Harry's Bistro Is a Tribute to the Things We Keep Coming Back To

(SPOT.ph) Unpretentious, textbook, and all the better for it, Harry’s Bistro in Makati is making a case for the classics of yesteryear. If you had the privilege, as many of us urbanite ‘80s and ‘90s kids did, of indulging in the bestsellers of the Manila Polo Club or Baguio Country Club (on the Verandah, of course) menus, then the Harry’s lineup serves as one hell of a throwback.

If that wasn't the general state of your childhood, you mustn’t let those names put you off; Harry’s—named for owner Elbert Cuenca’s late dog, a likeness of whom is printed on the menus—rewards those who aren’t easily intimidated. It’s a much more personable atmosphere than it might initially exude, ultimately harking back to simpler times and, in a sense, simpler eating.

If you can’t quite recall (but it’s all coming back to you now?) or if you were merely a prayer request in the 1990s and early 2000s, it’s still an education, as most Elbert’s Steak Room productions tend to be. “I didn’t want my name on this one,” says the man himself. “I wanted it to be its own thing, to have a completely different feel to it—I got my wish, pretty much.”

Also read: Where Manila's Top Chefs Go for Great Steak

On Harry: “In a way, I keep [Harry] alive here. But that wasn’t the original intention.”

“Initially, this was going to be a French bistro,” explains partner Miguel Vecin, formerly of Bar Pintxos. “But the concept meandered a lot.” Partners, proposals, and even fleshed-out plans fell through along the way over the years—some attributed it to missing the previous concept, Metronome, too much to move on—but, like dogs, the right one always makes its way home.

“We wanted a name that feels ordinary, warm, approachable,” adds Elbert. “Like part of the neighborhood. What embodies that better than a dog?”

And the longer you sit, the more at home you feel. Where you might expect a stiffness in the air, you get flow—an easy visual journey from the doors to your seat and even to the restrooms in the back. It’s just short of the hotel lobbies of times gone by, with a touch of museum chic, thanks in no small part to the Arturo Luz-esque grid installations that break up the textured walls. The use of wood, geometric fabrics, vintage-inspired sconces, and some rattan here and there pull you out of time—not quite the present and not quite the past, but definitely in the moment.

If you had a working mom in the two or three decades before the new millennium (which is quickly beginning to lose its shine, let me tell you), then a swanky place with cushy seats and art you didn’t quite get will conjure memories of, say, a Beef Stroganoff (P1,200). Here at Harry’s, the seared tenderloin in its signature dark, tangy sauce is served over fresh tagliatelle. It’s nothing short of a must-try.

Small plates (as in the smaller portions of food meant to be enjoyed with a drink or three) are probably one of the more modern additions to the menu, both staying well within the nostalgia framework while keeping it—in its own way—distinctly local. The Pork Ears (P550) may be served with a romesco sauce and chimichurri, but the indulgence feels completely Filipino. Call me crazy, but the way the most delicate layer of crunch gives way to melting fat and cartilage rides the line between primal and prime real estate; it is entirely its own thing without feeling alien in any way.

The Cochinillo (P800) dispenses with having to enjoy it family-style, although you’re welcome to; 100 grams of the stuff is enough for celebrating the little victories in life, and goodness knows we could all use some more of that. The in-house gravy and shoestring potatoes make this miniature version of a festival/reunion staple that much cozier, without losing its key richness.

But the real test of a restaurant, as I hope we all know, is in the simpler stuff. The Patatas Bravas (P390) does a pavé the way it’s meant to be done; rather than becoming a gummy finished product, as many are wont to do, each layer of those wafer-thing potatoes makes itself known. The crunch that ensues only makes this dish more difficult to share.

There is, too, the buttery, oozing nostalgia bomb that is the Chicken Kiev (P700)—which we almost wanted to gatekeep. The soft, crinkly scrunch of fried white breadcrumbs on perfectly cooked chicken might scream, "Order something more exciting," to some, but there's just no argument. It almost embodies the sort of thing that the bistro does; a dish so simple, yet you'd never do it at home. Who has the time?

Well, Harry does.

Then there’s the Spaghetti Carbonara (P850). This could divide a nation, maybe; some may ask what the hell is so special about cream and bacon, while others are peering into Harry’s windows to see if it is indeed the real thing. But it is exactly what it says on the tin: rendered guanciale (cured pork jowl), delicate pecorino romano, egg yolks, and black pepper over fresh spaghetti. How they do it here is a reflection of essential Italian cooking, for all that carbonara is a modern invention (post-WWII to be precise); recipes didn’t even make it to print until 1952. This oft-misunderstood medley of simple ingredients shines when done well, and at Harry’s, it is greater than the sum of its parts—and that’s pretty much how you know that chef Adrian Cuenca is indeed in the kitchen, as he was for the now-departed Elbert's Collective.

“I don’t like to deviate too much from what works,” he says. “I like letting ingredients do what they’re meant to do.” And he has a point—among all the innovations from fast food to fine dining, why reinvent the wheel when you could just be a damn good driver? It's barely a question.

Our drinks of choice here? You can’t go wrong with a reliable Amaretto Sour (P500), but the chic zestiness of Hugo (P500) with its elderflower, mint, and sparkling wine can just about wash away a working week’s woes. (You have mixologist Arcadiusz Rybak, of Rosewood Hong Kong fame, to thank, by the way.)

Also read: GUIDE: Philippine Cocktail Week 2026 Brings Top Bars From Asia to Manila

Honestly, you could get the Bikini Mortadella & Provolone (P450), a.k.a. the ham and cheese toastie made of dreams, a cocktail, and call it a day—that’s how much care goes into the deceptively simple fare. There are, of course, more out-there dishes; the Chorizo (P480) boasts blistered grapes and crumbled feta that cushion the paprika punch of the Spanish Sausage, and the Arroz con Pato (P1,500) is duck-fat paella dialed up to 11, for starters. But Harry’s as an entity—the personality Elbert, Miguel, Adrian, and even Arcadiusz might speak through—is not wow-factor-dependent and will likely never need to be. And that’s probably why we’ll be back.

It appears as though the path that Harry’s Bistro took to become what it is today was mostly paved with patience, challenging everyone involved to rethink the possibilities of this space on Bolanos Street. “I was meant to sell it, maybe be a partner in the next concept at the most,” Elbert explains. “But I really love what it’s becoming. I love the idea that it came back to me.”

Again, not unlike the best dogs.