Elvie's

214 First Ave. (13th St.)

212-473-7785

My pregnant friend Darryl turned me on to Elvie's: just the kind of home food that calls to you your first time there, a craving that gets in your bones. It's a Philippine-cuisine no-atmosphere joint that Elvie opened up about 12 years ago. I had Filipino/American poet Regie Cabico meet me there; to know the Philippines at all is to become slightly obsessed, and I always want to know more.

I got pork adobo with rice ($4.50), a dish seasoned with garlic, vinegar, soy sauce, bay leaves, pepper and anise. This kind of dish can go without refrigeration for days, Regie informed me. His dad makes it with apple vinegar.

"It's a mix of Chinese and Spanish cuisine-we have rice for breakfast, lunch, dinner. The Philippines adapted Spam and roast beef from American soldiers-also Tang. A lot of the canned goods that soldiers brought became part of our diet." Regie offered me a longanisa, a sweet pork sausage ($1) that could last a while on its own as well.

"It's a really carnivorous food," he pointed out, referring to the tray of balot, duck eggs that feature an embryo for the low low price of $1.25. As I know from the Taboo Foods show on the National Geographic Channel, these are a popular roadside treat that sell for the same price abroad. Crunching on a tiny beak is a bit much, even for Regie, but I guess if you grew up doing it and really thought it would increase your potency, well, why not?

I had a temp job in San Francisco once, stalling on the closure of an AIG office, with these Filipino women that loved me. The older ones, from the country, would bring in lumpiang, a daintier version of an egg roll, and season it just right for me, with vinegar and maybe chili. This other stuff they used, a putrid fish sauce, guaranteed that once the Filipino staff of an office got hold of the microwave, they need never share it again.

The younger, more urban women, taught me a few swear words in their version of Tagalog (there are over 300 dialects) and did my hair in French braids every day. Instead of regional cuisine, one offered me cocaine while we were in on the weekend doing overtime, and another petite and immaculate woman called Nina would have fresh tales of temperamentally stalking her ex-boyfriend with his new girl. This passion and flair was not surprising, since she came from a culture that snacks on chicken-skin chips ($4), crispy deep-fried pork bellies, and kare kare, which is beef tripe in peanut sauce to me and you.