I used to get a little kick telling people what I did. “Professional Eater.” It was even on my LinkedIn page. The double meaning was a funny inside joke that made me chuckle every time. See, when you’re a food writer, you don’t just eat to live, you eat for a living.
It sounds perfect and it felt perfect, too. The job didn’t land on my lap simply because of personal gluttony. I started writing about food in 2011, the year one could argue was the renaissance of the local F&B industry. New commercial complexes dedicated solely to food were opening. At one point, I was shuttling between Shangri-La East Wing and Bonifacio High Street Central almost daily. When you tell a 21-year-old about all the eating that had to be done, there is only one answer.
The interest spilled over to revive older haunts like the Fort Strip and Burgos Circle. It also renewed attention to foodie-loved neighborhoods—Kapitolyo, Teachers Village, Salcedo Village, and Legazpi Village.
Around this time, restaurant bigwigs were launched. The Standard Hospital Group introduced Yabu in 2011. Wildflour and The Moment Group opened their first restaurants in 2012. That same year, the country came to know culinary wunderkind Bruce Ricketts via Sensei Sushi. By 2013, we had world-class establishments like Gallery Vask (now Gallery by Chele).
Older restaurant groups felt the pressure. The Bistro Group hired Chef Josh Boutwood and threw a furious volley of family-friendly eateries. Global Restaurant Concepts brought in IHOP; Margarita Fores opened Grace Park, Robby Goco launched Green Pastures. Even tech mavens began investing in restaurants.
The demand was fresh, new, trendy food, and restaurateurs were happy to deliver—from big-name groups to enterprising upstarts.
Someone had to write about all this. I was in the right place at the right time.
When you tell a 21-year-old about all the eating that had to be done, there is only one answer.
And so, I ate through the cities. The highlight was the day I went through 10 eateries in one afternoon. I felt like a champion. Everyone was clamoring to feed me. I was young, scrappy, and hungry. The relentless grind of my passion wore it thin and rendered my waistline thick.—Sasha Lim Uy Mariposa
It was the greatest job in the world. Until it wasn’t.
Of course, that conclusion is only a shorthand of my entire experience. Eating and writing about it is much cushier than many other professions. Many meals are free—and even if you’re a paying customer, a manager or chef who recognizes you will occasionally slip you a free dessert or appetizer.
But, to quote the recently retired New York Times food critic Pete Wells, I just stopped being hungry. Or maybe other people were hungrier than me, those with the stamina to enjoy 12 courses at 8 p.m. regularly. Or maybe I was hungrier for something else. There were so many sides to this story. But the dream turned into a duty. The relentless grind of my passion wore it thin and rendered my waistline thick.
The industry has by no means stagnated. Even during the pandemic, we witnessed resourceful chefs and restaurateurs transfer their five-star dining experiences into cardboard takeout boxes. Post-lockdown, business returned with a vengeance. Revenge cooking and revenge eating were at an all-time high. But when I saw all the Instagram posts, relief was all I felt.
While others, such as myself, couldn’t soldier through, some people are still living the life. We interviewed two of the top food writers in the country about how they manage to maintain their gusto—and blood pressure.
Becoming A Food Writer
A love for eating cannot fuel your food writing. I was a writer long before I stumbled into the genre—having gone from journalism school to news and general lifestyle before the delicious happenstance. Talking about food, especially via a written format, requires an astute skill for description. My editor once told me that delicious means different things to different people. How can you explain how sweet something is or why fried chicken doesn’t crunch like filo pastry? Why is this donut better than the other?
Angelo Comsti, chef, restaurateur, cookbook author, and food columnist, had a similar trajectory. The writing started first. A wordsmith since college, he was initiated into food writing when he joined Yummy magazine in 2008. “I didn’t know if I had the chops to write about food since I was doing mostly profiles then. I gave it a try and eventually fell in love with it.” He later enrolled in Le Cordon Bleu Australia, then returned to the Philippines with a revitalized passion for cuisine and composition.
It was the other way around for food writer Jaclyn Koppe. “I’ve always loved food. Eating out is something my family and I love to do, and because of that, I learned to cook for myself when I didn’t have access to my favorite dishes,” she says. “I love to read and so I followed the columns of my favorite food writers at the time, like Doreen Fernandez and Clinton Palanca.”
Never a gatekeeper of important facts, such as where to get the best cookies, Koppe started sharing her culinary exploits on social media. A friend encouraged her to start a blog, which was how the editors of the lifestyle channel SPOT.ph found her.
Finding Stories, Not Faults
There has been much discussion about the lack of food criticism in the Philippines. We don’t have a Jonathan Gold (LA Times) or a Pete Wells—the former the first food writer to win a Pulitzer Prize for Criticism, the latter infamous for his scathing one-star review of Guy Fieri’s restaurant in 2012.
Attempts to replicate the fiery writing styles overseas have yielded only two outcomes—writers (or content creators) get accused of tactlessness or restaurants get harassed. Either way, someone gets clobbered.
For Comsti and Koppe, the lack of criticism is innate. “It’s a small town, and Filipinos are generally sensitive and cliquish,” explains Koppe. “I don’t know anyone who’s okay with being the asshole that nobody wants to play with.”
Comsti agrees. “Filipinos are emotional and sensitive, often to a fault. Many take things personally and can’t accept criticism.” He adds: “Then again, some criticisms are uncalled for and beyond rude. Worse, [they are] not constructive and aimed at intentionally destroying a business. Food criticism is sometimes immediately thought of as a stab at the business especially when not worded incorrectly.” I’m always looking for a good story, for the people behind the food to be interesting and passionate about their craft.—Jaclyn Koppe
More than a sharp and silver tongue, Koppe believes one needs to be at a certain life level to become a credible critic. “Some people try, but I feel that, along with courage and gumption, you also need wit and charisma to pull it off. For me, the only person who had all that locally was Clinton Palanca,” she explains. Palanca, an award-winning writer and columnist, passed away in 2019.
Instead of errors, Koppe and Comsti dig deep for other angles. “I’m always looking for a good story, for the people behind the food to be interesting and passionate about their craft,” Koppe shares. On the off chance that they’re not, she zeroes in on the unique aspects of the restaurant or dish.
“Dining is an experience. It’s not just about the physical food and how it tickles your senses but also the way it is served to the guest, the ambiance of the place, and the décor… the vibe. There [are] a lot of factors that should be taken into consideration as they all contribute to the experience,” Comsti says.
Is Food Writing Luto?
The mutual respect between the food writer and the restaurant establishes a constructive and encouraging environment. It also paves the way for a deeper relationship: friendship. The small town that Koppe refers to is often a tight-knit family who support each other, from promotion to unfounded social media critiques. Could these bonds prevent food writing from birthing a more separated, critical genre?
Ironically, no. After all, this is a country where your parents are likely your worst critics.
“For Filipinos, it’s more of a cultural thing. They invite us to their restaurants; we talk to them about their lives and businesses. It’s practically impossible not to develop attachments,” says Koppe. “If anything, I feel the effect is positive because it breeds a healthy and supportive environment.”
Adds Comsti: “It doesn’t necessarily translate to bias.” He admits he can’t speak for everyone, but he falls back on professionalism when delivering his honest opinion. “I have my own food business and I recognize the possible influence my words have in a restaurant’s operations,” he says, adding that this makes him more mindful of what he publishes. “It doesn’t mean that everything I write is safe and sanitary. I do share my opinions to chef friends, if unfavorable, be it in print or verbally.”
Food criticism also requires a layer of discernment—from the writer, who must craft precise opinions without apparent prejudice, and from the reader, who must carefully extract the objective points of the review. The balancing act is tough, with half the responsibility beyond the writers’ control. Instead, Koppe and Comsti focus on the technical aspects.
“Even when I’m not sold on the flavor, which is subjective, I ask myself: Did they get the technical aspects right? Or if I don’t like it, is it the kind of dish that would appeal to a different market or demographic? Just because I am not the market for that restaurant does not make it bad,” Koppe explains. “Unless, of course, it is.”
Comsti says one still needs to manage expectations: “Needing to be wowed all the time would involve a lot of disappointments. I know not everyone has the same palate and experience as mine.”
Responding to Negative Experiences
Despite the prestige of being in the media, writers are not exempt from poor experiences. Apart from bad food, there have been confusing concepts, poor ambiance, rowdy owners, and chef egos.
“I treat events as any party I’m invited to. I’m polite to the hosts and the other guests, and, as much as possible, I try to have a good time,” Koppe says. Known for her friendly but plainspoken honesty, she also doesn’t hesitate to express her disappointments albeit privately. “If I felt I was not treated well by someone from the team, I let the restaurant owner or PR know so they can address it. If the owner behaves badly, that’s goodbye.”
Still, both Comsti and Koppe focus on the positives. “I try to look for other things worth writing about. I also ask the chef about the story or rationale behind his cuisine and dishes, hoping it would give me more foundation for my opinions, published or otherwise,” says Comsti.
“I make the extra effort to humanize the people behind them. Sometimes, diners come to a restaurant and are just there to participate in being served their food. That’s fine, but I hope people always understand that their food does not miraculously appear out of nothing. People made that, it came from a supplier who got it from a farmer, and so forth,” shares Koppe. “Let’s all be more appreciative of the people who make sure we are nourished and well-fed.”
I asked if readers can tell whether they truly like a restaurant or they’re overcompensating on other aspects, Koppe says: “I always focus on the positive anyway, so there’s no difference in the writing.” However, she discloses she writes more when the experience is commendable. “My social media followers already know that while I never really post negative reviews, they can read between the lines and know the difference between a mediocre meal from a very good one.” I ask the chef about the story or rationale behind his cuisine and dishes, hoping it would give me more foundation for my opinions, published or otherwise.—Angelo Comsti
Since many of the restaurants we write about come from invites or PR, Comsti admits he feels pressure to write about them regardless of the experience. However, he does give precedence to well-staged events. “I feel like those deserve to be written about, so I pitch them to the handful of avenues I write for.”
“Not every event is put together though. Those I sometimes just post on social media because at the end of the day, it’s still a business and I want to help any way I can,” reveals Comsti.
Koppe says something similar. “I feel that from traditional food writers to content creators to TikTokers, there’s a lot out there giving their opinions on food. There’s something for everyone. For me, if it’s helping these businesses and it allows these restaurants to keep their teams employed, then we’re all doing good work,” she adds.
Wanted: More Food Writers
As the Philippine F&B industry flourishes, more and more culinary efforts deserve recognition. Which means more work for food writers.
It’s a happy problem, but one I’ve learned requires stamina, both socially and physically. I remember running 10ks every day I have a restaurant to write about. While Comsti’s and Koppe’s love for food hasn’t waned, they have likewise become more careful about the invites they accept.
“A lot of it has to do with my health. I need to be more wary and conscious with what I ingest,” says Comsti who, after an influx of desserts during the pandemic, developed high blood sugar for which he takes maintenance meds. “I’m not getting any younger. If I can save my carbs and calories for a far better meal, I will gladly abstain from an event.”
Koppe aims for balance. While she indulges in work, she eats leaner at home. She also works out and does intermittent fasting. “I will not diet… Life is too short,” she asserts, laughing. “I can be thinner, but…I’ve made my choice.”
But while some of us (ahem) failed in the mission to promote the burgeoning food landscape, Koppe and Comsti are holding strong. “It gives me pleasure—and I get paid to do it. It brings me places, too. What’s not to like?” Comsti says. Koppe has a likewise practical rationale: “I continue to enjoy it. I have to eat anyway, so why not eat well? I don’t think I’ll ever tire of eating.”
That said, Comsti welcomes more food writers to share that ever-growing pie with. “We need more in-depth, well-research writing about food—one that doesn’t require reading a thesis or book.”
But to all those who want to consider eating as a profession, here’s the caveat: a love for food is only the first, very small step. The job is a feast as much as it is an exploration, an examination, and a responsibility to elevate the standards of Philippine cookery. It’s also enjoyable—but you might want to take out a health plan. And book a gym membership while you’re at it.
FOOD FOR THOUGHT
While we’re at it, we took the chance to get Angelo Comsti and Jaclyn Koppe’s top restaurant recommendations, the most-revered chefs on their list, and what about the experience makes them keep coming back for more.
Angelo Comsti
“Currently, I keep coming back to Metiz, Linamnam, Toyo Eatery, and Hapag. It’s inspiring how these restos are presenting Filipino cuisine and using their own style to make it unique, consequently making me come back whenever I can.“
Jaclyn Koppe
“This is constantly evolving, of course, but Antonio’s is always the one to emulate in terms of overall experience. Aaron Isip is doing amazing things in Kasa Palma and I feel it’s because his food is so authentic in terms of how it truly reflects his culinary journey and personality. Oh, and I love Cibo. I can eat pasta every day and if there was a zombie apocalypse and I was trapped in a restaurant, I would want to be trapped in one of the Cibo branches.”
“As for chefs I admire, Chele Gonzalez is incredibly tenacious and determined, he truly deserves all the accolades and should be given more credit for his contributions to the local dining scene. The Hapag team is changing how we view and appreciate Filipino fine dining. Finally, I cannot wait for Don Baldosano and Angelo Comsti to open Offbeat in Ayala Triangle. This is the stage Chef Don’s food deserves and I feel once it opens it will be the benchmark for progressive Filipino food.”
