President Tea House, Bay City

Oyster Cake

Fookien Fried Rice

Bird's Nest Soup

Always thought my sister, Loren, and I, look alike.

The boys and I Get Hyperactive™, natch

Mum and Loren

Obligatory shot in front of the restaurant

I can't remember now how President Tea House became a family favourite. I just know that we've always had it as default for special occasions. It's ritual. Whenever we felt like we needed to reactivate our Chinese-ness, we'd jump into a jeepney from Cubao to Ongpin. Just as sure as we'd be buying dragonfruit, Poland hopia and various goodies from Eng Bee Tin, we'd end up at President for dim sum.

And so the new-ish President Tea House in Bay City (a 5-minute drive from the airport) was a no-brainer when we had to pick a place for lunch upon our arrival in Manila for the annual family reunion. Teri and Ronnie were flying in from Seoul, Loren from Singapore and I from Hong Kong. Diva was to arrive the next day from Miami.

"ANG TABA MO!!!" Teri screamed by way of greeting. You're so fat. 

"OO NGA, KUYA, ANG TABA-TABA MO!!!" echoed Loren. Indeed. You're very, very fat.

"HAHAHA KUYA TABA!!!" my brothers, Igi and Vincent, chorused. Hahaha, you're a fatty.

"I miss you, too," I said with no small amount of sarcasm, giving each of my siblings a heartfelt hug. Fat jokes aside, I did miss my sibs. My family kept me sane when I sunk into bottomless depths of depression as I grappled with the realities of deportation.

Whilst Loren and Vincent looked the same, Igi and Teri definitely looked chubbier. Ronnie, however, looked like a lean, mean machine - a vast improvement from his decidedly content chubbiness just a year ago...

"Feel his 6-pack!" Teri urged poudly.

Shit, I was jealous. How the fuck did he do it? It was as though I had simply absorbed all the fat that had melted off of Ronnie. Unfair.

"No salt," Ronnie explained. "Just chicken breast, broccoli, boiled sweet potato..."

"No salt? No love?" I asked. "No... flavour?"

"Garlic," he suggested. "Steam your chicken breasts with garlic."

"So are you still on a diet," I asked Ronnie whilst a waiter ceremoniously ladled Bird's Nest Soup into dainty, ceramic bowls.

"No," his eyes grew large, turning the lazy susan to serve himself a heaping spoonful of Fookien Fried Rice.

The food looked just as thoughtfully prepared as I remember. It tasted just as beautiful. The soup had a silky viscosity, the oyster cake was satisfying rich, and even the fried rice had a heavenly fluffiness. What a relief. In Manila, Chinese food is synonymous with greasy grub often found in party districts that reek of beer, and on MRT hawker stalls of highly dubious hygienic standards.

In between the big dishes, we practically inhaled dim sum off of the bamboo steamers: fall-off-the-bone chicken feet, siu mai, har gow, ginormous beef balls... Everything was delicious.

Silently - except for the obscene moans of gastronomic pleasure - we fell into into a happy truce. Not a single more fat joke was uttered as the meal progressed, none of us wanting to be judged for our individual voraciousness.

We polished off every morsel of food from the table - every grain of rice, every drop of soup, every single bit of skin and flesh and tendon from the chicken feet. I could have sworn we got through two tins of hot chili oil, too, because we were just shovelling the stuff onto everything that resembled food.

Afterwards, we shamelessly took over the restaurant, moving furniture, mucking in front of mirrors, taking hundreds of photographs - just being hyperactive, in general, really. Thank goodness we were the only diners and so the restaurant staff must have decided it was easier to just leave us be. 

The bill came close to PhP4,000 for 8 people. That's about USD95 total or USD12 per person. For the ginormous amount of food we consumed, that's very reasonably priced.

But the laughter and the fat jokes in the company of my beloved family - that's priceless.

President Tea House

San Miguel by the Bay, Bay City

Pasay City, Metro Manila

Philippines

(02) 556-4952