FEATURE
fter Covid, I’m still a little squeamish about hitting a buffet with a hundred sneezing strangers, but I’m Eat With Your Hands At Villa Manila’s Kamayan Dinners A BY BETH DEMMON definitely ready for the resurgence of kamayan Thursday nights at National City’s Villa Manila (which is, naturally, in a strip mall). Kamayan, a precolonial Filipino method of eating with your hands, “is a great experience because it promotes community and togetherness,” says James Camanyag, PR marketing director at Villa Manila. Large banana leaves line the table, upon which communal dishes are dumped and devoured without utensils or pretension. It’s not a public buffet—just a way to eat favorites like adobo, daing na bangus (fried milkfish), lumpia, lechon kawali (pork belly), and more with friends and family. I like to make small rice balls with my right hand, add a bite of tender meat to it with my left, nom, and repeat. That’s the beauty of kamayan: There’s no wrong way to dig in. Understandably, the practice took a significant hit during the pandemic, but that’s not the first time kamayan has come under attack. “The practice was tolerated during the Spanish period, but it was suppressed during the American colonial period when Western dining etiquette and the use of spoons and forks were aggressively promoted,” Camanyag explains. Today, Villa Manila’s kamayan experience is the only one in San Diego that’s regularly available with a reservation. The food is always amazing, but there’s just something about eating with your hands that makes it taste that much better. Camanyag says first-timers are always welcome, recommending dishes like the spicy bicol express (stewed pork in coconut milk and shrimp paste with jalapeno), kare-kare (a thick peanut stew cooked with oxtail, tripe, beef shank, and more), Shanghai lumpia (Chinese- Filipino fusion pork egg rolls), or the “Sizzling Sisig” (crunchy pork belly and pork ears served on a sizzling plate, fajita-style). Come with clean hands, an empty belly, and a few friends.
MANY OF SAN DIEGO’S BEST EATS aren’t perched along the waterfront or atop high-rises with panoramic views. They’re nestled next to dry cleaners and convenience stores, sharing parking with nail salons and vape shops, overlooking car washes and drive-throughs instead of million-dollar views. But food fiends know behind every shabby doorway, underneath every fluorescent light, in every single strip mall across San Diego lies potential for a little ecstasy. Take Sushi Ota in Pacific Beach: The nondescript, bamboo-lined faÇade wedged between a 7-11, a Planned Parenthood, and a string of car dealerships disguises one of the best Japanese restaurants in the county (and my personal favorite sushi spot). Its omakase, a revelation. Standard menu, just as divine. It’s not flashy, but frankly, I’d love it less if it were. Hey, even the world-famous ramen joint Menya Ultra’s neighbors in Hillcrest include a tax preparer and a nutritional supplements shop. The same goes for the Rolando neighborhood’s Filipino favorite Adobo House (next to a real estate office), National City’s Poke Etc. (adjacent to a barber shop and a computer repair joint), Rancho Bernardo’s Burma Place (across from a Jack in the Box), or Miramar’s SMACK’N An ode to strip mall dining, where culinary wizardry remains in focus over flash Stripped Down BY BETH DEMMON
Guamanian Grill (where you can feast on Chamorro barbecue and then roast your own flesh at the tanning salon next door). Even San Diego’s food nirvana— Convoy District—prides itself on culinary delights over ambiance. Sichuan, Korean, Taiwanese, yangnyum galbi cooked over an open flame, bowls of boiling hot shabu shabu, face-numbingly spicy hand-pulled noodles, pleasure groan–inducing piles of soup dumplings served on chipped plates in dimly lit dining rooms: Here, the fine in “fine dining” refers to the food, not atmosphere. (Thank god for nonexistent dress codes, because these feet don’t do high heels.) Chefs at strip mall restaurants may not always be classically trained or, frankly, very good at social media. Instead, their legacy is often passed down through families, like at Phatties Vegan Mexican in Escondido (in the same strip as a liquor store, chiropractor, and nail salon, naturally). Phatties co-owner Olga Saldivar says the food-truck-turned- brick-and-mortar was originally inspired by her mother’s central Mexican style of cooking. She eventually pivoted to a completely vegan menu in 2018. Sharing space in a strip mall has its challenges, she admits, but it comes with benefits as well. “One of the good things about strip malls is that people find you because of the other businesses they tend to come to,” she explains. Patrons who accidentally find these places often return again. And again. And again. Come for a pedicure, stay for the pambazos. I’m a chronic multitasker and devoted student of global cuisine, so strip mall eateries check all my boxes. It’s time they get the respect they so richly deserve.
30 JUNE 2023
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