I've never been a huge fan of Filipino cooking, a cuisine that can be greasy, funky and sometimes just too downright strange for a Western palate.
The Philippines is, after all, the country that gave the world balut, an egg in which there is a partially developed embryo, and something called dinuguan, best described as various and sundry organ meats stewed in a chocolate brown sauce.
But there are also delights in the Filipino kitchen that almost anyone reared here can appreciate, such as barbecued meats blackened with caramelized sugar; toothsome noodle dishes; and lumpia, thin, crisp egg rolls with a cylinder of meat running down the dead center.
Which brings us to Salo-Salo, roughly translated as "family dining," the best Filipino restaurant in a city where most of the competition is steam-table fare or greasy food served in fairly dreary environments.
Salo-Salo has atmosphere to burn: wall-mounted mirrors lined with bricks, bamboo staves protruding from giant pots, a patio dining area where the walls are pure bamboo, and big wooden chairs with red cushions, invariably with Filipino-Americans sitting in them.
Adding to the atmosphere is that the tables usually are occupied by entire families eating from the enormous platters the restaurant specializes in, and speaking their dialects—in fact, distinct languages with names like Ilocano, Visayan, and that country's national language, Tagalog, though you're unlikely to meet any Filipino who isn't fluent in English.
Realistically, you need at least four people in your party to fully appreciate the family-style platters. One evening, I dined with my wife and we took home more than two-thirds of what we ordered: the $27.95 Salo-Salo family special.
The waiter brought out a metal tray around 2 feet long, fairly groaning with an entire pompano stuffed with onions, ginger and chopped tomatoes; around 10 wooden skewers, each more than a foot long, holding chunks of grilled beef, chicken and pork, glistening from their respective marinades; and an entire squid, also blackened from a stint on the grill.
On another occasion, I brought a crowd to have at the Crispy Platter, deep-fried pork hocks known as crispy pata in Tagalog, the rind still on; roast pork in slices served with a liver sauce called lechon; a broiled chicken marinated in the sour juice from the tamarind; plus a raft of fried bananas. OK, so this isn't food a cardiologist would certify. But it's all delicious, and cut with the fluffy rice served here, probably not all that excessive, either.
Though just about everyone here is eating family style, the a la carte menu is extensive and full of pleasant surprises. One of my favorite dishes is in the all-day breakfast section: pork tocino; actually two seasoned pork chops, served with garlic rice and two eggs cooked any style. Incidentally, when a Filipino menu mentions garlic, you'd better stand up and take notice.
I also like pancit bihon guisado, thin rice noodles stir-fried with fish balls and Chinese sausage, as well as assorted vegetables and a few shrimps. Those crispy egg rolls I mentioned before are terrific, about a dozen-odd little cigars you dip in the spicy-sweet red gloop called sukang may bawang.
Filipinos love their fried chicken, too, and this restaurant's KFC, short for Kuya's fried chicken, has a sort of fuzzy, crunchy batter with the faint tang of tamarind juice, and the requisite fried-banana accompaniment.
Having praised all of the above dishes, there are a few here that are ... er ... an acquired taste. One is sizzling bangus, a notoriously bony, oddly medicinal fish (milkfish in English,) served on a hot plate with tamarind and onions. Another is kare-kare, an oxtail and tripe stew that fairly screams the word "village."
I'm also permanently off sinigang, though it seems to be a favorite with people raised in that country. It's a sour broth, again flavored by the tamarind, with a few tomatoes and vegetables added, plus your fish or meat of choice. Milkfish is the usual protein component for a good sinigang. That constitutes a double whammy as far as most of us are concerned.
If you're really adventurous, try the vegetable stew pinakbet with ampalaya, a bitter squash, and purple shrimp paste, playing starring roles. At the finish, there is halo-halo, a colorful dessert of fruit and colored gelatin cubes served in a parfait glass, or ube ice cream, an otherworldly confection made from purple yams. Thirty-one Flavors doesn't have it quite yet.
Salo-Salo doesn't have beer or wine yet, either, and that's a pity, because an icy cold San Miguel would go wonderfully well with most of the barbecued meats. There are, as consolation, a few refreshingly tropical fruit drinks, two good ones being cantaloupe and calamantsi juices.
The latter is a spicy, lime-like citrus positively made for any tropical climate, desert or island. Whenever I pass this place on a really hot day, I'm stopping in for one.