Putting the finishing touches

I cupped my hands around my face, squinting hard through the darkened glass doors to make out what remained in the space within, the afternoon glow of a setting sun behind me providing just enough residual light as it slowly transitioned to the gloaming. As I was on my way to the nearby dessert bar for coffee and ensaymada (buttered Filipino brioche with cheese & sugar) while I did some work, I couldn’t help but spy the long white shelves left behind, tightly bracketed, on which lay nothing but a thin film of dust. Empty socket casings, tubes sticking out from the wall, and black wire hanging from the ceiling were among the indications of what it had earlier been; the tiny bits of debris strewn on the floor from the move, another. The barrenness of the dining room took on a sad complexion devoid of any adornments that previously gave it life. Where there were once tables was a picture of vacuity. The boisterous laughter and engaging conversations over the richness of Roasted bone marrow steak tartare enhanced with an egg yolk, topped with micro greens and aioli on the side or perhaps the fulness of a crisp-skinned Porchetta made moist by swimming in its own jus and served alongside a green apple salad and pineapple jam all washed down with the meatiness of a bottle of Les Vignerons D’Argeliers MCMVII (1907) cabernet-shiraz—hearty fare meant for sharing or to ring in some sort of celebration—were now merely echoes. The small window which framed the compact kitchen, at one point the soul of the entire place was dark. No longer illumined by the blaze of the heating lamp under which each dish was judiciously finished by the chef, head bowed in a world of his own making, totally transfixed in his passion. Only their shadows lingered. 

Australian cuisine. How do you classify it? I'm not so sure and have been at it for years. An attempt at definition based on finite first-hand experience would read: A hodgepodge of different international cuisines cooked exceptionally well by immigrants wishing to make a strong gastronomic case and tether themselves to the taste memories of home. But even this long-winded interpretation doesn't fully capture its essence. I had visited Sydney only twice, the most recent being two years ago. This was where the idea of my starting a small food business first took root over a fully-loaded beef hotdog sandwich and some mulled wine during wintertime in Paddington Markets more than a decade ago. Realizing that it went beyond fish & chips, marmite, & Anzac biscuits—the Australian culinary scene has left an indelible imprint on me.

Spice-hunting in Paddington Markets

Casuals had been a largely under-the-radar restaurant I've been seeing occasional features about on social media. Amidst a clarion call of flashy new openings in the city, this one was quiet and could’ve easily come unnoticed. A place whose dishes carry fine dining undertones with a more relaxed and democratic approach, one detail caught my attention—the head chef was Melbourne-trained. This was a serious consideration for me despite never having set foot in this other major food city, offering an expansive array of market products, a diverse multicultural dining scene, and some of the most acclaimed restaurants and pubs in the world. An atypical calling card for chefs plying their trade this side of the world. So with eyes narrowed and finger on my chin, I decided to pay this restaurant located on the second floor of an old, nondescript arcade in Magallanes—a quiet neighborhood away from the bustling city center and not known for splashy openings—a visit. 

I first swung its doors open for lunch with a friend during the waning days of summer last year. An interior of plain grey walls on which hung several culinary memorabilia, placements for cookbooks that marked the chef's kitchen journey, and shelves that displayed empty wine bottles was its understated aesthetic. A rectangular space confined by tables and a small bar on either side held a small window at the end of it. Framed by an opaque decorative red border, it offered a glimpse into the serious cooking occurring on the daily in that compact kitchen. Since we were there to discuss business, we sensibly opted for lighter offerings so as not to be offset by heftier choices that initially triggered my hunger pangs. 

Miso Cabbage

We started with the Patê: creamy smooth chicken liver on which a spoon-sized pool of adobo jus—providing some savory contrast and a tangy local touch—rested. This was served with toasted sourdough slices that acted as the perfect vehicle for that consummate smearing job. Next came our order of Eggplant Fries--fried light and crisp with a tempura-like crunch, whose delightful controlled sweetness brought about by the Szechuan sweet chili sauce glaze justified getting our fingers sticky over. One thing Casuals was touted for was dressing up their vegetables and taking them to town, removing them from their oft-overlooked and one-dimensional status. I do love my meat, but today I had a different agenda—intrigued by the significance given to greens, seemingly normal in many Aussie restaurants not necessarily vegetarian. I saw this as hardly a novelty but rather a possible shift in dining habits and awareness for the local community. A radical choice not usually found in our menus but something that excited me just as well. We chose the Kalabasa: a wedge of delicately roasted pumpkin glazed in miso. A layer of toasted almonds and herbs such as coriander, parsley, and dill lined its edge to add another dimension of flavor and crunch to its inherent buttery texture—taking what we'd botanically consider a fruit found in stews or in pureed form and baked in a warm pastry shell—to unique and exotic heights. We then had the Miso Cabbage: a thick, rambunctuous version of the otherwise hardy and unheralded vegetable oftentimes regarded as the supporting actor in a tired boiled corned beef saga. This time it came ready to shine on its own--sprinkled with healthy coatings of pangrattato, chives, & kimchi powder in between its layers--set to be cut into with a knife and fork and eaten as a proper dish. For our shared main we had Hamachi collar which was marinated in soy, mirin, ginger, & onions then grilled. This fleshy portion of the fish had a nice char to it and was served with pickled cucumber and kimchi to bridge the harmony between sweet, smoky, and acidic. We closed lunch with nothing else but that quintessentially-Aussie dessert of pavlova which was ritual and would've been a crime not to. Airy and crunchy, it came lusciously topped with macerated berries and fresh fruits. When once again the question to describe Aussie cuisine was asked by my curious friend at the meal’s end, we approached the chef to introduce ourselves, talk about his inspiration, and hope to procure an answer.

Pavlova

A product of the local culinary school system, Chef Rowen Amurao began his education in the halls of De La Salle College of St. Benilde in Manila before heading out west and immersing himself in large-scale hotel service and seasonal American cooking by interning at The Grand Summit Hotel in Canyons Village, Utah. He later did a stint at Grand Hotel in Michigan, providing him with the necessary foundation and discipline in the hospitality field. After coming back home to Manila to further his development—working in and heading local kitchens, as well as starting a small catering company—it was upon his transition to Melbourne, heralded as Australia's culinary capital, that he found his style and flourished. He gained insight from the bold cooking at Rockpool Bar & Grill, known for some of the best steaks in the city, took cues from the serious street food scene at Hawker Hall, & gathered experience from the modern Pan-Asian cooking at Supernormal. What he created at Casuals was a very approachable menu that utilized refined and classic techniques, pulling influence from European and Asian flavors while highlighting local produce.   

With Chef Rowen Amurao

When one is unable to properly navigate the afternoon's pace, deterred from performing at optimum levels, there is usually just cause. Such as overeating. We gathered at our friend’s house for what would be the last time before he put it on the market. This served as our farewell lunch—the site of many a sumptuous meal where the interweaving of good food, deep friendship, and rehashed tales of juvenescence would lend itself well into the night—making this send-off hardly an easy one. As we were busy deciding on a menu for that day, the idea came up to try Casuals, located just outside the village. Since our plans to go there could never seem to materialize, why not take it home instead?

Zucchini

I volunteered to cobble together the menu--a self-serving act which gave me free rein to sample the other dishes I missed on the first go-around and was curious to try. After over-thinking the spread and with takeout bags in tow, I arrived well after the appointed hour with tummies grumbling and patience on the edge. It was the middle of October—colorful Halloween figurines decorated the table, lending a spookily festive mood to this otherwise bittersweet affair. We transferred the food to decorative plates that suitably fit the occasion as I gave the group the rundown of dishes, using the limited amount of attention they were willing to spare. The Zucchini—on which was slathered a rich blend of pistachio salsa, ricotta, & honey—is a dish I still dream about. The soul of Casuals captured in a single dish in which a vegetable—usually sliced into rounds, overcooked until watery, and relegated as a side—is given its moment to shine creating a wonderfully homogenous bite where the subtlety of flavors & textures harmoniously build upon each other—and altogether steal the show. My memories are anchored on this one spectacular dish. Our next two dishes were hearty and meaty, just perfect for sharing. The Braised Lamb Shank came in a piquant tomato sauce with a hint of spice with flat bread to sop it all up. The tender Shortribs, glazed in miso and lacquered in a glossy red wine sauce went well with its accompaniment of couscous and roasted vegetables. A sweet ending was the  Sourdough Bread Pudding--serving as the perfect cot for the apple stew with a dollop of lemony custard on top. 

Braised Lamb Shank

This tapestry of dishes made our takeout lunch more than what we’d initially thought—a simple goodbye meal—concluding with the unscheduled arrival of Bruichladdich and Hennessy bottles, throwing what remained of our afternoon into a bona fide tailspin.

The table of plenty

When my sister-in-law asked if Casuals was an ideal venue to celebrate her birthday the following January, I thought about the sense of community it would foster. Intimate enough to close the place down with tables a comfortable distance from one another. Just perfect for a warm gathering with family & friends. I arrived for lunch as appetizers were being laid out on the table. The Scallops came bubbling from the broiler with burnt chili butter, cilantro oil, & pangrattato, as did the Lucban Croquettes stuffed with a creamy longganisa filling and served with garlic aioli and tomato relish. These served as the perfect welcome dishes to those unacquainted with the place, some of which sat at my table. Whereas dishes already familiar to me followed, it was the Pompano, served with calamansi butter sauce & herb salad that stood out. There’s something about a whole fish dish laid in front of you whose straightforwardness exhibits technical know-how and not to mention moxie. A dish that could’ve easily gone south for a sizeable lunch crowd in that small kitchen came fresh and unadorned highlighted only by its own flavor. The place was at full capacity that day without missing a beat. I went over to the pass to chat with Chef Row, still busy expediting dishes. Given that I’d pretty much had a sampling of most of Casuals’s dishes having since gone thrice, I told him that I was looking forward to brunch for a taste of the toasties next. The Berries & Cream—strawberry, crumble, cream, honey was a good closer, so too was the Flourless Chocolate Cake with salted caramel. Never a bad idea to have your dessert come in pairs.

Pompano

This lunch, unbeknownst to me, served as a swan song for a place I had planned to visit more often. I was glad to have had it end on a high note. Casuals served its last meal on March 31.

I never did have that toasty, but what I brought home was far more significant. As I walked back to my car after my coffee and ensaymada merienda that late afternoon with streaks of coral gleaming on the horizon over the drag of a 6pm highway commute across from me, I glanced at the dark glass doors in that old, nondescript building. I feel fortunate to have discovered a neighborhood restaurant away from my own and invite others to do the same. To uncover these gems hiding in plain sight and support chefs who live and breathe their craft. Their kind is easy to spot—you will surely know as I did. As Chef Row packs his knife case and mans the tram to his next destination, taking all the knowledge of that cuisine that I can’t quite define along with him, I remember what he succinctly told me and my friend after that first lunch in June, which makes it all the more elucidating. Australian cuisine is a vibe. 

The kitchen at Toyo

When an acclaimed chef reveals one of the truly indulgent things there are in life, he knows whereof he speaks. Years before receiving its first ever Michelin star just last October, a seating at Toyo Eatery was difficult to come by. A place that had been lauded for unabashedly championing everything Filipino and elevating it to haute cuisine status in the process was one I always coveted but could never seem to make happen. Could it have been a certain reluctance to regard our cooking as something other than food I grew up eating at home? Or maybe the fact that its pedestrian nature, whose lack of aesthetics and presentation flatly negated it from being something close to exemplary? Was it the idea of over-complicating something deeply familiar — akin to hyperanalyzing the why of a Lola’s (Grandmother’s) loving embrace? Until recently, Filipino food had been largely overlooked or even ignored outside of our own communities abroad — something we’ve always accepted and taken in stride. Mostly because we find it convenient either keeping to ourselves or assimilating with other cultures. Never quite standing out. The truth of the matter is: I never tried hard enough. Even if I, unlike many dismissive skeptics, was willing to submit…I just wasn’t quite sure of how I could be mystified by something I knew quite well and came with its own insular set of rules.

Back in 2016, Chef Jordy Navarra embarked on a journey which sought to rediscover his roots by digging deeper into and reassessing what was truly our own. After mastering his craft in celebrated kitchens such as The Fat Duck in the UK and Bo Innovation in Hong Kong, he established Toyo Eatery. “The only way for a cuisine to evolve is to not put restrictions on one’s expression and creativity,” was his core belief. He utilized and respected traditional cooking methods and techniques without allowing himself to be mired in yesterday’s established standards set by so-called purists. He proceeded to win accolades over the years, among which were the Gin Mare Art of Hospitality award in 2025 and the Flor de Caña Sustainable Restaurant Award in 2023, aside from being named the best restaurant in the Philippines with utter consistency.

As luck would have it, my schedule would suddenly free up to finally try Toyo one given weekend. As reality would dictate: doing so without a proper reservation would be hard to come by. There are certain truths that come with choosing to eat on a whim at a mainstay on the list of Best Restaurants in Asia, with preparations having to be made weeks or months prior. I should’ve known better. There are perks though that accompany running in the inner circle of chefs and movers in the food industry. Remind me to tell you should I ever get there. Although I’m lucky enough to rely on a select few who I could call on should I need to get out of a food-related pickle — someone who would be able to pull strings given my lack of foresight with the online reservation system giving me a two months’ wait. Filipino food had undergone a major shift and renaissance of sorts. Quite unlike those that have come out of our family’s kitchens. Toyo does not depart from that tradition; but rather, honors it and makes it part of its lifeblood.

It was a damp Saturday evening with vestiges of rain glistening from the pavement as I headed out; only the event of a thrashing downpour stood in the way of me and my dinner at Toyo, in the midst of monsoon season. Situated in The Alley: a row of galleries, bars, and restaurants within the larger collective called Karrivin Plaza — each enterprise conveying its brand of creativity as they symbiotically support each other.

I was led to my table, panes of glass separating me from the larger dining room where I spied a long wooden tabletop evoking a strong communal feel. Wrought-iron handrails enclosed a stairway which rose above the adjoining open kitchen for an encompassing view. The walls were a stark grey — but whose homeliness came from the warmth exuded by the staff within as they treated each diner with the attention one would accord a house guest.

The main dining room and open kitchen

What is luxury, exactly? Is it the deliberate repurposing of a menu by grouping existing dishes together and fancifying them as prix fixe? Is it being able to dictate which foods pair well with their proper liquid equivalent in a fixed sequence? The term seems to be carelessly bandied about. When proper care is shown from the moment I sit down, when a casual yet adept approach by the staff is capable of disarming — doing away with all pretentiousness and immediately putting me at ease — that is luxury. More so when my cocktail was set down in front of me.

I started with Sabaw at Kamote — much more than simply translating to soup and sweet potato; it was a light yet concentrated broth made from vegetables and vegetable trimmings sourced from organic farming communities across the region. This was enlivened with drops of malunggay or moringa oil and dashes of black pepper. A perfectly thin and rectangular piece of kamote was grilled and clothespinned by a short stalk of lemongrass and flavored with its oil and sprinkled with asin tibuok — a rare artisanal salt from Guimaras which is cooked down with coconut milk.

Next came Halaan: a simple wooden bowl whose appearance sat in contrast with its contents — that of strikingly green malunggay powder, a fibrous layer of which hid the delicateness underneath — that of Manila clams topped with ginger clam foam and a fried chili leaf for that subtle crisp.

Halaan

Filipino cuisine is widely known to utilize sawsawan or dipping sauces to amp the flavor levels of grilled and fried foods while cutting through the fat with tart acidity and umami. The most ubiquitous of which being toyo (or soy sauce: a humble ingredient which takes time and complexity to craft) after which this restaurant was named; their rendition of Sawsawan was vinegar spiced with black pepper, garlic, and chili into which shrimp from Calatagan, Batangas was to be dipped. Served two ways, the first was fried in sweet potato leaf reminiscent of a Japanese ebi fry. The second was “halabos” — a peel-and-eat shrimp simply blanched in salt water, making its inherent sweetness shine.

Sawsawan

Another hallmark of Filipino cuisine is the curing and marinating of meats or fish in vinegar and citrus — its purpose having been the preservation of ingredients in a tropical climate before the advent of refrigeration. The same also serves as a souring agent which adds a flavorful tang as well as cutting through the fattiness of certain foods. The trio of small dishes came served in coconut shells which symbolized our cuisine’s humble origins and resounding results. The tanigue (Spanish mackerel), handline-caught from the Western Pacific ocean, was thinly sliced and enhanced with tabon-tabon vinegar, pickled ginger, red onion, chili paste, and lime zest. The tuna was similarly caught in the same warm waters and came plump, lightly seasoned in soy sauce and a blend of kabayawa (a small citrus fruit similar to kaffir) and tuba or sugarcane vinegars. This was topped with burong pipino (pickled cucumber), kabayawa zest, and coconut milk infused with red chilis. The most intriguing of the offerings was goat meat served “cooked” in tabon-tabon vinegar, served on a crisp eggplant rice chip and topped with chicharon goat skin and fried goat flakes, along with dalandan (sweet or sour orange native to Southeast Asia) segments and cilantro for balance.

Mga Kilaw

A staple of birthday parties growing up — aside from sweet spaghetti studded with hotdogs, tri-colored pimiento cheese sandwiches, and mocha cake — were skewers of pork barbecue, nicely charred and hot off the grill. So when its elevated version — three different cuts of belly, shoulder, and leg — came to the table, I couldn’t help but feel a rush of nostalgia wash over me. It came deliciously grilled and charred, basted with their 8-year-old pork sauce and topped with pickled radish. A familiar dish from my youth included in a prix fixe menu. Never would I have thought it possible.

3-Cut Pork BBQ

Song broke out in the main dining room to celebrate somebody’s actual birthday as a parade of servers came out en masse to serenade the guest. This concept of barangay or village is something Toyo embraces and was duly demonstrated at that precise moment: a group of people coming together for the upliftment of another. I came back to this memory as I watched a future Manila episode of Somebody Feed Phil — the waitstaff plucking on guitars while regaling the couple with song as they brought out their signature Bahay Kubo dish: named after a local folk song about living off the land’s bounty. It immediately brought tears to his wife Monica’s eyes as it did mine, bemoaning having missed out on tasting that dish (18 different vegetables crammed into one plate, harmoniously brimming with flavor) and all the mirthful singing that ensued. The evening’s congenial host, Ces, who made sure that I was well taken care of the entire night, approached my table during a lull and asked how my meal was going thus far. I told her how I was enjoying the experience and made sure to give props to my friend (who shared a commissary in the same building complex) for having been responsible for the reservation. “Your being the #42 best restaurant in Asia is well-warranted,” I told her. To which she coyly corrected me — “Oh, reverse the digits” — to reflect that year’s ranking. An 18-spot jump to #24 within 12 months is by no means a small feat; it was validation.

The menu progression was both thoughtful and subtle as pork broth in a deep emerald green hue was placed in front of me, served with organic saluyot (jute leaves), okra, and labanos (radish) for texture alongside pickled cucumber. This was followed by velvety soybean curd topped with a sauce made sour with kamias (tree sorrel), green mango, and tomato, to which was added grilled oyster mushrooms and green onions. The next dish was a veritable standout — blue crab meat from Cebu cooked in banana leaf, enhancing its sweetness. This was topped with taba ng talangka (crab roe) to provide salinity and punch. Fried sibuyas tagalog (shallots), dulong (tiny and translucent silverfish), and green chilies were added for texture against the firm yet mousse-like consistency of the crab. A dish so sublime, I couldn’t get enough of it. A flowery palate cleanser that followed — made from an infusion of kabayawa leaves, Tublay lemon peels, and ylang-ylang — felt rather obligatory since I didn’t want the flavors of that luscious parcel of crab to end.

Alimasag, Taba ng Talangka, Gata

The kitchen knew better, though; a trio of small plates made their way next. The Chicken, Cassia Leaf, and Paminta (pepper) was grilled organic chicken atop a reduced, velvety sauce made from cassia leaf, chicken stock, and kampot peppers, topped with garlic chips, sautéed rakyo onions, and garlic chives from the northern Mountain Province. The Silog sa Palayok was a small claypot inside which was a serving of fried rice or “sinangag” made with Tinawon rice: an heirloom variety from the UNESCO-recognized Banaue Rice Terraces, harvested only once a year. Cooked until the grains are fragrant and moist, a succulent piece of dorado (mahi-mahi) accompanied it along with mackerel roe, garlic chips, kangkong (water spinach), and garlic chives. The last dish — and by no means the least — was Pinirito at Ensalada: an excellent fried fish course of bisugo (threadfin bream) expertly crisped, giving the whole piece — head, fins, and tail — the intriguing consistency of an oceanic chip. This was lightly flavored with a Tublay lemon dressing, elevating what was once a humble staple of Filipino households into something more than I expected. A salad of labanos (radish), sliced cherry tomatoes, red onions, and fried dulong was brought together with kalamansi (Philippine lime) and patis (fish sauce) dressing — serving as the perfect foil for the trio of dishes that were more than a resounding sum of their parts.

Chicken, Cassia Leaf, Paminta • Silog sa Palayok • Pinirito at Ensalada

Dessert began with Passion Fruit at Damong Maria (mugwort), similar to pannacotta with jellied passionfruit from the hinterlands and damong maria-infused cream. Next was Mangga at Gata: Philippine mangoes are renowned the world over for their delicate sweetness, here highlighted with smoked coconut cream, reduced coconut vinegar, and topped with candied cashews from Palawan. What caught my attention was not the silky leche flan ice cream that came next; but rather, the dinosaur egg-looking orb placed right in front of me. I was incredulous as Ces began shaving the orb onto my ice cream, explaining that it was actually a pre-colonial salt — asin tibuok from Albuquerque, Bohol — that lent a playful saltiness and harmonious balance to the dish, milder than sea salt. The meal closed with local mignardises: cassava baked in a traditional oven or “pugon” with charcoal; pastilyas (a sweet milk candy) made from carabao’s milk, slowly cooked for three hours then rolled in white sugar; and tsokolate — essentially fish sauce-flavored dulce de leche coated in dark chocolate.

Leche Flan Ice Cream at Asin Tibuok

“Solo dining is an absolute luxury and one that I haven’t indulged in for a long time,” Chef Jordy confided to me almost wistfully as he sauntered to my table at the conclusion of my meal. I reflected on the evening’s overall experience. The privilege of enjoying a meal alone — in the absolute moment to savor its various elements — made me realize that irrespective of where I am, be it at a shrine of high cooking or in the middle of a rice field in a humble bahay kubo, what is essential in completing the dining experience is being on the receiving end of warmth and the genuineness to serve. The term “maalaga” — being caring — is an innate quality found in the Filipino. Great service, Chef Jordy believes, is something to build upon and regard with pride. We shouldn’t treat this as a mere stop on the road in this starting point of global gastronomic recognition, but rather a flow state of who we really are. Here I was in Toyo’s kitchen, counters spotless and stoves shut off for the night, with the crew all in a jovial and celebratory mood. Having had a chance to share in this generous energy — that, for me, is luxury in and of itself.

After-hours at Toyo

The Alley at Karrivin, Karrivin Plaza, Chino Roces Ext., Makati City, Metro Manila

The nature trail at Camp John Hay

The mountain retreat north of Manila where lowlanders would travel to escape the oppressive grasp of a stifling Philippine summer: Baguio, standing at 4,900 feet above sea level, was where endless vacations were spent riding horses bareback, climbing nearby hills, and doing anything possible outdoors. While scaling the perimeter wall and turning the neighboring presidential Mansion House’s golf hole into a makeshift baseball mound along with my cousins wasn't the best of choices, countless childhood memories were created and continue to be made in this pine-scented haven. We traversed winding mountain trails, slid down steep knolls littered with pine needles on makeshift sleds made of cardboard, and jumped into large holes in the ground presumably dug by treasure hunters seeking legendary booty left behind from the Japanese occupation. It's a getaway spot I'll always treasure and share with my entire family. As a result of its proximity to Benguet, a province known as the salad bowl of the Philippines, it likewise happens to be a place conducive to cooking given its freshest produce and cool mountain air circling the kitchen as I work.

I've plank-grilled salmon with a mustard, maple syrup, & tarragon glaze by the open garage, cooked a prime rib with spinach-porcini stuffing served with red wine & morel sauce, along with horseradish cream for family on New Year's Eve, prepared a brunch fit for a king consisting of cheesy cauliflower & leek gratin, a stack of lemon-ricotta pancakes with plump local strawberry & thyme compote, & Elvis sandwiches filled with peanut butter and banana before frying in butter. Most recently I experimented with roasting an entire chicken stuffed with aromatics (red onions, lemongrass, & native oregano) in a cast-iron pan inside the fireplace with positive results, given that it didn't burn anything down. Any chance to cook, I'll take. Such as the time I was to prepare a goat cheese risotto as a side dish but in my haste, left the box of carnaroli rice on the countertop at home en route to Baguio. I was later encouraged to use local adlai as an unexpected substitute grain and was pleased with the outcome. There are many options for non-cooks, as well. The dining scene has expanded over the years showcasing flavorful local Cordilleran cooking as well as other cuisines. 

This is a list of restaurants I've been to over the span of numerous visits to Baguio where the relationship between food and shared recollections has been indelibly intertwined and savored.

My homemade rustic terrine served with cocktail onions, gherkins, & mustard with a cup of mulled wine by the fireplace

Lemon & Olives - A Greek taverna where the late Chef Takis Polychroni from Athens was a constant fixture seated on the front porch as if welcoming guests into his abode. It has retained its rustic charm through the use of white wood and warm mountain touches. We always start the meal with some saganaki or fried zucchini chips which are a veritable crowd-pleaser. The tzatziki, hummus, & spanakopita are likewise great staples that round out the mezze department. I've long seen tables fill up each time I visit, contributing to the community vibe. The moussaka, grilled lamb chops, kebab platter, & souvlaki are always great for sharing. On slow afternoons, I'd find myself walking over from our nearby place armed with a good book to enjoy some Ekmek (a traditional dessert of shredded phyllo pastry soaked in lemon honey syrup and topped with custard & cream) with coffee overlooking the balcony. This place holds a lot of memories owing to a particular evening when my sister and I spontaneously busted out a raucous chicken dance for my sister-in-law's Birthday which may or may not have scared the waitstaff away.

26 Outlook Drive South

An afternoon helping of Ekmek with coffee at Lemons & Olives

Amare La Cucina - A steaming box of pizza margherita or pizza con prosciutto with a hit of chili flakes and a glass of red wine by the fireplace on a foggy night has to be one of my premium Baguio memories. This was back when Amare Cucina was located in the Albergo Hotel, the venue where my then 9-year-old nephew legendarily dispatched 7 large slices all by himself. Always tightly-packed, finding a table in its once-limited space was a luxury while watching the pizzaiolo fashion your pizza for takeaway--a test in hungry patience. They have since moved to a more spacious location, a former summer guest house on Outlook Drive, now part of what has become restaurant row. The menu has also expanded to accommodate the crowds since its opening a few years ago. But my singular objective is the pizza. The oven (now moved outdoors at the front of the restaurant) is still an attraction, with my kids having been invited to help toss the dough--a nice touch for families and those who've dreamed about cooking in Naples.

22 Outlook Drive South

The pizzaiolo at work in Amare La Cucina

Valencia's - The third establishment I've visited on this restaurant-lined street along with the above two has similarly retained its homey charm, since all three were once actual vacation houses. Its dark panelled wood and patio seating were immediately inviting and gave the feel of a home opened up to passersby while its owners were away on a holiday. A cherished spot for me, given the time when this was the only place able to accommodate our group of 20 at such short notice. This is where to be when you want some approachable and nostalgic dishes such as prawns in garlic thermidor, salpicao, pork ribs, & paella. We returned over the next couple of days for happy hour (a dirty martini and amaretto sour being my choices) while taking in the view amidst the late-afternoon chill. 

30 Outlook Drive South

Mami in Baguio at Valencia’s 

Baguio Country Club - I've made innumerable visits to experience this place through its various iterations over the decades. One thing has remained the same, though--its essence. Established in 1905 by then Governor General William Cameron Forbes for American officials, it is a historical landmark which retained a lot of its core aesthetics such as the use of wooden logs and beams and other mountain lodge embellishment, securing its place as the grand dame of the Philippines' summer capital. A typical day for me many years ago would entail a lung-bursting altitude run up the mountain behind our home or a gym session at the club--both appetite-inducing activities which would almost always result in a cheeseburger or a small meal at the Veranda as I stared into the blue sky and green fairway. This venue became my favored workspace when in Baguio, as I basked in the quiet of the Carlos P. Romulo library at the opposite end of the wood-planked wing. Times have changed since, with no trip complete without an outdoor meal of calamares, chicken inasal, or a gravy-laden pot roast after hitting the bowling alley or taking a dip in the heated pool with the kids. Their signature ice tea will always be my anchor to days past. Another favorite is Hamada, with its Japanese offerings in an entertaining misono setting--seeing that pillar of fire billow up as the cook sets the table ablaze while the fog rolls in will always be a complete sensory experience. For members and their guests only.

Baguio Country Club Road 

The view from the Veranda

Farmer's Daughter - I've taken it upon myself to explore more of Baguio with an abundance of restaurants dotting the city. One that I finally managed to visit was a bit of a trek at the onset but well worth braving the snarl of traffic for. Farmer's Daughter is a showcase of Cordilleran cuisine in its unadulterated form. Situated in a spacious and airy native-inspired hut right beside the Tam-Awan Ifugao Village, patrons are made to order prior to sitting down to ease the flow of food from the kitchen. The introductory visit came upon my arrival in the city after heading up twisting mountain roads at the end of a 4-hour early morning trip from Manila--and just in time for lunch. I was looking forward to their Kinuday jen baboy (a very smoky grilled pork dish, almost jerky-like in flavor) tempered by a side order of Pak-pako salad (fiddlehead fern with salted egg and tomatoes) plus a hot helping of steamed rice. Brief as my meal was, I left with a frozen pack of their housemade smoked longganisa which I enjoyed along with a fried egg, garlic rice, & the spiciest sukang Ilocos I could find over the next several breakfasts at home.

Tam-Awan, Long Long Benguet Road

A lunch of Kinuday jen baboy and Pak-pako salad at Farmer’s Daughter

Choco-late de Batirol - Camp John Hay was the epitome of leisure adventure growing up. Countless hours were spent trying to master the angles and strokes at the mini-golf course as well as rolling to the beats of the latest 80's hits at the indoor rollerskating arena. Summers were magical back then. I try to re-capture that sense of wonder with my kids—the choices among horseback riding, hiking the eco-trail, and mini-golf still remain. But what I overlooked in recent years was the restaurant hiding in plain sight: Choco-late de Batirol. Serving the heartiest hot chocolate just perfect for the climate by using an age-old technique: beating native chocolate or tablea in water or milk with a traditional wooden whisk, or batirol, in an aluminum pitcher called a tsokolaterato create a creamy and foamy beverage. I enjoy mine with local sweets such as turon and bibingka for merienda (afternoon snack). Filipino favorites such as kare-kare, sotanghon guisado, & fried chicken enjoyed amidst the backdrop of lush trees and a sloping golf course makes this cozy joint a must-try in what was once an American military rest and recreation area.

Gate 4, Igorot Garden , Camp John Hay 

Hot chocolate with merienda at Choco-late de Batirol

Hatch Coffee - I drew pleasure visiting the oft-crowded Baguio Public Market at the foot of Session Road to buy fresh produce for my upcoming meals. This always culminated in a stop by Garcia's premium coffee to weigh and purchase a kilo of their bold and aromatic arabica beans ground before my very nostrils. When I don't have this satisfying Baguio brew at my disposal, there are quite a number of coffee houses found in the city for this purpose. One that I had been eager to try was Hatch Coffee. Concealed from view at the end of a narrow street, its entrance was marked by greenery which opened up to a spacious garden, with its walkway leading up to an airy structure serving some of the city's best cups. But there’s more in store than just coffee: they also serve a mean smashburger--crispy on the edges with cheese, lettuce, & tomato in between buttery brioche buns. The sleeper of the visit, though, was the gooey grilled cheese sandwich my daughter couldn't get enough of, which came ready to be dunked in a sweet habanero honey dip.

135 Easter Road 

Coffee and a smashburger at Hatch Coffee

Bistro Lokal - I spent last year's Father's Day celebration discovering another new restaurant across town. Bistro Lokal had been a place high on my list for years but never seemed to actualize. The lengths one takes for food saw our driver maneuvering through Baguio's backstreets and winding roads to make our reservation at dusk. Once arrived at the top floor of a 2-story building in a side of town I had never been to, I knew this place would be special. I toured the dining room and peered outside the window. This was a different view of Baguio--the soft golden light bouncing off ramshackle houses and old buildings giving off a pastel hue. Very charming in its distinct way. The kitchen was run by Chef Miko Dy who started his cooking career as an ISCAHM (International School for Culinary and Hotel Management) alumnus like myself and later on became an instructor. We started with what was perhaps one of the best sisig dishes I have tasted in recent memory, served with warm pockets of pita bread alongside. Next came the Kare-Kare ni Mama: their rendition of the beloved peanut and oxtail stew, its inherent sweetness balanced by the salty umami of bagoong (shrimp paste). We also enjoyed the Roast chicken with pinuneg (blood sausage) and Cordilleran cassoulet: a hearty and smoky affair with mountain legumes, shaved radishes, and aromatics. The meal was washed down with tall glasses of sweet and fruity gulaman (a jelly drink), since no meal is complete without dessert.

307 Upper Magsaysay Road 

Roast chicken with pinuneg and Cordilleran cassoulet at Bistro Lokal 

Chaya - Not an easy place to find at first, but somewhere we always return to for serious Japanese food amidst a charming and homey setting. Nestled along the quiet of Legarda Road and away from the tangle of downtown traffic is a wood and stone cabin within a shelter of tall trees and vines. Run by a Filipino gentleman and his Japanese wife, there couldn't possibly be a better example of fusion than this restaurant, with its wood panelled interiors on which Baguio tapestries and weavings were hung, all while serving dishes that retain their Japanese sensibilities. We've had several group meals over favorites such as the sushi platter, sukiyaki, tendon, & tempura. An insider tip by a regular chef-patron I'd be remiss not to share: the salmon carpaccio and crispy fish bones you can request off the menu.

72 Legarda Road 

A bowl of Tendon at Chaya

Highland Smokehouse - I first visited this place when the pandemic was just about waning and everyone was getting back on their feet. Found deep beyond Session Road and off onto a side street is this delicious house of smoke. While I am by no means a pitmaster nor a barbecue connoisseur, this brought me back to my first taste of barbecue in Houston or at the Big Apple Block Party in New York where barbecue cooks from all around the country would annually converge. It was the authentic combination borne of fire and spices that clearly left an impression on my tastebuds. I had some of the most legit Texas-style brisket and beef belly, fish tacos, elote corn, & onion rings while seated al fresco that evening on a bench amidst the most minimalist concrete setting. It has since expanded to occupy the second floor, where wooden touches provide the ideal complement to the warmth of the grill. 

Calle Uno Food Hub, 3 Escoda Street 

The platter at Highland Smokehouse

Craft 1945 - Housed in a 1950’s era heritage dwelling swathed with a white wood facade as emblematic as a Baguio house can be, this is a refuge amongst pine trees. A place where one can have an elevated view of the neighboring golf course from the windowsill seating area and catch the mountain colors change with the hours. Serving very serious craft beer such as golden ales, lagers, & strawberry fruitbeers to name a few, this establishment retains classic Spanish fare such as gambas con gulas, seasonal almejas & calamares, patatas fritas, Spanish wings, & various paellas as pioneered by Spanish pelotari Marcos de Guisasola at his restaurant Casa Marcos back in 1945.

9 Outlook Drive South

The Craft 1945 heritage house dating back to the 1950’s

Some Notable Side Trips

Levain Bakery (Korean) for their red bean and twisty donuts for breakfast. A visit to Baguio would be lacking without purchasing some Good Shepherd peanut brittle and strawberry jam directly from the convent to enjoy or give away as gifts (pasalubong); while neighboring Mine's View Park is where I go for the satisfying strawberry taho (a warm silken tofu drink with syrup, & tapioca pearls). Burnham Park was where I found old-school ice cream sandwiches served in bread--a re-discovery I excitedly introduced to my kids in between bike rides and a visit to the carnival. Sizzling Plate is the place to go for a taste of the Baguio dessert from my childhood: the sans rival (a layered dessert cake of crispy meringue, French buttercream, & chopped cashews) to take home and enjoy after every meal. Lastly, should your curiosity ever be piqued by a vendor carrying a box of native sweets around, indulge and hope that she’s selling carioca: deep-fried glutinous rice balls on a stick with brown sugar-coconut glaze--and do let me know when you find her. I’d like to try some again after all these years.  

Strawberry taho at Mines View Park

Snapper Kinilaw

There are oftentimes palpable memories that come rushing back without any warning. Those indelible flashbacks, activated by random stimuli such as a familiar song, a scent, or taste however fleeting. Or perhaps piling into a single Kia Stonic along with 3 other grown men while complaining about legroom—something that hasn’t been done since our carpooling days back in high school 34 years ago is enough to reawaken something deep in your core. My group of friends, ones I’ve practically grown up with, were in the mood for something new and buzzing. There had been a whirlwind of restaurant openings the past few months, the prospect of which was nothing short of exhilarating. There was talk of a newly opened place at the time found in Legazpi Village, Makati which was popular among the food crowd and insiders. Always a good sign. So here we were once again carpooling, but on our best behaviour and on our way to make our dinner reservation at Hálong. Gone were the early morning exchanges of dreadful surprise exams and tricks to pass them, as well as our latest school crushes interspersed with arguments about which radio station to tune in to, since tonight—the onus was on me to decide. We’d been planning this meal for so long that not even the off-chance of our car spinning uncontrollably 540 degrees on a wet road while disrupting the Sunday quiet in a residential village like it did 3 decades before could alter our dinner plans.

Hungry and eager for our 7:30 seating, we arrived at the restaurant earlier than expected factoring in traffic and a possible dearth of parking on a busy weeknight. We were thankfully redirected to the rear of the building which had designated spots by a very helpful lady while my friend and I went in ahead to grab our table. We were immediately drawn to the casual intimacy of the place made so by the warm lighting, the rows of shelves laden with crockery, and woven wood touches on the walls and tables, as well as by the staff who attentively led the way. We noticed Chef Cara Davis: her signature colorful bandanna wrapped around her head and with multiple stints at impressive outposts in New York, Chicago, San Sebastian, & Mexico under her belt–judiciously expediting orders at the pass.

The kitchen at Halong

There’s joy in community dining; not least of which is being able to try myriad dishes in one go and savor as much of them together. As we knew some friends at the table beside us, a sense of familiarity and confidence ensued when they told us what to order as we willingly submitted and went with their suggestions. We opened our meal with an order of Chips & Dip: large, crispy shards of tapioca chips alongside mentaiko mayo, ginger scallion oil, & togarashi all blended together in a smooth & creamy consistency. Cracking the bright orange and white chips into manageable pieces, we used them to shovel the flavorful dip into our mouths. This was the ideal starting point and definite appetite-abater for the evening. Next came the Shrimp aguachile, a fresh and piquant number deliciously transforming from its grey, raw form as it delicately cooked in an acidic marinade of roasted peppers and kalamansi juice, slowly gaining a slight firmness and bite right before our very eyes. The thin wedges of tomato, radish, & avocado decorating its red-orange surface while providing some texture. Across the room, tables were beginning to fill up with expectant diners who like us were looking forward to an inspired culinary display as this was steadily shaping up to be.

Hálong is a place defined by its fusion of cultures–most notably Asian and Mexican. A word meaning to care for or nurture in Ilonggo, the regional representation and influence borne from her mother’s side of the family. Raised in Toronto and exposed to food at a very early age, Chef Cara has gained the notoriety and kitchen resolve needed to run her own show. Stints in gastronomic temples such as Alinea, Eleven Madison Park, & Arzak may seem like a dream for most; but it hasn’t been all glamour in these Michelin-starred kitchens. Having seen and experienced it all, this rigorous lifestyle steeled and instilled in her a sense of discipline and confidence. So much that she proceeded to work at Arca: a restaurant that draws its inspiration from the open-fire techniques of the Mayan jungle in Tulum where she functioned as R&D chef. It is currently ranked #22 on Mexico’s Best Restaurants list. She furthered her relationship with Mexican cookery by opening Mestixa with best friend Jose Luis Hinostroza (who later moved on to helm Arca) serving their vibrant and synergistic takes on street food, before coming home to settle down and start Hálong in Manila.

Pork belly taco

All eyes were on me as I set down the taco on a nicely-lit shelf right behind to take advantage of the illumination for a dramatic shot, quite oblivious to the fact that the flavorful Pork belly laid on a blistered flour tortilla and sauced with gochujang, pineapple, & habanero which I unceremoniously yanked from the table was as much an awaited dish to devour by my dining mates as it was my photo subject. A clever interpretation of street influences–its sweetness and fullness was reminiscent of the comfort you’d get from peking duck. Next in line was the sublime Uni Toast–decadent mini-logs of uni spread on lightly toasted brioche. This was enhanced with umeboshi (Japanese pickled plum), miso, & a generous grating of foie gras…a rich two-bite affair, not cloying in the least which made us collectively swoon and dream about the next one.

Uni Toast

The dishes we ordered were well-sequenced as the indulgence was cleansed with a plate of Cold sesame noodles which served as a slight intermission in a light sauce with chili, crispy shallots, & cucumber offering some crunch and flavor contrast. The richness continued with the arrival of the Bone marrow: a long piece properly torched and caramelized with a tamarind glaze, which we slathered on grilled sourdough with a bit of pickled chayote to cut through all that delicious fat. Chef Cara finally made her way to our table–a welcome pause from the high that we were experiencing to get to know us and ask how our meal was, exhibiting the same Ilongga care as her mother who happened to be the one who graciously notified us of the rear parking spaces earlier in the evening. Our meal ended with our heartstrings tugged by a nostalgic reference–a dessert of Sticky rice churro served with horlicks ice cream and a dusting of cinnamon. Flavors so reminiscent of childhood that we couldn’t help but smile.

Bone Marrow

Group shot with Chef Cara Davis

The kitchen was silently humming in an efficient manner as I returned and sat at the bar for the very first seating. What stood out to me was the absence of noise as I watched first hand how the new menu items were seamlessly being assembled before making their way out. It had been nearly a year since my last dinner and was looking forward to seeing how the restaurant and cooking style had evolved since. My schedule was packed that evening and reservations weren’t easy to come by given its new Bib Gourmand status and the fact that it just happened to be the middle of Valentine’s week. So I used that small window to try their new standouts. The Crab Tinga Tostada, its distinct taste accentuated with chive aioli, mandarin marmalade, & chipotle mayo made me pause with each croquant bite. It was topped with carrot escabeche providing more visual brightness & tang. The Snapper Kinilaw was as good and refreshing as any ceviche with fresh slivers of fish marinating in a blend of habanero vinegar, jalapeno, and rambutan–an unexpected ingredient Chef Cara pointed out which added a pleasantly fruity element of sweetness to the sour. A shaving of coconut yuzu snow provided another cape of texture. The taste memory of this dish has lingered with me ever since. The final dish was a bubbling pot of the Birria rice bowl in which tender oxtail sat atop glutinous rice, its bottom nicely toasted and served with a side of crispy beef tendon chicharron to eat alongside and sop up all the silky sauce thereafter. A day before its launch on the menu, I was glad to have that initial preview.

Crab Tinga Tostada

As delicious as it was, the brevity of my last meal only highlighted one thing as I bade goodbye and made my way out the door: that regardless of who you are and the nature of your visit at Hálong; expect to be treated with the same warmth and care as it was for any other time. For this, after all, is their guiding principle.

G/F, First Midland Bldg., 109 Gamboa St., Legazpi Village, Makati City, Metro Manila

Chef Patrick Curitana overseeing the pass at Los Tacos

I brought my two kids to an activity park not long ago — the ones where dads, if limber and foolhardy enough to show their kids up, are encouraged to participate. I engaged my son in a little one-on-one basketball in an enclosed net cage, raced my daughter on a simulated treadmill racetrack, and jumped on trampolines, all to near exhaustion. Being a child of the 80’s, it doesn’t take much to regain the thrill of lost memories just waiting to be relived; albeit nowadays with a whole lot of caution and pain. Many middle-aged burned calories later, we scoured the mall for a late lunch. My eyes lit up all of a sudden when I spotted a familiar logo at the opposite side of the promenade — my beacon of sustenance after late-night screenings of Twister or Mission: Impossible at Century Theatre on Whipple Avenue in California, circa 1996: Taco Bell. A couple of taco supremes were all it took to make my Mexican dreams come true back then. My kids discovered and loved it for the very first time that very Sunday as nostalgia hit hard and they completed the circle.

The Philippines and Mexico are no strangers to each other. There are many similarities between our cultures such as religion, Spanish-sounding surnames, and shared history. The Manila-Acapulco Galleon Trade was an essential aspect in the shaping of international commerce and cultural exchange in our nation — a trade route that connected Europe, the Americas, and Asia, spanning 250 years and introducing many crops to our shores, including tomatoes and avocados: necessary ingredients in building the ideal taco. The Mexican food scene, in steady bloom over the years, is now flourishing with serious taquerias in select corners of the city. These are among my personal selections.

A miniature model of the galleon ship El Almirante at the San Agustin Museum

La Chinesca — A pioneer of this movement, Chef Bruce Ricketts has been plying his trade for well over 10 years, educating our palates in the intricacies between a taco campechano and a wagyu suadero while exhibiting pure street flair. With several outposts in the city, I’ve found myself frequenting the one at The Grid — a food court with a large number of stalls representing a wide variety of cuisines, located at Power Plant Mall in Rockwell. Strangely enough, every visit has had me zeroing in on stall #10 to enjoy my usual sampler of tuna tostadas, carnitas, carne asada, and chicharrón tacos washed down with a dirty horchata, no matter my resolve. “I’ll explore more next time” is what I repeatedly tell myself. I’ve likewise been to their BGC (Bonifacio Global City) outpost in a proper restaurant setting with a wider selection. This is the OG in my book.

The Grid: 2/F Power Plant Mall, Makati City

East Gallery Place, 28th St., Bonifacio Global City, Metro Manila

A taco plate at La Chinesca BGC

Lagrima — Tucked at the end of a quiet street in Salcedo Village is a place I visited many years ago — in their erstwhile location on the other side of Makati — for a taste of their street tacos washed down with a couple of Coronas. Long overdue for a return visit, my over-enthusiasm turned into a binge. My friend and I started with a plate of Super Nachos with carnitas and chorizo, which went well with their selection of local IPAs. I then attempted to conquer their Knights of the Round — a sampler of gringas, similar to a quesadilla filled with melted cheese and a choice of carnitas, pollo asado, carne asada, al pastor, shrimp, and fish — as my friend, looking at me incredulously, prudently paced his meal with half the quantity. A messy yet tasty spectacle ensued, brightened with lime and doused from squeeze bottles of red and green salsas. Quite the view, as I was oblivious to the glances of passersby on the other side of the window seats while I went about my unfettered business. Not something I dispatched in one go, but it surely hit the spot when eaten directly from the takeout box a few hours and cervezas later.

G/F Paseo Parkview Suites, San Agustin Street, Salcedo Village, Makati City, Metro Manila

The Knights Of Round at Lagrima

Mamacita — I visited this Michelin-recognized spot in Bonifacio Global City during a period of abstinence from meat and alcohol — a huge challenge for one so inclined to having his meat tacos washed down with beer or tequila. I wondered if a dry and meatless dinner at such a spirited locale, with the DJ’s set about to begin, could actually work. I arrived at the bar where plates of Elote (grilled corn in chipotle mayonnaise with sesame, chips, and seaweed), Ceviche (fisherman’s catch marinated in leche de tigre with poblano, tomato, and cucumber), and Caesar Salad (crunchy romaine tossed in garlic anchovy dressing with fried capers, tomato, and masa-fried onion crumbs) — and my friend — were already waiting. The huge, colorful calaveras scrutinized us from every corner as we ate. Coming off a day-long fast, we proceeded to order two rounds each of Baja fish (with chipotle frijoles, cilantro crema, pickled cabbage, pineapple salsa), Camarones (with salsa macha and cabbage), and Gobernador tacos (prawns, roasted green peppers, quesillo, caldo de camarón). The kitchen was assembling tacos as fast as people could order them that night — a testament to Chef Charles Montañez’s talent and draw. The Tajín fries were crazy good, too. I returned a few months later — a visit I owed myself for the full experience — just in time for a last order of Carnitas and Campechano tacos alongside their Cacao Tree in Oaxaca signature cocktail before the kitchen closed past midnight.

Forbestown Road, Bonifacio Global City, Metro Manila

The Elote, Ceviche, & Caesar salad at Mamacita

Los Tacos — Less than 2 km away lies another taqueria that thrives on strong word of mouth. Located in Uptown Residences, Los Tacos is a more subdued affair serving serious food this side of the Yucatán. With an open kitchen and a cadre of cooks manning and fanning the coals, this sophisticated restaurant serving refined takes on Mexican fare benefits greatly from Chef Patrick Curitana’s ever-constant presence as the team deftly coaxes fire and smoke to help set the mood. Not quite the place to take a pre-teen with a growing appetite for lunch, as I came to learn one Saturday afternoon. I enjoyed small plates of ceviche (swordfish in a grilled pineapple aguachile with lime leaf oil) followed by shrimp tostadas (shrimp with a drizzle of crab fat crema, salsa fresca, and red radish preserve). My boy enjoyed two small plates of campechano tacos (tender wagyu beef cheeks on blue corn tortillas with chorizo Mexicano and salsa tatemada) very much — though as far as youngsters go, he was longing for something more familiar, which led us to the nearest burger spot for him to be fully satiated. I’ve since returned on more than one occasion with the proper company. The perfect start was an order of Esquites (grilled corn, habanero anchovy crema, and a generous shaving of manchego), followed by the Tostada de cecina (salt-cured ribeye, edamame guacamole, chili crema). The server warned me not to expect a steak in its usual doneness — what arrived were slivers of extremely rare meat atop a crisp corn tortilla. This dish pushed boundaries and delivered a wholly sublime outcome. Tacos de pescado (beer-battered fish, mango habanero jam, pickled cabbage) followed the preceding dishes beautifully, the meal enjoyed with a glass of Madre Ensamble from Oaxaca, on the rocks. This Bib Gourmand recipient was exactly as advertised.

UGF, One Uptown Residences, 36th Street, Bonifacio Global City, Taguig, Metro Manila

The Tostada de cecina at Los Tacos

Taqueria Franco — Another Bib Gourmand recipient, this was the latest restaurant on my radar and had been for quite some time. While strictly not a Mexican restaurant, it is an exciting prospect given the French influence woven into the construction of its tacos. Joel Robuchon-trained Chef Miko Calo leads the charge with panache and Latin flair. I was lucky enough to snag the last table on a busy Wednesday evening. I started with the Junk Le Bon — a foil bag of Granny Goose Tortillos loaded with garlic béchamel, beef haché, tomato concassé, pistou, feta cheese, and Franco pepper sauce — and their Octopus Fry with eggplant, honey, tajín, and pickled green chili with a harissa mayo dipping sauce, brand new on the menu. A cocktail of The Fig and the Goat, a dirty martini made rich with goat cheese-washed gin, was the perfect drink between courses. We struck a fine balance between land and sea with our taco orders: Soft-shell crab expertly deep-fried with cilantro, harissa mayo, chili-lime vinaigrette, and purple cabbage; followed by pork confit — tender Pork belly confit in ginger BBQ sauce with cabbage, sesame dressing, parsley, basil, and a sprinkle of sesame seeds. Prawn tacos followed perfectly, with rouille, avocado mousse, Franco pepper sauce, and chili-lime vinaigrette — the acidity of which set the stage for the finale: Lamb Bourguignon Birria with oyster mushrooms, parsley-coriander pesto, and emmental dunked in flavorful lamb jus. My friend and I were too full for dessert and looked forward to our stogie and whiskey nightcap at a nearby cigar bar.

130 LPL Center, L.P. Leviste Street, Salcedo Village, Makati City, Metro Manila

The Prawn tacos at Taqueria Franco

House of Birria — A notable mention: ordering from this joint on E. Rodriguez in Quezon City was a highlight and a source of sustenance for my brood, keeping them sane and satisfied during those post-pandemic days. Patience may have been tested on more than one occasion living on the other side of the city while waiting for our orders, but all was smoothed over once those boxes of birria tacos loaded with beef, cilantro, and onion arrived. With a generous squeeze of lime and salsa on the side, that bowl of hot beef consommé was just waiting to be dunked into.

1216 E. Rodriguez Sr. Avenue, Quezon City, Metro Manila

The Premium beef birria at House of Birria

Wine tasting in Carmignano, Italy

To say that food forms a significant part of my life is a foregone conclusion. I enjoy describing what I eat, waxing poetic, and relishing its textural contrasts and flavor — sometimes to excess, with people responding with secret side-eyes or throwing up their hands in amused resignation at the person I am.

I love the fact that food can take you places, back to a certain time and place. It unlocks memories which mean so much. You remember people you were with, what the conversation was about, and what you were sipping on, and hope that the others present at the time hold it in the same regard. 

My affection for food started when I was in elementary school. I remember leafing through my Mom's magazines and stopping to stare at ads showing a Yuban coffee can or a Hunt's Manwich sloppy joe, only because I liked how warm and appetizing the images looked. We were by no means a cooking family growing up, which is not to say that we were never surrounded by food. If we weren't dining out in our favorite ‘80s-era Japanese or Italian restaurants in Manila, we were hosting meals for friends and relatives, setting up the foundation for these food recollections.

I remember my first taste of piping hot lasagna with meat sauce and cheesy béchamel layered between flat noodles, which became the centerpiece of every childhood birthday celebration of mine. Or perhaps the revelatory experience of eating grilled unagi(eel), on which a gleaming sweet sauce was brushed and came nicely arranged on pristine white rice in a lacquered Japanese box.

As I got older and my interest compounded, I found myself actually trying my hand at creating food and not only trying to live vicariously through Jacques Pépin, Julia Child, and Stephen Yan's weekly cooking shows.

The first-ever dish I successfully made from scratch was Cajun-inspired, born on a sunny afternoon on Howard Street in San Francisco. It was a bold and spicy rendition of potatoes, pan-fried in loads of butter and red onion, until the skins loosened and formed another layer of texture. To this I added smoky andouille sausage, cayenne, and green onions. A pretty simple and straightforward recipe I could probably manage on my first try. I was in college and on summer vacation with my entire family.

As my appetite reached a crescendo at the end of a day spent CD and shoe shopping, I entered the grocery at the ground floor of our building to gather ingredients. I had just bought my first cookbook about Regional American cooking a few days before, and after researching and reading the book from cover to cover, I planted my culinary seeds in Louisiana. I spent two to three hours doing prep work while mustering up the courage to light the stove without starting a grease fire in what was to become a pivotal point in my food journey.

My older sisters always served as my critics in everything I did while growing up — from the clothes I wore, books I never read, to the company I kept. They were always armed with an opinion, since that's what they were put on this earth to do. I invited them to sample my creation as they both walked into the apartment, back from their respective shopping agendas. Seemingly famished, they immediately put down their bags, leaned on the counter for a forkful of Cajun potatoes and chewed. My eyes were on them the entire time while waiting for an honest review, given my unfamiliarity in the kitchen. They then took another bite and silently chewed before they looked up and, with an honest expression, handed down their verdict. “This is delicious!” one of them said, “You can actually cook!” and encouraged me to keep doing so.

From then on, I expanded my repertoire. I hosted several ambitious gatherings for friends — New England, New Orleans, and Southwestern themed dinners before my talent, judgment, and technical know-how could even catch up. I just wanted to cook! And that I did. To the point of suffering kitchen burnout for a couple of years due to an array of unavoidable dinner fiascos. I had completely avoided cooking as fast as I had picked it up.

Were it not for that voice inside of me that refused to be quelled, however, I would not have had my current revival. My chef friend once told me that I showed more passion than even the cooks in his brigade. This was the validation I needed to continue. Not even the likelihood of almost singeing my eyebrows — when a flame licked up high while flambéing the bananas foster dessert in the name of performance — was enough to keep me away.

I've had a steady exposure to the culinary field over the years. Aside from being a food journalist recounting my food travels and adventures for Rogue magazine, I was chosen to be a restaurant reviewer for the Philippine Tatler's Best Restaurants book for three years, which was a dream. It was the closest I could get to being one of the judges on the other side of Kitchen Stadium in Iron Chef — all while impressing the dates I was with.

Fun and fulfilling as it was, I was looking to up the stakes. After taking a short culinary course at ISCAHM (International School for Culinary Arts and Hotel Management) in Manila to hone my kitchen skills, I decided it was time to call my friend and arrange for an actual week-long kitchen gig in New York right after Thanksgiving in 2006.

The kitchen at Country

I trailed (also called a “stage” in kitchen parlance, wherein one works for free) at a one-Michelin-star restaurant called Country, under Chef Geoffrey Zakarian, at the Carlton Hotel in NoMad. It was everything I had hoped for and more, from an experience standpoint, since not everyone is lucky enough to get to see the inner workings of a fine dining restaurant. However, I likewise witnessed how turbulent and unforgiving a professional kitchen could be to the uninitiated. This experience afforded me a newfound respect for our brethren behind the stoves while making me realize my own level of commitment and limitations. Working on the line is certainly not for everyone, including myself, but enjoying the fruits that these skilled artisans bring forth is an utterly shared experience.

Nowadays, my passion for food is expressed through my food business called Xáncho, where I prepare frozen meals, as well as made-to-order food trays, on a more manageable scale. 

Kitchen duty for Xáncho

I'm an over-enthusiastic food fanatic and there really is no other way about it. I once dropped my plans of watching the NBA Finals at a sports bar with friends for a chance to attend the Bon Appétit BBQ Issue launch and Chef's Night Out affair in NYC to meet and ogle at the culinary figures. I jumped at the chance to cover Alain Ducasse's Manila visit when his foundation partnered with Enderun Colleges and a special dinner was prepared in his honor. I was able to savor the Louis XV au Croustillant de Praliné, the exact recipe of the silky chocolate dessert served at his restaurant in Monaco. I acted upon intel of an Andoni Aduriz (Mugaritz in San Sebastián) sighting from a fellow diner who was at the same restaurant after Aduriz’s talk at the locally held Madrid Fusion. I shared the stage with Nigella Lawson, who partnered with Contadina as she promoted their easy-to-use Mediterranean sauces and products. I braved paying a hefty fine for illegal parking to run and meet Carles Abellán and talk about the inspiration behind his new restaurant Casa Natalia (named after his wife) in Formentera. Who could forget the time I loudly exclaimed "Albert!" — to the sheer horror of my companions — upon seeing genius Albert Adrià walk into the dining room, as if we were long-lost friends, after having a transcendent meal at Tickets in Barcelona.

With Chef Alain Ducasse at Enderun Colleges

With Chef Albert Adrià at Tickets

Yes, I'm afraid I'm that kind of person with a tendency for such behavior. I still treasure the email sent to me by Elena Arzak, who provided me with her favorite dining spots in Barcelona, Madrid, and most notably in Ibiza, specifically at Can Domo — where I ordered, based on her recommendation, the boldly proclaimed “La mejor croqueta del mundo 2021,” which was an award-winning morsel topped with a sliver of silky translucent jamón ibérico on a bed of bacon popcorn.

The croquetas at Can Domo

Philippine cuisine has long been overlooked, or rather ignored. This is owing to our nature as Filipinos to assimilate in a foreign country as opposed to standing out individually. Yet here we are now — the latest pearl on the Michelin dining list (we are only six months removed from the awarding ceremony and have a combined 10 stars in our own backyard). Our dining scene has never looked so dynamic and ablaze with chefs who’ve cut their teeth and grinded in international kitchens finally coming home to flex their wares. There are likewise many other talents whose time has yet to come and I am willing to explore them.

May these entries of mine serve as a food journal of sorts. Of restaurants I personally enjoyed and wish to share. The challenge is upon us to set the bar high and make our country a food destination worth experiencing. Our white sandy beaches, emerald green lagoons, crisp mountain retreats, and spectacular sunsets are waiting. We now have the restaurants to back them up. It's time we celebrate and share these wonderful discoveries with the world. 

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