The red meat resolution

I went to Morton’s for lunch, which is when BGC reveals its true character. Not the after-dark version that likes to photograph itself, but the daytime district of lanyards, brisk walking, and decisions made between meetings. Sidewalks fill and empty in waves. People know where they are going. Hunger has a schedule.

Inside Uptown Eastgate, the temperature drops a degree. Inside Morton’s, the tempo changes altogether. Lunch there is not an abbreviated dinner. It is its own discipline.

Daylight does something honest to the room. It exposes proportions. Oxblood walls hold their color. Lava rock reads architectural rather than theatrical. Tables are spaced far enough apart to let conversations keep their dignity. You notice efficiency before comfort, and then you realize they are the same thing. Beef and heat register in the air, present but not insistent.

Lunch, I have found, is where restaurants tell the truth. There is less tolerance for fuss, less appetite for ceremony. A kitchen either understands restraint or it does not. A dining room either functions or collapses under the weight of its own ambition.

Morton’s has been open in Manila for a year. At lunch, that milestone barely announces itself. What you notice instead is fluency. Service moves with quiet purpose. Water glasses refill before you realize they are low. Plates arrive when you are ready for them. No one checks on you with theatrical concern. Nothing begs to be admired.

We began with the expected starters, which is another way of saying the right ones. The Jumbo Shrimp Cocktail arrived cold and firm, the shrimp properly cooked, a phrase that should be unnecessary but never is. The Bacon Steak followed, thick and direct. In a world currently obsessed with “faux-pork” foams, this was a slab of confidence. It was bacon that had graduated from the breakfast plate, realizing its true calling as a weapon of mass satisfaction.

A glass of Alìe Rosé from Tenuta Ammiraglia was poured. Crisp, refreshing, alert. At lunch, this matters. The wine cut through richness and cleared the palate without leaving a mark of its own. It behaved.

The Lobster Bisque arrived next, dense and unapologetically rich. Most holiday soups are timid affairs, but this was a liquid concentrate of the sea’s most expensive inhabitants. When paired with the Pouilly-Fuissé, the acidity didn’t just “complement” the cream, it performed a surgical strike on the fat, leaving my palate refreshed and ready for the meat that followed. It was an intelligent pairing, which is as rare as a perfectly rendered fat cap.

Somewhere between courses, I realized that no one in the room was rushing. This is unusual at lunch. The Miso Marinated Seabass arrived, treated carefully, its surface glossy, the fish tender beneath. The miso was present but disciplined. A Pouilly-Fumé from Domaine du Bouchot brought a grassy clarity that worked with the lighter fats of the dish. The pairing made sense.

Then the grill made its appearance. To order a 36-ounce Tomahawk at 1 p.m. is a radical act of rebellion against the modern cult of the “light lunch,” a declaration of war against one’s own cholesterol. It’s the same with the 12-ounce A5 Wagyu Sirloin. Yet, under the honest Manila sun, this isn’t recklessness. It’s high-performance fueling. At lunch, these cuts feel less like spectacle and more like a statement of trust between kitchen and diner. The Black Stallion Heritage from Napa Valley was poured. The wine had tannic structure, yes, but also an ease that made sense in daylight. It understood fat, char, and time.

The sides arrived in familiar forms. Smoked Gouda Au Gratin. Truffle Creamed Corn. Food that does not pretend to be clever. Food that knows it will be shared.

Dessert came because dessert always does. The legendary Hot Chocolate Cake arrived warm, its center still fluid, a reminder that restraint has limits. A Sauternes accompanied it. Sweetness met cocoa and neither overplayed its hand.

This lunch was a study in the Morton’s canon, a selection of bestsellers that The Bistro Group has highlighted to celebrate a year of consistency over novelty. The group’s marketing head Lisa Ronquillo-Along spoke about introducing the Morton’s approach to a city that values novelty but still responds to things done properly. At midday, that idea felt practical rather than abstract.

These anniversary recommendations, a curated look at the house signatures, arrive at exactly the right moment. December is when restraint loosens its grip, when indulgence becomes less a vice than a civic duty. Morton’s understands this instinct. The food encourages you to lean in, to eat generously, to stop pretending that salads alone can carry you through the end of the year or the start of the next.

At the same time, there is something clarifying about a well-cooked steak. Beef treated with respect has a way of cutting through the noise. You leave full, yes, but also reset. If the holidays are about allowing a little extra marbling, this meal works just as well as a clean cut to start the new year. No tricks, no clutter, just fire, fat, salt, and time aligned.

Morton’s allows time where time is usually rationed. At lunch, especially, this feels deliberate. In a city where meals are often squeezed between obligations, the refusal to rush becomes part of the pleasure.

One year in, Morton’s does not feel new. It feels established, which is harder to pull off. For a holiday table, or for beginning the year properly fed and clear-headed, that kind of reliability is not dull. It is exactly what you want.

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Morton’s The Steakhouse is at Uptown Eastgate, Corner 36th Street, Barangay Fort Bonifacio, Taguig City. 0917 144 9415 | www.mortons.com.ph