But more importantly, I stumbled on countless eateries and food stores on Ongpin and Carvajal Sts. that gave me with so much delight and pleasure. The promise of a gustatory adventure motivated me more than my modest stipend, which I ended up spending right away on lunch and takeaway goodies, like hopia, ampao, mahu, champoy, dikiam, etc. Remember, these were not yet readily available then as it was still light years away before malls came into being.
Even after graduation and many years later as a professional artist, I’d go to Gandara for my canvas and to T. Alonso for my hardware needs for the furniture I design and manufacture. And just like before, I tended to ignore having to go through the ordeal of heavy traffic and hard-to-find parking if only because of the promise of a good chow.
Over the years, several establishments have come and gone. Some veritable institutions are but a dim memory, like See Kee (noodles with fried milk sauce come to mind) on Ongpin St., Marquina (famous for its crab dishes) on Dasmariñas St., Smart Panciteria on San Vicente St. at the back of PNB, where my other brother Pol and I sometimes would join our father and his bosom buddy Tatang Milio (Abe) Aguilar Cruz for lunch after his PNB board meeting on Mondays, bringing our own milagrosa rice for the Chinese sausage-ham-duck rice cooked in a clay pot. (The good news is Smart Panciteria has been revived by a third generation descendent of its original owner on E. Rodriguez St. in Libis.)
Quite recently, Mary Ann, our son Nico, and I went to Chinatown on a tip from my brother Mario to try the Ang Tunay Beef House, located on Gandara St., now called Sabino Padilla St. (Who he?)
As an aside, why do they keep changing century-old street names after some personalities or two-bit politicians? It will take several generations before the change actually sinks into people’s subconscious, anyway. Rizal Park (at least everybody knows him as our national hero) still is Luneta to most Filipinos. Sen. Gil J. Puyat Ave. is still Buendia. Arnaiz (Who he? How’s he related to Francis, the ’70s basketball star?) is still Pasay Road. It took many generations before Admiral Dewey Blvd. (now called Roxas Blvd., named not after Sen. Mar, but his grandfather Manuel) was relegated into oblivion. (Well, it was a mock battle in Manila Bay in the first place, that).
Anyway, Ang Tunay Beef House is like any typical hole-in-the-wall Chinatown eatery. It has a nondescript, easy-to-miss façade and its interior has a no-nonsense look, pared down to bare essentials. The place doesn’t worry about ambience but puts all its effort into its food. It’s as home-cooked as home-cooked can be, Fookienese-style (where most Chinese in Binondo originally came from). It opened some 20 years ago as a hole-in-the-wall, owned by the mother of the present owner, Pedro Solomon Limson whose specialty was pato miswa or duck with fine noodle soup.
With camera on hand and asking too many questions from the cashier, I was eyed with suspicion by the owner (Baka ko daw gayahin!) and couldn’t get much information, although I was allowed to take some photos.
Espying at the table across us, Mary Ann struck a conversation with a man who was having lunch by himself. Asking what he was eating, he cordially replied it was kiampeng (literally salty rice), a rice dish not unlike the Japanese kamameshi, cooked in stock with bits of pork, hibi or dried shrimps, and dried shiitake mushrooms.
The man looked familiar and I told him so.
"Ikaw si Claude, ’di ba?," he in turn said, recognizing me from my column photo. It turned out to be Fred Chua, my suki for my lighting needs (Asean Lights on T. Alonso St.) from way back. I hardly recognized him as he was much thinner then (just like me then, too) and seemed more prosperous (in girth, at least) and had more hair then as a fresh graduate of the De La Salle University.
Now, he has another store, Light Arts on Soler St., and a couple of branches at MC Home Depot in Ortigas and at The Fort. It was from Fred that we got most of the info about the history of the joint. He admits being a regular customer and swears the place doesn’t use MSG.
One would have to go to the food display counter and order turo-turo style from an array of some 30-plus tantalizing dishes on display aside from many others that can be ordered from its a la carte menu (though one would have to wait for the a la carte order). Nakakataranta! Every now and then, sold-out dishes are replaced by new ones, still piping hot, straight from the kitchen.
Starting with the tips my brother Mario gave, we ordered the palos or sea eel soup (very good), steamed white pompano (rather tough and dry since it had been sitting there for sometime, I suppose), and steamed scallops with tausi (excellent). Mary Ann just couldn’t resist the sight of the red-orange steamed shrimps (very fresh and succulent, according to her), while I ordered the fried frog legs (no good and they’re already cold and quite greasy at that), sautéed sea cucumber with mushrooms (good), and pawikan or turtle soup (not the endangered ones, I hope), steeped in an aromatic herbal mix called seebut, the same mix used for the pato misua, and soup No. 5 (brain and chicken feet soup) being served in most old Chinese joints, Smart Panciteria included.
And, while having ordered more than enough already just for three persons (They’re small portions anyway. Oh, justifications!), I had to have somehow at least one beef dish to satisfy my curiosity why this joint is named so. Of the 14 beef dishes listed on the menu, we ordered the beef slice, which came with a light soy sauce and topped with ginger and spring onions (thin slices of meat with tendon, rather dry and tough, unpalatable without the sauce, if you ask me).
After lunch, we walked towards T. Pinpin St. where I parked the car, but along the way, we bought several packs of the square hopia at Salazar Bakery on Ongpin (the best, especially when newly cooked), and from the fruit stand just across it, a kilo each of lychees from China and cherries from California.
Walking further down Ongpin towards Binondo Church (now called San Lorenzo Ruiz Parish Church), we dropped by Eng Bee Tin Bakery, famous for its ube hopia, which now comes in four variants: ube queso, ube langka, ube pineapple, and ube pastillas.
Just around the corner, we headed to Carvajal St. (it’s actually just an alley closed to vehicular traffic), which is a virtual wet market for fresh vegetables, seafood, poultry (dressed duck and black chicken included) and comestibles. At the mouth of the alley is Holland Bakery (also famous for its hopia) on one corner and a grocery on the other (for dikiam, champoy, titina, White Rabbit candy, etc). Inside are more grocery stores, vendors hawking native delicacies, several eateries, and a department store.
We had so much bitbit on the way back to the car. By the way, just across the parking lot on T. Pinpin, there’s President Tea house neighbored by two other stores selling ready-to-eat takeaway foods. The main President Restaurant is just several meters away from the corner along Ongpin, housed in a former cinema. Well, we’ll save that for another column, perhaps on the next trip soon (Burrrrrrrp).
Over the years, my long-standing love affair with Chinatown never waned, traffic notwithstanding. Even to this day, I am in total awe every time I go there. There’s always something new to discover. It is as if I am setting foot in Wonderland, if ever there was one.