There’s more to bizarre Filipino food than balut and tamilok. And in Bacolod I found a soup that pushes the limits of what most people would ever consider eating.
But how far is too far? At what point does a dish stop being just food and start feeling like a dare?
That’s the line Bacolod soups plays with. Some bowls are rich and comforting, others take some nerve, but every one of them tells a story. These dishes are more than just shock value, they’re a core part of local life, and all of them a source of local pride.
Keep reading, because what’s in these bowls might surprise you, and some that will make your poor life decisions look like a stroke of genius .
Table of Contents:
- Soup #5
- Batchoy
- Kansi
- Shabu Shabu
- Blame Martin for All of This Debauchery
- Frequently Asked Questions
- Bizarre Filipino Food Conclusion
Soup #5
Nobody orders Soup #5 by accident. It’s one of those dishes where if you know, you know! And if you don’t, buckle up princess.
Legend has it that soup #5 got it’s name because back in the day, restaurant menus in the Philippines were simple. Soups came in four clear categories: beef, chicken, pork, and seafood. But there was always something left over so to speak. Cuts that didn’t fit neatly into any of those boxes. And waste has never been an option in the Philippines.
So instead of throwing those parts away, they went into a pot. The result? A mystery broth that didn’t belong to any category, earning the name Soup #5. Over time, the “mystery” became a legend, and the legend came with a claim, this wasn’t just a meal, it was fuel. Some swore it gave them strength. Others believed it has an aphrodisiac effect, turning it into an unspoken test of masculinity.
Generations later, Soup #5 is still here. It’s served in roadside eateries across the country, and Bacolod has its own take. Some versions are mild, others are packed with ginger and chilies to cover up any trace of the “main ingredient.” Either way, if you’re sitting in front of a bowl, there’s only one question left, how “ballsy” are you?
What’s Actually in Soup #5?
The name might be vague, but the ingredients aren’t. If you’re staring at a bowl of Soup #5, you’re about to eat one thing, “parts” of a bull.
For generations, Filipinos have embraced the idea that no part of the animal goes to waste. But some parts are harder to sell than others. The solution? Boil them down, build a rich broth, and let the flavor do the convincing.
That’s why Soup #5 is exactly what the legends say it is: bull testicles and penis, slow-cooked until tender. The long simmering process breaks everything down, infusing the broth with richness while making sure the texture is soft enough to chew. Most places chop everything up into bite-sized pieces, making it easier to pretend you’re eating something normal. But that’s not how I went about it.
I asked them to bring it out whole. The entire package. A full bull penis and testicles, floating in broth, staring back at me like a challenge I never signed up for. Well apparently I did, because I’m an idiot. I did my best to eat it exactly as it came.
Some eat Soup #5 for the supposed health benefits. Others(it’s me, I’m others) just want the bragging rights. Either way, if anyone’s ever told you to go eat a bag of dicks, Soup #5 is your chance to do it by the spoonful. We listen, and we don’t judge.
My First Experience with Soup #5 at Siosam’s Foodhouse
I’d love to say my first experience with Soup #5 went smoothly, but that would be a lie. It was a disaster from the start.
With a steaming bull penis in front of me, I went straight in, trying to take a big bite. That didn’t happen. The thing was scorching, and there was no way I was getting through it without melting my face off. Disgraced and ego destroyed, I sent it back to be chopped up like a normal person.
While they handled that, they brought back an intact testicle, which I did manage to bite into. Flavor-wise? Not bad at all. But for the first time in my life, I hit a mental block. My body betrayed me like a Tinder date that “forgets” to mention their Adam’s apple.
When the chopped-up version returned, the texture was chewy, but the broth was something extraordinary, rich, savory, and honestly, the best part of the dish. Since then, I’ve eaten Soup #5 several times, and the truth is, once you get past the thought of it, you realize it’s just another piece of meat.
At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.
Related Reading: Lechon in Cebu: the World’s Greatest Pig
Where to Stay in Bacolod City
Luxury Accommodations: – Stonehill Suites – Modern comfort meets elegance at Stonehill Suites. With spacious rooms, a rooftop bar, and a prime location, it’s a top choice for business and leisure travelers alike.
Mid-Range Accommodations: – Park Inn By Radisson – Stylish, comfortable, and centrally located, Park Inn by Radisson offers modern rooms, top-tier amenities, and easy access to Bacolod’s best shopping and dining.
Budget Accommodations: – The Suites at Calle Nueva – The Suites at Calle Nueva offers modern air-conditioned guestrooms with free Wi-Fi. It is a short 3-minute walk from City Hall, City Plaza and San Sebastian Cathedral.
Looking for other great places to stay in Bacolod City? Use the search bar below to find more options!
Batchoy
There was a time when soup in the Philippines was just soup. Basic broths, simple flavors, nothing too crazy. It filled the stomach, kept people warm, and did its job.
Then someone looked at a pot of boiling pork broth and thought, this could be filthier.
And that’s exactly what happened. Instead of keeping things clean and simple, Batchoy became a full-blown assault on moderation. Pork intestines? Throw them in. Liver? Why not. Bone marrow? More of that. Deep-fried pork cracklings on top? Now we’re talking. The result was a soup so rich, so unapologetically fatty, that it didn’t just feed people, it made them commit to it.
The dish first gained traction in the 1940s at La Paz Market in Iloilo, but Bacolod took the idea and ran with it. Here, you’ll find versions that double down on the marrow, making the broth thick and almost sticky with fat. Some places toss in extra garlic, raw egg, and even beef to push the umami levels into the stratosphere.
Batchoy isn’t light, refreshing, or something you sip politely. It clings to your ribs, lingers in your gut, and leaves you wondering if you just drank a gallon of liquid pork.
La Paz vs. Bacolod Batchoy
Batchoy started in La Paz, Iloilo, but Bacolod put its own spin on it. At first glance, both versions look the same, miki noodles, pork intestines, liver, beef, chicharon, and garlic. But the broth tells a different story.
La Paz Batchoy is pure excess. It leans heavy on bone marrow, simmering for hours until the broth is thick, sticky, and so rich it should come with a health warning. Some bowls even get a final ladle of liquid marrow poured on top because apparently, the best way to eat soup is to make it feel like you’re drinking a pig’s final breath.
Bacolod’s version dials back the marrow but cranks up the umami. The broth is still fatty, but it’s seasoned harder, often with extra beef stock, garlic, and spices. The result? A soup that won’t immediately clog your arteries.
Which is better? If you want full-on indulgence, go La Paz. If you want something just as bold but more balanced, Bacolod Batchoy gets my vote. Either way, it’s liquid pork glory.
Super Batchoy House
Super Batchoy House keeps things simple. Just a simple pork-loaded Batchoy. The broth is deep and rich, packed with liver, beef, chicharon, and just the right amount of fat to avoid instant hypertension. The noodles soak it all up, turning into a full meal in their own right.
You can also get their Super Special, which comes with a raw egg that slowly cooks in the broth, thickening the soup even more. On the side, they serve freshly baked bread made in-house daily. It looks like pandesal but holds up better when dunked.
Kansi
Beef soup is supposed to be rich, hearty, and comforting. Something you sip, not something that catches you off guard.
But kansi doesn’t care what you think. It looks innocent enough with it’s deep golden broth with slow-braised beef shank, loaded with marrow and fat. Then you take a sip, and suddenly, your face is folding in on itself like you just licked a car battery.
That comes from batwan, a fruit used in Western Visayas that gives kansi its signature tang. It’s not the mild sour you get from calamansi or vinegar. This is a deeper, fuller acidity that doesn’t just sit on the surface, it soaks into the meat and the broth. Instead of weighing you down, it makes each bite feel brighter, sharper, more intense.
For some, the first sip is a wake-up call. For others, it’s a personal attack. But once you get past the initial shock, kansi starts to make sense. The tang cuts through the richness of the marrow, balancing out the fattiness with just the right amount of tang. And by the time you hit the tender beef shank, you realize it’s an assault on your senses that turns into an obsession.
How Kansi Stacks Up Against Bulalo
If you’re familiar with bulalo, kansi might look like a close cousin. Both are slow-cooked beef shank soups, heavy on the marrow, packed with fat, and built to stick to your ribs. But one sip is enough to know they don’t play by the same rules.
Bulalo is all about richness. The broth is mild, buttery, and loaded with beef flavor, letting the natural fat do all the work. Kansi takes that same beefy foundation and adds a sharp, citrusy kick that cuts through the heaviness.
That’s where it pulls a trick from sinigang’s playbook. Sinigang’s sourness hits fast, usually from tamarind, kamias or calamansi. Kansi’s tang is deeper, soaking into the broth and balancing out the fattiness. Instead of just being rich like bulalo or just being sour like sinigang, kansi does both so well it’ll have you making noises usually reserved for cheap motels and bad decisions.
Eron’s Cansi House
Some places serve kansi like they’re rationing it for a food shortage. Eron’s? They just keep it coming.
The moment you sit down, you get hit with the smell of beef fat, marrow, and tangy broth. The meat is soft, the soup is rich, and before you even get halfway through the bowl, someone is already circling with a refill. And don’t even get me started on that fatty, fatty bone marrow you scoop out of the shank.
And that’s just the kansi. They’ve also got a BBQ pit rolling out fresh liempo and fish, because one cardiac arrest per meal isn’t enough. Then there’s the house-made calamansi juice. No bottled garbage, just fresh citrus that actually tastes like it came from a tree.
You eat, you drink, and at some point, you will unbutton your pants before you cut off the blood flow to your lower extremities.
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Shabu-Shabu
Most soups arrive at your table fully cooked, steaming, and ready to eat. Shabu-shabu? Not quite. Instead, you pick your ingredients and then sit back while someone else does the work. It’s like pretending you’re involved in the cooking process without actually lifting a finger.
At Shan Shabu Shabu, the process was straightforward. Choose your meats, seafood, and vegetables, then let the kitchen handle the rest. No standing over a boiling pot like a confused idiot, no stress about turning your beef into a chew toy. Just a hot, flavorful broth packed with whatever mix of ingredients you felt like throwing at it.
And that’s where shabu-shabu sneaks up on you. It starts off light, clean and fresh. Not nearly as heavy as a kansi or batchoy. But then you keep going. More beef. More mushrooms. More broth. One minute, you’re sipping spoonfuls like you’ve got it under control. The next, you’re drowning in meat sweats.
If you’re looking for a meal that lets you have some control but none of the responsibility, shabu-shabu is the way to go. Just don’t be surprised when you stand up and feel like a human soup dumpling.
Read Next: Lechon in Cebu
Blame Martin for All of This Debauchery
Every great food adventure needs a guide. Mine just happens to be a walking encyclopedia of Bacolod cuisine who never stops eating.
Martin lined all of these locations up, made the arrangements, and somehow convinced me that eating a boiling hot bull penis was a good idea. That level of commitment deserves recognition… or therapy… or maybe a full psychiatric evaluation. Hell, a frontal lobotomy might be the kindest option at this point.
The man knows his food, his city, and more importantly, where to find the best damn food Bacolod has to offer. If you want to see what he’s up to or just need a reliable source for the best eats in town, check out his website and social media pages. Just don’t expect him to hold your hand and take you there himself. The man’s busy, probably eating or playing Dungeons and Dragons with his nerdy friends.
I’ve already broken down his full story and the borderline obsessive way he hunts down Bacolod’s best, so if you want to know why Martin is the guy who made this whole thing happen, check out the full write-up: Bacolod Food Reviews: Ethical Blogging with The Bacolod Food Hunters
Frequently Asked Questions
That depends on your definition of bizarre, but Soup #5 easily takes the crown. When your main ingredients are bull testicles and penis, you’re officially in the deep end of Filipino cuisine.
Nope. Both are beef-based, marrow-heavy soups, but kansi packs a punch with its signature sourness from batwan. Bulalo is all about rich, fatty broth, while kansi balances that heaviness with a sharp, citrusy tang.
There are plenty of spots, but Eron’s Kansi House can’t be beat. They serve up bottomless soup refills, grill fresh liempo and fish on-site, and make their own calamansi juice in-house.
Nope. Unlike traditional shabu-shabu where you do the cooking yourself, Shan Shabu Shabu lets you pick your ingredients and then does the work for you. Less stress, more eating.
Martin is the maniac who set up this entire food tour, lining up some of the best eats in Bacolod. He knows where to find the good stuff, so if you want to see more of what he’s up to, check out his website and social media channels.
Bizarre Filipino Food: Conclusion
Filipino cuisine challenges expectations, pushes boundaries, and sometimes makes you question your life choices. Bacolod’s soups are no exception. From the beefy richness of batchoy and kansi to the more adventurous Soup #5, every bowl tells a story worth experiencing.
You don’t have to love every bite, but if you take food seriously, you owe it to yourself to try. Keeping an open mind is more than just eating. It’s about understanding different cultures, traditions, and how people turn simple ingredients into something unforgettable.
So, which of these would you actually try? Would you take on a bowl of Soup #5, or does kansi sound more like your style? Drop a comment below, share your thoughts, or tell me if there’s a Bacolod soup I missed. Let’s hear it.
