Filipino food’s been given a bum rap. I blame Jollibee’s and Chow King, and the myriad other fast-food chains typically associated with the cuisine. But whatever the reason, when trying to scrounge up a dinner date last week to sample the fare at Kabalen Restaurant, I had to exert even more pressure (and higher bribes) than usual. I must admit that I too was dragging my heels slightly on our way to the Karama café. I had sensed, from an earlier visit that this homely-looking eatery – lovingly decorated with clean, bright yellow walls and fruity tablecloths – was somehow going to be different. But a bevy of bad experiences had left my colleague hard to convince and me feeling a tad cautious as we entered. The establishment’s sole waitress seemed to pick up on our aura of reluctance. ‘It’s Filipino food,’ she warned.

‘We’re fine with that,’ we told her. She narrowed her eyes, not entirely convinced. ‘No really,’ we continued. She shrugged and gave us a menu, which, at our prodding, she patiently translated.

At first, she tried to steer us towards ordering the more expat-friendly noodles, a gesture that indicated genuine concern for our enjoyment. We relented, but also ordered several less familiar dishes, which, regardless of main/starter status, came out of the kitchen at the same time. This disregard for the dining hierarchy actually had a beneficial effect – we were able to give equal consideration to every item on the menu, turning the café into a little culinary democracy. Even a simple beverage of buko pandan juice made it clear there was someone in the kitchen that cared deeply about food and fresh produce. There was nothing processed or rushed-together about this sweet, green-tinted, milky drink, ripe with slivers of tapioca and shards of fresh coconut.

My dining partner’s adobong manok, which the waitress described as a tamarind chicken soup, had an old-school feel, as if it were a recipe that had been passed down through generations. As such, I assumed consuming this medicinal-seeming brew was going to be a dowdy, if tasty, affair, what with its bony chunks of chicken and floating pak choi. Rather, the broth wrestled my tongue, slapping it with hints of lemon, bashing it with a wave of vinegar. It was as startling as discovering my granny had been Hulk Hogan in disguise.

Every dish, no matter how disarmingly simple was hiding a similar, unexpected vibrancy. A plate of bihon guisada gave the impression that it would be a meek, run-of-the-mill, noodle-house staple, but was in fact a feisty amalgam of buttery, pepper-speckled glass noodles, bright green snow peas, shrimps and lime juice. The usually ubiquitous vegetable spring rolls hid a comforting interior of cabbage and potato, and paired fantastically with an accompanying jalapeño-vinegar condiment. Coquettishly crisp, they had such an effect on us that we nearly came to blows for the last morsel.

At the start of the meal I had been sceptical about ordering the kalderetan manok, having previously sampled the dish at a fast-food joint, where I found it to be an eerily shiny gelatinous soup with chunks of over dry chicken floating in it. But, on the waitress’ recommendation, I gave it another go, and I’m glad I did.

Tender legs of chicken were adorned with bright-coloured carrots and peas – evidence that the chef cared enough about the produce to cook it properly – and further saturated with chunky tomato gravy. It was clear that no cans had been opened in the making of this stew.

The only item we found slightly dubious was the lumpiang sariwa, an outwardly healthy summer roll stuffed with carrots and cabbage. But it came topped with a slightly strange, sweet, gelatinous sauce that we doubt was any good for us.

As the meal neared an end, we were ecstatic that we had given the cuisine a second chance. It had taught us a valuable lesson – the type usually reserved for made-for-TV movies – about not making snap judgements. Never again would we unfairly make assumptions about a cuisine before attempting to fully understand its character.

The bill (for two)
1x Buko pandan juice Dhs8
1x Vegetable spring roll Dhs10
1x Lumpiang sariwa Dhs15
1x Bihon guisada Dhs20
1x Adobong manok Dhs20
1x Kalderetang manok Dhs20
Total Dhs93