Story & photos by Celine Murillo
Expectations breed resentment, but that day in early May, upon being told I’d get to have a “proper” meal, I allowed myself some hope.
It isn’t exactly a walk in the park, being vegan in the Philippines, so I tend to celebrate instances when the prospect of nourishment is within reach. Countless encounters that involved patis in what were otherwise vegetable dishes had not dampened my spirits. If anything, these had made a personal quest out of looking for vegan-friendly food purveyors.
At any rate, our itinerary led us to the southern parts of Antique, in the town of Tobias Fornier, and I…well, I was so ready for lunch.
We were brought to an odd but familiar structure. Sort of a squat pentagon, it appeared to be constructed out of mostly bamboo. We made way for the door, eager to get out of the high noon sun. Eyes wide with unbridled awe, I took in the interior.
A creaking sound accompanied each of my step. The floor was bamboo poles laid out beside each other. I ambled listlessly about, marveling at the intricacy of this building. The wooden columns rose high, branching out into wooden beams that supported the largest mesh of dried Nipa leaves I have ever seen. These thatched fronds made the roof from which a handful of rattan lamps drooped like earrings.
This place was called Alpas—a Filipino word that meant “to go beyond” or “to be free.” It was birthed by Ken Cazeñas and Kimberly Eng. The former used to work as a sous chef in a restaurant in San Francisco where the latter was the office and events manager. In 2016, they moved back to Cazeñas’s father’s hometown of Dao (now Tobias Fornier) and began setting up this wooden culinary haven.
Construction started in March 2018 and took about seven months to complete. They employed local woodworkers and used, along with bamboo, locally sourced lumber like mahogany and Gmelina. From the get-go, the couple had been clear on what Alpas was going to be about.
“We try to support local enterprises as much as we can,” shared Eng to our group. “Mostly, we want to uplift local farmers.”
Since its opening last December, Alpas has been operating on a no-set-menu, whatever-is-available-and-in-season system. They source most of their ingredients from nearby farms and try to go organic as much as possible. To bolster to their front yard organic farm, the couple urges residents to sell them whatever crops they have “siniguelas, mangoes, squash” instead of letting it rot on the ground. Cazeñas, a trained chef, will then elevate these into dishes worthy of its flavors.
In this aspect, Alpas aims to nudge people to see beyond the intrinsic worth of common fruits and vegetables, to also treat them as goods with veritable economic value. This way, heirloom flavors—that are often taken for granted and tossed aside—would have a greater chance of getting preserved. What better incentive is there other than cash?
The move to encourage reservations over walk-ins also circles back to a sustainable operation. By only preparing a known set number of dishes, food wastage is drastically minimized. Furthermore, Alpas only holds service during lunch and dinner (but breakfast is available for guests staying at the Consuelo guesthouse). Lunch is served with two complimentary drinks per person. Dinner comes with snacks, vegetable sides, a main dish, a dessert and two complimentary drinks. There are no a la carte options.
That day’s lunch, I was served a plate of sautéed greens pechay, okra and eggplant. Familiar flavors I’ve grown up with and loved. It was paired with a pumpkin salsa and homemade chili oil over a generous helping of heirloom black, red and brown rice from Zidofa (Zarraga Integrated Diversified Organic Farmers Association) in the neighboring Iloilo province.
While I savored the flavor burst on my plate, I pondered about this concept of dining, how it falls neatly under the sustainability mantra of using what one already has. By making use of what’s available, Alpas not only operates with relatively less waste, it also provides other enterprises sustainable income, all the while promoting a sense of pride for their craft.
In theory, the growing consciousness surrounding sustainable and ethical dining would foremost benefit local farmers. Especially after the consecutive disasters that were the tomato and mango surpluses (we have 2 million tons of mangoes in market limbo) and now the 70 million tons of garlic surplus, getting ingredients directly at the source would be a win-win for both consumers and producers: farmers won’t be swindled by middlemen and restaurants like Alpas get top-notch quality produce at a fair price. Plus, patronizing in-season crops support the ideal farming method of crop rotation, ensuring farmlands remain fertile and soil erosion is reduced.
Partnering with organizations like Zidofa, as well as a host of local artisans is also at the core of Alpas. In one corner of the restaurant is a “sari not sari” store which holds an assortment of products for sale. This includes woven bags, patadyong textile, handmade jewelry, and native delicacies all produced within the Panay Island.
Dining in Alpas feels a bit similar to how it was when I became vegan. It felt like it’s the only way to go, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.
As the bamboo floor groaned under my weight, I thought: this model of “supporting local” seems quite daunting, but perhaps only because it hasn’t been done yet—at least not on this scale and not in such an in-your-face, unapologetic manner. Yet, somehow, it also feels intuitive.
I guess, when it comes down to it that makes a lot of sense.
After all, “loving your own” is as straightforward as it can get.
Image credits: Celine Murillo