This Batangas-Based Chef Serves Spanish Tapas, Paella in Lakeside Luxury

(SPOT.ph) There are few things in this world that are genuinely better—and we mean without diminishing returns—than a great meal with a picturesque backdrop. In the words of Warner LeRoy (owner of the Russian Tea Room, if it matters), "A restaurant is a fantasy—a kind of living fantasy in which diners are the most important members of the cast."

It's something that the urban jungle of malls, shopping centers, and even chunks of street in a given city can really only give us snippets of on a semi-regular basis. But experiences like the one you can have at El Lago Restaurante cannot be divvied up in parts; having a quarter of a dream does not add up to a whole one at the end of four days.

El Lago only ever knows how to give the full fantasy, but that's sort of what they're going for anyway. Because what in the escapism is anyone doing serving fantastic Spanish food in Batangas, much less right by the Mozzafiato Boat Club? More importantly, who’s writing the script—the libretto, even, of the fantasy?

Chef Pablo Lopez Iglesias makes no secret of his initial reluctance to make a career out of the culinary arts, still evidenced in the open display in between dining rooms of a percussion set similar to the one he toured with in his youth. Yet it's clear as day that at some point, he locked in and never quite looked back: "It was clearly a more promising profession, that much I admit. And my family definitely had their say in it.”

“But it was not hard to fall in love with it,” he reassures SPOT.ph. “As a teenager, I watched my sisters and our mother cook the way they do… that’s why I started cooking.”

“I find that it is very important to work with what the location has to offer,” continues Iglesias. “Even if you work with different cuisines, what you can make from what you’re able to get is really what’s best. Food can be the best way to show off [a given location].”

The chef seems to be cognizant—or at least kept abreast—of the ins and outs and whispers surrounding the lake area, and does his part to combat certain ideas. Tawilis en Vinagre goes a long way in dispelling any doubts about the local fare, not least of all because it resembles the tapas favorite boquerones to the point that one might even forget one is eating tawilis at all. "I love tawilis," the chef tells us. "I even made two dishes around it, I love it that much."

The quality of it is almost comparable to the more traditional Montadito Matrimonio—quite literally a marriage of not only white and brown anchovy, but of layers of briney goodness and both rich and challenging textures, yet undeniably one of the more obvious, satisfying nods to his native Spain.

The Huevos Estrellados con Gulas and Sopa de Marciso almost seem like tributes to the places that Spain’s influence has found root (a gentle way of putting it), which is a part of the story that Iglesias doesn’t like to leave out. Gulas, for the uninitiated, is a cross-culture hybrid ingredient of sorts, well known in Spain to be an acceptable substitute for baby eels—a delicacy in the Basque Country, sometimes referred to as the caviar of the north; the crispy fried eggs in this dish add just enough of a difference in texture to keep this treat from being a touch too rich, as opposed to other versions that opt to poach. The sopa seems to be more of a Mexican delicacy—if you couldn’t tell by the delicate spiciness—bolstered by the robust seafood Philippine shores have to offer. (We may as well lean into the joke that we’re ‘cousins,’ and share food; the chef seems to agree.)

But the restaurant takes particular pride in the Lenguado; it gets the most fanfare of the dishes we got to try. On paper it seems too simple, but the boiled potatoes and bell peppers catch some of the char of the seared black sole, tied together with lemon and extra virgin olive oil for an unbeatable combination of flavors and textures. Some pairs—like fish and citrus—are classics for a reason. “Some things, you don’t mess with,” says the chef. “You let the ingredient and the fire do the work.”

Those who like to eat richer will find friends in the Callos ala Madrilena and the Lamb Shank; Iglesias makes a point of telling us to eat the latter while it’s good and hot. The gravy is everything—don’t be afraid that it outright says “chocolate sauce” on the menu. “The chocolate is for that deep flavor,” we’re told, almost as if we’re in a university lecture, “exactly what you want with [something sturdy but tender] like shank.” The mixed vegetables don’t suffer under this glossy brown glaze either.

This version of callos finds its roots in Madrid, the chef’s town of origin—the use of ox tripe is, of course, another tip of the hat to both Spain’s capital city and the locale. If you're typically afraid of tripe, the fear is unwarranted here at El Lago; all you get is a bold, intensely earthy stew that doesn’t feel out of place lakeside, but wouldn’t be unwelcome on a rainy day either (which it was when we made our visit—we got the full cozy experience, in any case).

Seafood aficionado or not, though, the Paella Marinera is the crowd pleaser the chef (and we) can’t let you pass up. It’s got just enough of everything, where most paellas seem to either fall flat or go over the top—almost literally. “It was difficult at first to meet the different expectations in the middle,” he shares. “There is a traditional way of cooking paella which is much thinner than people here expect—I learned that part over time,” laughs the chef. “But you play with it, you know? You find the right amount and the right texture for the people you’re serving. I think a lot of [foreign] people who come here [preoccupy themselves] with ‘teaching the market,’ but I don’t. That is not how it works.”

So it was a welcome surprise to him that Burnt Cheesecake (what we know to be Basque) was making waves in the Philippines. El Lago’s embraces the nutty tang of Manchego cheese, leaning into the notes of caramel and butterscotch it can often carry, plated up with a mixed fruit preserve that highlights all the right parts of the now-ubiquitous dessert.

Iglesias is no newcomer, in case anyone was wondering. His accent, at least compared to over a decade ago, has softened as if to suit the Pinoy ear. At this point, he probably finds more common ground with the wild, enthusiastic gestures Filipinos tend to make while telling a story than with native English speakers—the language, he admits, can still catch him off-guard.

Yet when it comes to his dishes, as in his youth, he doesn’t miss a beat. Words flow easily from him when he knows exactly what he wants you to feel, and gestures come even easier. The same rhythm he (occasionally) busts out at the restaurant can be seen in the glide of the knife through the sizable jamon Iberico, also usually on display. “It all adds to the show,” he explains. “I think most chefs know that these days. You have to add what you can to the show. The show is part of it.”

He need not motion to the window, and he doesn't—we know he also means the location. Even as he and the staff apologize for the weather that prevents us from having lunch served on a beautiful boat—a thing no one could have helped, of course—it’s easy to see why El Lago, more than any concept Iglesias or any local chef has touched, is considered kind of magical. This slightly less explored side of Taal Lake doesn’t quite get the same flowers as other locations (perhaps in part due to the uncertainty of the trek), but it is just as worthy of a visit.

“The Philippines is a beautiful place, and really a chef’s playground, even when it’s hard,” he shares, with no hint of irony. “Especially out of the city. I’ve had my time there… now that I’m [older], I appreciate this cleaner, quieter place. When the owners showed me the space, I thought, ‘Wow, I can really create something here.’ And I wouldn’t really change it.”

Photos by Hans Fausto