Lunchtime. The unmerciful sun was up inflicting intense heat on everyone. Somewhere down a congested road in the Metro, a damsel in distress is slowly growing weak from hunger. She is surrounded by zombie-like creatures who are equally, if not more, hungry. Hope was slowly wearing thin.
Then, floating majestically in the sky, a hero. It’s a bird. No, it’s a plane? Superman, not even.
It’s the Flying Pig. And not any ordinary flying pig. It’s the Flying Pig: BBQ House & French-American Bistro.
The story is, of course, a fantastic tale, but that’s within the spirit of the Flying Pig, a named coined by Raymund Magdaluyo’s four-year old son, Rico. Chef Raymund, with more than ten restaurants under his belt, thanked his son and “all other little sons and daughters who remind us of a world where pigs fly and dreams come true.”
I really had no monumental dream at that time, about thirty minutes from lunch on a weekend. I was to accompany my wife to the occasional gathering with her college friends. Rina, who works abroad, is scheduled to leave in a week. Nancy and Neil, as usual, were behind schedule. We didn’t mind, really, because we had an exciting search up ahead — where in Eastwood Mall is the Flying Pig?
Travel is equally about the journey and the destination. The fun starts with the search for the destination. The search for a restaurant is no different. Besides, how hard could it be to look for a Flying Pig? We quickly learned it’s in front, near the entrance of Eastwood Mall, facing the fountains (see map and directions to Eastwood Mall). Then came the harder part, what to order.
The time-tested suggestion is to ask the staff for the bestseller. We’ve tried it time and again. That time, however, I knew I don’t have to resort to it as soon as I saw the menu. Just like a pig flying, three items seemed to float out of the menu: baby back ribs, spare ribs, and bagnet.
The baby back ribs tasted good, though I’d like to believe that I made the wrong decision in trying the homemade pork and beans as side dish, instead of the usual fries or mashed potato which I order in TGI Fridays or FlapJacks. The pork and beans side dish was too salty for me. The mashed potato should have balanced the crisp and full flavor of the ribs; the pork and beans heightened it.
The spare ribs, ordered by my wife but within easy reach of my roving spoon and fork, fared better with the sliced potatoes on the side. The meat was soft, the flavor heavenly.
The Bangin’ Bagnet is described in the menu as “Ilocandia crispy pork belly with adobo rice, pinakurat vinegar and balsamic liver sauce.” The Flying Pig bagnet is as crunchy, even crispier, but maybe because it’s sliced into thinner pieces, not in cubes like what you see in the previous post.
Anyway, Chef Raymund’s Flying Pig is one that I’d willingly visit again. I can’t pretend to know Chef Raymund, though it would probably be cool having a chef as a friend. Lots of samplers. Lots of great food. This may be an empty daydream, but Chef Raymund himself noted a world where pigs fly and dreams come true.