Bacon is rich, salty and smoky: it fits right into the traditional Filipino ‘silog’ breakfast alongside steamed or fried rice and a runny fried egg (my preference). When its robust, fatty flavors threaten to overpower us with umay (a sense of satiety or boredom), we know how to temper them with an acidic sawsawan (sauce) or a spoonful of atchara (pickled vegetables). So, why not incorporate the cured meat treat into the whole shebang?
Earlier this month, Chefs Jordy Navarra of the revered Toyo Eatery and Johanne Siy of Lolla in Singapore partnered with Rachel Carrasco, founder and CEO of Baken, to do just that. At Baken 1104, hosted by Toyo from 3 to 6 June, bacon was the centerpiece of a kamayan (eating with hands) feast, where it was neither jammed unceremoniously into every dish nor treated as a gimmick.
The dinner began with a trio of one-bite appetizers that set the tone for what was to come. There was a bacon-wrapped silog nugget with fish roe standing in for egg, a clever nod to breakfast reassembled into a cocktail snack. Next came a standout oyster, deep-fried in sourdough starter, topped with cheese foam, tomato powder and bacon crisps — a bite that tasted like a refined seafood chowder with punchier flavors. Finally, a kueh pie tee filled with kesong puti (Filipino fresh cheese), bacon jam and a salsa struck a beautiful balance between light, fresh and — yes, bacony.
These bites were paired with a cocktail called Bacon Binakol. It was greasy. It was strong. But it worked. The drink’s cured, smoky flavors collided with coconut water’s freshness to deliver a balanced but boozy sip.
The next course was a testament to Toyo and their mission to highlight Filipino flavors, ingredients techniques and culture. We were served pandan rice steamed in banana leaf. Our server announced with a smile that the rice was unlimited. I took full advantage throughout the meal. This alone felt like a love letter to Filipino diners.
It was paired with artisanal dried fish sourced from across the Philippines — kalkag, dulong, pinindang, fish tapa — and, of course, bacon crisps. A dipping sauce of homemade suka with smoked bacon fat offered the right amount of acidity to cut through the saltiness and “baconness” of it all.
Then came a stunning spread of seafood. My two favorite dishes? The crab with bacon jam and pansit-pansitan in coconut milk and paprika foam. It reminded me of Southeast Asia’s regional curries -- creamy and complex. The hinalabos na hipon, shrimp boiled in a smoked bacon stock, was so juicy and flavorful that I refused to dip them in vinegar or add citrus. They simply didn’t need it. No head went unsucked — it was a kamayan feast, after all, not a stuck-up fine dining affair!
When the lechon was served, the diners at my table looked at each other for mutual support. Did we still have room? I reassured them I could make up for any wavering appetites or full tummies. Though, somehow, after everything we’d eaten, we still had space. This version wasn’t heavy-handed with seasoning or sauce. Instead, it leaned into subtle lemongrass notes and perfectly crisp skin.
If the hand-eaten feast felt familiar — though I personally hadn’t experienced many of them, dessert was something entirely different. Guests were handed slips of paper marked with a checklist of Filipino confections and then led upstairs to what can only be described as a dessert room. Being a completionist (blame it on video games), I checked every box.
Among the offerings, a deconstructed halo-halo stood out — topped with crispy bacon, no less. Its homemade ube was earthy and savory, not the sugar bomb you might expect from commercial preparations. Paired with a creamy topping and enclosing leche flan, it was the perfect end note to a meal that didn’t necessarily surprise, but delighted all the same.
Eating with hands is customary at Toyo, which has made Asia’s 50 Best Restaurants list for six consecutive years and recently earned the Gin Mare Art of Hospitality Award. I made sure to tell the chefs that I powered through the entire feast without using any utensils — save for one spoon to get through the crab. If that’s not the measure of a great kamayan dinner, I don’t know what is.