What makes a truly elegant person?

Last weekend, I took a quick trip to Hong Kong to de-stress (read: to overcome depression by shopping and eating) with two girlfriends. One of our must-stops, after a day of cheap shopping at wholesale outlets in Hong Kong’s Industrial Centre, was the Peninsula Hong Kong Lobby . 

I insisted that our late lunch at 2:30 p.m. should be the Pen Lobby’s famous High Tea. Never mind that we had to join a queue of assorted tourists for 20 minutes, some toting chic Hermes bags, and some struggling to carry inelegantly stuffed shopping bags just like us. Never mind that we were famished and craving a decent lunch. I was also craving scones, and my two girlfriends kindly agreed to my idea, and why should they not when I gladly volunteered to take care of the bill.

For me, this was a nostalgic meal that took me back to the first time I had my taste of this decadently British afternoon repast in Hong Kong’s best and most elegant hotel. It also provided a flashback to a colonial past when the Lobby was divided into the East and West sections — one for the British and the other one for the rest of humanity. Now, no such demarcation line exists, and thank God, yesterday’s dress codes vanished together with the Ladies of the Night looking for big fish there.

 It was in the 1970s when, as a beginner in lifestyle journalism, I joined a press trip to Hong Kong with society press divas, including the venerable Luisa Linsangan, then the editor of the Women’s magazine  which was the top read in the pre-glossy mag era.

Luisa announced to the group: “I will go to the Peninsula Lobby for High Tea. Who wants to come with me?” I quickly raised my hand, while the rest scampered towards the malls to do their shopping lists. Thus came the first in my series of educational sessions with this guru, whose strict and  formidable mien usually scared the hell out of other young writers. But I wasn’t afraid of her at all. I looked at her as a mentor and friend. 

After all, my first encounter with Luisa in Manila was one that quickly touched my heart. A college friend asked me to send Luisa a press release about a visiting Japanese printmaker, and with it, an artwork for me framed in glass. I bravely gave the story to Luisa, together with the artwork, and she generously used the press release in her magazine. How surprised I was when she, in turn, sent me a huge Manny Baldemor oil painting. I said, what for? Because you gave me that Japanese artwork meant for you, was her quick reply. Here was a hell of a lady, so gracious and kind. How could I not love her?

So I was loving that afternoon when Luisa showed me the pleasure of sipping hot tea and choosing from a three-tiered layer of delights: finger sandwiches, French pastries, and the one I liked the most — scones which she taught me to gently break into two halves, applying a spread of Devonshire cream and strawberry preserves before biting.

It was Luisa who regaled me with colorful untold stories about Manila’s high society, perhaps as a backgrounder on the milieu I was going to work in. Which businessman was the true love of this society girl, which society girl betrothed to a closet-gay tycoon became a runaway bride, which fashion designer was brazenly copying the gowns of a senior couturier, which supposedly elegant and soft-spoken lady was really a shrew in private. That stuff.

“I was shocked to learn that Mrs. X, whom we see so seemingly elegant, was actually a sloppy host in her Forbes Park home. Imagine serving snacks with paper napkins to guests,” Luisa narrated. For this society editor, it was unthinkable to use paper napkins instead of well-ironed cotton or linen napkins, preferably with dainty, embroidered edges. 

Luisa clearly belonged to a more genteel era. “A truly elegant lady is one who is elegant all the way, even when no one sees her in the inner sanctum of her home. Even when you’re just sipping tea by yourself at home, you use your good china, not some cheap plastic wares.” Luisa couldn’t understand why some people displayed their best china instead of enjoying them in their everyday life.

“An elegant person is not late for appointments. It’s all about being educated and showing respect for other people’s time. An elegant person is always on time,” she stressed.

“An elegant person is kind and humane to household help,” Luisa said, referring to a certain Mrs. Y, who flaunted many charitable projects but didn’t practice charity at home.

A hardworking editor, Luisa became bedridden after suffering severe bouts of asthma. Eventually, she became reclusive and refused visitors. When she passed away, an era of elegance died with her.

* * *

One of the things I learned from Luisa was the pleasure of enjoying really good food. And good food tastes better when shared, especially with an “eating club” of friends with whom you exchange stories. The more stimulating and controversial the stories, the more delectable the food became.

I would join her eating club — a coterie of society editors, career women in the tourism industry and  society ladies. From her, I learned how a “progressive lunch” held in several houses could be a lot of fun. Appetizer in a first house, the soup in a second, the main course in a third, the dessert in a fourth, and coffee in a last stop.

Many years later, I suggested a progressive dinner to my own eating club of 10 ladies — some of them from government, some from the food and fashion industry. To make it more doable, we held our progressive dinner  in three of the best restaurants in Greenbelt 5. Appetizers were at Florabel Co’s Felix restaurant where we savored  Hanoi spring rolls with crab, and a salad with prawns. Shrimply delicious. 

Next stop was Mesa, that restaurant of Rikki and Beng Dee which is always fully packed, where the group enjoyed Crispchon, which was done two ways: wrapped in pandan crepe, and, secondly, tossed in chili garlic. We also loved Shrimp on the Rocks — river shrimps cooked in sizzling hot pebbles. And Crispy Tawilis on spoons. And such delectable Laing Fried Rice.

Last stop was Fely J on the second floor for halo-halo, which we devoured in small spoons because by then we were so satiated.

* * *

If I were to design a simpler progressive dinner in Greenbelt  now, it would involve three stops for three of my fave dishes in this mall. 

First stop would be Cerveseria at Greenbelt 3 where I would ask the brilliant Nobu-trained chef Gilbert Pangilinan to make  a serving of one of their bestsellers (aside from Paella with Soft Shell Crab), Shemeiji Fritos, which is yummy mushrooms imported from Japan, with aoili sauce. A plate that costs only P140, oh so crunchy and delicious, is good for sharing.

Second stop would be Lusso at Greenbelt 5, where super chef Margarita Fores serves my super favorite, the good-to-the-last-bite Lobster and River Prawn Roll with celery and Tarragon-homemade mayonnaise, P450. I also love her french fries with a hint of truffle oil, and never mind that Anthony Bourdain doesn’t like truffle oil. Even the bread is so good, I would not share this dish with anyone.

For dessert, I would go to Felix for their bestselling dessert, Lipa, which you probably have to reserve in advance because it is so in demand. Lipa consists of six sticks of suman latik dipped in Batangas chocolate, and each is nicely served in a shot glass. One order, P175, is good for six people.

If your sweet tooth craves a second dessert, hop on  to Mesa for the most delicious cassava cake in town, only P80, best downed with a cup of tea or salabat.

* * *

Look what I found!

My dream car has always been the black London taxi whose classic design dates back to the early 1900s. I also love that it has such spacious leg room and a folding seat in front of you where you can rest your tired legs  after shopping or sightseeing. Best of all, the London taxi, just like many cabs, has a glass wall separating your space from that of the driver’s. Perfect.

But two weeks ago, on a carless day, I discovered how the Jaguar — a car which could not possibly be my dream car because it seems designed for the likes of Jason Statham and Jessica Szohr (and not for simple fools like me who love the antiquated black London taxi) —  is such a pleasurable ride, thanks to my UP friend Jingjing Romero and Jaguar boss Willie Soong.

The Jaguar XF is sleek and economical since it runs on diesel, and it has a great sound system too. Now don’t ask me to cite its technical merits, because right now, what I remember is that Halley Berry purred as  she drove a Jaguar in Catwoman.