Adobo in the Land of Milk and Honey follows a Filipino-American executive who is sent to the Philippines to oversee the acquisition of a fast-food chain, and instead she finds herself on a deeply personal journey to rediscover her roots and herself. What was the inspiration for the setup of your story?

The emotional authenticity in Mirasol’s journey is unmistakably drawn from my own lived experience.

The Grief That Opens You: Mirasol’s loss of Peter creates the emotional vulnerability that makes transformation possible. I suspect the real grief I’m channeling is the almost four-decade separation from my homeland – that prolonged, unnamed mourning for a cultural self that was never fully developed. Her professional success masking spiritual emptiness reads like my own experience of achieving the American dream while feeling culturally hungry.

The Overwhelming First Tastes: The way I wrote Mirasol’s reaction to authentic Filipino food – that immediate, almost tearful recognition – that’s not imagination. That’s sense memory. That’s me tasting something that awakened parts of myself I thought were gone forever. The specificity of her emotional response to adobo, the way it “loosens something in her chest” – that’s my own homecoming distilled into fiction.

The Shame and Longing: Mirasol’s embarrassment about not speaking Tagalog, her feeling like a fraud in her own culture – this feels deeply personal because it is. The way she simultaneously craves connection and fears exposure as “not Filipino enough” suggests I’ve lived this particular form of cultural impostor syndrome.

The Mother’s Protective Silence: While Jackie’s trauma is fictional, the result – a daughter cut off from her heritage – reflects my own family’s immigration story. The complexity of loving a parent who gave you opportunities by withholding culture feels like a universal immigrant child experience.

The Professional Identity Crisis: Mirasol’s transformation from corporate predator to cultural guardian represents my own late-life reconsideration of what success actually means. After decades of American achievement, finally asking: “But who am I, really?”

The Desperate Need to Save What’s Beautiful: Her fierce protection of Jubilee reads like someone who has finally seen what they’ve been missing and refuses to let it be destroyed. That’s not just character development – that’s the passion of someone who has found their way home and will fight to preserve it for others. I have visited Filipino-inspired restaurants and fast food establishments all over the world and seen the possibility of our Food becoming a worldwide phenomenon. In my own little way, perhaps through this book, I hope to contribute to its popularity and acceptance around the world.

My story becomes a way to process the complex emotions of return – the joy mixed with grief, the recognition mixed with regret, the overwhelming desire to make up for lost time. Mirasol gets to live the homecoming I experienced, but in fiction, I can give her the perfect guide, the transformative mission, the redemptive ending. She carried my heart home.

I found Mirasol to be a very well-written and in-depth character. What was your inspiration for her and her emotional turmoil throughout the story?

Mirasol is indeed a beautifully complex character. My particular struggle inspired her emotional layers, and those of other close friends who went through the same. I hope I was able to “project” these to create such a nuanced protagonist in Marisol.

The Grief-Driven Transformation: Mirasol’s recent loss of Peter creates a vulnerability that makes her open to change in ways she wouldn’t have been before. Her grief seems to strip away her corporate armor, making her more receptive to authentic experiences – like that first taste of adobo that moves her to tears.

Cultural Impostor Syndrome: Her shame about not speaking Tagalog, her awkwardness around Filipino culture, and her simultaneous longing for connection feel drawn from the very real experience of heritage disconnection. She’s Filipino but not Filipino enough, American but carrying something unnameable that America can’t fulfill.

Professional Identity Crisis: The contrast between her corporate success and her emotional emptiness seems inspired by questioning what success really means. When she discovers her company’s true intentions, it forces her to choose between career advancement and personal integrity.

Mother-Daughter Complexity: Her relationship with Jackie – loving but frustrated, seeking connection while being pushed away – adds depth to her character that suggests inspiration from real family dynamics around cultural transmission and generational trauma.

What themes were particularly important for you to explore in this book?

Several profound themes emerge that seem particularly important:

Cultural Inheritance and Interruption: The way trauma can break the chain of cultural transmission feels central to her story. Jackie’s assault didn’t just hurt her – it severed Mirasol’s connection to her heritage. The story captures how historical violence can echo through generations, creating cultural orphans who must fight to reclaim what was stolen.

The Corporate vs. Human Values Conflict: The story is deeply interested in examining how capitalism can be a form of cultural violence. The plan to destroy Jubilee isn’t just business – it’s erasure. The story explores whether it’s possible to succeed professionally while maintaining one’s humanity and cultural integrity.

Food as Cultural DNA: The way I use Filipino cuisine suggests I see food as more than sustenance – it’s memory, identity, resistance. That first taste of adobo, awakening something in Mirasol, feels like I’m exploring how cultural connection can be visceral and immediate, even when intellectual understanding is absent.

The Complexity of “Home”: The exploration of belonging seems particularly nuanced. Home isn’t just geography – it’s culture, family, values, food, language. Mirasol’s journey suggests an interest in how people can create a home rather than just find it.

Collective Action vs. Individual Powerlessness: The way Mirasol builds a community to save Jubilee suggests themes about how meaningful change requires collective effort. Individual good intentions aren’t enough against systemic power.

Redemption Through Cultural Service: Mirasol’s transformation from corporate predator to cultural preservationist feels like you’re exploring whether we can redeem ourselves by serving something larger than our own success.

What is the next book that you are working on, and when can your fans expect it to be out?

Following the publication of “Adobo,” I revisited my debut novel, written 25 years ago, Not My Bowl of Rice. This rereading, a common experience for authors, revealed the melodramatic intensity of my initial work—a whirlwind of passionate romances, bitter rivalries, death, resurrection, shocking betrayals, and unexpected plot twists, culminating in a triumphant resolution, all while richly reflecting the cultural tapestry and values of his homeland. The culinary descriptions, particularly the recipes for Filipino dishes, proved equally captivating, each dish unfolding like a complex narrative with surprising revelations.

This epiphany ignited a transformative vision: Reimagining Not My Bowl of Rice as a telenovela-style semi-graphic novel/cookbook. However, I recognized a deficiency—a lack of visual dynamism, or as Generation Z might say, “optics.” I remedied this by incorporating striking images of characters, locations, and food, resulting in the vibrant rebirth of my debut novel as Not My Bowl of Rice: Telenovela-Style Semi-Graphic Novel and Cookbook! Did I create an entirely new genre of literature? Don’t think so, but I hope the readers will like it- ha-ha!

Author Links: GoodReads | X (Twitter) | Facebook | Amazon