The pluses of moving away is that you get gifts like this: 1001 Foods You Must Try Before You Die. One of my pre-departure gifts is this wonderful book of literally a thousand and one items of epicurean delights from all over the world. This is a lifetime project in the making, as I imagine not every well-heeled soul can lay claim to half of it. Scanning through it, I've found a fair amount of treats I have tried myself, and am missing a lot more. A lot.

Consider balut, tinapang bangus and bagnet. There's calamansi somewhere in the list. And though I really have no time to wonder and ponder over what's inside the book, it has made me excited. And I wonder if I can live up to this list with this impending move. It will help. It will be another country in the passport. It will be another few years of exciting treats. Thank you Claudette, thank you Kristine. Wonderful gift. Wonderful!

Right now: I am busy packing my things. Sifting through things I may not need both at home and in the office. Giving away a few important and miniscule treasures to friends and loved ones who will put them to good use. At the back of my head I keep thinking: what will the food be like in a place called Bundoora?

Leaving exactly a week from today. I will start telling you what it's like in a week or two as soon as I settle down. For now, it is an unsightly mess: the excitement and agitation of transitions; of sifting through the dust and discovering that my heart did find a home in all this mess.

My first encounter with Bandung nearly two years ago left me awestruck with the potential and range of Indonesian food that I never realized in Jakarta. The latter will always fall prey to standardized tastes, considering its more significant culinary achievements often stand and compete with fastfood chains accompanied by processes that hardly provide room for any whimsy and flair. Food is often expensive and uninviting in Jakarta that I had to rely a lot on the knowledge of locals who knew which nooks and crannies to take just to get your money’s worth in the six months I lived there. Warungs, or hawker-style street food, are just as expensive as the fastfood in a city like Manila and Bangkok, while high-end restaurants reflect the prices and decor—but not necessarily the quality—of those coming from Singapore.

Bandung’s culinary offerings provide a cheaper yet more enchanting and evocative interpretation of the food you wish you could find in Jakarta. The repertoire is extensive—whether it is Continental French or Italian cooking, or Oriental food in the mold of Japanese, Chinese, Indian and Thai cuisine, or whether its traditional renditions of indigenous Indonesian delicacies to modern and Western interpretations of local favorites—the tastes Bandung has to offer is indulgently and heartwarmingly overwhelming. I made three trips there a couple of years back, and still fondly remember the food in restaurants like Kafe Sapu Lidi at the heart of Cihampelas Street once famous for cheap knock-offs of designer jeans, Sariwangi in a hidden residential street off the main roads of the city and The Peak in Lembang District which is known for its breathtaking view of the city. I would have wanted to revisit thses places again in my attempt to journal one of my more memorable forays into food, but as my recent trip has proven with a handful of local friends I made there, Bandung’s food culture has grown immensely.

Our first stop for our first day there was lunch in Congo Café in Lembang, the perfect place to get introduced or reacquainted with the city. Like The Peak and other restaurants in Lembang, Congo Café is nested on top of a mountain peak and offers a bird’s eye view of the quaint city. The restaurant takes advantage of the mountain breeze by applying traditional Javanese architecture and design in a grand open-style high-end restaurant. High beams and ceilings, hardwood furniture, indigenous materials as well as spacious seating areas enhance the eating experience of Western, Oriental and local favorites. I got myself Bebek Crispy, deeply fried crispy duck with spicy sambal sauce, rice and sautéd vegetables. Lathered generously with black pepper, the duck’s skin was crunchy and succulent. The meat inside was marinated well with just the right amount of citrus and aromatic herbs to diminish the unpleasant taste a lot of people have against duck. I got a taste of their Hainanese Chicken Rice as well, which was nothing like the traditional sort. Instead of the lingering and refreshing taste of ginger and shallots taking fore, their version is pleasingly dominated by the smoky and woody flavor of shitake mushrooms.



We went to Sariwangi that night for dinner, quite a contrast from the upscale Congo Café. Popular to the locals in the area, Sariwangi is an old warung where one squats on either side of one of Bandung’s narrower streets: one side is just a few meters away from passing cars and motorbikes; while the other is overwhelmed by a large grill a few feet away from the dining tables. Despite the discomforting ambience, Sariwangi is always a joy to visit, which explains why it is difficult to get a table or parking in the area as many people literally wait in eagerly in the streets to eat there. The main staple is Ayam Bakar, Indonesian-style grilled chicken, mashed potatos and tempe with spicy sambal sauce and kecap manis, or sweet soy sauce. I’ve tried this a couple of times before and it’s comforting to know that food as good as this doesn’t change. The revelation for me is the sayur asem, the Indonesian version of our sinigang comprised mainly of corn, kaffir leaves, nuts, string beans, and chili. I’ve had my fair share of sayur asem in a number of Indonesian restaurants in Jakarta, and none of them tasted this good. Even more thrilling is that the entire meal for our party of eight—with multiple servings of rice, chicken, tempe and potatos—cost only a little over one hundred thousand Indonesian rupiahs, roughly six hundred pesos!



The next day we had brunch at the in-house restaurant in Rumah Mode, one of Bandung’s more popular factory outlets where people get to shop for export overruns of branded Western clothes at cheap prices. This is the story of Bandung, an economy revitalized by Western rejects as factory outlets have attracted a swarm of local and foreign tourists. Having suffered a hangover from Sariwangi’s ayam bakar the night before, I ordered more ayam bakar in Rumah Mode. It definitely wasn’t comparable to Sariwangi’s but it was hearty and tasteful just the same. After hours of shopping, we had late lunch on the veranda of the Cascade Factory Outlet which housed Dego Ramen. I had Chicken Katsudon Noodle. It tasted strange at first as the broth of the soup was altered by the addition of a kind of mushroom I have not seen before. But after a little getting used to, the soup did leave a pleasantly light aftertaste. I spent the rest of the afternoon in Embargo Coffee House on the lobby of our hotel with Ferdi and Bly. We shared cheesecake and I got myself a nice cup of amaretto coffee, only instead of the usual espresso that goes with the coffee, they used the more traditional Toraja coffee.



Dinner that night was spent at The Cellar, a restaurant with a really schizophrenic atmosphere. It was a high-end restaurant struggling to find its niche and market. The ground floor was well-stocked with wine, and the upper floor is a spacious collection of seating areas lined with sofas and coffee tables perfect for drinking and sharing conversation with friends. However, the joint clearly wasn’t making enough money just selling wine, so they served food as well only it was difficult to eat in those low sofas and tables. The food was just ok. I ordered some salad and their Black Pepper Snapper, and didn’t really get much out of it except for a safe rendition of fish. Even more bothersome was the fact that the place does not have a wine list, there was loud live music in the middle of the restaurant, and the seating arrangements did not exactly make it easy to watch the show downstairs. The lay-out was meant for intimate conversations over wine and soft music, however it was difficult to talk as the fiasco on stage proved too obtrusive for any conversation to take place.



My last day in Bandung was too frentic for any decent meal as we picked up a lot of packed food to go. First was the Risol or risoles from De’Risol, a small croquette-like pastry rolled in breadcrumbs and deep fried. It is filled with sweet or savoury ingredients, mine was vegan and two servings of it proved to be quite filling. One bite and I was an instant fan convert to the church of risoles. It was creamy inside, and all that fat was just sinfully heavenly. Another indulgence was Lily’s Patisserie, which according to local friend Bal, served the best tiramisu in Indonesia. It’s a quaint and homey cakeshop nestled in a residential area in Bandung that served both western and local desserts. I didn’t need any convincing. I grabbed a blueberry cheesecake and was extremely satisfied. We were stuffed by the time we had lunch at Ngopi Doeloe. I only ordered a salad in anticipation of the one singular meal I so looked forward to for this trip but I did have a taste of Ferdi’s tempe bakar which had the best contrast in terms of texture. It’s crunchy in the outside and has a soft and tender soybean paste inside.



My last meal for this trip to Bandung is in Batagor Riri. Batagor is a contraction of bakso tahu goreng, fried meatballs and tofu, only the meatballs are made of fish and both are dipped in batter before fried. No trip to Bandung is complete without a taste of the famous Batagor, and the ones at Riri’s is thought to be one of if not the best. The secret of Riri’s Batagor is its spicy peanut sauce, it’s very pungent and serves as an excellent base for sate dishes. Add a few ounces of lime juice, and kecap manis to your liking, slice your Batagor, slather it with sauce and you’re all set. People seem to eat more sauce than they do the Batagor itself. One version of the Batagor I remember eating fondly a couple of years ago was with potatos.



It’s nice to end a Bandung trip with Batagor. The flavors of the Batagor pretty much sums up what Indonesian food is all about: very textured, pungent and fiery. You can dip pretty much anything into it—whether its potatos or pasta—and you’re sure to come up with a marvelous interpretation of food. As a child I was taught not to play with food, and for the grown-ups who policed my eating habits playing with food meant impeding on the sacred delicateness of flavor. Considering I can’t put catsup on anything not fried, I always felt that the experience of eating was pretty much stuck up. With Indonesian food, everything taboo with the culture I was accustomed to became the norm: a shitake-based hainanese chicken rice, a wine cellar whose centerpiece is music fit for hard drinks, a sweet soy sauce that allows you to alter the flavors of everything you eat. Even if you play with taste, you learn that balance between flavors doesn’t have to be contrived. As with all things weighed down by gravity, they will all fall into place eventually.

Ma Mon Luk is the iconic panciteria of old Manila. Those days that saw an influx of food practices from nearby Asian and Southeast Asian countries as well as innovative kitchen techniques by folks from all walks of life struggling to deliver their passion for food into something that can bring money to the table. Ma Mon Luk has such fabled beginnings. Named after the owner and founder of the restaurant, Ma Mon Luk was a teacher in China before moving to the Philippines to seek his his fortune here in the early part of the 1900s. He started with the very humble Mami, chicken noodle soup, selling them on the streets. His business slowly grew into big fully-staffed restaurants, a total of 6 during the height of Ma Mon Luk's popularity.

There are only 2 restaurants left now. One of them is in Quiapo and the other in Quezon Avenue near Banawe. We went to the latter and while one can say that it is only a shadow of its once glorious past, there is still a lot of pleasant surprises to be found in Ma Mon Luk. It has kept many old restaurant practices and hasn't really moved on with the times, but the food is still great. The inability to move forward has its benefits: prices in Ma Mon Luk are really cheap considering a lot of prfetentious high-end and over-franchised Chinese establishments could not compare to Ma Mon Luk. Case in point: everything pictured here is under a hundred bucks!


For starters, the chicken noodle soup (Chicken Mami) is nice to have especially in these rainy days. While many have succeeded at duplicating the chicken broth for this soup, Ma Mon Luk's is still great and remains constant to the taste I remember from my childhood.

The siopaos are big and hefty (bigger than a fist). The taste is as big as the servings.


But my personal favorite aren't the siopao and mami noodles, I am a big Ma Mon Luk fan because of their Shrimp Pancit Canton. I never miss it when I go there. It doesn't reek of soy and fish sauce or it isn't zealously seasoned with garlic. It's tempered by an assortment of meat flavors--my guess is these are parts often discarded in commercial kitchens.


There are more meals to be had in Ma Mon Luk but my tummy can only fit these for now.I'm thinking of next times filled not just with pancit but also crispy fried chicken, camaron rebosado, chopsuey and siomai.

What better way to break the dry spell than with thoughts of Cibo. It feels like a lifetime since I last posted anything on this blog. The past few months have been tough as I engineer a million things for work and work-related projects, my own research and even my own personal life as I attempt to move temporarily to the Land Down Under for studies. In between the madness have been thoughts of food. And the thought of food that keeps buzzing in my head comes from Cibo, one of my more reliable favorites.


Cibo is modern Italian but avoids the trappings of other modern Italian restaurants by being a little bit more whimsical not just in décor—as evidenced (again) by the superfluous use of circles and balls throughout the space just like its sibling Café Bola—but also the manner food is conceptualized. I love their elongated pizzas and how you can bite into a meal without losing touch (or taste) of the various cheeses used in constructing that very dish. I love how their food isn’t over-seasoned and how everything welds in the tongue through subtle flavors. I love how Italian is transplanted here using fresh local ingredients as much as possible and not canned and industrialized pre-packed stuff which most Italian(-American) wannabes in this part of the world keep doing. I love how it is chunky and the ingredients can be made out still and not an amalgamation of overcooked, velvety and oil-drenched sauces.

The pizzas in Cibo are some of the best in the city. The shape is a little bit unusual as they’re elongated and—I suspect—made to maximize oven space (so it’s a neat trick to do when you make your own dough at home) and make slicing a little easier. If my hunch is right, it just proves that you don’t need a wood burning brick oven to come up with great pizzas. Regardless of shape, the crust is crisp and provides a good base especially for non-tomato based sauces. My favorite—though I have yet to take a photo of it—is their Funghi Trifolati, mushroom pizza.


Fiori Di Zucca is another favorite: zucchini (sometimes squash) blossoms on a mozzarella and olive oil base. I was a little hesitant when I saw the pizza the first time. I thought it would just be pretty and wondered how some often ignored edible flowers would fare as a pizza topping. I took my first bite and was in love instantly. There’s something balmy and sweet about the flowers that plays with the earthy and salty flavor of the cheese.


Another pizza that I like is the Caviole Salmone. It’s made of salmon, cream cheese, chives and caviar.


There are lots of pasta dishes to try. I like the Penne All'Ortolana (grilled veggies with sun-dried tomatoes and anchovies) and the Linguine Alla Siciliana (which features shrimps) but my ultimate restaurant comfort food is Cibo’s Margherita: the no-frills tomatoes and basil pasta. There’s something reassuring about how this sauce has been executed, and it is perfect for rainy days—literally and figuratively. Other comfort foods to try: the Spinach Zola (bread dipped in a pate of spinach and gorgonzola), their roast chicken, and the mushroom soup.


Cibo also serves a nice array of salads. My favorite is a bevy of grilled zucchini, bell peppers, mushrooms and other veggies bathed in sun dried tomato pesto. Their Insalata Pacifica—heart of palm and nice crisp parmesan shavings on a bed of greens—is another favorite.


And never leave Cibo without savoring their desserts. Their carrot cake is the best I’ve had in the city. Other things I love are their flourless chocolate cake and the lemon tart.



The only thing I hate about Cibo is that their overwhelming menu is made even more overwhelming by a string of Italian names. It’s hard to compose a meal for yourself or for your friends when you come there the first time and allow yourself to be frazzled by the language. I sometimes pick the heads of the waiters and ask them to bundle together a meal with an antipasto, two main courses, and dessert. I’ve learned it’s better to find the things you really like before going adventurous and matching them with other things that stir your fancy. Fortunately, it’s hard not to find something likeable in Cibo that you’ll end up coming back for more and more and more.

I haven't cooked anything in weeks. It's been busy at work as we are preparing for something big, and this week is the climax of everything. To compensate, I have eaten a lot though, but not the kinds I really want to eat, though me and my friends at work still dabble in the occasional pigging out if only to let loose after a tough tough day. Other than that it's unhealthy junk food and a lot of bad cafeteria food. Case in point: I ate a tub of Selecta's Chocolate Truffle Ice Cream.


Selecta is advertising everywhere that their gold premium selection are the masterpieces of renowned Filipino chefs Sau Del Rosario, Rolando Laudico and J Gamboa. I've tried all three and am not really impressed considering Selecta started out really great as an ice cream and that their quality has declined ever since they were bought by a big conglomerate. But given how bad Selecta has been, these new flavors will do.


I am particularly drawn to the Chocolate Truffle Ice Cream, attached to Chef Rolando Laudico's name. It has an overzealous amount of chocolate truffles in it, and you get chewy chunks of it with almost every dip of the spoon. It's a great texture: it's still powdery and fine and its chunky and chewy. As for flavor, the truffles are ok but a little more bitterness wouldn't hurt. Then again, it's a commercial product and maybe making it bitter wouldn't make it as commercially viable. The ice cream base leaves a lot to be desired though. It's plain and doesn't really add any depth to the chocolate truffles. The worst part about Selecta is the price: this 800ml tub costs P160--a lot more than the usual ice cream. I'm not sure if it's worth all that much, but given how hot it is, you can always use some blinders to ignore the price. So if you're tired and hot, you can finish an entire tub in one sitting:


What can I say? The weather has given me an excuse to indulge in more guiltier pleasures than necessary.

I stumbled upon this "No Reservations" episode on the Philippines somewhere in Facebook. Mr. Bourdain sounded too patronizing. It would be nice to know what Anthony Bourdain really thinks, off-cam.

The traditional piaya is basically flaky unleavened salty bread filled with sweet muscovado sugar. The dough is rolled into a ball, filled with the sugar and flattened before they are thrown into the oven for baking. It's originally from the Visayas but you can now see it peddled in every part of the country these days. I like the simplicity of the piaya: I imagine these humid summer afternoons being tempered by a couple of piayas and a tall glass of ice-cold water. It works fine for me.


I went home one day with ube piayas. I've seen it before but I have never tried it, and this was pleasantly surprising. The dough is laced with ube, or purple yams, adding a layer of sweetness. Lovely with an espresso shot.