It was eight hours into a 12-hour drive; there were still roughly 200 kilometers to go before it was over. We stepped out of our vehicles—vans and SUVs. Professionals, doctors, lawyers, entrepreneurs, and their families and children.
Even if we were dressed simply—plain tees, plain shorts, flip-flops or sandals—it was still apparent that we weren’t exactly from there.
We sat on monobloc chairs under nipa-thatched roofing; the service water came in glass pitchers with faded flower prints and small-bottomed glasses made of tin, the kind every eatery had in the 1990s, which allegedly enhanced the taste of soft drinks. All around the carinderia/karinderya were glittery stickers of butterflies and bootlegged, discolored Disney characters. Home.
Despite its ubiquity in Philippine life, the carinderia interestingly began as an import, brought by Indian soldiers serving in the British Army when the United Kingdom occupied Manila from 1762 to 1764
And when the food arrived, the people around me were transformed, transported back in time, all inhibitions and pretenses at professionalism lost as dipping sauce dripped down our chins, oil coated our hands, and the conversation was replaced by loud, eager munching. We feasted on river fish, seasonal garden vegetables, homemade buko pie, and plain rice with a bevy of sauces: spiced vinegar, fish paste, fish sauce, fresh chili and calamansi, soy sauce.
Their children—I was one of them—watched in awe as parents and elders transformed, nearing their hometown. So this is who they were before they arrived in Manila seeking gold, having found it, they sought a different treasure, and found it here, in this humble roadside carinderia.
An import, actually
Scholars like Felice Prudente-Sta. Maria and Wenceslao Retana point to a similar origin story: Despite its ubiquity in Philippine life, the carinderia interestingly began as an import, brought by Indian soldiers serving in the British Army when the United Kingdom occupied Manila from 1762 to 1764.
After the short occupation, many Indian soldiers married Filipinas and settled in Cainta and Taytay, catering to travelers on pilgrimage to Antipolo. The first carinderia thus opened as eateries serving curry-based dishes, thus “kari-nderya.” On a related note, kare-kare is also based on this point in history.
This assertion also tracks with the history of panciteria, which started as noodle eateries, stalls sometimes stationary and often itinerant serving Southern Chinese food around Manila.
After the short occupation, many Indian soldiers married Filipinas and settled in Cainta and Taytay, catering to travelers on pilgrimage to Antipolo. The first carinderia thus opened as eateries serving curry-based dishes, thus “kari-nderya”
After this point, scholarship is scant as to how carinderia became the staples we see today in almost every town and purok in the Philippines.
My educated guess would be that pilgrims to Antipolo took this proto-fast food restaurant’s concept to their hometowns and while they didn’t serve kare-kare and curry all the time, the name nonetheless stuck.
The carinderia’s staying power through the centuries could have become rooted in its ability to feed an increasingly mobile Filipino population in an industrial (later post-industrial), globalized society where people have less time to cook daily.
After all, how many of us have a go-to carinderia when we’re budgeting if not money, then time? Even if you’ve risen through the ranks, I’m sure sometimes a fancy restaurant can’t do your favorite dish the way your suking carinderia can.
A full plate of food and more
Celebrating carinderias doesn’t just stop at nostalgia.
It can be a way, as artists like Czar Kristoff and Jepren Solis demonstrate through their practice, to reclaim our appreciation—and love—for “vernacular” cuisine, architecture, thinking, and culture.
The carinderia’s staying power through the centuries could have become rooted in its ability to feed an increasingly mobile Filipino population in an industrial (later post-industrial), globalized society where people have less time to cook daily
Amid a youth-led contemporary push to reclaim Filipino identity in the middle of globalization, shouldn’t we also strive to do so in a way that’s equitable? What better place to start than in the carienderia?
After all, Gideon Lasco wrote that one “cannot love a culture one does not understand.”
While panciteria serves Chinese-inspired dishes and localized noodles, I’d argue that carinderia serves a locality’s unique homegrown dishes. I recall a week-long stay in Cagayan de Oro with my family. At one point, dad and I followed the hotel workers to the backstreets to where they ate. We were rewarded with some of the best pesa or fish stew we’ve ever tried.
Suffice to say, it’s a story that’s repeated itself albeit in different venues —Quiapo, Puerto Princesa, Vigan (better bagnet than from any 4-star hotel), Baguio, even Jakarta and Kuala Lumpur—with a different cast, sometimes family, sometimes friends old and new. There’s something to be said here too about the ubiquity of this type of “quick-serve restaurant” across Southeast Asia.
Some of us may have grown up eating at carinderias and later shunned them in lieu of more “modern, hygienic” ways of eating, others still may have been sheltered from the perceived dangers of dining here. I suspect this has to do with attempts to discredit the carinderia and take their customer base, attracting those with socially-upward aspirations. Elitism, in short. The longest-staying carinderia often adhere to strict hygienic standards. Customers won’t return if they get sick; it’s basic business logic.
The longest-staying carinderia often adhere to strict hygienic standards. Customers won’t return if they get sick; it’s basic business logic
Nonetheless, as demonstrated by my family en route to our ancestral house in our hometown, a carinderia can also be a venue of reconnection with one’s roots, with the flavors of one’s youth, tastes—and memories—that formed who we are: what we like and dislike, say yes and no to, what comes easy to us and what we need to work on.
More and more, when meeting up with friends, when I arrive early and find myself hungry, instead of heading to a fast food joint, I seek a carinderia.
Finally, carinderias can also serve as grounds for community engagement and transformation. Talking to patrons, workers, and proprietors in many carienderia has dispelled to me the notion that working class folk are too ignorant and distracted to think deeply about social issues and act on them, especially through the ballot. (It’s 2025, can we stop with the “bobotante” discourse?)
I usually go to carinderias as the affordable choice to get full and often, it is filling, but time—and experience—also taught me that carinderias could also be, well, fulfilling.