Berlin Boodle Fights and Mother-Daughter Bonds

How one Filipino restaurant is rewriting the immigrant story

By Kermit Tesoro, Berlin

“Where was I born in Manila?” Rosaline turns to her mother, Rosalinda, mid-interview; a simple, unassuming question. And yet, like so many family stories, it had never been asked aloud. It's funny how the most basic details of our lives wait for the most unexpected settings to emerge, in this case, over a late-lunch-early-dinner boodle fight, with bare hands reaching into mounds of freshly cooked rice, a cornucopia of Filipino dishes, and a glass of Calamansi schorle.

I had come to interview them about their restaurant. It was so personal, it almost felt intrusive to be there. Not that I'm over-egging the satisfying conclusion, but it was such a joy to hear a mother and daughter genuinely complimenting each other, without a hint of cringe. I found myself part of an unfolding family memoir, witnessing a growing relationship marked by napkins, laughter, and the occasional tear.

Ms. Rosalinda was born and raised in Obando, Bulacan. At 18, she left the Philippines for Munich in 1982, a solo leap into West Germany that now sounds almost cinematic. She eventually made her way to Berlin in 1999. She had no formal business experience. But what she did have were Filipino-sized cravings and aspirations, one that Chinese and Indonesian takeout just couldn’t satisfy.

“Sometimes I'd go to an "Asian" restaurant just to get something with rice, and familiar flavours” she laughed. “But it's not the same. Not the mix of ingredients we know of.”

That craving evolved into a mission: to open a Filipino restaurant not just for herself, but for the growing diaspora community. A place for new arrivals, students, expats, and even Germans who had never heard of sinigang, and those who couldn't point to the Philippines on a map.

At first, Rosalinda considered gardening, her original passion, but found it too private, too individual. “With plants, it's just you and the soil,” she said. “With food, you feed people. You gather them.”

A Filipino restaurant in Berlin? Bold.

Filipino cuisine has long lived in the shadow of its Southeast Asian neighbours. In a city where every corner offers pho, pad thai, or Imbiss-style fried noodles, Filipino food remains an underdog. But Rosalinda never saw other Filipino restaurants as competition, quite the opposite. “We get excited when we hear someone else opened one. It means Filipino food is becoming an option, not a mystery.”

And the customers keep surprising them. Kare-kare minus the bagoong is a crowd favourite. Adobo is expected. Sinigang, surprisingly, charms the uninitiated. Even Bicol Express has found loyal converts. “We have Indian customers who regularly order our Filipino-style chicken curry,” Rosaline told me, grinning. “And they have access to every Indian restaurant in Berlin!”

The menu keeps evolving. With the rise in vegan and vegetarian customers, Rosaline helped introduce dishes like mushroom adobo, “still true to the flavor, but plant-based,” she said.

Meet Rosaline: The cultural anthropologist with dish duty

Rosaline never planned to work in gastronomy. She studied people, not plates, drawn to anthropology, not aprons. But somehow, she ended up right where she needed to be inside her mother's kitchen, absorbing not just recipes but the philosophies behind them.

“I may not be a master in the kitchen yet,” she admitted, “but I help reorient the restaurant for today's world.” As a “zillenial,” she brings in ideas from friends, social media, food trends, and Berlin’s evolving dietary quirks. She manages logistics, customer engagement, two kids, and, on most days, her mom's sanity. “It's a lot, but I've learned to juggle.”

Building community, one bowl at a time

When I asked about their most cherished success, Rosalinda smiled. “We fed people who had never been to the Philippines. Who had no idea what Filipino food was, and they loved it. That's enough.”

Of course, the work comes with challenges. “Getting weekday traffic is tough,” Rosaline explained. “So, we tried buffets, office lunch menus, it worked well, until COVID hit.” Now, they're experimenting again, finding ways to bring the community back through their doors. Well, something awesome is brewing. 

And the community has responded. Diplomats, professionals, regulars from across Germany: all return for comfort food with a side of warmth. “We've had guests tell us they expected something fancy when they heard ‘Filipino restaurant in Berlin.’ Then they walk in and realize, it feels like home,” Rosaline said. “That means a lot.”

The taste of nostalgia

When asked about the dishes closest to her heart, Rosaline didn’t hesitate: pritong tilapia (fried tilapia) and tinolang manok (Filipino chicken soup). “Those are the foods I grew up with. Eating them now brings me straight back to childhood.”

She reflected on what it meant to be “too Filipino for Germany and too German for the Filipino community” a familiar paradox for many third-culture kids. “Through the restaurant, I reconnected with both parts of me.”

And then, when I asked her what she's learned from her mother, things got quiet. Then honest.

“I want to be resilient like her,” she said. “She built everything from scratch, and that gave me a privilege she didn't have, the privilege to say no, to take a break, to choose. I want to give that to my kids, too.”

There was a pause. “Sometimes my daughter has a bad day at school and asks me to stay longer. My son needs something. And I remember being that child, waiting for my mom to come home from work. Now I understand both sides.”

She added, softly: “It's my turn to take care of her.”

If they threw a fiesta…

I had one final question. If their restaurant were to host a Filipino fiesta, one of those grand, table-breaking ones we have in Laguna, where I'm from, what would they serve? First three? 

Without skipping a beat: Crispy pata, humba, and lumpiang shanghai. “Already with German fanbases,” Rosaline winked.

It’s tempting to frame this story as another tale of immigrant grit, but that would be too simple. This is also about joy. About reclaiming heritage through food. About a mother teaching her daughter to be strong, and a daughter teaching her mother it’s okay to slow down.

Some stories are best told over a boodle fight. And some answers, like where you were born, can wait until lunch.

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About the Author

Kermit Tesoro, based in Berlin, is an artist, fashion and shoe designer.

FB: Kermit Tesoro 

Email: kermification@gmail.com