In 2020, when the doors of a 500-seater TGIFriday’s finally shut, Laurenci “Renc” Gutierrez stood on the other side of a decade of work with nowhere to go. For ten years, he had climbed steadily—starting as a cleaner in one of The Bistro Group’s restaurants, then moving up through the ranks until he became General Manager of one of its flagship branches. It was the kind of career arc young people in hospitality are taught to dream about.
Then the pandemic arrived. And just like that, the ladder disappeared.
When the Ladder Vanished
The restaurant closed. The certainty vanished. One night, weeks into lockdown, Renc sat at home staring at his phone, refreshing emails that never came. He had siblings still in school. Bills that didn’t pause just because the world did. For the first time since his teens, there was no next shift to prepare for, no problem to fix before service.
What followed was not reinvention by inspiration, but survival by skill.
Making Do, One Stall at a Time
Renc’s first move was practical. He put up two small takoyaki stalls, doing everything himself—from sourcing ingredients to cooking and selling the Japanese street food. Some days were decent. Others barely broke even. It helped, but it didn’t solve anything. It kept things afloat, not forward.
He needed something steadier. Something that didn’t depend on foot traffic and luck.
An Unexpected Detour That Changed Everything
Then came an opportunity he didn’t expect. Would he be willing to distribute essential medical supplies during the height of COVID—masks, protective equipment, and eventually vaccines? He had no background in medical distribution. No contacts. No playbook.
But he understood systems. He understood logistics. He understood people.
Renc said yes.
Drawing from years of corporate hospitality training—sales discipline, operational structure, relationship-building—he made it work. Orders moved. Networks formed. Trust followed. The experience restored more than income. It restored confidence. It reminded him that the years he spent in restaurants hadn’t just taught him how to serve food—they had trained him to stay steady when things went wrong.
Returning to Food, With Clearer Eyes
With stability regained, his thoughts returned to food. Not out of nostalgia, but because it still felt unfinished.
In 2022, Renc found a corner space at the intersection of V. Luna and Kalayaan Avenue in Diliman, Quezon City. It wasn’t hidden or precious. It was loud, busy, and unforgiving—the kind of location that quickly exposes weak ideas. He signed anyway. If this failed, it would fail honestly.
That year, Storya Kitchen opened.
Not Your Ordinary Filipino Food
The concept was straightforward. Filipino food, served generously, meant for sharing—but with a twist Renc calls N.Y.O., or “Not Your Ordinary.”
The Beef Shawarma platter is a prime example. Tender beef, shawarma rice, cucumber, tomatoes, and garlic aioli form the base. Folded into the dish are distinctly Filipino notes: dilis, salted egg, Cajun onion, and—most unexpectedly—tinapa. It’s rich, layered, and slightly reckless in the best way.
The Puto’t Dinuguan follows the same logic. Four pieces of puto—two white, two black—each infused with dinuguan, served with an extra bowl on the side for dipping. Playful, but grounded.
Even the Pork Sinigang breaks convention. There’s no soup. Every component is infused with tamarind and sour depth, finished with pork belly. It tastes unmistakably like sinigang—and doesn’t ask permission.
A Restaurant That Feels Lived In
Storya Kitchen grew quietly. Regulars returned. The menu settled into itself. A speakeasy opened upstairs, discreet and unpretentious, staying open as long as there were people who wanted to stay. The restaurant became pet-friendly. Welcoming. Lived-in.
Perhaps most telling is who followed Renc there. Several veterans from The Bistro Group—servers, kitchen staff, backend professionals—now work at Storya. For them, the restaurant feels less like a startup and more like a graduation.
Built on Skill, Not Hype
Five years ago, Laurenci Gutierrez had nothing in his hands but uncertainty. Today, Storya Kitchen has marked its third anniversary as one of Quezon City’s most dependable resto-bars—not because it chased hype, but because it was built by someone who understands how restaurants actually work.
Renc still runs the place the same way. Calm. Present. Watching the room. Smiling easily. Not trying to prove anything anymore.
More branches may come. More stories, certainly will. But Storya’s most important chapter is already written: proof that skill, when paired with patience, can still carry a Filipino forward—even after everything stops.
Read more Stories on Simpol.ph
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