L-R: the menu beside each plate, a dish of carabao

 cheese, caramelized banana and fruits,
roast pork with crunchy chicharon, brown rice and

sauteed vegetables

L-R: Fruits in season, native hot chocolate with

 cinnamon stick, bread pudding and turon and coffee

The feast starts with the Trio of Three La Cocina

 Salads. First is the grilled eggplant salad with

 homemade vinaigrette and salted duck eggs. There’s

 the papaya salad with jamon serrano, fresh basil,

 carabao cheese and a honey calamansi vinaigrette.

 Then there’s fresh kangkong salad with grilled peppers, caramelized walnuts and homemade walnut vinaigrette.

The description of the salad most surely would have

 caused your mouth to water and your appetite to

explode. I would have felt the same, except that I was

 able to read the description of the menu AFTER we

had dinner. While we were eating, all I can say was,

 “Wow, I never thought kangkong could taste this great.

” Really, individually the ingredients were ordinary. But

came together in one culinary harmony that is

 difficult to describe.

Then there’s Salsa Monja. As far as I know “mongha”

is related to nuns, which would probably explain the

description of this part of the menu: “It is what the

 nuns used to make for the Spanish friars to accompany

 meals. You are to eat it together with your dinner to

make everything a little more delicious.” That’s all we

 can relate to. Don’t ask us how it tastes. Don’t ask

 us what it’s made of.

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