He is the Filipino with the biggest ego, and he knows it.” That was from a famous American food writer referring to Larry Cruz. And he meant it as a compliment.
I once met a Filipina who grew up in the Philippines but lived overseas for sometime. She asked me who I could recommend for a food festival on aphrodisiac food. The first name that came to my mind was of course our very own Larry, better known to all as LJC. So I hooked up the two together. Minutes later, Larry was calling me on my cell asking me from what corner of the Philippines I met the lady. (“Anong sulok ng Pilipinas mo napulot”). Apparently she had no idea who Larry was and part of their conversation went like this:
She: What are your achievements? And please I require your resume.
(This I imagine must have already irked our Larry.) Then she said, “I heard of your LJC Group of restaurants. What does LJC stand for?
LJC: My initials
She: L is for Larry, What is JC?
LJC: “Jesus Christ,” he said with obvious annoyance, “and L is for Lord.”
The lady must have sensed his irritation and hung up. I will always find that story very Larry and very amusing.
To his closest trusted few friends like me, LJC once whispered names of restaurateurs who tried to put him down… or maybe shoot his ego is more like it. Like a true gentleman, he did not bother with them, but he secretly called them “the LJC wannabes.” I am, of course, not telling.
My darling, who always has nice words about people, says Larry has all the “K” (karapatan). “So what if he has a big ego? That is nothing compared to what he has given us Filipinos in the culinary field, for which we should always be grateful,” Mary Ann said.
Lets us go back in time to see where this deserved “K” comes from. Not many know that LJC worked together with Secretary Francisco Tatad as a journalist and Malacañang spokesman during the martial law days. Twelve years into his bureaucratic career, he got bored and restless. He rented a rundown karinderia for P800 (year 1978) and turned it into an antique store called Koleksyon, stuffing it with his old Filipino furniture, knick-knacks and other what-nots that he bought and sold for his own pleasure. Two years later, a complete stranger persuaded him to be his partner and turn Koleksyon into a restaurant. Being a great lover of good food, the idea of having his own watering hole in a fashionable district was just too hard to resist. Thus was born of Café Adriatico.
There, he created a casual “café lifestyle,” putting to good use his love and appreciation of Philippine antiques with the help of his architect friend Agustin Goy at the designing helm. Together they created “Ambiente Filipino.” And every restaurant he opened after Café Adriatico was with a different theme but of similar ambience. Their most memorable work to me is Bistro Burgos on P. Burgos St. in Makati. It was the first bistro in the country and it started a bandwagon of Bistro copycats all over the metropolis. Many even referred to bistros as “Larry style.”
Still, Larry’s influence on Filipino ambience or style is nothing compared to his influence on Filipino food with regard to particular Pampango dishes. He has revolutionized fine dining in the Philippine context. If you have seen the humble fried pla pla (big tilapia) not served the usual lying flat on a platter but butterflied with its crispy fins straightened up, that is one example of Larry Cruz-styled dishes copied by many chefs, many times over.
Today, LJC Group of Restaurants has Café Adriatico, Anghang, Bistro Burgos, Bistro Remedios, Larry’s Bar, Café Havana, Abe, and Fely J (a total 14 restaurants, cafes, and bars in the country.) Still he does not consider himself an entrepreneur but refers to himself as a journalist at heart, which explains why he published the country’s first glossy magazine, Metro, which he later on sold to the Lopezes. LJC, therefore, is also the pioneer of the countless glossy magazines we now have.
Larry and I go a long way back. Our fathers were two journalists who loved to travel and eat good food. They were even the best of friends. His father referred to us as his other family. And growing up with him, a regular visitor in our house, the famous Abe was like a second father to me. Unlike my father, Abe was also a painter and a collector of Philippine antiques, which I am now, obviously because of him. I was literally following Abe everywhere, learning so much from him, while Larry at the time was trying so much to be so unlike his father. Thus, Larry and I were never together and close in my young days. Though I cannot say he was like a big brother to me, he surely acted like a big brother to me. He gave me my first break, when I had my first one-man painting exhibit at his ABC Gallery in Malate. There I sold my first painting to a foreigner and never stopped painting since then.
It was also Larry who opened the interesting culinary world to me. He gave me another “first” when I unfurled (nagladlad) my apron to the public who found out that I could handle turners (sianse) deftly as well as my painting brushes. For the first time, the public saw me in my chef’s jacket and toque. My cooking was no longer exclusive for my family and friends (my willing guinea pigs) but open to the public who dared to give it a try. The cooking festival, aptly called “Art Woks,” was originally set for 10 days only, but due to its success, it was extended to three weeks. That more or less earned me the title artist-chef.
It was Larry who popularized my pandan-flavored gelatin with carabao milk ice cream when he named it Claude’s Dream. To this day, it is still his restaurants’ best-selling dessert. Once, I teased him that he should pay me royalty for it. The witty Larry quickly quipped, “It should be you who must pay me because I made you even more popular.” Well, that is the other lovable Larry to me.
Larry J. Cruz is gone. But his legacy lives on. Thank you so much, Larry, our very own Larry King!
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(Note: LJC died in Washington, USA last Feb. 4.)