Filipinos love their bread — perhaps not quite as much as they love their rice — but anything that starts with pan is consumed with gusto, every single day. Pandesal, Pan de Coco, Pan de Regla (that’s the quirky one) — they’re breakfast staples and merienda favorites. Whether eaten on its own, dipped in coffee, or served alongside a plate of pansit, bread holds a special place in the Filipino appetite.
As a Filipino — though some would say that’s still up for debate — I love bread too. So it didn’t take much for me to get excited when I stumbled upon one of the now-viral YouTube videos featuring Pan de Tekwat’s Spanish Bread. Just Google it. There are heaps of videos showing yellow-golden bread rolls oozing with buttery filling, while long queues of eager customers wait patiently for what looks like pillowy dough wrapped around pure happiness.
Because I’m generally averse to queuing for food — although I admit to occasional lapses in judgment — I first sampled these famous rolls from the bakery inside Shopwise in Makati. Fresh out of the oven, they were everything I’d imagined. No snaking queue required.
The bread was soft and fluffy, coated with fine breadcrumbs and generously filled with a buttery-sweet mixture. At ₱48 for a pack of four (roughly ₱12 per roll), I briefly questioned whether I really had to share them with the family. Thankfully, the sensible part of my brain reminded me that carbs and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms these days.
So there. I’d tried them. I loved them. Curiosity satisfied.
Or so I thought.
Then another viral video popped up on my feed.
It didn’t help that the nearest Pan de Tekwat bakery was only a couple of minutes’ walk from where I was staying in Pasig. One day, while I happened to be in the area, I decided to check it out. From a distance, I spotted an impressively long, winding queue. I immediately did a 180 and walked away.
Nope.
I was not about to subject myself to that level of hype. Besides, I consoled myself, I’d already tasted them. They were probably exactly the same.
Then this happened.
It was around six in the morning. I was out trying to clock in a respectable number of steps when, to my delight, I discovered that a brand-new Pan de Tekwat branch had opened right along my walking route.
And there wasn’t a single person in line.
Like a kid in a candy store, I stopped dead in my tracks and ordered six rolls.
Just like that.
No hesitation.
My low-carb brain had completely malfunctioned.
At only ₱6 a roll, I’d just scored half a dozen for ₱36. My inner bargain hunter declared victory. There went my calorie deficit.
On the walk back, warm rolls in hand, I noticed a stray dog sitting calmly by the roadside, completely unfazed by the passing cars and morning rush. I thought a little breakfast treat might brighten its day.
I tore off a small piece of bread.
“If it takes this,” I thought, “I’ll give it a whole roll.”
The aspin (Asong Pinoy — an affectionate term for native mixed-breed dogs) sniffed the bread…
…and looked away.
Excuse me?
Fine.
I dropped the piece in front of the dog and continued walking, equal parts disappointed and puzzled.
Had it already eaten breakfast? Was it simply full? Or was my prized Spanish Bread beneath this discerning canine’s standards?
Whatever.
As it turned out, those rolls weren’t nearly as good as the ones I’d bought from Shopwise. The bread was drier (and noticeably yellower), while the filling leaned more sugary than buttery.
I should have taken the aspin’s cue. “Been there. Done that. Never again.”
Thankfully, the experiment only cost ₱36. The remaining rolls were quickly shared with Dad and his helpers.
Now, back to the title of this post.
Spanish Bread, as it turns out, isn’t actually Spanish at all. According to Wikipedia, it’s a Filipino creation despite its decidedly Iberian-sounding name.
I’m inclined to think that even after centuries of Spanish rule, Filipinos still find it hard to completely shake off a touch of colonial mentality. Or perhaps the baker who first created it simply couldn’t think of a catchier name.
Either way, I’m grateful this humble little bread roll exists — even if Spain probably has no idea it’s carrying its name.
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