Perla
1535 S 11th St.
Philadelphia, PA
Sept. 2, 2026
Since I moved back to South Philly a couple years ago, one of my go-to restaurants when I have a couple dollars has been the Filipino oasis, Perla. Nestled just south of Passyunk Square, across the street from the Singing Fountain, Perla offers a fixed-menu Kamayan (Tagalog for “by hand”) feast. The decade-old spot, founded by Chef Lou Boquila, is a must for large groups and dates who are past the point of trying to keep it cute and acting like they aren’t hungry. For $55/person, Perla serves up curried vegetables (ginataan), perfectly tender grilled pork belly (liempo), a half chicken, lumpia, an entire pompano fish, and for large groups (which I’ve yet to experience) an additional crispy pork knuckle (pata) on a bed of deliciously soft and absorbent garlic rice (sinangag). These inspired items are all bookended by pandesal (the best dinner roll you’ve ever had in your life) and an almond-topped chocolate coconut budino.
Starting as a pop-up in 2015, Perla generated a lot of hype before finally opening its doors on Aug. 18, 2016. During this time, there weren’t the choices in Pinoy-inspired/fusion fare in the city that we have now. Though I desperately wish I could’ve experienced those early days where seatings were priced at $45 a head, I was a (again, desperately) broke college grad doing my own grunt work in the restaurant industry. At this point, Perla feels like a streamlined dining experience. The only variance I’ve ever noticed eating here has been in the pork belly, which sometimes emerges grilled, and others fried hard. I’m not really tripping on the difference though. You either get soft, tender meat that can barely stay together on the fork, or succulent cuts whose hard outer shells stick to the roof of your mouth while the rest melts on your tongue. With portions this big, how can I get mad?
Once each member of the dining party receives their pandesal roll, a few minutes pass before the garlic rice is laid down on the table, which itself is covered completely with banana leaves. Then, the vegetables — a mix of eggplant, string beans, cauliflower, bell peppers, squash, and zucchini — doused in a yellow curry are laid atop the rice. As the curry soaks the rice, a half chicken, pork belly, and pompano are placed on either side of the growing mound of food, with equal servings of lumpia placed along its perimeter. Small jars of sweet chili, soy, and fish sauce are placed on the table as well, signaling the beginning of the meal. Personally, I have never finished all of it in one sitting, nor have I ever seen anyone else do so. This most recent time having visited, I wondered how this feast would’ve stood against me in my prime, when I was a pubescent human disposal aged 14-16.
I’m noticing there’s a theme with this place’s food in that it sends me back into the past. Be it to experience the opening of the restaurant or an earlier time in my own life, I feel like this food does something that good food should do, which is break you out of normal spacetime and into a place where memory and desire co-mingle, kinda like what happens to the ghoulish food critic in Ratatouille. When I’m getting down on my side of this massive meal, I barely notice the squad of landlord bros next to me yapping about their assets like they’re on fuckin’ Entourage. And while I don’t have formative memories of eating this food as a youngster, I do know what it feels like to be able to absolutely gorge yourself on comfort food from your home culture, food that reminds you of family. When it comes to the intimate atmosphere and huge portions, it’s impossible not to sink into a feeling of familiar calm at Perla. I highly recommend.
