I was quite surprised — and a bit amused — when some friends asked me why I no longer blog about restaurants and eating places I’ve been to. They say that they find it helpful and that they actually heed my advice. †So does that now make me a gourmet? Hardly. More likely a gourmand. 
But at least now I know that a handful of people appreciate my often senseless rumblings about food.
If you come to think of it I have not been very patronizing of the eating places I’ve been to recently. A good 50 percent of the time I’ve been quite critical. Well, 50 percent sure sounds balanced to me. †But some friends would correct me on this and point out that “critical” is not the same as “mean.”
On that note I may never ever become a gourmet writer because I may be making more enemies than friends in the restaurant industry.
For this post I am supposed to talk about Restaurante Pia y Damaso (or just Damaso for short) so enough on my musings about my potential career (or the absence of it) as a gourmet writer.
Although I have seen the place several times already it was my first time to try Damaso at GB5 in Makati on Sept 22 . †I went there with my ex-girlfriend for a date. It was her treat. That should be good for Damaso because it means I shouldn’t be too critical (trust me I’ll be several times more critical if I am paying the bill).
Ever since I’ve first heard about Damaso, I’ve always wondered why would a sane and savvy businesswoman name her restaurant after one of Philippine literature’s most-hated villains?
The first rationale that came to mind was perhaps the restaurant wasn’t named after the infamous Padre Damaso of Rizal’s Noli (Me Tangere) and (El) Fili(busterismo). Maybe I just assumed that it is. Maybe it’s just a coincidence.
But of course it is not a coincidence. One quick look at the menu tells it all: Sisa’s Dementia, Tubig ni Maria Clara, Brazo ni DoÒa Vicki, Salviís Canonigo, etc.” It is named after Padre Damaso, alright. That ill-tempered, foul-mouthed, scheming, obese, and ugly friar so hated by everyone who has read Noli and/or Fili. †And who hasn’t?
And what does Padre Damaso know about gourmet food?† The only connection between food and Padre Damaso that I can recall has to do with Tinola. That part about Padre Damaso and Tinola is a very significant event in Noli. †If my memory still serves me right (and it still does, Aileen) Padre Damaso was livid when he was served not the choice part of the Tinola’s chicken but a measly wing.
What other rationale could there be behind the naming of Damaso?† Intrigue begets curiosity, and curiosity brings customers in?† This sounds like a very nice topic for debate in marketing 101 among MBAs.
ìIt is the food, stupid!î is what the owner of Damaso must be yelling at skeptics like me.† And maybe sheís right judging from the many people who patronize the restaurant, at least every time I pass by the place.
So what can I say about Damasoís specialties when my ex-girlfriend and I had a date there about 2 weeks ago?
My ex-girlfriend swears to the magical powers of Tubig ni Maria Clara and professes that sheíll keep going back to Damaso if only for this extraordinary concoction.
It is a winner, alright, although I wouldnít describe it with the same poetic gusto as she would.† P300 for a single order of beverage may sound a little too much.† But not quite when you realize that it comes in a pitcher enough to fill in 5-6 8-oz glasses.
For starters we orderedÖ let me correct thatÖ my ex-girlfriend ordered Snails with Chorizo.† I wasnít excited about it and I did not miss the opportunity to tell my ex-girlfriend that Iíve already consumed more than enough ìkuholî when I was a poor adolescent in the province.† I am still poor and I am still behaving like an adolescent but I sure can do without the snails.† It was alright except for two things:† (1) I couldnít seem to find the chorizo, and (2) I cannot, until now, fathom how snails — considered in my home province of Isabela as pest ñ could cost so much (P250!)!!!
For the entrÈe I ordered Callos, with the Callos of Via Mare as my benchmark.† As with Via Mare, you wouldnít and couldnít go wrong with Damasoís Callos.† Priced reasonably, too.
My ex-girlfriend ordered Ostrich Beef Steak with Guava Butter.† Just by the sound of it I knew it has to be expensive.† And it is, at P600!!!† But she was paying so I was not about to make a big fuss out of it.† Still, it didnít seem to me like it tasted as much as P600!† Not that I know exactly how a P600 food should taste like.† Instinctively I just knew that a P600 worth of entrÈe should taste a lot better than that.
For dessert we ordered Brazo ni DoÒa Vicki and Guni-Guni (roughly translates to “Hallucination”), the sugar-free version of Sisaís Dementia.
May I just say that if youíve read Noli and/or Fili you would probably not find Brazo ni DoÒa Vicki appetizing at all.† I wouldnít even associate it ñ DoÒa Vickiís forearm, that is — with anything sweet.† Guni-Guni or its sugar-laced version, Sisaís Dementia, does not at all appeal to my palate, either.† But hey, they do sound intriguing enough, don’t they?† My theory about the choice of Damaso as the name of this restaurant to foster intrigue and curiosity seems to be right after all.
Brazo ni DoÒa Vicki is too sweet for us. †We didnít consume the whole slice.† Next time Iíll be more faithful to my first love, Mercedez.† Guni-guni isÖ how do I say itÖ unremarkable.† But that canít be right, right?† For P275 it should be remarkable.† So perhaps it is more appropriate to describe it as ìremarkably unremarkable.î
In spite of my consternations weíll probably visit Damaso again.† After all there are still lots of intriguing items to try in their menu.† If everything else fails thereís always Tubig ni Maria Clara to save the day.
Rolling, Rolling, Rolling on new year’s eve