Last Monday, May 26, a TikTok clip brewed more heat than a steaming espresso shot at dawn. In it, content creator Euleen Castro, known as “Pambansang Yobab,” laid out what she felt about Coffeebreak, a beloved Ilonggo café chain. The punchline? “Walang masarap sa inyo? Puta.” It took seconds, but the ripple was immediate. Comments exploded. Emotions poured. And somewhere between the lasagna critique and the unfiltered profanity, a larger conversation began to percolate.
Coffeebreak, for context, is not just any café. For many of us Ilonggos, it is where thesis defenses were caffeinated, group studies brewed, job rejections softened, hangovers relieved, first dates nervously began, ‘lonely tables’ became ‘not just for one,’ reunions turned into yesteryear inventories, and Sunday mornings felt a little less alone. Twenty years of quiet, thoughtful service marked by consistency, warmth, and genuine personal connection. Twenty years of classic coffee, frappés, chocos, and other beverages served with patience. Twenty years of cakes and pastries that somehow understood your mood. So yes, when Castro casually dismissed the entire menu in an Iloilo Coffeebreak branch with a sweeping statement, it struck deeper than flavor.
Criticism, after all, is not a crime. In fact, when offered constructively, it is a gift. In fact, people pay for critiques to improve their services or products. One may say, “The lasagna was bland for my taste,” or even, “The iced coffee lacked depth.” These are fair takes. But to curse a full team of bakers, baristas, and line cooks with a single comment felt less like a review and more like a gut punch. As culinary professionals would agree, feedback, like salt, must be measured. Too little and nothing improves. Too much, and it burns.
Let us also not ignore the reality behind content creation. Studies such as Luong and Ho (2023) reveal that influencer attractiveness, expertise, and similarity drive consumer perception. Viewers often treat vlogger opinions as gospel. Maderazo et al. (2024) go further, pointing out that vlogger credibility directly shapes food choices through dimensions like taste and cost. So when a popular figure uses profanity to broadcast a judgment, it amplifies the weight of every word. That is not just personal opinion; that is social marketing with stakes.
And what stakes. The café employs locals, sources ingredients from nearby farms, and supports families who count on every cake sold and coffee poured. It represents a local brand navigating a digital economy that often favors viral controversy over nuanced dialogue. Coffeebreak responded not with fire, but with grace. Their statement recognized room for growth while appealing for decency. They reminded us that behind every plate is a team, not a target.
Still, let us be clear: this is not a call to canonize Coffeebreak. Every establishment, no matter how cherished, benefits from honest feedback. Outgoing Mayor Jerry Treñas put it best in his FB post: we must protect local businesses while listening to customer voices. The issue here was not taste; it was tone. Castro’s review may have come from a place of frustration or performance, but language has power. Especially in a region that earned UNESCO’s nod for Creative City of Gastronomy, there is pride on the line.
Some say Ilonggos overreacted. Perhaps partly true. But when a review morphs into a takedown, what appears as defensiveness may just be love miscommunicated. This is a city where food is not just sustenance; it is sentiment. Where La Paz batchoy is memory. Where Kap Ising’s Pancit Molo is legacy. Where Guimaras mangoes are metaphors. Where Jo-ann’s fishballs are childhood in a cup. Where KBL is comfort on a rainy day. Where Madge’s coffee is heritage in a mug. Where Y2K’s native chicken is home. Where Biscocho is sweetness that lingers. Where Roberto’s Queen Siopao is life. Where lasagna, even if flawed, is given a second chance before it is dismissed. As my former student and incoming Vice Mayor Love Baronda reflected in her ‘busog ka na, lipay ka pa’ post, Coffeebreak’s lasagna, cookies, and blueberry cheesecake have been her 24/7 comfort food for years—an emblem of loyalty and taste tied not just to the tongue, but to the heart.
My former student now professor Paul Monicimpo, a food enthusiast, reminded everyone that while Coffeebreak may not be the best in every cup, it is a capsule of youth, of safe spaces, of first coffees and shared laughter. That should count for something. On the other hand, former Mayor Jed Mabilog also shared his thoughts online, calling Coffeebreak more than just a café—it’s a civic space that helped shape Iloilo’s sense of community. It created jobs, supported local farmers, and offered a warm, familiar place where people could gather, reflect, and connect.
However, let us also take this as a moment for self-awareness. Many were quick to defend, but some crossed lines too. Body shaming Castro, or mocking her persona, is no better than the ridicule that started this. As Ilonggo historian and commentator Nerio Lujan aptly put it, disagreement is fair, but cruelty is not. If her words lacked finesse, ours should not follow suit. Ilonggos are known for their “kalma,” not cancel culture.
There is a quiet lesson here, something akin to what good teachers know: it is easy to critique, harder to build. The better path, as always, lies in discernment—that fine art of knowing when to speak, how to listen, and what is truly helpful. In a way, it is the same principle that guides respectful reviews, ethical teaching, and meaningful dialogue. As my fellow professor John Niño Crauz wisely put it, standing up for places and spaces like this should be done with grace, not hostility. We can protect what we value without tearing others apart.
This is also a nudge to influencers and aspiring reviewers. Be sharp, be honest, but be kind. Content must have context. Castro’s degree from Enderun gives her culinary background, yes. But expertise must come with responsibility. Influencing, especially in food culture, is not just about likes, shares, comments, trends, and cha-chings. It is about livelihoods, shared culture, and the silent labor of brewers, bakers, servers, cooks, and staff whose dignity rests on every meal served. Reviews can uplift or unravel. And perhaps, in this economy of virality, we need more influencers who understand that flavor is subjective, but respect is universal.
In the end, no one wins in a shouting match. Coffeebreak, despite the attack, stood tall. Ilonggos, though shaken, largely responded with perspective. And even Castro, perhaps in her own reflection, may now grasp that criticism should not sound like insult. This is not about silencing dissent. It is about choosing words that add to the conversation, not erase years of hard work.
So to everyone involved: sip slower. Think deeper. Talk wiser. Sometimes the best reviews do not come with stars or shout-outs. Sometimes, they come with sincerity served at the right temperature. See you in Coffeebreak soon!
“Doc H” fondly describes himself as a “student of and for life” who, like many others, aspires to a life-giving and why-driven world grounded in social justice and the pursuit of happiness. His views do not necessarily reflect those of the institutions he is employed or connected with.
