When you’re Filipino in the GTA, food isn’t just about food: it’s about memory, comfort, and community.
For Shine Asuncion, founder of ‘Kain Tayo’ (meaning “let’s eat”), it became the spark for building something on Facebook that thousands of kababayans now rely on.
Asuncion started the group in the middle of 2020, right when the pandemic had everyone anxious, isolated, and trying to figure out how to make life work in a suddenly closed world.
She had just moved back to Toronto with her family after spending about a year in Manila.
Before coming home, she’d seen a simple, but powerful idea work in their neighbourhood: a Facebook community group in BF Homes where people posted what they were selling.
The comments were “may ulam ako,” “may baked goods ako,” “may ganito ako” (I have this meal, I baked something, I have this…).
Orders were made on Facebook through comments and messages.
Neighbours supported neighbours, and small sellers didn’t need a fancy website or marketing budget—just a community willing to show up.
“So I said, you know what, I think I’m going to build something like this when I get back to Toronto,” she said.
Original Vision
Asuncion imagined maybe a thousand, two thousand people would join the group: just enough for Filipinos to help one another through hard times.
Then the pandemic hit, and suddenly the need for connection (and extra income) exploded.
She launched the group Kain Tayo, and in its first year, membership grew fast that it quickly hit around 25,000 members in the GTA.
It wasn’t just people posting cravings: the group became a lifeline.
Kain Tayo gave home-based sellers a way to reach customers quickly: someone would post they were making puto, kakanin, ulam, baked goods, party trays, and buyers would simply message and order.
That’s it: no complicated tech, no gatekeeping. Just the Filipino instinct to hustle, adapt, and help each other out.
Asuncion started getting messages that made it clear the group had become more than a “food page.”
People told her that because of Kain Tayo—now 60,000 members strong—they were able to pay rent and cover bills, all while helping fellow Filipinos get a taste of home.
Real-world Challenges
Of course, building a food community also comes with real-world challenges.
Food safety was a big one, especially when many sellers were cooking from home.
Asuncion didn’t pretend it wasn’t complicated.
Instead, she focused on creating a space that felt safer, more informed, and more respectful.
Over time, Kain Tayo became not just a marketplace, but a place where buyers and sellers learned how to protect themselves.
For example, basic but important practices like doing due diligence, using deposits, and setting expectations clearly.
“Kain Tayo isn’t a drama playground. You’re welcome to give feedback, but you’re not welcome to destroy another person,” she said.
At its core, Kain Tayo started as a simple idea: recreate the neighbourhood support Asuncion witnessed in Manila and bring it to Filipinos in Toronto.
But it grew into something much bigger—a community engine powered by pagkain, entrepreneurship, and bayanihan in digital form.
Because in the end, “Kain tayo” isn’t just an invite to eat. It’s an invite to belong.
