More than its designation as a residential and commercial zone, Ortigas should be declared a self-contained comfort zone. With gated communities scattered on one side, shopping strongholds looming on the other, and a trickle of condo complexes, strip malls, and mid-rises stacked with offices for the no-collared (radio DJs, your occasional Korean-English tutor, and an ample populace of call center agents), there’s a leisurely and unifying village vibe that demarcates this neck of the woods from, say, the urban gravitas that wafts with the smog in Makati.
It’s a place you can drive around in without developing a traffic-induced tumor, where the skyline is clearer, Sunday mornings are easier, and dining is — well, with the unruffled spirit of its inhabitants, Ortigas is the metropolis’ casual culinary capital. And for a guy who works and plays in Makati but devotedly comes home to his beloved hometown, a weekend of comfort food in the city’s comfort zone is a comforting prospect.
Uncle Moe’s Shawarma Hub (City Golf Arcade, Julia Vargas Avenue)
Given the multi-purpose feast-in-a-flatbread that is shawarma, most patrons of this Persian grub find themselves here (or at the open-air Santush, just a kebab’s throw away) to get sauced and sated with beer and wrapped meat carvings, or to ease a hangover with some Middle Eastern-style grease.
Fronting a strip of golf shops that fortify the City Golf driving range, Moe’s has become an arbitrary locale that gathers fewer actual-golfers’ sporting sock tan lines and more college kids sucking on cigarettes and swigging brewskies under Coors-sponsored umbrellas; the Café del Mar Siete CD on-loop is oddly conducive to an afternoon buzz after cutting class. But whether you’re a grimy Lit major contemplating the generic paintings on the blood-red walls or a Civic-driving Valle boy with a pair of Oakleys resting on your head, you’re probably here for the chicken shawarma (the beef can be dry), unusually tender chicken chunks (yogurt marinade does the trick) with fresh tomatoes and onions encased in seared, semi-chewy pita bread.
Be sure to grab one of the tissue dispensers at the condiments station. A major wipe-down may be necessary after you’ve cleaned that small plate of creamy hummus (whoever thought bean dip could be as addictive as crack?) or moutabal (or eggplant dip, even?) with shreds of pita; or emptied a squeeze bottle of chilli garlic shawarma sauce straight into your mouth. Then again, you’ll probably be sampling the entire menu. Shawarma cart prices, frosty beer, and restaurant ambience — those kids gotta be all right.
Chiefs Restobar (Ortigas Home Depot Complex, Julia Vargas Avenue)
If there’s one law that’s obeyed here, it’s that both bar and chow can’t be half-assed. You don’t mind that this grub pub is about the size of a jail cell ‘cause the squad behind the place is serious about offering formidable fried fare that’ll prep that gut for all the spirited grog — Czech, German, all kinds of obscure brew — you’ll be glugging down. It’s a four-sense lockdown you won’t mind putting your hands up to as you dig into that hefty cheeseburger oozing with yellow cheddar, generously-topped slice of pizza, or chilli-teasing buffalo wing — each big bite washed down with several swigs from the bottle of American craft beer the PNP-uniformed gentleman has brought you.
Like any run-in with the cops, however, there is quite a price to pay at Chiefs: a dish or drink in the P200-plus zone, what with portion size and alcohol selection. ‘Course, it’s a penalty you won’t mind paying if you grabbed a cold one from the matchless beer brands like the San Diego-brewed Ballast Point, the Oregon-hailing Rogue Ales, and the Flying Dog Brewery (tag line: “Good beer. No shit.”) — the bottles of which you’ll want to keep considering the labels are done by Hunter S. Thompson’s illustrator. And as your taste buds are placed under arrest and your soul squeezed of work weariness — standard alt-rock playing (early Oasis, 311, etc.) and Plasma screen stuck on ESPN — you might as well raise that mug and hail to the chief for laying down a damn good law. (Chiefs is open from 6 p.m. ‘til the mob’s wiped out. Will re-open as Pivo on Jan. 20)
Banchetto Saturday Early Morning Street Fiesta (Emerald Avenue, Ortigas Center)
No one knows pick-me-ups better than call center agents. After planting your rump on a swivel chair for several all-too-long hours, ear buds still ringing from the vocal hostility of testy customers, a feast better be in order when you step out into the daylight. And that’s exactly what Banchetto is — literally a “feast” in Italian — to the headset hordes of the OC (Ortigas Center — we don’t take ourselves too seriously ‘round here).
With Banchetto’s white tents set up a little past midnight ‘til midday, it’s also a sort of White Castle to take a food trip to after an ultra-casual night of cheap booze. Whether you’re all sung-out from a nearby Korean karaoke joint or in need of a post-party snack following a romp at one of the friendly neighborhood bars (Hot Fuss picks are the original wino outpost Barcino at City Golf and the delightfully quirky Café 80’s clumped up with a new spate of nightspots at the Ortigas Home Depot Complex), the grill smoke rises way before the earliest of risers get up for their day.
Ortigas’ own Saturday market is less an uppity organic food outpost like its kin in Makati and more a no-fuss outdoor food court for everything from crispy breakfast crepes (the taco-riffic Chicano crepe at the Crepeman tent flies fast) to Pinoy styro staples like palabok and tapsilog (Tapatouille’s salpicao-like selection of spicy or Korean tapsilog is a.m.-okay!). You could be jonesing for Japanese dumplings, a steaming bowl of papaitan, or that most natural craving of thick ‘n’ juicy patty from what they’re grilling over at the Monster Burger stall, and it’ll be but a tiny fee (P100 could get you food comatose) for one hell of a feast.
Bugsy’s Bar & Bistro (City Golf Arcade, Julia Vargas Avenue)
Small town that Ortigas is, there’s a go-to stop for whatever inclination you have: Metrowalk’s Misato for Japanese (and dibidi shopping afterwards) and Ye-Dang, a short walk away for Korean barbecue, Hacienda at Frontera Verde for mood-altering mountain coffee, and that tiny parlor by City Golf that prides itself in its Brazilian waxing. One buzz-hardy spot that’s become a glorified meeting place — and eating place — for Ortigans, however, is Bugsy’s, a real drink ‘n’ dine (you’ve got starters, mains, pastas, dessert, etc.) enclave amid all the specialty spots around the area.
Dark wood-walled with L-shaped burgundy couches surrounding a couple of tables, there’s a Mafioso feel to the place, especially with its P 395 Bugsy Malone steak — a grand slab of straight-to-the-cut rib eye with a gravy-drenched siding of chunky mashed potato — as the Godfather of meals on its extensive menu. And while all-day breakfast (bacon, Italian sausage, the works) and all kinds of meat (chicken rosemary, southern fried pork chops, and what have you) are gluttonous options as well, Bugsy’s really an all-out hangout where everybody can know your name by the end of a night of alco-clinking (they’ve got a full bar, P135 Coronas included) under the name of this one righteous wise guy.