At his latest restaurant inside a 1970s home in Maginhawa, chef Tatung Sarthou wants diners to appreciate slow food
Talisay by chef Tatung Sarthou revisits Filipino essentials
The last time I was in the northern stretch of Maginhawa was for a dreaded dinner with high school classmates four years ago, when we ate at a themed restaurant, which I will not describe any further as it is still in existence today.
This street, part of the Teachers Village in Quezon City, is more known for its proximity to UP Diliman and EDSA tenants, who themselves are trying their best to outlast the competition with either gimmicky tactics, legacy, or plain budget- friendly appeal.
As far as themed restaurants go, it’s really hard to dispel the feeling of disbelief. Why would a space that’s obviously residential try to transport diners to Italy? Or a very industrial concept of a food park attempt to mimic the white- and- blue serenity of the Mediterranean?
Lately, what seems to be the next target simulation is the concept of home. Or has it always been that way, especially for those whose prime market are families?
This trend has prompted many to ask, “Why would I want to go there if I could easily eat at home with the same ease?”
Chef Myke “Tatung” Sarthou kind of answers this in his 2018 book, “DISHkarte,” by pointing out that there’s such a thing as “sawa factor” and domestic kitchens are inherently limited by ingredients and equipment.
One Tuesday afternoon, at his new restaurant in Maginhawa, he says that another reason is that no one really “cooks” the way mothers did before. No one has the time and patience to do the intricate work of preparing a Filipino meal that takes hours to marinate, tenderize, and imbue with flavor.
At his new restaurant Talisay, in a refurbished 1970s house, there is no room for pretensions, no room for gimmicks, and maybe just enough square-foot mileage for the millennials who are after reinterpreted Filipino food despite the expansive seating and the sprawling garden. There’s none of that here.
Forget the millennials and their newfound purchasing power. For restaurateurs like Sarthou, the big money is still with the conservative, hardcore classic-Filipino-cuisine-ornothing moms and dads, and lolos and lolas who get the tab after every meal.
“Sometimes there’s a tendency when we try to reinvent Filipino food to take it to the extreme na parang sabog-sabog na,” he says.
“I think what’s very essential for a Filipino meal is the ‘ busog factor.’ Diners are willing to spend in order to get satisfaction. Ayaw nila ’yung pang- Instagram lang. That’s what we’re trying to create here. ’ Di ka aalis kapag ’di ka busog.”
So there are no deconstructed plates, reinterpreted classics, and what-have-you. That’s not chef Tatung’s gig—at least not here. At Talisay, it’s all about a wholesome, grandma-style approach to Filipino cooking.
His balbacua, a popular Visayan dish that’s a dead-ringer for kare-kare, takes eight hours to cook. The bread, a hybrid pandesal loaf made with a levain starter, is made in-house; so is the flavored butter that goes with it.
Everything, simply put, is not just reminiscent of a family kitchen but actually employs the necessary tedious work that goes into it. And why not? Sarthou has the space to pull it off.
Next to the main structure that’s now a three-part dining area is a kitchen big enough to house the main service line as well as a commissary. Ah, the joys of not succumbing to commercial malls or high-rent business district spaces and the compromises that go with it, Sarthou remarks with relief.
The property belongs to the family of journalist Cheche Lazaro and was previously a shop that was recently vacated and left idle. A rare bungalow-style house, one of the few that remains along Maginhawa Street, as others had been converted to money-generating restaurants or commercial buildings in the last few years.
Apart from the aesthetic changes to the floor plan and the facade, nothing else was restored, leaving the place looking eerily like the home that it once was. That was not at all Sarthou and his brother and business partner Jomi’s MO. None of that nostalgia by visual association. It’s all nostalgia by taste, as it should be.
Okay, maybe, despite Sarthou’s denial, there are little hints of innovations and small touches of personalization that show that he, in fact, cares about the “look” of his new restaurant. His choice to substitute bomba, the short-grain rice typically used for paella, with a local variety from Benguet called Tinawon is exemplary of his eye for modernizing the traditional.
This seasonal stout-grained rice, which does not turn soggy when stirred with the rest of the paella, is procured directly from farmers, who ship it weekly in sacks via provincial buses. The result is an al dente grain with a distinct flavor profile.