It’s only recently that the phenomenon of people clustered around a restaurant entrance, pacing up and down, has come to my attention.

 

This isn’t the opening of a Japanese ramen franchise with a former beauty queen cutting the ribbon; it’s a quotidian occurrence.

 

Not just every day, to be precise, but at almost any given hour, there is a long line of customers outside Samgyupsalamat, waiting to be seated.

 

In the BGC branch, the crowd of hungry diners has literally caused the balcony to sag—so there are two metal poles in front of McDonald’s, which is directly underneath, presumably to prop the balcony up. Even so, the balcony wobbles alarmingly when a group of diners, having satiated themselves in the restaurant with all-you-can-eat grilled meat, totters out of the restaurant, freeing up a table for the line waiting outside.

 

The average wait is two hours. On one weekend, some larger groups had been in line since 4.30 p.m. when we ate at 7 p.m.

 

“You are 26th in line,” the maitre d’ informed us. “Right now we are calling number 82.” Fifteen minutes passed. One of the girls in line nestled her face in her boyfriend’s crotch and began snoring gently. We decided to try another day.

 

Although they have branches all over the city, we decided to check out the one at Robinson’s Galleria so that we could at least put our name on the list, and then do some other things while waiting to be called (they will seat you only when all members of your party are present, and tough luck if you aren’t there when they call your number).

 

Unlimited

 

They must be doing something very right to have notoriously fickle Filipinos sitting obediently as though they were waiting in line to get their NBI clearance.

 

The simple trick is: P500 for unlimited barbecued meats, with no time limit on consumption unlike the “eat all you can in one hour” joints. They serve proper samgyeopsal, thick cuts of pork belly, rather than the deceptively bountiful platters that turn out to be wafer-thin slices of meat curled over in ornate patterns.

 

Pinoys have taken to calling all Korean grilled meats as “samgyup,” but they are, in fact,  “gogi-gui.” Also, Koreans have a rich and diverse food culture that encompasses many foods other than barbecue.

 

But Samgyupsalamat is, as the name implies, a Korean-Filipino production, that translates to “pork belly thank you.” The P500 includes, somewhat amazingly, 10 different cuts of pork and beef, some marinated, others spicy, unlimited rice, unlimited iced tea, unlimited lettuce, unlimited charcoal (yes, they use real charcoal, and you will run out in the middle of your meal if you choose to go the whole way), unlimited sauces, you name it.

 

Cook your meal

 

It does not come with table service so you have to cook your own meat, which isn’t really a problem—you throw it on the grill and turn it over when it’s charred. You adjust the heat by fanning the coals or by pulling down the exhaust vent so that it sucks air onto the coals.

 

The hazards are obvious: The amateurs at the table next to ours had their grill burst in the flame, so they all got up shrieking and, of course, started to take a video of the column of fire that was rising in the center of the table like the monument to the unknown soldier.

 

The restaurant staff seemed unperturbed and calmly removed the offending brazier to the kitchen, and replaced it with a fresh one.

 

The other pitfall is overeating. In these austerity-ridden times, it actually makes sense to starve yourself and be wheeled in at the point of starvation, then eat for several hours, and then get wheeled out. I thought I ate fairly moderately, but it’s been two days and I’m not hungry yet.

 

With the current prices, however, if you want to beat the restaurant at its own game you might be better off eating unlimited lettuce than unlimited pork.

 

Everything in the restaurant is slick with a layer of fat including the floor, which you can glide across even on your rubber-soled shoes. When you emerge your hair and face will be similarly oleaginous. I had actually been planning to go for a hot-oil scalp treatment but I feel that I’m okay for now.

 

This is not fine dining. This is eating as war. This is eating to make a point. What can P500 buy you these days? Actually, sorry, it’s not even P500, it’s P499—and the sound of the P1 coin clattering on the plate as you receive your change is one of the most satisfying noises you’ll hear.

 

Outside, the line has gotten even longer and more restive, and the people collectively give us the glare as we walk out, and lick their lips in anticipation. The waiter gestures to the maitre d’ that another table for four is ready. More meat, thank you very much. —CONTRIBUTED