I first met Chef Theodore “Day” Salonga in 2017 during a food tour of Laguna for Food Magazine. We had stopped to shoot Aurora Filipino Cuisine, his family restaurant in Santa Cruz, Laguna, set within the Salonga family’s ancestral home. It was a beautiful 1920s relic, still etched with scars from the last war and with echoes of their grandmother’s beauty parlor (I even remember the enormous vintage curling machines that stood like ghosts from another time).

The author alongside the Food Magazine team, Chef Day Salonga, and his family during a 2017 shoot in Laguna 

Chef Day greeted us with his lovely, warm smile, his wheelchair no barrier to his vibrant spirit. Over a meal that included minanukan—a wartime dish of shredded banana heart cooked in burnt coconut cream and vinegar—he spoke softly but fiercely about preserving Southern Tagalog cuisine: “It’s our passion and our advocacy.” That meal, rich with history, seared itself into my memory, as did the man who crafted it. It remains vivid in my mind as I pay tribute today to Theodore “Day” Salonga, who passed away on June 10, 2025. He deserves not a mere farewell, but a celebration of a life lived with heart, humor, and an unyielding love for Filipino food.

Born on May 24, 1977, in Santa Cruz, Laguna, Day was the middle of three children. He learned to cook from his mother, Angelina. While his sisters tidied up, he hovered by her side—tasting, learning, absorbing the rhythm of the market and the sizzle of home-cooked meals. As a young man, he chased sports, nightlife, and adventure, but food always called him back.

Chef Day Salonga, the fierce but gentle champion of Southern Tagalog cuisine | Photo: Chef Day Salonga on Facebook

He honed his craft in Manila’s kitchens, opened Tapeo in BGC and Cazuela in Ortigas, but his true homecoming was Ted’s Kitchen, the restaurant built on his family’s farm in Laguna and named for his father. There, with his sister, Chef Gel Salonga-Datu, he served comfort food—sinugno, kare-kareng dagat, ginataang puso ng saging—dishes that were generous, familiar, and rooted in place, meant to delight without breaking the bank.

But illness struck in his 20s. While studying in Beijing, Day was diagnosed with inclusion body myositis. Doctors gave him three years. He gave them 17. Muscle weakness took his legs, his hands, his ease, but nothing dimmed his fire. From using a cane, to a walker, to a wheelchair, Day kept cooking. At Ted’s Kitchen, he built a small lab where, seated, he tasted and tweaked dishes, and trained his team—his mind as sharp as his palate. He once said he craved his mother’s turbo broiler chicken with soy sauce, so he found ways to savor it. Food was his tether to home, to life.

With Gel, he transformed their family’s home into a shrine to Southern Tagalog culture—Ted’s Kitchen, Aurora Filipino Cuisine, Ted’s Bed and Breakfast, and Ted’s Warehouse Event Space. Together, they organized the Pantalan Food and Heritage Festival, uniting Laguna’s farmers, artisans, and cooks. It was a love letter to their roots.

Chef Day with his sister and culinary partner, Chef Gel Salonga-Datu | Photo: Gel Salonga-Datu on Facebook

They revived heirloom dishes like tinuto—gabi leaves folded with fish and ginger—and their grandmother’s 1920s chicken wings adobo. Each dish told a story. Ted’s Kitchen earned the Department of Tourism’s recognition as Laguna’s cleanest and best, but Day’s true prize was the community he nurtured.

I stumbled upon his blog, Chef by Day, written between 2010 and 2011, where he wove recipes with tales of Laguna’s bounty. Meanwhile, he mentored countless cooks. He shared books, took his team to Manila’s restaurants, and demanded effort over perfection. And his humor was relentless—dirty jokes, pranks, gossip that could light up a room. Even in hospital beds, he teased nurses and guests, his wit a defiance of pain.

His faith in God was his quiet anchor. He began each day with online Mass, supported a Carmelite community, and built a small chapel beside Ted’s Kitchen.

The author’s cherished memory of Chef Day with Gel Salonga-Datu, Dino Datu, and Ige Ramos during the first Filipino Food Month launch at The Manila Hotel, 2019

Tributes poured in after his passing. "We all just lost a beautiful soul who was the epitome of love, hospitality and generosity. A great man who represented everything that made Laguna a great province of the Philippines," said Amy Besa, author of Memories of Philippine Kitchens and restaurateur behind Purple Yam and  Cendrillon in the mid-1990s. Chef Tatung Sarthou hailed him as “a culinary visionary” whose passion “inspired a deeper appreciation for Filipino traditions.” Chef Waya Araos-Wijangco of Gourmet Gypsy Baguio cherished his warmth, how he welcomed her into his kitchen. Joel Pascual of WOFEX called him a brother, remembering a Pantalan meal that brimmed with love. Writer Margaux Salcedo wrote, “Your name—Day—was so fitting. You were a bright, shining light. The master alaskador.” His brother-in-law, Dino Datu, shared how Day’s strength and tears at his wedding bound them as family: “Siya ang unang Salonga na minahal ko.”

Day’s legacy isn’t just in his dishes or recipes, but in the way he lived. He showed up, wheelchair and all, building a kitchen lab to keep creating. He cooked for love, not fame, serving plates that felt like home. He kept laughing, even on hard days, his joy a quiet rebellion. He shared knowledge freely, lifting others up. His faith, understated but deep, guided him with grace. And through every dish—sinugno, adobo, ginataang puso—he honored Laguna’s soul.

Cook something for Day today. It doesn’t need to be grand—just make it with heart. That’s how he did it. That’s how he lived.