Singular in BGC Does Spanish Food Like You've Never Had It

(SPOT ph) Spanish food in the Philippines doesn’t go through so much of a resurgence (as we might have once said) as a continuous ebb and flow—we really should have seen that coming, given our shared history. We do know better than to box them into paella and cured meats, gorgeous though they are, and few have given us a better reminder of the cuisine’s range than Singular in BGC.

The name betrays the uniqueness of the experience, and those looking for the stereotypical fare will find their flabbers nothing short of absolutely ghasted. This treasure trove that’s only a little tucked away from the main roads is not for the incurious or unimaginative, so when you make a reservation, know that you’re really buying a ticket to some version of Wonderland.

Chef Fernando Alcala (who you may know from Bolero, both a Bib Gourmand awardee and one of our 50 Great Restaurants of 2024) hits the ground running with this concept, as many chefs seem compelled to do these days. In his case, it’s not for nothing—Singular is a place about memory and tradition, things we’re all racing (at least, we should be) to preserve.

They begin appropriately by making themselves visually memorable; there is something to the interiors that’s a cross between a chic smoking den and an elegant home bar, all at once dark yet warm. There’s an elegant gruffness, embodied best by the veins typical of marble effect paired with deep jewel and earth tones. The gold accents first catch the light of the setting sun, though dappled by cold steel and industry, before reflecting the softer lamps for an increasingly more intimate feel as your multi-course meal progresses. We opted for the shorter Raices (P4,890), and it’s hard to imagine going for more; there is a homey satisfaction to each dish that sits with you for hours, practically ensuring a return visit.

But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. We’re still at the Snacks.

The Snacks, we’re told, are reflective of the way in which meals technically begin, especially along the tapas streets of Spain—they’re our favorite sort of snacks, in that you can picture yourself munching on them thoughtfully as you wander down an imaginary Calle Laurel, deciding what the ‘real meal’ is going to be. Here at Singular, they’re just about bite-sized, belying the amount of flavor and texture you get once you begin to chew. It’s hard to pick a standout among them, from the punchy bollo preñao (literally ‘pregnant bun,’ a sausage-stuffed roll) to the creamy-rich mejillones en escabeche (mussels in brine), or the straightforward serranito de pastrami (a pastrami sandwich, in the end)—but they’ll all wake up the taste buds for what’s to come, as snacks apparently should.

It’s terrible to say we have a favorite, but the Atún con Pipirrana y Ajoblanco kind of blew our minds right at the start. Perfectly described as ‘the dance between the roughness of the sea and the precision of human technique,’ the bluefin that finds itself on plates in the homes and bistros of Cadiz is finely chopped and, somehow, reconstituted into a tender-firm dollop. Accentuated by sweetness both fresh and nutty (supplied by the tomato and almonds respectively) and the kick of garlic, you might just ask for more of this one thing, especially when you get to soak it all up with some really, really good bread.

Unfortunately (not actually), one does have to move on when there’s more to be had; the Caballa en Adobo con Gazpachuelo leaves no room for wistful regrets. The sharp vinegar element of adobo—a somewhat delicate link between our cultures, but a link nonetheless—is blanketed in a silky broth-to-cream emulsion, evolving as it’s poured. The seafood of Malaga isn’t held back from touching any sort of preparation, so it can be cooked to its full richness, as seen in this mackerel dish.

At this point, you may already be full; what you won’t be is overwhelmed. The journey proceeds further inland with a grilled lamb meatball, carrying a smokiness that’s not out of place in Castilla, echoed again in the grilled lettuce it’s wrapped in. Brightened by fermented grapes, the Cordero Asado con Lechuga Aliñada is a toast to celebration itself, and the perfect prelude to the intensely savory depth of the Mero Asado, Arroz de Caldero y Pepitoria, a product of Moorish Spain.

It’s a rice dish that deviates from common expectation by circumventing the methods of paella and goes right for a caldoso—most similar to a risotto, to the uninitiated. Enriched by egg and almonds, the rice is accompanied by tender grouper, evoking the few creature comforts someone of a more nomadic heritage might seek out. And even if you can’t quite relate, it’s just an excellent stew.

Finally, the meal takes you through winter in southern Spain. The Cerdo en Orza con Berza Gaditana can only be described as a showstopper, especially if you’re a fan of the gamier meats. It’s already exciting on paper: Iberico that’s slow-cooked in its own fat and served with a sort of greens-friendlier version of a cocido, known as berza. In real life, it’s just as riveting; this is where a diner might forsake the rules of a tasting menu and feel the temptation to ask for (more) rice from one of the previous dishes.

If you’ve always been the sort of person to say that there’s always room for dessert, your beliefs will be put to the test at Singular. The steadfast are generously rewarded with Plátano de Canarias—an unwaveringly cartoonish candy banana for you to crack open and reveal roasted fruit, rum, and corn. You can also opt to borrow Chocolate con Pedro Ximenez y Vinagre (P620) from the longer Horizontes menu if you’re a completionist when it comes to petits fours.

Overall, the culinary themes speak to what the chef has always known and woven firmly into his work—where the Atlantic turns into the Mediterranean and vice versa, an autonomous region of the old empire, and seemingly as much a tear-away from North Africa as a part of Spain.

The food is at once ancient and novel; personal and historical. And no one here expects diners to put it all together from the first bite in a Ratatouille-inspired flashback. If anything, they generously jog the ancestral memory, so to speak, with crafted cards explaining each dish’s origins. (Before you ask: Yes, you get to take them home.)

Whether you have old familial ties to that ambiguous spot in Europe almost doesn’t matter; Chef Fernando delivers his connection to the land with a rawness that reveals time spent unearthing it for himself, again and again, in the pursuit of food meant not only to be enjoyed, but understood—remembered in such a way that you come to know that how one eats today is not the final destination of any cuisine.

Is that a lot to say about a tasting menu? Maybe. But there’s nothing like finding out for yourself.

Photos by Hans Fausto