden beneath the nightstand where I’d tossed it the night before. Even in this early morning dark I could make out the swirls and stars in colored marker and the bubble-formed letters that spelled C H R I S in soft, juvenile curves on the torn book cover I’d fashioned out of a brown paper grocery bag.

I vaguely remembered throwing it there somewhat hastily. I had been doing my homework when a sense of urgency struck and I realized I had not written him as I promised I would and glancing at the clock, I noted it was nine-twenty-three. Why that mattered I had no way of knowing in that strange moment, but within hours, it would be one I would never forget; and although I was becoming drowsy and still needed to finish my work, I felt beyond reason that my letter to him could not wait.

So, I wrote. I would always write. I would always be there. He would always be there.“Suzi."It was my name spoken in the smooth and familiar voice of my mother, although weighted and slow, her head bowed to her chest almost as though she were speaking only to herself.

"Suzi.” She said it again, this time with sharp gravity, like a chisel against stone.

As if on cue, I leaned forward, flanked now by my parents who were sitting on either side of my bed.

I had been waiting for them. I don’t know how. I didn’t know why. The lights in my room remained off, but it seemed that the darkness clung more to them than to me, as though they were holding it there – away from me to give me enough light to see through the next moment. They were crying. My father was crying. My father. “Suzi. We have something very, very bad to tell you." Chris has been in a car accident." And he was killed."

If the world moved forward from that moment, I could not know it. f there were air around me worth breathing, I could not take it in. And if there were another sound beyond the leaden bellow of my own raw grief, I could not hear it.

"Who am I going to talk to? Who am I going to love?” I wailed. Who will love me? In that sodden moment violated by the intrusion of a predawn light that had no business rising, everything I ever believed about happiness, hoped for in life, trusted in or held as my own was annihilated.

After that – there was no after that. After that came months of hollow redundancies that would inform my way of being in the world for years to come. A serial commitment to waking up each morning, remembering he was gone and dedicating the remaining hours to forgetting. To that end I would try anything, drink anything, ingest anything, inject anything. It was a slow and arbitrary suicide by indifference.

Many years later, at 25 years-old and in the midst of a pharmaceutical free-fall leaning dangerously close to terminal, I discovered that I was expecting a child, and after a decade of forgetting, I remembered. I named him Griffin after the legendary winged lion, a symbol of the divine because what he inspired and the miracle that he was, were nothing less. I remembered and I loved again, and I went on to marry and to the gift of two beautiful daughters.

Today my son is struggling not to drown in the same well of drug abuse and apathy that almost swallowed me – his great, divine wings clipped by his own hand; and while it is up to him to restore his place in the sky, I will do my best to help provide an open runway.

In the meantime, I will continue soaring for both of us; bequeathed as I have been, with a determination to fly from a boy whose ragged fate precluded that dream.

Death took one young man from me once upon a dark time. If it has any intention of coming for this one, it will have to go through me. And trust me, it will be in for one hell of a fight.

Note: If you enjoy this article, please let me know.

Saturday, February 14, 2026

Anthony Bourdain Prediction about the Adobo

Top Five News of the Day:

🧠 1. Global Security & Geopolitics at the Munich Security Conference

🚨 2. Search Operation Near Missing Woman’s Home in Arizona

🇨🇦 3. Canadian School Shooting Vigil

⛷️ 4. Winter Olympics 2026 Highlights

🌍 5. Africa’s Tech Leap with Alpha Antenna Deployment

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