So, how bout a fictional bar story to describe this next drink? It's called Love Me or Hate Me.

So this guy walks into the bar–mid-thirties, broken Birkenstocks, smelling like regret and a vintage record store. Says he wants something "fresh, but dangerous."

John, our barman at Juanito's, he doesn't flinch. Just stares deep into this man's soul and cheerfully, "I've got just the thing brother. It's called Love Me or Hate Me."

"It's got gin," John says, pouring like he's casting a spell. "Cilantro, for chaos. Lime, for truth. Syrup, for the lies we tell ourselves."

The guy takes a sip. Time stops. Somewhere, an ex texts "u up?" and a tiny, invisible mariachi band starts playing behind his eyeballs.

"Wow," he whispers. "It's like kissing someone you're not sure you like–but doing it again anyway."

John shrugs. "That's cilantro for you. A wonder for some, dish soap for others."

The guy notices a bunch of performers from the Pearl coming in and asks for another. John's already made it, sliding it across the bar. 

These chicharrons are... ahhh. SO GOOD. Exactly like you'd have in Mexico or the Philippines. The vinegar and onion dip... these go perfectly with whatever you are drinking. 40 yuan.

Sisig (that's the sizzling Filipino pork dish, typically a cholesterol party on a hot plate) is usually rich enough to anchor you to your seat for the rest of the evening. But here, it's lightened up – all those fresh veggies and a sharp squeeze of calamansi (tiny citrus bombs, think Filipino lime) cut through the fat like a tropical scalpel. Surprisingly zippy. Almost...refreshing? 35 yuan. 

The Chicken Adobo. Oh man. The chicken adobo. How could you miss it? You can't. You just can't. This is a must-order – like, write-it-on-your-hand level must. Traditionally, there's a hit of vinegar in the mix, but here they swap it out for lemon, which gives it a cleaner, brighter finish. Lighter on the funk, heavier on the wait, did we just eat all of that? Yes. Yes, we did. And was that a good idea? Well we didn't know how many more dishes were ordered so... maybe not. But at 68 RMB, it's the safest bad decision on the menu. (D'Safety Option)

Sisig à la Carbonara – aka Jon's mad scientist moment. The menu promises "your favorite sisig on a creamy cheesy spaghetti," but they've since upgraded it to penne (thank god – spaghetti would've been a full-on saucy crime scene). What's it like? Ultra rich. Like, bring-me-a-beer-immediately kind of rich. All the creamy, cheesy, porky chaos you didn't know you needed – until you're halfway through the plate and wondering if you're full or just spiritually overwhelmed. We finished it. Obviously. 68 RMB. No regrets.

Grilled Pork Belly – aka Them Hot Bellies (78 RMB), and yes, the name is deserved. This is pure bar food engineering. They hit these slabs with a one-hour pressure cook to trap all the juicy goodness inside, then deep fry them until the skin turns gloriously thick and crispy – borderline weaponized. Comes with two sauces (soy and calamansi) to cut through the richness, but honestly? They don't need much help. These were made to keep you drinking. 

The Tociloggg! (58 RMB). Filipinos don't mess around when it comes to all-day breakfast, and this one's a classic. The tocino – sweet-cured, pinkish pork candy – is the headliner here, and it slaps alongside garlicky rice and a little scoop of pickled papaya (aka atchara, for the purists). Which... if we're going to criticize... definitely need more atchara on that plate Jon! It's salty, sweet, tangy, and just a little bit wrong to eat before noon. But if no one's watching… it's a must-order. Super good bad idea. Worth it.

This Can't Be Real ...vegetarian sisig (58 RMB). It's nice to see a few veg-friendly options on the menu, but anyone who's had an intimate moment with actual Filipino sisig (hot plate, pork bits, a little egg action) will probably be side-eying this one. Still, it's not without charm – especially if you ask for some calamansi on the side to squeeze over the top. That citrus hit wakes things up. Is it the real deal? No. But hey – options!

Lambing (78 RMB). Also known as caldereta, this is a creamy, savory lamb stew – and it's definitely got its own thing going on. A little sweet, a little tangy, a little rich, and unmistakably Filipino. Tender lamb chunks lounging in a tomato-based sauce, stewed down with veggies and just enough umami to make you rethink everything you know about comfort food. It's hearty. It's cozy. And by this point? Yeah, we were definitely full. 

HALO-HALO (58 RMB). They've got other desserts, sure – and they looked good – but this is the king. The Filipino dessert. The Mount Rushmore of Pinoy sweet tooth culture. Shaved ice, drenched in every kind of milk known to man (evaporated, condensed, creamy dreams), topped with a technicolor carnival of jellies, flan, corn flakes, sweet potato, and whatever else made it into the party. It's pure, unfiltered chaos – like the naughty kid at a dinner party who dumped all the desserts into one bowl and drowned it in milk. And somehow? It works. One of us was lactose intolerant... and he was the last one still eating. Respect.