Surreal experiences are rare and far in between. And tonight's dinner at the uniquely-named Van Gogh is Bipolar was definitely one of them.
I'll admit, I'm no food critic. The only research I get on the subject is by watching too much Iron Chef and Yakitate Japan (that obscure anime series about bread and baking), and remembering that old man in Ratatouille every now and then. Sometimes, though, there are some experiences that just get you to writing. After all, the actual eating is but one aspect of the entire experience of eating out, hence the admiration I have for restaurant reviewers who can literally take everything in, from the music to the lighting to the food itself. And this is what Van Gogh is Bipolar is about: an entire experience built around the high of happiness, that emotion that appeared to have eluded this little restaurant's namesake. Indeed, Jetro, artist and owner of the place, calls it his sanctuary, and invites everyone who is feeling depressed (or, should I say, emo even) to drop by and find out how it feels to experience the bipolar feeling of shifting from depression to near-manic happiness. All, may I add, in the span of but a single evening.This hole in the wall is tucked away in a little corner of Maginhawa Street in Diliman, with only enough room inside for around twelve people and tables outside for probably another ten. We were lucky, then, that Lola had the place reserved, and the ever-accommodating Jetro allowed us in even if there were fourteen of us.
From the door, the place shows you its character: the only thing that tells you that you are at the right place is a shirt with the restaurant's name on it hanging beside the door, and a slipper that tells you whether the place is open or not. It is on the inside, though, where the apparent madness of the place bursts into an organized chaos of life: random bric-a-brac, from a pillow that proclaims the effectiveness of tea against depression beside the teapots and jars of the FruiTEA-MinTEA table, to the numerous photographs and postcards lining the walls to the red-painted corner (dubbed as the "red meltdown wall") that is free for vandalism, all lit a motley assortment of lamps that give the place the feeling that this is what the dark corner that is present in everybody's minds looks like.
Of course, some people will tell you that they will not care how good or bad a restaurant looks, as long as it serves good food. Heck, you can be eating goto in some cart beside a busy highway, as long as the food proves itself to be good enough. It is in this category, though, that this Van Gogh does indeed show us just what wonderful works of art he can cook up. We were lucky to get the place on a Sunday, which meant that it was "The Great Bipolar Thanksgiving Sunday", er, day, and this meant that the place would be serving turkey, which, as Jethro told us, has been proven to be a good antidepressant food. In fact, Jetro's entire menus are structured around foods which have shown either antidepressant or happy-hormone releasing properties, or both: in addition to the turkey, his entrees include black mountain rice, cucumbers, mangoes, strawberries, chocolate, nuts, honey, alcohol and all sorts of other happiness inducers, combined in ways you wouldn't believe. Take, for example, the aptly named Mel Gibson's Darkest Sin, a dessert composed of nuts, vodka, wild honey and dark chocolate, all carefully layered into a shot glass. Or the fruit beer Jethro brews himself (and dubs as something along the lines of "Jetro's Spicy Expensive Beer") that, in addition to being lighter than any commercial light beer, gives you a burning sensation at the back of your throat that only leaves you wanting more. This is creative madness at its culinary best, all for a glimpse of that eternal goal, happiness.No wonder Lola couldn't answer when I asked her what kind of food they were serving there:
Me: "What kind of food do they have there?"
Lola: "They're going to have turkey, with lamb or salmon, and this wonderful black rice, and..."
Me: "No, what I mean to say is what kind of food do they have there? Indian? Thai? Indonesian?..."
Lola: (is silent for a few seconds) "...basta. They're going to have turkey, with lamb or salmon..."
Me: "So it's fusion?"
Lola: "Basta nga."
True enough, the food, consequently the entire experience itself, defies any conventional description.
