A Lenten table at Eastwood

In Eastwood, a Holy Week worth tasting Photos by Jun Salalima The heat in Eastwood that day arrived early, slow and deliberate, like everything during Holy Week. The streets were quieter, the shops open but subdued. A kind of calm had settled over the city.

It was a week of reflection, of restraint—and for those observing, a time when even meals took on deeper meaning. At Eastwood Mall, the Lenten food crawl promised more than just a lineup of restaurants. It offered a walk through flavor and tradition, through silence and spice.



No meat. No fanfare. Just good food, made well.

A post shared by Eastwood Mall (@eastwoodmall_) The journey began at Casa Reyes, where the scent of sautéed garlic and coconut milk crept out onto the sidewalk. Inside, familiar Filipino comfort dishes were stripped down to their soulful core. There was laing, slow-cooked taro leaves rich with smoke and spice.

Gising-gising brought heat with the grace of coconut cream, while the seafood kare-kare landed with shrimp and vegetables bathed in a thick, nutty sauce. It tasted like memory, like something passed down rather than plated. A short walk led to Cyma, bright and bustling even in the stillness of the season.

The food here—Greek, clean, sunlit—felt like a pilgrimage of its own. The garides saganaki arrived first, shrimp swimming in tomato and feta, hot enough to sting the fingertips. Hummus and warm pita anchored the table, while spanakopita, crisp and buttery, gave the kind of comfort that doesn’t need meat to satisfy.

The place hummed with quiet energy. No one rushed. Then came Locavore, where Filipino dishes took a turn toward the inventive.

Everything was familiar but not quite the same. Their sizzling sinigang, soured and savory, came out smoking. The oyster sisig snapped and sizzled on its plate, pushing against the idea that Lenten food has to be modest.

Another round of gising-gising, this one fiercer, bolder. Each dish leaned into the edge of tradition without falling off. The crawl ended at Greyhound Café, as modern as the others were rooted.

It was cool inside, shadows playing across black tile and bright lights. Pomelo salad came first—tangy, sweet, and cold like early morning fruit. Crispy mushroom Stir-fry brought crunch and earth, the kind of simple joy that tastes louder than it looks.

And the spicy seafood noodles had the last word: fire, salt, depth. By dusk, the mall had taken on a different energy. Others lingered in cafes or walked the grounds in near silence.

Eastwood had shifted into something softer, more sacred. This was the Lenten crawl—not a feast, but a kind of devotion. Each restaurant brought its own story to the table, each dish a quiet offering.

For those observing, Eastwood City offered a way to keep the season’s spirit intact without giving up the joy of a good meal. In a time for less, Eastwood gave just enough..