Will the Real Rascal Please Stand Up
One of the things I like most about going to new places, besides taking pictures, is eating the local food. Okay, so the place we ate at wasn't exactly Kapampangan fare, but it did have this awesome idea of wrapping fresh arugula and alfalfa (no, that is not pechay (bok choi) and toge (beansprouts) in the picture, you Neanderthal) in super thin, cheese-crusted, crackly panizza with your favorite toppings.
Hello to a certain restaurant in Makati and a particular pizza chain, by the way. But to be fair, the former does offer it at half the price and the latter in an oil-dripping incarnation, so those are three totally different market segments anyway.
We settled for the St. Jacques, which had scallops and shrimp, though I fought tooth and nail for the spicy salmon. I quieted down after I was told I could pay for lunch with my freshly minted paycheck, which, now that I think about it, would have been annihilated should it have been made to do battle with St. Jacques and Kristina, one of the pasta dishes we ordered.
I liked the restaurant's interiors, which were reminiscent of a wine cellar with Roman busts scattered about, though they could have done away with the countless framed write-ups on the wall and the tacky practice of celebrities/politicians/circus acrobats inscribing their well-wishes on plates that were hung up in the waiting area, as if they were still trying to prove something. I liked the risotto, but the pasta dishes, although well-seasoned, weren't imperatively delightful.