At home in Binondo

I have always wanted to visit Binondo. I went there on two occasions only because I got lost and was late for something else. My friends and I talked about joining a walking tour of the area for months. Our disparate weekend schedules prevented us from going. Finally, we signed up to join Ivan Man Dy’s “BIG Binondo Food Wok.” On our way there last Saturday, rain started to fall. We started to make alternate plans in case the tour was cancelled but agreed that tour or no tour, we were going to eat in Manila’s Chinatown.

We found parking space near the Basilica de San Lorenzo Ruiz. A wedding was being celebrated inside the church and wedding guests in peach and orange gowns ran along the slippery sidewalks because they were late. Cars, bicycles with sidecars, tartanillas, violet fire trucks (one of which had “Ube Pumper” painted in front), and people jostled for space in the narrow streets.

Ivan had started with his overview of Philippine history at a sidewalk near the church by the time we arrived. A cigarette vendor listened intently to him. The original plan was to start at the Plaza Calderon de la Barca and have a better view of the Baroque and Chinese influences on the church. The rain changed our plans and we stayed under our umbrellas near the church entrance instead. After the preliminaries, the eating part of the tour commenced.

Our first stop was the Binondo Volunteer Firemen’s Coffee Shop. The café pays tribute to the volunteer firemen. Pictures of fires they put out and old firemen’s hats are displayed in the café. The earnings of the café are also donated to the firemen.

We had salted rice with peanuts and bits of meat, fishball soup, and iced coffee at the café. Ivan explained that salted rice was typical fare of the Chinese who migrated to the Philippines, most of whom came from the Fujian province.

Our next stop was Dong Bei Dumplings, a small eatery along Yuchengco Street. The place can seat about fifteen people. We watched the employees roll the dumplings in the table beside ours. Unlike the usual siomai, the dumplings were boiled and not steamed. I liked the ones with chopped celery best. Dipped in black vinegar and chili, they were perfect for a rainy afternoon.

We walked along Ongpin Street and I was mesmerized by the shops selling different products. In less than fifteen minutes, we made another stop for food at a stall selling tea eggs. The eggs were boiled in a mixture of tea and soy sauce for at least two days. They had the same flavor as the filling of asado siopao. We ate along the sidewalk.

 We turned a corner and had siopao with a fried bottom at one of the roadside stalls. The filling was neither asado nor bola-bola but tasted similar to gyoza, the dumplings in Japanese restaurants. We also had fried bread, which Ivan said inspired the Bisaya siakoy, the shortened version of the bread’s Chinese name.

We visited Ho-land Bakery and learned about healthy hopia (with corn oil) and the better hopia (with pork lard). I tried the pandan macapuno and ube langka varieties, was impressed, but still concluded that I’m an Eng Bee Tin hopia loyalist.

As we walked along Carvajal Alley, I realized that I had found the place to go when I decide to start my training as an Iron Chef challenger. The narrow alley had vegetables, strange-looking seafood (not endangered, I hope), fruits, meat, spices, flowers, and even a bookstore.

After the siakoy, I thought I could not eat another bite. The lumpia at the New Pou Heng Lumpia House looked too good not to try though. The eatery is on the ground floor of a pink Art Deco building along Ongpin Street and was our last stop. After hours of walking and eating, it was a relief to sit down and rest.

Binondo felt strangely familiar. It was almost like the Juan Luna, Magallanes, and Manalili streets of my childhood with its small shops and crowded sidewalks. I can’t wait to go back.

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