Last week, someone e-mailed to ask what is most challenging about being a food writer. Thinking of new words for delicious, I wrote back. Then, a few nights later, I heard an alternative that won't win prizes for finely honed culinary analysis but definitely gets the message across. “How did you like the chicken?” the server asked the woman at the table beside us. “Awesome,” she answered. As it should be when it's marinated in soya, kalamansi (sour lime), brown sugar, chilies, and lemongrass, then slow-roasted till the meat slides off the bone. Also awesome-looking were neatly stacked and visibly crunchy pork hocks, which awoke memories of the version stewed in a tanker load of Molson's for many months and served up in a certain Montreal tavern. These, said my bloke, looked better.

On paper, Filipino cuisine ”with its Spanish, Malaysian, and Chinese influences” has always sounded alluring. In practice, the couple of times I've tried it, I've run up against the roadblock of what I think is a liver-based sauce. Past history. At just-opened Rekados (which means “ingredients”), the fresh, flavourful cooking and thoughtful presentation converted me, and so did the style of the place. Restaurants are like people. Outside appearance doesn't always jibe with substance. Million-dollar rooms occasionally dish up bargain-basement food and vice versa. But Rekados is all of a piece, from décor to how dishes look. Smart signage in the mini mall at Main and King Edward lures you into a simple, elegant space visually doubled by a mirrored wall. A large mural in sepia tones depicts key events in Filipino history. The rear section is backlit (imagine a Mondrian painting without the colour), and at the front, frosted glass masks the Main Street mayhem. Dark wood tables, ruby glass tea-light holders, black leather chairs–it's Yaletown without the attitude. It's also a family-run business, says Larry Elima, who owns the place with his sister and brother-in-law, and a proudly Filipino one. Even chef Charlie Dizon, whose résumé lists French restaurants in his homeland and, recently, the title of sous-chef at the Arbutus Club, is Filipino.

Consider the menu as a Lonely Planet guide, and then seek the advice of local experts. Service is notably helpful, and staff are deft at steering non-Filipinos (the minority both times I've eaten here) along unknown paths. Among their most popular dishes, staff say, is pokwa, rectangles of deep-fried crisp-soft tofu lightly sauced with soya, chilies, red onions, scallions, and toasted garlic. Southeast Asian food doesn't always win points for presentation, but dishes here, garnished with pea shoots and arranged on stylish white plates and platters, could go straight to a photo session.

Filipino food is calm in flavour; you can ask for more chilies in the Bical Express, a dish of prawns, chicken, and bok choy in a coconut-milk-based sauce named for the train that connects Manila with Bical, a region known for its coconut plantations. Moist and meaty, banana leaf–wrapped whole tilapia is stuffed with tomatoes and scallions, then grilled. If you're new to taking fish off the bone, start here. Corn-and-cheese ice cream made us curious, but it works, the kernels adding crunch and the cheese a buttermilky flavour. Another photo-op plate, the deep-yellow scoops had cubes of jade-green coconut jelly (which has an angelicalike texture) tucked in their cleavage. We liked it all. With a whole raft of Chinese-inspired pancit (stir-fried noodles), classic adobo, and hot pots brought volcanically gurgling to the table, there's plenty more to lure you back. And return I did, days later, for lunch.

Recognizing me from my first visit (as customer, not critic), Larry Elima brought over lumpia egg rolls on the house, crackling, scarily hot, the vegetables in the filling more finely chopped than other countries' versions, more like well-seasoned sausage meat but tasty when dipped in the shot glass of sweet chili dipping sauce with its jaunty pea-shoot cockade. I'm a greedy girl and, high 20s or not, I also wanted liempo marinated with sweet soy sauce, garlic, and spices. Rich and unctuous, it's mahogany-glazed pork belly with a melting middle, slow-roasted then grilled. If you cut off the fat, you'll miss the point. Grilled eggplant is the Japanese kind cooked to succulence and topped with chopped tomatoes and onions. It scored high with me, but my friend found the shrimp-paste element too funky.

For drinks, you've got bubble teas, Filipino slushies (try the kalamansi-and-honey one), brews, and a small but thoughtful wine list with almost all the wines available by the glass. Barring a big combo platter, most dishes are under $10. Reckon a $45 total for dinner for two.

REKADOS 4063 Main Street. Restaurant now closed.