Mr. Jones

One would expect that, at least as a diluted form of backlash from 90?s Hard Rock-esque experiential dining, there would have been some sort of 50?s-style diner in Manila for some time now. After all, there is nothing Filipinos love more than all-day breakfast and fried chicken, and Pancake House doesn?t serve chocolate malt milkshakes with Paul Anka playing in the background. So it came as no surprise that we were eager to try Mr. Jones at Greenbelt 5 when we heard that it served diner favorites, in full mid-twentieth century regalia. You can just imagine the images of Denny?s grand slams we immediately conjured up, and the level of excitement we had to contain and when we heard that Mr. Jones had all-day American breakfast favorites on its menu.

Inside and Outside Mr. Jones

At the risk of prematurely divulging our assessment of Mr. Jones? dishes, and at least in terms of overall sensory satisfaction, the place?s 50?s aesthetic compensates for what it lacks in culinary depth and flavor. Mr. Jones? design is fun, playful, and reminiscent of that malt shop in Pleasantville, scribbled over by a five year old armed with a box of Crayolas. With large red booths, seats upholstered in metallic aquamarine vinyl, kitschy ceramic crockery, a counter lined with condiments and baskets of vegetables, and of course a jukebox, Mr. Jones is actually a pretty charming place.

To be honest, after perusing Mr. Jones? menu, we wanted to try absolutely everything ? from the slow-cooked wagyu ribs to the fish and chips. Since we have been on the hunt for the next best thing to Denny?s here in the Philippines, we obviously wanted to try the bacon and eggs. But alas, we were told that Mr. Jones? bacon is more like our local liempo in thickness and like longganisa hamonado in sweetness, so we didn?t even bother to go down that road when we could get Pure Foods honeycured bacon at the supermarket.

As if our appetite hadn?t been stimulated enough by the menu?s quotation-mark-littered poetry, we ordered Hot & Spicy ?Shrimp Scampi?. It was appropriate for Mr. Jones to have enclosed shrimp scampi in quotation marks, because the dish was made of pure heat and hardly any butter and wine, therefore discounting any chance we had of picking on the place for passing this dish off as shrimp scampi. And while the toasted garlic chips were delicious, the shrimps themselves were so miniscule that you?d either lose them in your plate or find them swimming in that variation of Pinakbet with teeny tiny little shrimps for flavoring. We were equally confused with the bread that was served on the side, because it was green, over-toasted and beyond crouton-like in texture. If you?re looking for spiciness and heat though, you may just be the target audience Mr. Jones had in mind for this dish.

Like the ?shrimp scampi?, the ?Garlic Portobello? steak and eggs were equally disappointing. But before we proceed, can someone please explain to us why Mr. Jones puts everything in quotation marks? It?s like they?re not even sure if what they?re serving is the real thing, so they sandwich the names of their dishes between quotation marks. But we digress. Well there isn?t much to say about the steak and eggs, except that the eggs were dry and that the steak was bland. In fairness to Mr. Jones, the steak was very tender and the portion was quite generous, but we must admit that the meat itself lacked salt and pepper. Perhaps this dish?s redeeming part is the hollandaise sauce, which was rich and creamy enough to make up for the steak?s lack of flavor. That, and the crispy and salty potatoes on the side.

We also tried the Grilled Maple Glazed Pork Chops with Applesauce, which we actually thought would be a no-fail dish; after all, it?s a cinch to grill up some pork chops and smother them in Mott?s applesauce. But apparently, getting a winning plate of pork chops in Manila has become as difficult as winning the 170-million Peso jackpot at the lottery. The pork chops were, as with the steak and eggs, bland and needed a healthy sprinkling of pepper. Come to think of it, when we covered the chops with pepper, the shaker was already practically empty ? is that an indication of the number of people who find the food here bland or do the waiters forget to refill the salt and pepper shakers? And we digress yet again. So the pork chops had no taste, and the applesauce had no taste either. In fact, the applesauce hardly even tasted like apples; it was just brown mush. Similarly, the pumpkin puree served on the side (or was it beneath the chops? It?s difficult to tell because it was all over the plate) tasted more like butter than it did of pumpkin. And while the pumpkin puree and applesauce formed nothing more than colorful mush, the little flavor that they had competed with each other, and probably even cancelled each other out.

Not wanting to sound like pretentious know-it-alls, we sought the feedback of a professional chef, who tried the Rosemary grilled chicken and turkey melt. We must admit that the sandwich looked rather sinful when it was brought to our table ? you know, the kind of dish that can render you full just from looking at it. The sandwich as a whole was delicious, but the combination of sauces made the dish a contradiction of sorts. It was a strange sensation to have layers of sharp cheddar and pesto paired with cranberry sauce. Clearly, judging from Thanksgiving dinners past, turkey and cranberry sauce make a good partnership; and the same goes for chicken and pesto. But having all of them together in a singular bite is too wild a party for lunch.

At this point you?re probably wondering what we liked at Mr. Jones, if we liked anything at all. And you will probably be surprised to read that we absolutely loved the U.S. Beef Ribcap ?Tapa & Garlic Overload?. Now this is the one occasion where we will forgive Mr. Jones for enclosing the dishes name in quotation marks, because the thin slices of beef were seasoned and fried to tapsilog perfection. Whether you?re the kind of person who likes salty or sweet tapa, you?re sure to like this dish ? because it?s a healthy balance of both sweet and salty. The meat itself is probably not what you?re used to, if you?re the Sinangag Express or Rodic?s type of person, because the cut of the meat used by Mr. Jones creates a very tender and almost yakiniku-textured Tapa. The serving is pretty generous too, so generous in fact that you?ll probably run out of rice even before you?ve consumed half the tapa.

Since Mr. Jones is after all a diner, we would have been prize idiots to not have ordered milkshakes. We tried the classic chocolate malt milkshake, which was very rich, creamy and chocolate-y. A major plus for Mr. Jones is that they serve the extra milkshake too in a separate cup. The frozen freshly squeezed lemonade was delicious too, albeit too sweet to be considered refreshing.

One very important detail to keep in mind however is the place?s cleanliness. The first time we went there, the place was packed, so the servers and cooks were moving about the kitchen and the restaurant very quickly. The place was so busy in fact that the servers were dropping plates like they were hot. But on our second visit, the place was moving at a relatively slower pace, allowing us to carefully observe the cooks hanging out and sipping their Zagu shakes in the open kitchen, and to notice that the servers are the ones who garnish our dishes as they scribble on receipts and order slips.

  

Considering the size of the servings here, you would think that we consider the place worth your money; but given the place?s cleanliness and the general blandness of the food, you?re better off going to Pancake House. Because even though the ambience is quirky and cool, do you really need to spend a couple hundred more bucks just to hear Patti Page sing ?How Much Is That Doggie In The Window?? in the background as you munch on your morning pancakes?

After spending an afternoon at Mr. Jones, scarfing down Tapa and making the most of their free wi-fi, we therefore conclude that that bacon-and-eggs void in the Manila dining scene still exists. It?s probably going to take some time before a brilliant entrepreneur decides to bring in Denny?s or IHOP, so for now, we?re going to have to settle for a two-hundred Peso malt milkshake here at Mr. Jones and then head over to Rustan?s for the bacon.