Leona's Art Restaurant: To be taken with a grain of salt

The neighborhood in which I live is fast becoming famous for the quaint little restaurants that are burgeoning along Maginhawa Street. Even in the inner roads, it is not unusual to see a cozy cafe sandwiched between houses, or a new deli nestled in a corner lot. I've been to a few of them: some are delightful and one--- Van Gogh is Bipolar--- is particularly mind-blowing. Until yesterday, I had never been grossly disappointed.

My friend G and I decided to try out Leona's Art Restaurant located at the corner of Magiting and Matimtiman streets. I admit that the phrase art restaurant piqued my curiosity, but now I'm wondering if it's an error in semantics or simply wishful thinking. I did not notice any art on display, unless one counts a small mirror on the left wall, flanked by 2 rows of painted tiles. The place had no artsy feel to it either, except maybe for the plain, unadorned walls and floors of coarse gray cement that were like a, well, blank canvas.

There were certainly some interesting items on the menu, as well as garden-variety dishes for the less adventurous diners, but the 3 employees by the door who ignored rather than acknowledged us should have been foreboding of the horrible service to come. It was exasperating that our server spent several trips to and from the kitchen to inform us that our orders were currently unavailable for lack of one ingredient or other. Still, every time we asked her if a particular dish was available, she always said yes only to come leisurely click-clacking back in her abominably noisy heels to tell us--- unapologetically--- that no, that's not available either. She's an enigma. I can't decide if she's just fickle, was messing with us, or if I was trapped in phantasmagoria because this is not how real-life dining out plays out.

Nevertheless, I'm the type who will come back to a restaurant if the food is good, despite the flawed--- in this case, I cannot emphasize it enough--- service. To make a long story short, I'm never, ever going back there... Well, maybe if by some miracle they discover seasoning. I'm not asking for Dead Sea proportions, but a little salt would be good.

I don't remember dissatisfaction to have ever sparked a blog post, but my experience at Leona's Art Restaurant was no less than insulting. However, I don't intend to be unkind or unfair. If you think you won't mind the disrespectful crew; the interior that does not look deliberate nor finished, much less ready for business; the mosquitoes which outnumber and seem as ravenous as the diners; the menu that promises so much yet comes up short; the climate that feels ideal for Bikram yoga despite the airconditioning; the server that makes you feel that you are a nuisance and an unwanted ripple in her otherwise happy, sedentary existence; and food that leaves much, much more than salt to be desired--- then, by all means, check out the place. But don't say you have not been warned.

In pursuit of...

I felt right at home even before I crossed the threshold. A welcome mat has never been so inviting. Inside, the waft of cool artificial climate made me realize just how hot the noonday sun was.

The first thing I noticed was a table by the wall, decked with small clay teapots-- glazed, handpainted or left in their raw, unembellished form-- and ceramic jars filled with the promise of a soothing tea adventure.

Mounted on the walls are big frames: thumbnail photographs in a sea of black matting. On the far end of the room, only handwriting adorns the walls. In pen, in ink, in paint-- sentimental or whimsical outpourings of the instrument-wielder. Admittedly, there is much pleasure to be gained from reading these musings from faceless strangers.

The owner of the place served the food with a smile that lit up the entire room. Radiating warmth like an old friend, he eagerly answered the numerous questions about the food and other interesting pieces around. He writes, he sews, he cooks, he takes photographs and he makes art out of most anything he touches. Midas, up close and personal.

The food is divine, but more than that, the entire menu was designed for the specific purpose of nourishment while giving a boost of happy hormones. The premise of the menu alone gives a welcome surge of delight.

It's a restaurant, a cafe, a living/art space-- call it what you will. Van Gogh is Bipolar, most certainly, is a unique experience that explores the elusive art of being happy.