Mi Cocina: Built by fire, love, and a woman’s hands

There are restaurants that pull you in with a kind of soul-recognition, like finding a room you somehow feel you’ve been meant to enter. Mi Cocina Café Restaurante y Bar, tucked in 102 Sct. Dr. Lazcano St. in Quezon City, is one such place. It glows softly at night, inviting you the way a warm window invites a traveler—quietly, confidently, without fanfare.

At the center of that glow is chef Jas Soriano-Tumang, a woman whose demeanor disarms, whose beauty catches your attention in the softest way and settles on you , and whose presence carries a mystery you feel long after you leave. You sit with her for two hours, listen to her recount the long road from childhood kitchens to Spanish tables, and still—you sense there are unspoken stories behind her eyes. And you choose not to pry. Because some mysteries make a person more compelling, and some silences make a story more powerful.

What she does tell is already enough to fill pages.

A culinary life, even before she knew it

Jas grew up in a home where the kitchen was a lifeline, an inheritance passed down not through formal training but through instinct, repetition and love. Her mother, the center of that domestic universe, cooked not just to feed but to shape memory. All of Jas’ siblings can cook—almost like it runs in their veins, a family signature written in simmering pots and roasting pans.

Yet Jas did not rush into kitchens professionally. She tried other paths—as if life softly guiding her through the exact experiences she would eventually need. She dabbled in design, which would later inform the warm, stylish interiors of Mi Cocina. She ventured into sales, unknowingly training for the business side of running a restaurant. She traveled—particularly to Spain—without realizing she was walking straight into her future.

Looking back, she calls it a circle completed. “Everything was preparing me. I just didn’t know it then.”

A pandemic, a paella, and a life upended

When the world shut down, Jas finally found stillness—time, space, and silence. She was home with her husband and family, and like many who turned inward, she listened to the voice she had long muted. It whispered of saffron, of stock simmering patiently, of seafood sweet as the sea. She began her private obsession: mastering paella.

She scoured e-commerce sites, hunting down authentic ingredients. She contacted suppliers in Spain. Her kitchen became a laboratory of trial and error, frustration and triumph. And then, one day, she got it right—that perfect balance of depth, aroma, texture and soul. She snapped a photo, casually posted it on Instagram, and unknowingly opened the first page of the Mi Cocina story.

Orders came, slowly at first, then relentlessly. What began as a single dish cooked at home transformed into a livelihood, then a calling, then a full-blown identity.

Today, Mi Cocina stands as testament: a restaurant born from a paella cooked in a pandemic kitchen.

But dreams as big as Mi Cocina are never built alone. Behind Jas’ quiet determination is a small circle of co-owners (Jo-an Ching, Catherine Rodriguez, Richmond Davis and Irene So) who believed in her long before the restaurant took form—people who saw her talent, trusted her vision, and chose to invest not just in a business, but in her. They walked beside her through the uncertainties, shared in the risks, and celebrated the milestones. Their faith became part of Mi Cocina’s foundation, a steady presence that allowed Jas to do what she does best: create, cook, and pour her heart into every plate.

The restaurant that feels like a memory

You walk into Mi Cocina and immediately sense its quiet elegance, its personality revealed in layers. A flamenco mural breaks the monotony of Scout Tobias with a burst of color and movement, as if the wall itself is keeping rhythm. The three-story space unfolds like a story told in chapters: intimate corners for quiet meals, warm event rooms curated with a designer’s eye, a restobar that hums with low conversation, and a café where pastries catch the light just right. And then there is the roof deck—an unexpected retreat above the city, enchanting at night, soft during golden hour. Every detail reflects chef Jas’s sensibilities: her taste for beauty, her instinct for comfort, her artist’s way of arranging space so it feels both intentional and effortless. There is restraint, warmth, and intention—likely the designer in Jas weaving itself into the chef in her. The lighting softens even your thoughts. The bar glows like a promise. The pastries at the café counter hint at gentler mornings.

But the real seduction begins when the food arrives.

Dishes cooked with emotion

Jas says she cooks to express love—and somehow, you believe her without question. Not just because she says it, but because the food tells you itself.

Her Beef Spanish caldereta, an heirloom recipe, tastes like affection made tangible. It is the kind of dish that reminds you how good it feels to be loved—deeply, warmly, without reservation. It satisfies beyond hunger. It fills the emotional spaces too.

Her Gambas al Ajilo is generous—plump, aromatic, unapologetically abundant. It is how love behaves when it is true: It never skimps.

Her Callos a la Madrilena is tender just right, each bite a testimony to patience, precision, and feeling. No shortcuts. No pretense. Just flavor that feels lived-in.

And then, of course, the dish that started it all: Paella de Mariscos. Golden, glistening, layered with saffron rice, seafood, and the quiet pride of a woman who found her destiny one pan at a time.

These dishes don’t perform. They speak.

The woman behind the flame

Even after telling her entire story—her childhood, her pandemic beginnings, her leap of faith, her grit and tenacity—chef Jas remains, somehow, a mystery. She is open but guarded, generous yet reserved. You see a softness in her, but also a depth you cannot map in a single interview.

Perhaps it’s the quiet strength of a woman who has sacrificed more than she admits. Or it’s the exhaustion hidden beneath the makeup of someone who built everything from scratch. Maybe it’s fear, or hope, or the weight of dreams still unfolding.

Or perhaps it doesn’t matter. Mysteries like hers are not meant to be solved. They are meant to be felt.

Mi Cocina: Her story, served daily

Mi Cocina is not just a Spanish restaurant in QC. It is the living, breathing narrative of a woman who discovered her passion late enough to appreciate it, early enough to master it, and bravely enough to build an entire world around it.

People go for the food, yes. But they return because they sense something else—that they are stepping into a story still being written.

And like all good stories, this one has heart, history, flavor, and a heroine who, without meaning to, enchants everyone who walks through her doors.

If you want a night that tastes like Spain, feels like home, and lingers like a beautiful secret—Mi Cocina Café Restaurant y Bar awaits.