My girlfriends and I pulled off a major coup last night. We managed to pin down the elusive Manny Torrejon, coffee pusher and self-styled chef, for dinner at his private dining restaurant, Manolo’s.

Rosan and I had had a spectacular dinner at Manolo’s once before and girlfriend, Emma Gomez, owner of Ananyana in Bohol, had always wanted to try it. So, last month, we cajoled Manny into allowing dinner for three at his place (- I think he normally requires a minimum of six, and can accommodate as many as 25). To our delight, not only did he say yes, we also got him to agree on a date.

But, as good friend, writer, Teddy Montelibano, said recently, “Manny ALWAYS gives in to chicks.” And just because he had said yes and set a date, that’s never a guarantee that dinner is on with Mr. Torrejon.

As we returned from our respective travels this week (Emma, from Bohol, me, from Siargao, and Rosan, from Myanmar), we reconfirmed dinner with Manny. I was about to suggest a Plan B for us and, unbeknownst to me, Rosan too was pondering back-up plans when, to our complete and utter surprise, Manny confirmed. I suspect we all did a dance of joy wherever we were as we knew we were in for a special gastronomic treat at Manolo’s.

And, sure enough, Manny delivered above and beyond what we expected. Manny specializes in Spanish food and my only request was that he leave anything with wheat/gluten off the menu. He supposedly whips up a mean pasta but, with everything he served last night, we didn’t feel like we missed out.

It’s always a pleasure to dine with someone who takes great pride in what they do, and Manny’s passion for food is evident in every dish that comes out of his kitchen.

And there are quite a lot of them. Seriously. Let’s just say that dinner for three became dinner for seven. And there was still too much food. (Knowing this, I brought a bag full of Tupperware, as I had done before, which you may scoff at now but will totally regret not doing should you ever find yourself at Manolo’s.)

As typical Spanish dinners go, we started with tapas. A whole lot of tapas.

There was a plate of wickedly delicious chorizos, mussels, clams, calamares (which I didn’t have on account of the flour), an extraordinary ceviche (which, according to Manny’s research that bears looking into, is really from the Philippines and found its way to Latin America through the galleon trade, and not the other way around)… But what stood out among all those amazing flavors was the unique scallops salpicao.

Bear in mind that none of us had any bread, although Manny did offer, but we all declined. As the salad was served, our bellies were already groaning against our waist bands. The salad was then followed by a very tasty tomato soup, featuring Manny’s very own homemade bacon.

And then there was more. Way more than any of us could handle. There were two kinds of paella: Valenciana and Negra. Fabadas with pork hocks. (I don’t normally like fabadas but I totally tucked into this one.) Steak with foie gras. And the surprise dish of the evening: a cochinillo! I don’t know why or how Manny thought three girls could handle all that food. It’s a good thing we brought extra mouths to feed. Not enough, apparently. By the end of the evening, my Tupperware was full to bursting.

Throughout it all, the conversation was lively and fun, and the wine flowed freely. Manny drove back to his house twice to procure more alcohol. At the end of the evening, out came the port and the Patron Añejo.

We arrived at Manolo’s at around 7:30 in the evening and left after 1 AM. (Emma and I started drinking at her place before 5.) There were a lot of hugs and “I love you”’s going around and, now, I think we’re all meant to be traveling either to Bacolod, Bohol, Anilao or, er, Tokyo in a few weeks.

Great company! Mr. T. himself, Manny Torrejon, with Jerry, Anna, Emma, me, Don, Rosan and Miles. (Photo c/o Rosan Cruz.)

Thank you, Manny, for another amazing night at Manolo’s!

If I don’t make it to CrossFit today, I’m blaming it on Manny. And Emma. I only had two hours of sleep before I had to get up for an early morning appointment. While I’m not exactly hungover, I’m in dire need of sleep and my lungs are filled with cigarette smoke – we took way too many cigarette breaks last night. Ugh.

Unfortunately, if I don’t go to CrossFit today, I’ll have to go some time during the weekend and I really don’t want to do that because that involves running around a carpack in this scorching Manila heat. And I really really don’t want to do that.

(Sigh.)

One way or another, I’m going to have to suck it up. I don’t think I can do it today.