It had been months since I first heard about Fat Michael’s from restaurateur and caterer Gaita Fores. Located in Rodriguez and Lacuna Streets hidden somewhere beyond the busy Evangelista main thoroughfare, it was unfamiliar territory for this Quezon City resident.
When I finally headed to this out of the way restaurant, it was like following a cryptic treasure map. I could see Lacuna Street, but one-way signs prevented me from getting there. After several turns, my sister and I finally arrived.
There it is, right at the street corner with Fat Michael’s Place scribbled in white on the burgundy-colored awning. Potted herbs and blooms resting on the bright green fence compliment the charming façade. It stands out in this otherwise ordinary neighborhood. But walking into Fat Michael’s is hardly ordinary: stepping past the green shutters and dangling bead curtain transports you to a bohemian haven.
The chairs and tables don’t match. Each table has its own psychedelic printed fabric which, upon closer inspection, turns out to be scraps of upholstery material. From retro orange and green floral patterns to bold hot pink and red gigantic flowers, leaf patterns and clowns, they all seem to interact happily.
The six tables can cozily accommodate around 30 people with a small room on the second floor for hagglers desperately wanting to dine here. Bare walls and minimalist designs are unheard of in this place. Details abound to consistently tease the eye to linger from piece to piece. From the ceiling dangle lamps are draped with pink and white scarves, occasionally changing to a clothesline of kitchen towels, depending on the owner’s mood.
By the time we arrive in the afternoon, Jude Mancuyas and his mother are puttering around the plants. His welcome is not exactly warm; his tone is matter-of-fact, wondering if I got lost. I tell him the one-way street threw me off, making me go round in circles. Still in a deadpan tone, he says, "You should have just ignored the one-way sign…"
His straightforward manner set the refreshingly atypical mood for my afternoon at Fat Michael’s. Clad in a cool white linen shirt and a pair of jeans, Jude is comfortably stylish. Having worked in the fashion world for many years staging and styling fashion shows with the country’s best designers, creating beauty is nothing new to Jude.
Fat Michael’s reminds me of the Haystreet Market, my favorite coffeehouse-cum-library during my college years in Northampton, Massachusetts many years back. It has the same Bohemian feel. There are books on the console table leaning against the wall. Green blackboards are framed with different finishes and all nine of them display the restaurant’s varied menu. Interspersed between the blackboards are posters, magazine pages and more framed art.
Choosing what to sample from the menu of nine menus is a daunting task. Asking owner and cook Jude what their specialty is, he says that each customer has his own favorite. There are sandwiches, desserts, seafood, salads, meat dishes and pastas. The restaurant has an eclectic mix of patrons, from socialites to models to chefs to bankers, yuppies and students with varied tastes in food.
Taking the cue from Jude, I sample several dishes recommended by different people. The meal starts with Marinated Squid Salad personally prepared by Jude’s mother, a retired doctor. This makes the vinaigrette laced on the grilled seafood and lettuce taste even sweeter. Gaita Fores recommended the Open Faced Sirloin Chunks Sandwich. Thinking I would get a Philly Cheesesteak, I instead get a slice of bread layered with mashed potatoes, chunks of meat and topped with mushroom gravy.
Jude suggests sampling the pizza, which had taken him years to perfect with his discriminating board of judges–his family. The Grilled Seafood and Kesong Puti Pizza is a simple homemade Pinoy-style pizza generously laden with toppings. The Gambas served over saffron rice is delightfully spicy yet perfectly tamed by the complimentary serving of rice. There are Specials of the Day, which Jude would conceptualize based on the supply of food in his freezer. He checks with the kitchen before he steps in the shower and, as he scrubs and shampoos, inspiration would strike for the day’s specials. On some days, it hits him as he dresses up.
Jude is not a chef and does claim to be one. He simply cooked for his family and friends on special occasions, prompting his friends in the fashion world to suggest that he open his own restaurant. His older sister, Dave Camaclang, is an interior designer. Her parents-in-law’s corner property was once occupied by a carinderia then a bakery. When both folded up and the place was vacant, the siblings took the cue to open their own restaurant with food they served at home. Even the look of the establishment took on the look of Dave’s own home. There was nothing staged–no pretensions here.
When customers ask "Anong mabilis?" in deciding what to order, the brother and sister have a clever answer "Tubig" or, at other times, "Kanin." Everything is freshly cooked upon order. Jude emphasizes, "They should be afraid if we can serve them quickly. It means it was merely heated in the microwave." Waiting is part of the game in the Mancuyas home. Jude has no qualms about telling a customer to go to Shakeys for a quick pizza or to Starbucks when customers insist on coffee past ten in the evening, their closing time.
While the first floor is a restaurant, it is foremost home to Jude and his mother. His sister lives nearby. So you can be sure either Jude, his mother or his sister are manning the place. Sometimes, customers are even amused to hear Jude and Dave argue in the kitchen as siblings normally do. But, like any good host, both siblings make sure their guests eat well.
They proudly state that they are "pakialamero" when it comes to their customer’s food choices. When everyone in a group orders the same thing, they scold them for being redundant. When the customer complains that the meat is tough, they point to a typically Pinoy habit of using fork and spoon. "Try using your knife," they urge the customer. Even adults have been reprimanded for not eating their vegetables. This very honest manner is how they best care for their customers. As a poster of a cow hanging on their wall aptly sums it up: "You have two choices for dinner: take it or leave it."
Many opt to take what Fat Michael’s has to offer. Even kids love coming back, especially for the Pancake Ala Mode. When they opened some four years ago, a customer ordered pancake and asked for vanilla ice cream on top. Other customers envied his order, and soon enough, it became part of the menu. The pancake is thick but with crispy edges. A little boy frequenting the restaurant even orders an extra pancake and sunny side up egg to make it a sandwich.
Even with–or perhaps because of–all the mismatched plates, furniture, décor and menu, customers feel right at home. It reminds me of Central Perk, where "Friends" Joey, Phoebe, Rachelle, Ross, Chandler, and Monica hang out, or an artsy rendezvous in New York’s Soho district.
In this little street corner joint, stories keep unfolding. One customer was shocked one night to accidentally bump into his childhood friend, while he dined with his present friends. He wittingly quipped, "It was like my life was flashing before me." In this out of the way place, you are more often than not bound to bump into a friend.
On some occasions, couples on a date arrive dressed to the nines in gowns and suits, making Dave and Jude feel under-dressed in their own home. These siblings are also crazy about their labrador and two bassett hounds. A few years back, they purchased an old painting of a bassett hound from a nearby thrift shop. One day, a customer was ecstatic to see the painting, because it was of his dog done by his son’s friend decades ago. The painter is now a chef based in Singapore.
Fat Michael’s is a family enterprise, and each one has a role: mom does the salad, Dave the interiors, and Jude the food. Even the calling cards are limited. Every single piece is laboriously handwritten in pen by Dave’s husband, an architect.
On certain days, Jude confides, he leaves the kitchen to take on the role of strict librarian. When his beloved collection of books is abused, he screams, "Don’t touch my books!" I applaud him for sharing his books with total strangers. He finds most customers to be respectful of his books, with only a few thieves. He still laments the loss of the first book stolen, the very tempting "Kamasutra."
This four-year-old establishment has gone a long way from being a neighborhood restaurant merely serving nearby Intel employees and neighbors to becoming known around the metropolis as an unconventional dining place. Getting my fill of food and stories, there is only one question left in my head. Who is Fat Michael?
As if on cue, a guy in his mid-twenties walks in with his tall lean girl- friend. He is Dave’s son, Michael. But he was fat no more; The name no longer makes sense. But in the culture of Fat Michael’s, things need not be logical. In this home of unconventional dining and interiors, as long as it tastes good and looks fine, who cares about logic?