“Mesa” at Greenbelt Five: Indulgence

Zack and Sol Jo. Sol Jo has been managing Mesa in Greenbelt 5 for two months.

Yesterday, Saturday, self was there twice:  She had lunch there with Zack, and then dinner with her niece, Camille V.  Actually, if she’d known there would be a mass in the gardens of Greenbelt, she would have come earlier.  As it was, she caught just the tail-end.

For lunch, she had Laing two-ways (topped with crispy adobo flakes —  Yuuum!!), garlic rice, and a ripe mango shake.  Zack had crispy pork sisig with egg.  The server, a very young woman named Joanne, tossed the sisig in the rice right at our table.  It’s something like what they do in House of Prime Rib in San Francisco, wheel out the food on an enormous cart, then do a lot of whiz-bang preparation, table-side, for the edification of the customers.  Only, this is of course not prime rib:  it’s pork sisig.  Bill for everything (including dessert, a concoction called “crispy leche flan”) was 635 pesos, or about $15.

The “Crispy Leche Flan” at Mesa: Sinfully Delightful! Accch, Self’s Pants Are Bursting!

Chef Alvin Arrogante (Is that a great name, or what? Simply cries out for fictional treatment!), Self (Post-luch: She looked a lot slimmer just an hour earlier), and Mesa Manager Sol Jo (Real Name: Maria Soledad C. Jo)

Next, dinner:  while waiting for niece Camille V, self ordered:

  • crispy pata
  • crispy whole squid
  • 2 way laing
  • garlic rice
  • green mango shake

By the time Camille arrived, the table was crammed with food, and self had finished her green mango shake and her third serving of the crispiest, fattiest, melt-in-your-mouth delicious crispy pata she has ever tasted.  The version she has to settle for in Goldilocks and Max’s in South San Francisco are but poor, guttering flames when judged alongside the HUGE crispy pata servings at Mesa.

Camille’s eyes nearly popped at the site of self tucking in to all that food, by herself.

“Ma’am,” said the young waitress.  “Hindi ba dito ka rin nag-lunch?”

Why, yes, self admitted.  She’d just been in Mesa a scant five hours earlier.  Ouch!  Her jeans are really pinching her!

Anyhoo, after dinner, Camille suggested we go elsewhere for coffee.  And as we passed Café Havana, she pointed out a couple of “Ladies of the Night,” and self’s jaw almost dropped open because she never expected to see such pros wandering around in Greenbelt.  You can always tell a pro because their faces are hard.  And their strolling has a certain subliminal purposefulness.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers.  Stay tuned.

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