Mindanatoday.com | Coolest coffee hangout in Rizal’s place of exile
AMONG Dapitan City’s myriad of aces, Drip Republik just might be its ace of spades.
Nestled along the scenic Sunset Boulevard, by itself but never alone, it’s just a stone’s throw away from Fantasyland.
For me, it is the one establishment that embodies the city’s essence.
Laid-back. Chillaxed. Unsullied and unfrazzled by the bling and blah of the rat race.
Drip Republik is rustic like the place upon whose shore Rizal landed more than a century ago, yet sassy enough to be the hangout of choice of Dapitan’s hip crowd.
Even the cool cats of next-door Dipolog hie off to this hideaway to ditch, if only for a Dapitan minute, the frantic tick of their biz-fuzzed city.
It is cool as a cat taking a nap. “Chill as a cucumber,” a millennial niece cuts in.
There’s another local coffee shop, of course, but that one tilts closer to the beaten path.
Drip is more homey, more neighborly, more like a friend from way back. And it’s got a killer view.
At the dying of the day, you can sit at the bar gazing out, watch the colors explode across the darkening sky as the sun sets over the horizon.
And Drip’s coffee is to die for. They don’t really talk about it, don’t put it on their packaging, but their coffee is gourmet.
Their beans may not be Arabica but Robusta, but these are truly single origin, being sourced from just one farm somewhere in Negros, and roasted to the precise specifications of Aica, the owner, herself.
And they’re so fresh because once roasting is done, they are shipped right away to Dapitan.
Among Drip’s many coffee concoctions, I go gaga for Dirty Matcha.
Not exactly kape, I know, but it’s a refreshing iced matcha drink made kicky with brewed coffee.
And of all the available coffee companions, the hands-down champion is their very own Sabasticks, the ultimate in banana chips.
Cut into thin strips and crunchy as hell, this is your Pik-Nik in banana form, in a multitude of sometimes left-field flavors.
For those who want to wolf down something more substantial, they got egg drop sandwich in a number of iterations.
If you want the full monty-ish version, go for the American Bread variation.
And for those who cannot part ways with Bulol, the rice god of the tribes up north, there’s rice toppings galore. Top of my list is the tapa-like binagoongang baboy.
And, yes, they have beer. And they’re open from six in the morning to midnight.
But the icing to Drip Republic’s cake, the froth to its cappuccino, so to speak, is its advocacy.
From the very start, it was conceived to be a neighborhood hangout where locals can go for quality homemade coffee with their kaberks without burning a hole in their pockets.
It was also meant to be an outlet where local makers of pastries and other such goodies can sell their products on consignment basis at very friendly terms.
True entrepreneurial winners, a guest entrep expert on ANC once said, are those who help others also win, those who raise up everyone around them even as they elevate their own businesses.
Such is Drip Republik.
Rizal was exiled only once, and only in Dapitan, my Dapitanon mentor used to brag to everyone new to the city.
To this I add, just as proudly: There is but one Drip Republik, and it’s nowhere else but here.
No branch, no outlet, no franchise in any other place. Just this single neighborhood hangout in the country’s only shrine city.
“Ah, my dear Horatio,” I can almost hear Hamlet say, “our dear departed national hero must be beaming in his grave.”
Tickled pink, more like it, a buddy quips.
Indeed.
From this day forth, I self-declare myself, redundancy aside, a true and loyal subject of Drip Republik. (MT)
(Misael graduated AB English Literature from Silliman University, where he worked as an English professor until recently. He also taught English at Montfort College in Chiang Mai, Thailand and used to head the City Information of Dapitan City. He is a frequent guest feature writer for the Bohol Chronicle Lifestyle magazine. You may reach Misael at misael5310@yahoo.com.)
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