In a quiet commercial strip in the Greater Toronto Area, a humble kitchen simmers with stories of resilience, family, and Ilonggo flavor. This is Tropang Ilonggo—a restaurant built not just from scratch, but from pure heart and late-night teamwork. And at the center of it all is April Cabrias, whose journey from food festivals to full-fledged restaurateur is as rich and layered as her signature batchoy broth.
Before the neon sign, there were tents and trays. April and her team—composed of family and close friends—started as festival vendors, renting kitchens just to prep their meals. But when the pandemic hit and events dried up, they scoured for a place to rebuild. Fate smiled through a marketplace post: a kitchen for rent, with an offer too good to pass up. With pooled savings and collective courage, Tropang Ilonggo was born.
In the early days, April was the cook, server, and cleanup crew. Her support system? A rotating cast of day-off siblings, spouses, and cousins, arriving after shifts at Tim Hortons, McDonald’s, and St. Louis. “Tulong-tulong lang,” she recalls. No fancy hires—just grit, garlic, and guts.
Their ace? Authenticity. The La Paz Batchoy—a soul-warming noodle soup born from the streets of Iloilo—became their bestseller. The secret? Bones boiled overnight, never rushed, never cheated. “Our broth tells the story,” April says. Every bowl reflects the hours of simmering, the early-morning slicing, the careful straining of every bone for that perfect sip.
But Tropang Ilonggo isn’t just a restaurant. On weekends, it transforms into a venue for weddings, birthdays, even full ceremonies. One couple, tight on budget, asked to be wed right inside the dining area. April said yes, adjusted the menu, and made it happen. “Para kaming pamilya,” she says of her customers—and she treats them as such.
There’s also Chicken Inasal, Bacolod-style—ginger, lemongrass, soy, calamansi. Simple, honest, unforgettable. Just like the restaurant’s name, born from a brainstorm of Ilonggo hearts. “We’re a tropa. We’re proud of where we come from.”
April’s life is now filled with marinating, marketing, and midnight chats with customers on Facebook Messenger. There are no shifts anymore—just purpose. “Kung masipag ka, may balik,” she says. “You reap what you pour into the pot.”
And pour, she has. With every ladle of batchoy, April is not just feeding hunger—she’s serving up memory, culture, and a deep belief in God’s timing.
To taste that belief, drop by Tropang Ilonggo. Bring your appetite—and maybe your story, too.
📍Visit them soon. Your bowl of warmth is waiting.
