Twenty-six years ago, Reynaldo and Nell Garcia set out to create a gathering place for Chicago’s growing Filipino population. They had no restaurant experience–Reynaldo was working as a chemist, Nell as a nurse–but they believed their fellow expats would appreciate a place where they could relax with friends and enjoy some native dishes. The Garcias named their venture Little Quiapo, after a historic district in their hometown, Manila.
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Little Quiapo has never been fancy. Its odd, half-timbered facade is accented with a brilliant red to match the worn vinyl chairs and silk carnation clusters at the tables inside. Ceiling tiles sag in spots, and many of the framed shell collages hanging on the walls are still tautly shrink-wrapped. But cheery servers are ready with pitchers of water and menu suggestions, a TV provides a high-pitched sound track of Pinoy news and three-hankie soaps, and everyone seems to know everyone else’s name.
Unlike the flavors popular in neighboring Asian countries like Vietnam, Indonesia, and parts of China, Filipino food isn’t heavy on the hot and spicy. Foundations lie instead on sour and salt. In many cases the sour comes from cooking in vinegar and from vinaigrette sauces. The salt often comes from a condiment called bagoong, a paste made of tiny fermented shrimp. Peanut and coconut sauces are also popular.
Nevertheless the booth was enticing enough to draw Bill Clinton, who stopped by for some barbecue during a tour in 2000. The then-president said he was heading to Manila for a summit and wanted to try some of the food, recalls Rey. “He took barbecue and an egg roll–he said, ‘I can’t eat all of this,’ but I think it was because another booth was calling him.”
