MANILA, Philippines―I fully understand now why Larry Cruz persisted in sitting us down to dinner over the New Year and brainstorm on a book he wanted written. Barely a week after, he left for Washington, DC. A month later, this week, he was gone.

?I don?t like it to be like a hack job. That, I?m sure of,? he said, leaving untouched the sumptuous spread of fried pla-pla, Bicol Express, rellenong mais. ?Not vanity. Just want to tell the younger ones what all this is about.? As he said that, he made a wide sweep of the bustling Abe with his hand.

We told him, no need to elaborate. It?s narrating the interesting and enriching story of how a journalist and publisher became a successful restaurateur and changed the diningscape in the country, indeed a good deal of urban lifestyle. Yet no matter the fame and fortune the restaurant business brought him, he would always return to his well-loved medium: print. He?d want to communicate a story, in this case, his own story―like the journalist/publisher that he was. After all, he had just published the story of his father, the noted journalist, essayist, painter, diplomat and bon vivant E. Aguilar Cruz. The book was ?Abe,? written by Nick Joaquin.

But the book, Larry said, shouldn?t be about his private life; that?s why he didn?t want an autobio. It should be about what he went through and learned, from publishing to the restaurant business. So we agreed that it should be ?LJC,? as he was known to the industry, talking to this and next generations about how he did it―like a Jack Welch (ex-CEO of GE) book-cum- ?Rich Dad, Poor Dad.? It should be useful to the young who want to make it like he did―passing on learnings, from skills to values.

?Its title should be ?Larry Can?t Cook,?? he said. After all he wasn?t a chef.

Expansive mood

Dinner talk about legacy is always a reminder of one?s mortality―both the speaker?s and the listener?s. But we didn?t heed that. Larry didn?t look bad although he had lost a bit of weight, which was not that obvious in his trademark chic linen shirt. (He?d always been a natty dresser.) He had just had stomach surgery where the doctors cut off some suspicious growth. Otherwise, he felt fine, he said. (Up to the time of his death, people didn?t even know Larry was sick. Perhaps not even he or his close kin suspected how fast the cancer had spread.)

He was more than fine, he was in an expansive mood. Abe, the Kapampangan-cuisine resto he opened at Serendra in 2006 as a tribute to his dad, was expected to be a success, but not the big hit it has become. You couldn?t get a seat unless you book way ahead. He pointed at the sepia photo mural on its wall showing a newborn cradled by a woman. That?s him, he said with child-like glee―a behavior a suave and sophisticated Larry wasn?t usually given to. The woman, he said, was his mom Fely, after whom another recent success, Fely J at Greenbelt 5, was named.

Larry introduced ambiance as a critical part of a restaurant?s success formula―the industry, the café and lifestyle sets acknowledge that. But honestly, more than food and ambiance, what Larry brought into his restaurant was his distinct sense of heritage. His pride of the past―a writer?s appreciation of history, culture and the arts.

Therefore, Café Adriatico, which opened in the late ?70s, has furniture, paintings, décor that echo the ilustrado of old. Larry had blown up the photos from his dad?s journalism career so that they could be displayed in the café, along with memorabilia. For the architecture and décor of his early restos such as Adriatico or Bistro Remedios, he collaborated with leading painter Agustin Goy.

Pinoy pride

Indeed, while other restaurants import cookie-cutter design, Larry brought his sense of pride as a Filipino into his restaurant. He combined this with a Pampango?s love of good food, a journalist?s instinct of what people are curious about, and a bon vivant?s pursuit of the good life. Larry was a renaissance man who accidentally turned into an astute businessman.

?You know that I don?t really like numbers,? he told me as we moved from inside Abe to the al fresco plaza of Serendra. ?What I like is creating. Concepts. The numbers, leave that to the real businessmen.?

Magazine publisher

What he wanted to talk about were magazines. Now he was nostalgic. With a hearty chuckle, he said, ?I must have been the only publishing partner Geny (Lopez) ever had.? I almost didn?t know what he meant until I recalled our early days in Metro magazine.

In the late ?80s, Larry and his circle of journalists loved to talk about having a ?beautiful? magazine. Larry asked me over to his Morada office, with its ?50s architecture, beside Bistro Remedios in Malate to brainstorm. The result was a city guide/political/lifestyle magazine he decided to call Metro, because then, he loved New York magazine and Vanity Fair.

Since I was then a newspaper editor, I couldn?t be hands-on in the magazine, but I loved helping Larry assemble its staff. I love recalling the early afternoon he asked me to sit before him, a look of fright on his face.

?But they?re all gay!? he gasped with genuine fear (because he hadn?t worked with gays). That was after I sent him many writers and editors for editorial slots. That was the end of this macho icon?s homophobia, if indeed it was homophobia, and the beginning of Larry?s creative collaborations with the city?s top artists, writers and editors. They love him to this day―if not in love with him.

His first Metro cover was the budding tycoon Fernando Zobel, a story, if I remember right, Larry wrote himself. After a few years, as Larry embarked on restaurant expansion, he decided to sell Metro. That was when I put him and Eugenio ?Geny? Lopez Jr. together. The two hit it off right away, (Larry also hit off well with Geny?s youngest brother, Robby). Geny bought Metro.

Larry loved his years in publishing. In fact on our last dinner, he talked about how I should start a magazine that people like him, who love to read, can really read. ?Not just beautiful pictures,? he said. ?You can have only so much of glamour and pictures.?

Uncanny that in his last days, as his restaurants one after another became a hit, Larry still was enamored of writing and journalism. ?Do it. Do a Vanity Fair,? he kept repeating, even as we walked away after saying goodbye.

We didn?t know then that it would be our final goodbye. People like us loved working with Larry because he had a genuine passion for the craft. He didn?t fake it, unlike some now who are in magazine publishing only for the glamour and the glitz. He had such genuine respect for it and the people who practice it. As his longtime associate Glenna Aquino put it, ?When he introduced me, he never said, she ?works for me.? He always said, ?we work together.??

Since he died, people have been gathering at Café Adriatico at night, packing the place―old friends such as Maan Hontiveros, Bonjin Bolinao, Mandy Marquez, Tonton Naval, Dr. Diony Cruz, Ado Ortiz, Phil Valdez and violinist Jeffrey Solares. For many of them Café Adriatico was home through the years, a place to unwind after a hard day. Larry had given them that.

Larry and the restaurants he conceived were good not only for your gustatory pleasure; they were good for your psyche. They fed and made you feel at home.

For someone who believed in our career, Larry made us feel good and proud every time. Larry, not only his restos, earned a place in our heart. And our heart aches somewhat now.