Meet Me in Pampanga: 3553 W Dunlap Ave, Phoenix, AZ 85051

The second I opened the door, the smell of deep-fried pork greeted me as chunks of the fatty pork belly stared at me in a see-through display. This was not your average Sunday brunch, but for me and the five other families who dined-in with me that day, it was much better. The restaurant did not offer a typical American dining experience. There were no printed 10 inch by 13 inch menus or waiting staff. Customers ordered food from an array of traditional dishes spread out over a steam table. The restaurant did not need rustic decorations, for they had better ones: Golden State Warrior merchandise, a TV screening of TMZ’s Deal or No Deal and a photo collage of boxing champion/politician/Filipino basketball star Manny Paquiao. If you did not guess it already, this was a Filipino restaurant, Halo-Halo Kitchen. 

As I enjoyed my lunch of Diniguan (pork soup in a broth of pig’s blood and vinegar) and turon (deep-fried plantain), I made an observation of the restaurant’s clientele. Based on the unique accents and the utterance of trigger words like “anang” (she said/he said), I knew that they were all Filipino. Halo- Halo Kitchen is the unofficial embassy of the Philippines along Dunlap Avenue next to International 88 Market. This is my first semester at ASU coming from Boston College, so I had my own biases as to what a city is. In Boston, it is apparent that the city is a “primary draw for migrants”—they are everywhere (4). 

In the World Migration Report, Howard Duncan and Ioana Popp said, “millions of migrants are seeking employment of any form, greater security for themselves and their families, and the hope of a better future” (IOM, Migrants and Cities 16). This was the case with my cashier from Pampanga, a northern province of the Philippines. My cashier said that she visits the Philippines at least once a year and that she owns a home in the Philippines, but the amount of money she can make in America as compared to the Philippines is much greater. There is no significant middle class in the Philippines, so climbing the social ladder is nearly impossible through hard work alone. My cashier did have family back home who receive remittance money from her occasionally or a traditional “balakbayan box” (a care package). Despite the cashier’s national identity, she exhibited a blend of American and Filipino cultures seen throughout the restaurant as described earlier. A subtle intrigue characterizes Halo-Halo Kitchen where American popular culture meet the culinary roots of the Philippines.

I never imagined that I would find such a profound taste of Filipino culture within the city limits of Phoenix, tucked behind a gated neighborhood on Dunlap Avenue.