The appetizer came first. The Gising-gising —finely chopped string beans in a rich coconut milk gravy, punctuated by the bite of chili and the saltiness of bagnet bits. It was called Gising-gising because it was supposed to “wake you up.” Marco took a bite. The heat hit his throat, then the creaminess soothed it. He closed his eyes. For a second, he wasn’t in a sterile financial district. He was seven years old, sitting on a wooden stool in his Lola’s kitchen in Pampanga, watching her stir a pot.
I saw a family of four at the next table. The dad was teaching his son how to use a sandok to get the perfect ratio of broth to rice. The little girl stole a piece of lechon kawali from her mom’s plate. No one yelled. That’s the magic of Manam. It doesn’t just serve food. It serves a version of home that is slightly better than you remember it. manam restaurant review
Then the sinigang arrived.