Oftentimes, we too do a lot of entertaining in the house. And we decide our menus depending on who is coming to join us. Every house, I believe, has a standard menu or what I refer to as "de cajon". These are dishes mastered by the house staff that they could whip up with minimum supervision. But then of course if it is the same group on a second visit, I will have to amend the menus unless if by demand they want a repeat of everything which honestly at times is a big relief on my part.
Just last month, Mary Ann and I hosted a lunch for a balikbayan cousin visiting from New Mexico and prepared a whole lechon served four ways. First, all the guests were to partake of the crackling skin by individually making kurot (pinching). This makes the lechon more delicious than being served chopped in a chafing dish, which more often than not is already cold and the fatty parts jelled (nagsebo na). Then the ribs were roasted over charcoal sprinkled with salt and pepper; thirdly, all the fatty parts (belly and neck) were fried, rendered in their own fat for crispy bites. Then the buto-buto were dropped in boiling sinigang broth, soured perfectly with kamias or sampalok.
Now back in New Mexico, our cousin emailed us and was still reeling at the delicious experience. And yet what we served her was what every house would normally serve a balikbayan, a lechon done the usual way. What made ours special and memorable is the way we presented the lechon in four ways.
What I am saying is the presentation and the ambiance add to the dishes’ quality and taste. A little imagination is required to make any get-together memorable.
What to do if the guests coming are jaded foodies that will not be impressed anymore with foie gras and caviar? And their idea of Thai food is the roadside food in the busy streets of Bangkok? Again, the atmosphere or ambiance is the answer.
Recently, Mary Ann and I were invited by Mariano "Garch" Garchitorena of the Peninsula Manila to join a small group of foodies to meet the hotel’s new executive chef, German chef Gerhard Doll. On the invite, Garch specified that we wear something warm, yet something light, and a fan and enough energy to make our own dessert. Now that’s intriguing, my wife said. I can understand the warm clothes but why would I need a fan if I am inside the hotel? And why do I have to make my own dessert? Should not the pastry chef do it in advance?
On the appointed night, Maryann came with a shawl while I brought a very light jacket. Both of us refused to bring fans. Again "hope for the best and expect the unexpected", we said in unison. We arrived at the Pen 15 minutes early and so we decided to spend some time at the basement delicatessen. Luckily for us, there was a free tasting of a Shiraz red wine and prosciutto. As our stomachs and appetites warmed up, we walked up to the lobby to join the group.
There at the lobby were friends in the industry also wondering why we needed fans in a hotel like the Pen. Could it be that we would be trapped in the hotel without electricity? one mused. Since there weren’t any coup rumors that night, we were all wondering what the fans were for.
Garch appeared from nowhere and introduced chef Doll. Together they led us to the hotel’s banquet kitchen (one of 16 kitchens!), breezing through the function rooms on the Ayala wing. Although we were warned about the temperature, nothing prepared us for the venue of our first course for the evening. After a brief welcome remark by GM David Batchelor, we found ourselves inside the walk-in chiller! It was freezing cold, made colder by the visual effect of the electric blue lights (just like the arctic scene from the Superman movie), but making it a bit difficult for us to discern the delectable food we were about to have. So on blind faith we took what the chef had prepared for us, as more mystery and excitement were added as the night went on. And for those who came unprepared, some "mink coats" (actually the hotel’s thick bathrobes) were passed around. Placed on the table were some ice sculptures, and laid out beautifully on each sculpture were oyster shooters soaked in sake, cured beef carpaccio with freshly shaved Parmesan, rolled sushi with fruits and chilled tomato jelly and shrimp relish. And lastly, at least for this first leg of our "progressive dinner" as chef Doll called it, was a very tasty hot consommé of five-spice duck.
Then disrobing ourselves of the "mink coats," we marched on to the other wing of the hotel, this time for a warmer clime, al fresco by the poolside. No wonder fans were suggested, as it was a very humid night. Some cocktail tables were set up for us, surrounded by torch lights, giving it a feel of a garden party. Here another round of appetizers was served, this time coming from the hotel’s Spices restaurant. A duo of som tum roll ( that spicy Thai green papaya salad served on translucent wrappers) and conical papadom filled with minced lamb tandoori served with a tamarind relish.
This time, we had fresh iced fruit juices to cool us instead of wine.
From the poolside, we were directed back inside the hotel, wending our way through the maze of corridors at the back of the house, where the galleys and kitchens of several outlets interconnect. Amidst the clanking of pots and pans, constant steam from boiling stock, mise en place preparations, the hollering from a harried staff (Old Manila was fully-booked that evening), we all ended up being seated at the chef’s table for the main event. All that noise and steam coming out of the kitchen was music to my ears – they’re all telltale signs of a well-oiled machine at work. But to the uninitiated who are not familiar with what goes on behind the scene prior to serving a meal, this must be unfamiliar territory but a very interesting sight and experience nevertheless.
Here they served us another duo: from Mi Piace’s kitchen, a ravioli dish of seven vegetables and goat cheese, nesting on fava bean pureè with a saffron coriander butter; and from Old Manila outlet a crispy seared Scottish salmon with morel and chanterelle mushrooms in a rich truffle emulsion.
When we could hardly talk but burp, chef Doll signaled us to move to the pastry kitchen. This time, he warned with a naughty grin, we had to make our own dessert or else we wouldn’t have any. We were handed aprons to wear, and pieces of rich soft-centered Belgian Valrhona chocolate cakes, still in their molds. The challenge was to enplate the cup-size cakes, which meant unmolding one without having it collapse, topping it with a scoop of fig ice cream, dusting it with powdered sugar and then garnishing it with chocolate twirls. Piece of cake, especially to the ladies on hand knowing they’ll get to have their just desserts and eat it too. For these same ladies, it was the highlight of the evening.
Just when we thought the evening was over, we were asked again to march and follow the commander-in-chef Doll. This time he led us to the basement deli Exclusivitès, where a great range of breads, cakes, meat products, teas, and chocolate truffles was available for takeout. To cap our nocturnal adventure (it was past 10 p.m.), freshly brewed coffee and teas were served, together with chocolate truffles and thin slices of Manchego cheese from the display chiller.
It was so unlike other hotel dinners in formal setting, where the guests are pegged to their seats and have to endure the same seatmates for the entire evening. The change of venues whetted our appetites, made it more exciting not knowing what next to expect, and the walking up and down the alleys gave us enough pacing and more room in our stomachs, burning the calories right away, as one lady justified her over indulgence with the dessert. What an adventure that was, having a feel of the action, the cold and the heat in the back of the house!
The Peninsula Manila offers to the public a similar adventure for a minimum group of six. For inquiries and reservations, contact public relations director Mariano "Garch" Garchitorena at 887-2888 or 810-3456.