Like a ballerina, Lina transitioned swiftly from precise, quick movements to calm efficiency as she cooked. I’d watch her turn on the rice cooker, add rice, oil, salt and water, and set it with a few beeps. Then, she’d put a large pot on an electric burner to start heating up as she sliced the onion into half-moons and opened a package of chicken, usually drumsticks and thighs. They’d get seared in the pot alongside the garlic and onions. Even if I wasn’t watching her, I knew we were having adobo when the smell of vinegar and black peppercorns, heady and alive, hit the hot metal and started to tickle my nose.