The Grill by Miss G Is the Rowdiest Late-Night Filipino Meat Stick Party in the Bay

It was one of my most memorable COVID-era takeout meals, and I swore I’d come back for the full experience once restrictions were lifted. By the time I did, a new owner had rebranded the restaurant as “The Grill by Miss G,” extended its weekend hours to midnight, and turned the place into even more of a party spot — more concerts, more live-band karaoke, more appearances by Filipino celebrities. (Recent collaborations have featured X-Factor Philippines finalist Mark Mabasa and the chess grandmaster Eugene Torre.)

The biggest attraction, though, is still those meat sticks. The Bay Area has no shortage of Filipino barbecue joints — Daly City legend Fil-Am Cuisine is probably the most famous of the bunch, but you’ll find a big tray of pork skewers at almost any turo-turo steam table joint. The Grill, however, is the only restaurant I’ve been to in the Bay that really evokes the spirit of street-side Filipino barbecue.

Part of that has to do with the sheer variety of meats on offer, most priced at around $2 a stick. You can, of course, get your standard pork and chicken skewers, which are plump, full of flavor and exceptionally well-charred — a solid foundation for your meal. But half the fun of eating at The Grill is trying out the gnarlier offal cuts lined up on the buffet counter. On the night of our visit, almost every diner snagged several sticks of fatty pork intestine, which softened to a stretchy, super-rich consistency when heated on the grill, and were delicious dipped in spicy vinegar sauce. And where else are you going to get chicken isaw (grilled chicken intestines)? These were an even hotter ticket, kept hidden behind the counter so you have to know to ask for them. Each skewer is just one long intestine, folded into a tight coil and threaded onto the stick. Its intense gameyness and rubber band–like texture make it a delicacy for advanced offal eaters.

Even if innards aren’t your thing, you’ll still find plenty of fun dishes to try. The Grill’s bright orange kwek kwek, or batter-fried quail eggs, are the pinnacle homey, comforting street food — crunchy on the outside with a soft, creamy yolk in the center. And we loved the kikiam, a kind of fish cake wrapped in crispy tofu skin, which was especially tasty when slathered in the restaurant’s sweet, Manong’s-style brown fishball sauce.

On the night of our visit, the restaurant was selling little tubs of oxtail caldereta studded with green olives and peas, the meat stewed to saucy, tender, suck-on-the-bones perfection — fantastic ladled over white rice. The Grill is also one of a relatively small number of Bay Area restaurants where you can get balut, the legendary Filipino specialty of boiled fertilized duck eggs. It was my first time. I cracked open the top of the shell to sip the warm broth inside. Sprinkled the tiny, embryonic bird with a bit of salt, pepper and vinegar. Then, with a burst of courage, took it all down in one decisive slurp. The duck embryo itself was surprisingly soft and earthy-tasting, and absolutely delicious.

Of course, the other thing that sets The Grill apart is the self-grilling aspect — though, to be clear, everything is cooked ahead of time, so the grill at the center of the restaurant is more of a reheating station. Still, we loved the communal aspect of the experience. If you’ve ever seen the shiny, state-of-the-art grills you might find at an upscale Korean BBQ spot, this is … not that. If anything, the grill itself is a little bit janky, with hot spots randomly shooting out flames, and other sections that are barely warm.

But everyone brings the tray of skewers they’ve selected to the grill at the center of the restaurant, and stands around, shoulder to shoulder with strangers. Afraid of overcooking our meats, we carefully tended to just a handful of sticks at a time, flipping each one over until they started sizzling. (The others around us were clearly old pros, lining up 20 or 30 sticks in one go like it was nothing.)

What we loved most was this uniquely Filipino family party atmosphere, like we’d gathered at a gregarious auntie’s house or in a church basement. Though it’s poor etiquette to hog a space at the grill for too long while people are waiting, we all ate at least a couple of skewers fresh, when they were at their hot and juicy peak, before heading back to our tables. People sipped liquids of unknown provenance from paper cups. Meanwhile, maybe five feet from the grill, the emcee for the night was belting out 4 Non Blondes’ “What’s Up?” like a rock star, working the crowd with a full band to back her up, her voice and her verve practically indistinguishable from the original (though her slight Filipino accent somehow made it even more bad-ass). We had to full-on shout in order to carry on any kind of conversation.

It was a spectacle all right, and maybe more stimulation than I usually crave on a Friday night — and also, easily, the most fun I’d had at dinner in months.