THE MIND forgets, but the stomach remembers.

The satisfaction of hunger being one of man?s primal urges, food memories die hard.

Tastes and flavors often linger long after the establishment where one first encountered them is gone.

Back in the day ? by which I mean some time between the Beatles at Rizal Memorial Stadium and the opening of Mega Mall (i.e., the ?Modern Era?) ? we didn?t eat out that much, so food experiences were more memorable.

I don?t remember ever having had a milk shake at the soda fountain of the Botica Boie on Escolta (I?m old ? but not that old), or ensaymada at Luisa and Son?s in Sta. Cruz (since transplanted to Los Angeles, Ca.), but I do remember dining at the old Madrid Restaurant on Edsa near Boni Ave. It was an extravagance at a time when we were still eating Namarco corned beef and Royco Chicken Noodle Soup regularly. Strangely enough, all I can remember having is the liver ? medium rare. I mention this only because of Madrid?s historic significance. It went through a long decrepitude, and its doors were shuttered for years, until in 1986 a fledgling newspaper opened its editorial offices there. (Yes, it was this paper.)

It might be hard for youngsters to imagine, but there really was a time when ?fastfood? was just a concept waiting to be invented. No McDonalds, no Burger King, no Jollibee, no Chow King.

Gee, what did you eat grandpa?

Well, there used to be the Brown Derby in Malate, famous for its foot-long hot dogs. A & W, one in Ermita and another along Edsa in Cubao, was an American Graffiti-styled drive-in restaurant. You parked your car, rolled down your window and a waiter clipped on a tray to hold your burgers, chili dogs and frosty mugs of A & W root beer.

Ma Mon Luk was the place to go for the staple mami and siopao combo. There used to be a popular urban legend regarding the provenance of the meat they used, that supposedly accounted for its special flavor. In any case, the Cubao branch has since been bulldozed, and the Quiapo branch has closed its doors too, leaving the faithful to make the pilgrimage to the original branch on Quezon Boulevard.

If you were in QC, the date spot was the Magnolia Ice Cream House along Aurora Blvd. near Doña Hemady St. Lactose intolerance be damned, we sampled the Peach Cobbler, the Rainbow Parfait, the Banana Split, and other heady concoctions at the long counter.

Before there were malls, the prevalent weekend family ritual was to go for a big Chinese lunch at a panciteria after Sunday Mass, preferably in Binondo, where you could order the same things over and over again and not mind. Our spot was T. Pinpin, where three restaurants shared the same block (some said the same kitchen): San Jacinto, Toho (?air conditioned since 1888?) and Rice Bowl. I can no longer remember which served which, but the menu tended toward the inevitable Comida China: camaron rebosado, ho to tay soup, pancit canton, lumpia shanghai, sweet and sour pork, China chicken, steamed lapu-lapu, and ampalaya con carne washed down with the house tea. San Jacinto has since moved to a posh, new location along C-5 in Pasig, and Toho relocated down the street after a fire gutted the original, but Rice Bowl has gone the way of the sando-clad waiters, with a tea towel over one shoulder, who were already old when the place was new.

Nearby was Smart Panciteria, famous for its steamed bacoco. That?s a kind of fish, for those who?ve never heard of it. Those who?ve tried it have never forgotten.

Our other Binondo destination was the Ho Ho Tea House, along Ongpin (I think), which had salted shrimp, deep fried crisp with chilli, garlic and salt.

Back when the Philippine Collegian was still being printed on ancient letterpress machines in the old Liwayway Press on Soler St., the staff would head to Sun Wah panciteria on Florentino Torres for a big Chinese dinner after putting the issue to bed. (I wasn?t on the staff, I just tagged along for the food.) The original Sun Wah burned down in the early 1990s, but it has since reopened as Wah Sun and is still going strong. Apart from the torta cangrejo and lechon, I go there for the piped-in music. (No, really, it?s the only panciteria in town where they play Paul Desmond and Stan Getz. The owner must be a jazz fan.)

The late 1970s-early 1980s would have been the lost years, were it not for the food. In those recessionary years, you wanted big servings at reasonable prices.

We got them.

For Chinese, the go-to place was the Oriental Park, beside the old Circle Theater on Timog Ave. They served a memorable stuffed shrimp (aka camaron rellenado), szechuan soup, pata tim, sizzling crispy pata and huge crabs served steamed or fried in sesame oil. The place has since closed, and a Le Ching noodle house now occupies its spot.

Tia Maria, along Quezon Blvd., was the place to go for the ?beeg Mexican dinner? which, if memory serves, featured tacos, enchiladas, burritos, chimichangas and guacamole salad, all washed down with margaritas by the pitcher. Together with the frosty air conditioning and dim lighting, it was enough to ensure a happy buzz.

In those depressing years after the Aquino assassination but before Edsa, comfort food was important, accompanied by liberal amounts of alcohol.

Italian Village offered pretty much the same thing, only Italian. Pizza, pasta and beer by the pitcher.

Treffpunkt Jedermann offered the German version: bratwurst, Hungarian sausages or frankfurters with German potato salad and plenty of beer. Located near the Edsa-Santolan junction, it provided much-needed sustenance during the Edsa revolt. The place is still very much around, though under a less memorable name.

Back then, Ermita was still a bustling night life central and not the bleak No Man?s Land it is today. Before a long night?s binge drinking (or after), it was important to fortify oneself with plenty of nutrition. We got it at the Hong Kong Tea House on M.H. del Pilar. My personal hangover cure was the congee with roast pork and salted egg.

Not far, on A. Mabini, was the Lotus Fine Beef Center, a hot pot place that also served Vietnamese-style cha gio, pata tim, and our favorite, curry goat in pot.

For pulutan, there used to be a literal hole-in-the-wall in a dark alley near T.M. Kalaw that sold ?Broasted Chicken.? Apparently the process used some kind of pressure cooker/deep fryer. You could ask for all wings, or all necks as we usually did, batter-fried crisp. People would stand in line in the dimly-lit street like junkies at a crack house jonesing for their cholesterol fix. I remember seeing Ike Lozada and Kuya Germs in line one time, a surreal sight indeed.

Restaurants have a life span, just like people. There?s a time to be born, a time to thrive, a time of decline, and a time to end. But some just refuse to die, like Toho which was already around in Jose Rizal?s lifetime. Others rise like the phoenix ? or Wah Sun ? out of the ashes of the old. And others come back to life after a period in limbo. Smart Panciteria, for instance, has reportedly reopened in Quezon City.

As for me, bring back Arby?s roast beef sandwiches and I?ll be happy. ?