The eureka moment came courtesy of my daughter, who had just recently entered the Filipino labor force, and whose beer budget has propelled her onto alternative dining experiences – good but cheap! When she recently invited me to she just said that the restaurant was called Top Dish, that it was somewhere in Makati and that it was good.
"TOP DISH" – the sign over the door says it in big, block letters, followed by Korean inscriptions that apparently spell out Guttegujib, the restaurant’s Korean name. It is a modest apartment-turned-restaurant somewhere off the elbow of Makati Avenue and P. Burgos, on quiet Durban Street. The white-washed façade is humble; so is the screened front door, through which the security guard ushered us in.
Upon entry, a big, off-white stand-up refrigerator is the first sight that confronts you; it is quite a jolt! After reclaiming my bearings I realized that I was, in fact, standing in the restaurant’s service area, which must have been originally the apartment’s garage, hence the reverse layout – up front, instead of the usual back location. The half-concealed kitchen was to the right of this fridge. I ventured closer and was pleased to see that it was spanking clean; the staff was hard at work, but genial and obliging. So I didn’t hesitate to enter the main door leading to the restaurant proper.
Inside was a sparsely furnished, no-gimmick setup of seven tables, each seating four. A Korean family of four looked up from their meals and smiled as we entered. My daughter tells me they are the owners. They have obviously appropriated that corner table for their own use because it sits next to a TV that they watch while they eat and is piled with plastic containers of what appear to be personal effects: condiments and vitamins.
There are no black-vested waiters; instead, friendly Filipina servers clad in green aprons. One hands us a menu and – surprise! – the prices are out of this world. A full meal with one main dish, four side dishes, a bowl of rice and unlimited servings of tea is all of P200. My daughter orders a spicy octopus dish and I ask for jap chae. They arrive after a few minutes: hot, smoky and glistening from steam. We eat them with alternating bites of homemade kimchi: fresh and crunchy, minus that cardboard taste that the bottled ones always come with. A side dish of Korean coleslaw in sweet-sour vinaigrette is refreshing. The spinach and carrot pickles and the sinus-clearing, melt-in-the-mouth tofu are light and palate-cleansing accompaniments. Each dish is authentic, unadulterated Korean. I have found the Holy Grail!
The spicy octopus has a crunch at first bite but remains tender and succulent inside. The jap chae has authentic, transparent, glassy, noodles with just the right amount of meat and vegetables and enough oil to let the ingredients stick to the noodles and to bind all the flavors together.
The noise level inside the restaurant was unexpectedly low; what a welcome treat to the hungry and weary soul. My daughter points out that this is because none of the customers are shouting "boss," "chief," "hoy!" or "pssst!" to the service staff, thanks to the call buzzers that each table is equipped with. During the course of our dinner, we figured out that the restaurant is, as suspected, an apartment, with three bedrooms upstairs, where the owners permanently reside. I requested a quick interview and they graciously obliged. The master of the house/restaurant, Kenny Kim, 46, and his 14-year-old daughter, Becky, sat down with us. Top Dish is two years old and Rosa Lee, his 42-year-old wife, is the chef patron. She comes armed with certificates and licenses in international, Korean and Japanese cuisines. Kenny says, "Our clientele is 30-percent Filipino and 70-percent Korean with a sprinkling of Japanese," which explains the all-Korean patronage that night – a foolproof sign of authenticity.
Kenny says that most traditional Korean dishes are found in their menu. They also serve soju, a Korean, sake-like liquor and Korean wine. He prides himself on only shopping at Rustan’s and SM supermarkets for the freshest ingredients. He says that the local market stalls do not have refrigeration systems. "I don’t like the idea of perishables sitting at room temperature all day so I feel better picking up my meats and produce from reputable grocery stores. I don’t mind the higher prices as long as I can guarantee quality." I ask him what Top Dish offers that cannot be found in similar Korean restaurants. He is quick to reply that "taste is our priority. We do not substitute ingredients. Korean ingredients are readily available here and if there is something we can’t find, friends who shuttle back and forth to Seoul can always bring them in."
Kenny has a day job. He acts as hotel manager for a close friend who owns a Korean hotel within the area. After work, at 5:30 pm, he dons his other hat as restaurateur and attends to Top Dish, which stays open up to 3:30 am every day. It has a loyal Korean clientele plus late night/early morning regulars who come for quick and cheap comfort eats after a night on the town.
I was curious about what brought his family to Philippine shores and he said, "We are here for our daughters’ education. They need to study English to get better jobs." I asked if they would stay on even after their children complete their education. I was pleasantly surprised to hear: "Yes, we will stay here."
I left Top Dish with a happy palate and pocket. This restaurant is not for those who want to pay extra for ambience, starched white linen, candlelight, and carefully appointed accoutrements. It is for those with a taste for adventure and authenticity; for those who are international cuisine purists and who do not mind the absence of trappings, pomp and ceremony that high commercialism has imposed on dining. It is for those who once in a while look forward to dressing down and immersing themselves in the experience of a simple, delicious, and affordable dinner.