Fortified with an energy that’s like a salve to a seemingly fragmented world, Tuny RestoFarm occupies a unique place in the food industry today.
For one, it is as inspired as it can get in the face of a new era, of what it means to optimistically run a farm-based restaurant that eschews the belief that location will make a business. (Hint: It’s not always the case).
When co-owner Emely Mendoza sent a message that Tuny RestoFarm is “off the grid,” she wasn’t kidding. So much so that she had to remind us to continue driving even after the concrete path ended and Waze told us that we had reached our destination.
But once the intriguing brown gate manifests in the distance and you drive into the lush secret countryside of Silang, you are reminded of how genuinely thrilling destination restaurants can be.
Like falling down the rabbit hole, it’s impossible to write off the delightful universe that lies ahead at Tuny RestoFarm—especially when you’ve got the meditative beauty of a red tractor parked right in front.
Motivated by passion
You won’t find anything weird here—just a cast of characters from your regular farm—but there’s a whole lot of goodness. Tuny RestoFarm is largely populated by stories in nature and found objects that are organized in sections that allow the human spirit to run free.
This plot of land is one of the most exciting venues for anyone with a boundless appetite for peace, nature, and creativity (whether it’s in food, culture, or plain ideas).
The reservations-only establishment isn’t just about crafting honest fare. It also aims to give Filipinos more chances to be comfortable with stepping away from the merry-go-round lifestyle we have grown accustomed to (even for a little while).
We hear a lot about hubs in urban settings and similar farm destinations outside the capital, but what differentiates Tuny RestoFarm from its contemporaries is the new rules they have set for themselves.
For one, the reservations-only establishment isn’t just about crafting honest fare. It also aims to give Filipinos more chances to be comfortable with stepping away from the merry-go-round lifestyle we have grown accustomed to (even for a little while), as well as offer entrepreneurs opportunities to embrace a passion-filled, business-fluid mindset.
Rethinking a restaurant startup
There’s an uncanny way with which the couple, especially Anthony, draped the one-hectare property with a unique yet unified experience. From the open parking lot to the old kitchen that houses the clay wood-fired kiln he himself built and, a few more steps down, to the main dining hall that opens up like an oasis, there are endless stories to find in every nook and cranny.
Amble through the farm and you’ll have a better understanding of the amount of work the couple—together with their small team of young blood that includes nieces and nephews as sous and pastry chefs—can build on passion and unconventionality. And, also, a love for entertaining.
“Mahilig kami mag-entertain tapos cooking is my passion so luto lang nang luto and every time may bisita laging kantsaw laksa… ‘Pa-laksa ka naman,’” says Anthony, whose version of the spicy noodle dish has become an integral asset in their Asian set menu.
(We enjoy entertaining people and cooking is my passion, so I would keep cooking and every time there’s a visitor, [they would ask for] kantsaw laksa.)
To be clear though, this exploration of comfort and passion didn’t just come about at the height of the pandemic. The structure has long stood in this same spot for 15 years as a place for personal escape. It was only after pondering what they could do with it when lockdowns raged on that their next move was something as simple as sharing their intimate retreat to the public.
“Nakita namin how the government was behaving [with regard to the dine-in pandemic protocols],” says Emely. “Minsan open, minsan outside seating lang so sabi namin ’yung farm na talaga ’yung proper venue nowadays, an open-air space… and we have it so we said, ‘Sige, tara, habang kaya pa.’”
(We saw how the government was behaving [with regard to the dine-in pandemic protocols]. Sometimes open, sometimes outside seating [were allowed] so we said the farm is really the proper venue nowadays [as] an open-air space… and we have it so we said, “Let’s do it while we can.”)
Today, Tuny RestoFarm is testament to what later-life entrepreneurs can truly do if they decide to turn back the clock.
Interior motives
There’s a patchwork feel to the space albeit coherent. Eighty-five percent of the structure is made from reclaimed materials like lumber and corrugated roof while found objects such as the bowling alley at the center of the great room serve as the main dining table. Look up and you’ll find salvaged flooring from an old public elementary school in Caloocan that was scheduled for demolition.
There are also handcrafted elements littered across the place: Ifugao sculptures made by their caretakers, a tambayan down on the clearing with rattan and fishnet hammocks, and a rocking horse hammered and nailed from a car tire and old wood.
Anthony and Emely’s interesting take on what “self-built from the ground up” means reminds us of the fact that sometimes, things really are greater than the sum of their parts.
To the north, you’ll find an enclosed pen where chickens lay eggs in their shed and pigs roam freely; to the east, an herb garden where arugula and laksa leaf (Vietnamese coriander) grow bountifully, fruit-bearing trees (find the abiu and lipute trees here), and a future fish pond that could host ulang, among others.
A lechon pit punctuates the considerately thought-out layout before circling back to the “senior lane” and up the little quarter dedicated to smoking meats.
Anthony and Emely’s interesting take on what “self-built from the ground up” means reminds us of the fact that sometimes, things really are greater than the sum of their parts.
The food is a celebration of life
Most of the important work however gets done in the kitchen.
The food plays to their strengths—streams of consciousness strung together like a Twitter thread contextualizing their overseas tandem bike adventures and CrossFit sessions. Named after people, these dishes are made with integrity and follow Anthony’s personal philosophy.
“Of course basta hindi bitin,” he says. “Kailangan sobra sa isa, kulang sa dalawa.” (Of course [the food servings] should not be lacking. It must be more than enough for one person, but not for two.)
“That’s his principle,” Emely chimes in. “To him, the last thing he wants is you to go home and [think] ‘Nagbayad ako ng ganun pero di na-satisfy (I paid this much but I was not satisfied).’ We always want value for money and that’s moveable. It can be expensive but there’s value for money because you satisfy your palate, your eyes, your stomach… pwede rin namang mura (it can also be cheap) and you adjust your standards, that’s also good.”
Here, though, modifying expectations is unnecessary as there is a balance of familiarity and exploration that keeps things interesting—whether you tuck into the Asian, Italian, and Spanish set menus or the a la carte edition.
That means that even if you open your morning or afternoon meals with the feel-good flavors of their summer-on-a-plate caprese salad or the five-dish lineups, you should still brace yourself for absorbing moments on the table.
A menu highlight is Antonio’s bandejado, which is their version of an English breakfast made special with two kinds of farm-made sausages and farm-smoked bacon. The massive platter is a hungry person’s dream as Anthony finishes it off with chili con carne, eggs from their free-range chickens, garlic rice, fried saba, and fries.
On the mountainous bacon mess are farm-smoked bacon and homemade coleslaw in Asian baguette. There’s a palpable crisp and juice that comes with every joyous bite of the meat that’s also found in the smoked salmon crostini, with the sourdough practically showcasing the subtle fish flavor with a medley of eggs, cheese, and dill.
“We always want value for money and that’s moveable. It can be expensive but there’s value for money because you satisfy your palate, your eyes, your stomach… pwede rin namang mura (it can also be cheap) and you adjust your standards, that’s also good,” says Emely Mendoza.
The crackle of Gabe’s carbonara, named after their son, might have some purists raising their eyebrows given that it’s as Pinoy as it can get. However, it’s a pleasure sinking your teeth into a family favorite, as is the case with the ensaymadas developed by Anthony’s niece that are toasted in butter and topped with melted cheese, salted eggs, and bacon.
From farm to table?
While there are elements of sustainability and farm-to-table concepts at play (and they do appear to feed part of the restaurant’s appeal to some eco-conscious consumers), the couple aren’t keen on claiming labels, opting instead to build their own narrative without the need for such categorizations.
“We don’t want to call it anything. It just came naturally,” says Emely. “We have the resources here. We had chickens… and before we opened the restaurant, we couldn’t finish all the eggs. So what do we do with it? Use it in the restaurant; we have a lot of space to grow stuff. Why buy when we can source it from here?”
Chefs and restaurateurs definitely shape habits and culture as well as provide wisdom to diners. However, in the case of Tuny RestoFarm, the legitimacy of such movements comes down to a matter of facts; sometimes the breadth of what you stand for shows itself naturally.
“In a way it’s what we practice. It just came naturally to us that we have the resources, we get it from here, and we serve it to the people,” says Emely. And, adds Anthony, “As much as possible, tinatanim namin kung ano ’yung kailangan ng kitchen (we plant what we need for the kitchen).”
A jolt to traditional thinking
Despite some food business experience under their belts, Tuny RestoFarm is oceans away from any attempts of what most restaurateurs could want with this kind of venture.
Quite non-conformist in ethos but precisely comforting and familiar in approach, the Mendozas excel in their quiet way because, as they explain, there is no need to fall back into the industry rat race. The couple tellingly admit that they started this later-life venture without any big commercial goals—though the dividends they yield of course sustain the restaurant, the farm, and the employees under their care.
On paper, passion alone may sometimes not be enough to be successful. As for the Mendozas, they beg to differ quite gracefully.
“It’s like living our lives farm-style and sharing our space with people but there are boundaries,” says Emely.
Even so, Tuny RestoFarm remains compelling: The pandemic-proof ambiance is refreshing, the service is warm, and the food comes from a place of love.
On paper, passion alone may sometimes not be enough to be successful. As for the Mendozas, they beg to differ quite gracefully.
