B

ing, as Leonardo S. Cariño is more popularly known, has at one point run a grilled barbecue-on-skewers bistro in General Santos City. Around then he was owner, host, griller, waiter, cashier, and busboy all at once in that quaint corner of the Salazar estate (now entirely occupied by a supermall) next to a debilitated bowling center and a thriving Dunkin Donuts shop.

His little bistro had a rustic feel — aged concrete and wood fixtures, wrought iron furnishings, natural skylight, and just enough greenery to compensate for the smoke and smell of the open grill by the eatery's facade. The place remained with me, as a first-time customer, even longer than the food — not that the latter was any less desirable. Needless to say, the bistro became a staple dining place for me and my colleagues and friends.

"I wanted to train early but unfortunately,
arts education in Dadiangas have been
found wanting in the early days."

In no time I've discovered that Bing's talents were not limited to the restaurant business. At the same time an instructor at Ramon Magsaysay Memorial Colleges and theater director of Teatro Ambahanon, among other things, he began to write regularly for my magazine. In his regular column he put out dissections of the local culture and history, and social commentaries on issues that range from the mundane to momentous to meaningful.

In one of the earlier installments of the column, Arts Attack, Culture Shock, he wrote, "I wanted to train early but unfortunately, arts education in Dadiangas have been found wanting in the early days."

Fast forward to 2018.