Who dips their french fries in mayonnaise? Seriously, that’s weird. Apparently the people at Fahrenheit do—and apparently I like to do now too. I asked the same question when a bowl of fries with mayonnaise dip along with pork chops and some tea was placed on my beige table inside the cozy Fahrenheit restaurant in Leyte, Philippines. After questioning the dip for several seconds and finally deciding, “Well, I paid for it. Why not have a go?”, I gingerly picked a fry up and dipped it in mayonnaise and biting into it, I fell in love with all things Fahrenheit.
It has a cozy, homey feel to it. The walls are decorated with signed shirts from recognized people commending the restaurant for its friendliness and exquisite food. It has paintings and photographs of random things and places that simply make you smile. Through the informality though, it brings its diners quality dishes. Nestled in the heart of the city, you’d think everyone goes there. But no, most people nowadays choose better advertised restaurants over this one.
It is a two-storey restaurant with the kitchen on the second floor. There are neat two-seater tables lined on both floors. And on the second floor is a glass wall. You can just look out, eat and enjoy the view overlooking a street to watch the musings of everymen down below.
On a full night, our waiter was running back and forth carrying two trays and going up and down the stairs. All the other waiters were carrying trays piled with all sorts of food, never tripping under the weight and the mass of people streaming in and out of the restaurant.
The waiter slid a boneless bangus dish on table not too far from ours with a friendly smile and a “Enjoy your meal!” although clearly flustered about the rush of orders still to be done. After placing a glass of red tea and another smile, he hurried to send out another plate.
Priced at about php50.00, the pork chops I had on my plate was a common dish but the Fahrenheit staff seared the outside perfectly and the inside still retained the right amount of juiciness, so each bite was crunchy and soft at the same time. They come with standard Filipino soy sauce, or “toyo” as we fondly say. The toyo came with a light sprinkling of herbs that blend with all the tastes.
As I sat there, barbarically cutting the meat up with my knife—what? I was hungry—with my mother ranting at me to stop eating like a pig, the waiters kept running back and forth still fulfilling orders. Food was piled high on the counter as waiters tried to please us customers bringing the food to our hungry selves. More and more people kept coming in because it was a weekend, and the waiters were getting more work. Apparently, someone’ order was running late because a man stood up and went to the counter to check on the food. At once, a woman with a hairnet ran back to the kitchen to fulfill the customer’s order.
The woman came back out with a wide smile and said to the customer, “It’s here, sir.” as a waiter carried meat dishes covered in sauce—that I will surely order the next time I’m there— to the man who had just complained. Watching all this, I forgot that my mother and I were done with the food. As we stood to leave, a waiter came up and took the dishes away and said a hearty thank you and asked us to come again. Oh, believe me, I will come again.
This is an old article. I wrote a year ago for journalism class. I’ll have you know, I go to this food joint as often as I can :D
Ms. Grae 