There are elections, in true Filipino fashion, where nothing changes, and then there are food pilgrimages where everything has to do with blood pressure, itinerary, and occasionally one’s opinion of origin and “authenticity.” Still in true Filipino fashion. Luzon, however, offers both.

So we might as well do a round-up of food spots spread across the country’s northern island which truly left a lasting mark on the gastronomy scene, well, at least for the author. Food is subjective, after all — especially for the inexperienced palate.

Let’s first head over to North Luzon where smoke, salt and survival do most of the talking.

In Ilocos, Dawang’s Eatery operates its territory with the vision of never bothering to become famous because it was already busy feeding everyone. Steam trays rotate through the northern canon that contains igado, pinakbet, dinardaraan — each dish disappearing at a rate that suggests hunger, but most  probably cravings, is still the most efficient indicator and critic. In Laoag, La Preciosa remains steady — home cooking with discipline, no reinterpretation required.

In Baguio, Hill Station keeps colonial memories on a steady simmer, serving continental plates inside Casa Vallejo as if altitude alone improves table manners. Down the road, the humble Jollikod Eatery does the opposite — brisk, simple, and unapologetically Ilocano where crispy dinakdakan resides in the neighborhood which does not need plating advice.

Further south along the coast in San Juan, La Union, where surfers and beachgoers linger, Masa Bakehouse gives its patrons sourdough and espresso as though waves require carbohydrates with structure.

In Central Luzon, this is where history learned to sizzle.

Pampanga still bathes itself with pork fat and vinegar. Aling Lucing Sisig claims origin status with the bragging rights of invention, while Mila’s Tokwa’t Baboy handles the OG sisig in everyday version: sharper edges, clean execution, fewer myths.

At Bale Dutung, cuisine becomes a communal storytelling experience set at a long table, while 25 Seeds prefers Filipino food rewritten in European margins.

A little bit closer to Manila and here we are at a pit stop in South Luzon where meals stretch into the afternoon.

At the edge of the misty and chilly Tagaytay is Asador Dos Mestizos which turns Spanish comfort into countryside indulgence, while Breakfast at Antonio’s treats mornings like a long-form commitment to coffee.

In Laguna, Hygge Restaurant manifests its name with a cozy, dependable vibe with its steaks and pastas unthreatened.

Finally, Metro Manila, where everything happens all at once.

In Poblacion, Makati’s Hà Noi Pho serves pho and bun cha with the kind of Vietnamese authenticity that makes you forget your current hangover while Legazpi Village’s Your Local continues its reign over contemporary modern Asian cooking, precise and flavorful.

Ceviche Manila in Maginhawa, Quezon City sharpens seafood freshness and acidity into its identity, while El Poco Cantina keeps tacos, burritos and everything mexicana free flowing to those who need comfort. Chicken House Express remains gloriously unrefined inasal diplomacy sent with love by Bacolod, while Mandaluyong’s Now Now turns fermentation into practically a new dining experience for Manilenos.

At Power Plant Mall, Pilya’s Kitchen proves noodles and dumplings can still make palate surprises. Fresca Trattoria keeps Italian comfort in careful balance. Best Cacio e Pepe I’ve ever had.

At the top end of the table, the conversation turns procedural when Michelin stars are uttered. Josh Boutwood’s Helm operates like culinary precision under oath. Gallery by Chele transubstantiates Filipino ingredients into Spanish exhibition pieces. Toyo Eatery reduces everything unnecessary until purity remains.

In the end, Luzon does not vote for a single flavor. It votes for repetition, variation and the occasional argument between smoke, acid, and memory. A plate in Ilocos rarely resembles one in Pampanga, and yet both insist on being correct in their own language. To travel through Luzon by plate is to accept that coherence is not the point. A bowl of noodles in Makati, a slab of sisig in Angeles, a localized tikka masala  in La Union, none are trying to agree. They are simply asking to be taken seriously on their own terms, in their own towns, at their own temperatures.