not date food

I've been so good about studying that I decided I desperately needed a break. So Brendan and I decided to check out Filipino food last night, and I have to say - it was the raunchiest dining experience I've had in some time. And I don't mean "raunchy" like sexual/fun/kinky raunchy. I mean like, fried carcass raunchy.

I picked Brendan up at the Daly City BART station as he ran into a bit of a MUNI-snafu. By the time we got to Ongpin, it was something like 8:30. We brought a bottle of wine, but of course, we couldn't open it there. And we were largely ignored - probably because Brendan was like the only white person in the whole joint.

I've been to Ongping before - I used to date a Chinese guy whose parents grew up in the Philippines - so I knew that it was pretty good. The three dishes that I'd had before did not disappoint. Sisig, as always, was amazing and fragrant; and eggplant relleno topped with banana sauce a fantastic contrast. It was when we got to the Pancit Palabok - noodles topped with fish flakes and shrimp - and the fried short ribs that we ran into problems.

Yes, I said fried short ribs.

I think the problem was that we were both so hungry when we got there that we just ordered way too much food. We ordered the three dishes, and then saw some other tables with the fried stuff, and decided to add that. The waiter even looked at us and said, "That's a lot of food." But we were the stupid white people there. We didn't care.

Brendan really did NOT like the Pancit Palabok - he said that it tasted like fish food. In fact, he liked to so little that he dumped it onto another plate.

I really did NOT like the fried short ribs. I mean, it was really, really fried. Not slightly stir fried; not even just deep fried. It was put in a vat of oil and fried for house until the meat was no longer even recognizable as food and the marrow inside was covered with oil. I couldn't even look at it, and the smell of it made me sick. Brendan had to wipe his hands so badly after handling a piece that he grabbed the napkin off the table next to ours - which was occupied, of course.

I wish I brought my camera - well, sort of, because I might have gotten grease on it. But there would have been some precious shots of Brendan's Beatles hair, him eating a nugget of fat (ewww!) and the carcass itself. Then you would believe me when I say "ew". We felt so gross after words that we both sat in the car with our pants buttoned, and our conversation degenerated to talking about bowel concerns the next morning. I would say, not a place to bring a date.