By seven the grills behind Quiapo Church are lit and the air is thick with charcoal smoke. Pork belly, chicken intestines, isaw and liver skewers are laid out on trays under bare bulbs. You pick your sticks, hand them over and wait.
The vendor at the corner stall has been grilling here for nineteen years. Her sauce is vinegar, garlic, chilli and something she won’t name. Customers bring their own containers to take it home.
“The students come at seven, the jeepney drivers at ten, the call centre people at two.”
Each wave has its order. Students want the cheapest sticks and a cup of rice. Drivers want a full plate and coffee. The night shift wants whatever is still on the grill.
What to order
Start with pork belly and chicken thigh, then work your way to isaw and liver once you trust the grill. Ask for your sticks to be dipped twice in the sauce before the final turn; it caramelises better that way.
Rice comes in small plastic bags, and the stall two doors down sells cold drinks from a cooler. There are a few plastic stools along the wall, but most people eat standing up, facing the grill.
Everything is cash, and the prices are on a handwritten board that changes with the price of charcoal.
The neighbourhood around it
Quiapo after dark is a different place from the busy market district of the daytime. The church plaza empties, shutters come down on the herb sellers and the light comes from the grills, a few street lamps and the occasional sari-sari store still open.
The grill stalls have been here longer than most of the vendors can remember, passed between relatives and neighbours. Each has its regulars, and each vendor will tell you, politely, that the others use too much sugar in their sauce.
If you are new to the area, go with a friend who knows it, and walk back to the main road rather than the side streets.
Go hungry, bring small bills and stand downwind if you can.
