KIMPURA
A bittersweet goodbye to a first love: Kimpura Greenhills, where we first fell under the spell of Japanese cuisine.
After 29 years and three months, Kimpura Greenhills shut off their famous teppanyaki grills for the final time this past Father’s Day. In the weeks leading up to that Sunday, the pioneers – the employees who had been with the restaurant since the day it opened on March 17, 1988 – experienced a phenomenon that can only be described as a sentimental journey.
Long time patrons suddenly started treating them like celebrities. Guests could not leave the restaurant without repeatedly asking the “old timer” managers, cooks, and waiters, to join them for a photo op: a souvenir, one more moment together. One last photograph – a family picture, really -- with the people whose three decades of dedication helped make every meal there enjoyable and memorable. Kimpura evolved into a beloved restaurant not just because of their consistent Japanese cuisine, but more so, because dining there always felt like a happy family reunion.
Grandparents who first went to Kimpura as young couples in the late ‘80s – now dining at their favorite restaurant of the final time with their grandchildren -- were misty eyed as they recalled the many occasions there: baptisms, first communions, graduations. Most of them said the same thing: every new generation in their families fell in love with Kimpura the same way they had. It was always the unanimous choice for a celebration. It was the one restaurant that every member of the family, no matter how young or old, loved; the one place where everyone was always excited to go to.
So many fond memories at every age: as young children, the magic of their first teppanyaki experience: eyes agog as the cooks sliced and diced their steaks like samurai. As teens, the giddy romance of a first date, ordering sushi and sashimi just like gourmets, followed by the unbidden tears and hysterical laughter when they put too much
EVERY NEW GENERATION FELL IN LOVE WITH KIMPURA THE SAME WAY THEIR PARENTS HAD: IT WAS ALWAYS THE UNANIMOUS CHOICE FOR EVERY IMPORTANT FAMILY CELEBRATION.
wasabi on their soy sauce. As adults, it was their excitement as young parents, watching their little ones try to master the use of chopsticks on ebi tempura.
Millie and Karla Reyes, the mother and daughter tandem behind The Plaza Premium Baked Ham, loved going to Kimpura as their special treat on Sunday evenings. They agree that the food never disappointed, and the service was always excellent. Eric and Jazmin Yap, the couple behind the popular EricJaz Foodies blog, asked: “Where will we go now? Kimpura has always been there for us.” For their family, special occasions had to be in Kimpura and nowhere else, because their ultimate Japanese comfort food always was as delectable as the first time they had it.
Chef Sharwin Tee perfectly illustrated why Kimpura meant so much to so many people. “It’s special because it’s old school, and by that, I don’t mean it’s old. I love it because it has the heart of a great restaurant. Solid food; they aren’t concerned about being innovative or different. They know what they do well and they keep doing it well. Great staff that remembers returning clientele and provides prompt and cordial service. It’ll always have a special place in my and my family’s heart because I grew up there. Birthdays, graduations, Father’s and Mother’s Days, you name it, we celebrated them there.”
Luz and Joy, two ladies who started as kimono-clad receptionists in Kimpura Greenhills on the day it opened, are now senior supervisors. For both, it was
“IT’LL ALWAYS HAVE A SPECIAL PLACE IN MY HEART BECAUSE I GREW UP THERE. BIRTHDAYS, GRADUATIONS, FATHER’S AND MOTHER’S DAYS, YOU NAME IT, WE CELEBRATED THEM THERE.”
their first, and still is, the only job they’ve ever had. They never left, and never wanted to. I loved hearing their stories about how Kimpura remained open for to serve and soothe their patrons no matter what. The restaurant stayed open after the powerful 1990 earthquake, through the ash fall after Pinatubo’s eruption, and even after Ondoy’s wrath in 2009. Only the attempted coup d’état a year after it opened forced it to close briefly, as the gunfire and explosions from Camp Aguinaldo were getting too close for comfort.
As I was leaving Kimpura after our interview, a young woman entered. This was at three o’clock in the afternoon, and she explained that she’d been sent as the “advance party” to guarantee that her family get tables so that they could enjoy Kimpura one last time. They were coming all the way from San Jose Del Monte, she said, and they absolutely needed to dine there that evening. All 48 of them. After exchanging determined smiles, Luz and Joy sprang into action, and of course, the whole clan from Bulacan got seated that night. That’s why Kimpura matters. And that’s why we’re not letting go.