You wouldn’t know it was there unless you were running errands down Regent Street, maybe picking up something quick before heading to UNB or St. Thomas. From the outside, Kadiwa Filipino Asian Grocery Store looks like any other corner shop on Fredericton’s south side. But step inside, and you’ll see why it’s not just a convenience store—it’s something far more special.

At first, you’re greeted by shelves of snacks, milk, and chips—your typical corner store fare. But off to the left, there’s a shift: six small tables, paper lanterns overhead, and a television playing a Tagalog language game show. A bright, handwritten menu rests above a small counter, where a cheerful man greets me with a nod and a smile. His name is Jessie. I tell him I’m here for the pancit batil patung, and he asks, “Dine in or take out?”

It’s not even a question. I want those noodles hot, the veggies crisp, and the egg yolk still runny. For $15, the menu promises a feast—and I’m hungry enough to test that.

Near my table, two diners dig into spring rolls and noodles, eyes bouncing between bites and the game show. The walls are a calming cream, accented by potted plants and a tidy, lived-in décor. A sign in front of the general menu catches my eye: all-day silog breakfast. Silog is a classic Filipino breakfast combo that typically includes garlic fried rice, a fried egg, and your choice of protein like tapa (beef), tocino (cured pork), or longganisa (Filipino sausage). I immediately make a mental note to return.

The food arrives, and it’s a knockout.

Pancit batil patung is a noodle dish from Tuguegarao City, in the northern Philippines. Originally made for tricycle drivers and manual labourers looking for something to keep them fuelled through the day, it’s a meal rooted in stamina and sustenance. Here in Fredericton, it’s still doing its job.

Thick egg noodles are stir-fried to just the right chew and tossed in a rich, meaty sauce. Ground beef, sautéed liver, and crisp chicharrón are piled high, with slabs of pork belly layered in like bricks in a wall. It’s unapologetically protein-forward, with the vegetables mostly serving as supporting actors. But the whole plate is crowned by a fried egg, and when I crack the yolk, it spills slowly down into the noodles, pulling everything together with a golden, fatty richness. It reminds me of a good nasi goreng—not because the flavour is the same, but because it does the same thing: it brings disparate textures and ingredients into harmony.

There’s so much going on in this dish, and yet nothing feels out of place. I eat half, reluctantly stop, and still have enough left over for another full meal.

Afterwards, I talk with Jessie and Carmen, the husband-and-wife duo behind Kadiwa.

The restaurant opened on July 1st, though the food has been in the works much longer.

“We were doing ready-to-eat boxes before,” Carmen tells me. “Finger foods, mostly. But people wanted more.”

The pancit batil patung I just demolished? It’s Carmen’s father’s recipe, one she says he helped pioneer back home in Luzon. She tells me she’s bringing up a legacy.

They opened the restaurant not just to share food, but to keep something alive.

Their daughters are now part of the business—one helps in the kitchen, and the other is helping Carmen launch a small bakery inside the store. And while the demand is growing fast, Carmen is clear on one thing: “We don’t pre-cook anything. We cook fresh. That’s why sometimes it takes longer.”

If you’re in a rush? Call ahead. If you’re not? Settle in and enjoy the wait.

They’re open to feedback, open to suggestions, and more than anything, open-hearted. Carmen says Filipinos offer a lot of authentic food, and they want to share more of it.

What makes Kadiwa feel special isn’t just the food—it’s the sense that this place matters. That it’s part of something larger than just a lunch run. That a father’s recipe, carried across an ocean, is now feeding students, families, and the curious passersby who wander in for a can of pop and leave with something unforgettable.