Pigoutmanila

Yes, we are dating again, dinner dates, that is. We had previously resolved that our rendezvous would be confined to breakfast or lunch. The logic was sound: more daylight, more vitality, more time to burn calories and indulge without restraint. Breakfast dates may have dulled the romance of candlelit evenings, but in exchange, we gained something arguably more virtuous—health.

Months ago, we embarked on an intermittent fasting regimen, which, thus far, has served us well. A disciplined sixteen-hour fast, followed by two measured meals within a defined eating window—structured, intentional, effective.

Alas most establishments of the Michelin Star kind open their doors only from six in the evening onward. And so, inevitably, we found ourselves returning to dinner dates , something the handsome hubs and I realized we had quietly, almost wistfully, missed.

After a prolonged pursuit of a reservation, fortune finally smiled upon us. We secured a table for two at Michelin One Star Celera.

We were part of the first seating at six o’clock sharp, already waiting outside on the third floor of the Comuna Building moments after stepping out of the elevator. The restaurant’s insignia was artfully obscured by tall potted plants, their fringes softening a façade of black and warm dark wood.

Before us stood an imposing grey-black door, deliberately austere in its anonymity. At its threshold lay a doormat bearing the legend , “wait lang.”

Part 2 posting soon …

Dating by Michelin : Letting the guide choose the table—and rediscovering each other along the way.

Now on our 24th stop at Michelin Bib Gourmand recipient Los Tacos One Uptown BGC, I had an epiphany. Handsome Hubby and I are, quite literally, dating again three times a week! And this particular date unfolded beautifully over a table filled with intention.

We began with a swordfish ceviche, bathed in vibrant leche de tigre, its citrusy punch softened by a cooling granita of seasonal fruits and kaffir lime leaf (₱480). It was bracing, elegant, and refreshing—an opening note that instantly sharpened the appetite.

Next came tuna tostadas, pristine slices layered over crisp bases, lifted by bright salsa fresca and tempered with smoky chipotle cream (₱360). Each bite struck a confident balance between freshness and heat, restraint and indulgence. Our favorite so far.

For something heartier, the huevos rancheros arrived with impeccably 63-degree eggs, their custardy centers spilling into grilled mushrooms, greens, and earthy frijoles (₱450). Comforting yet thoughtful, it was the kind of dish that makes you linger just a little longer.

Then came the showstopper: campechano tacos two generous folds filled with wagyu cheeks and Mexican chorizo (₱550). Rich, soulful, and deeply satisfying, they demanded a proper companion, which we found in a chilled kamias–cucumber–lime agua fresca (₱225). Tart, cooling, and quietly addictive, it washed everything down with effortless ease.

Somewhere between tacos and sips, it struck me: the age-old question of Where shall we eat next? has been blissfully answered by Michelin. No more guessing games, no deep dives into reviews, no second-guessing menus before we even arrive. Michelin removes the uncertainty—and the homework—leaving us free to simply show up hungry and curious.

Before this, our “dates” were mostly limited to Saturday breakfast rituals, cycling through the same familiar restaurants ad infinitum. Comforting, yes—but predictable. Now, we’re back out in the world, discovering new tables, new flavors, and new stories, bonding over dishes that surprise us and meals that linger long after the last bite.

Is it an expensive hobby? Absolutely. But some adventures are worth every indulgent splurge. After all, this isn’t just about eating well—it’s about rediscovering each other, one remarkable meal at a time. 🍽️✨

Dating by Michelin: Understanding the Labels

In our Dating by Michelin series, we let the guide choose the table so we can focus on the moment. But not all Michelin distinctions mean the same thing—and knowing the difference makes the journey even sweeter.

Bib Gourmand

Think of this as the joyful date—the kind where you laugh easily, order more than planned, and leave full in every sense of the word. Bib Gourmand restaurants are celebrated for serving excellent food at approachable prices. They’re generous, comforting, and deeply satisfying. These are the places you return to often, sometimes without a special occasion—because the food simply makes you happy.

Michelin Selected

These are the promising dates. Michelin Selected restaurants earn their place in the guide for consistently good cooking and thoughtful execution. They may not yet carry a Bib or a Star, but they’ve caught Michelin’s eye. Expect solid technique, good ingredients, and a sense that something special is quietly unfolding in the kitchen.

Michelin Star

Stars are the grand dates, the ones you dress up for, plan around, and remember long after. A One-Star restaurant offers high-quality cooking worth a stop.

Two Stars promise a meal worth a detour, where precision and personality shine. Three Stars are rare and transformative, representing cuisine worth a special journey—meals that become milestones.

In Dating by Michelin, we don’t chase stars—we chase connection. Whether it’s a comforting Bib, a dependable Selected spot, or a starry night at the table, Michelin removes the guesswork so we can simply show up, order well, and rediscover each other—one meal at a time.

One table down. Many more to discover.

Los Tacos MNL is located at the Upper Ground Floor (UGF) of One Uptown Residences, BGC

Stop twenty-three on our curated Michelin itinerary, part of a larger pursuit to explore and experience all 108 establishments on our Philippine gastronomic map.

Last Saturday, my husband and I returned to Mirèio (recently recognized as Michelin Selected restaurant) for brunch , once again accompanied by the sweeping views of the Makati skyline framed through their floor-to-ceiling windows.

The experience was as delightful as it was familiar: natural daylight suffused the space, servers greeted guests with warm, cheerful smiles, crisp white paper table covers set a refined stage, and carefully curated artworks offered subtle visual delight.

Months after our first morning here, the format remains thoughtfully unchanged. Guests may choose the cold buffet, a composed spread of fresh fruits, artisanal breads, coffee, and made-to-order fresh juices, priced at ₱1,250. For a more expansive indulgence, the Ultimate Breakfast builds upon the cold buffet with à la carte hot dishes from the menu, accompanied by unlimited specialty coffee, hot chocolate, and wellness-focused fruit beverages, offered at ₱2,500.

I opted for the Ultimate Breakfast, a choice justified by simple arithmetic: the unlimited wellness fruit beverages alone quickly offset the price, given their à la carte cost.

I began with two glasses of freshly squeezed orange juice, followed by eggs Benedict crowned with smoked salmon. From the cold buffet, I selected slices of watermelon, green melon, and dragon fruit—clean, refreshing interludes between courses.

As the morning progressed, I sampled the Watermelon Breeze , then a sweet-and-sour apple concoction enlivened with cucumber, ginger, and celery. Crisp bacon arrived on the side, soon joined by the mezze plate, a restrained Mediterranean composition of pita bread, hummus, tzatziki, olives, and feta—before returning, deliberately, to fruit for a gently saccharine conclusion.

My husband, on the other hand, remained loyal to the cold buffet, where he explored a well-curated selection of freshly baked breads, from classic croissants to indulgent kouign-amann, all enjoyed with unlimited hot lattes and, later, a freshly squeezed juice of his choosing.

By the time we finally pushed back our chairs, our breakfast at Michelin Selected Mirèio had revealed itself as a quietly indulgent affair. Each course from vibrant, sunlit fruits to elegantly plated hot dishes , was a study in balance and refinement, enhanced by impeccable service and the serene sweep of the Makati skyline. Whether opting for the cold buffet or the Ultimate Breakfast, Mirèio proves that fine dining need not be formal to be memorable; it is a space where Provençal elegance meets effortless comfort, leaving both palate and spirit equally satisfied.

Mireio is located at the 9th Floor, Raffles Makati, 1 Raffles Drive, Makati Avenue, 1224 Makati, Philippines.

The name Benjarong comes from a traditional Thai porcelain style meaning “five colours,” once reserved for royal and ceremonial use because of its intricate, vibrant patterns.

Days are moving fast now, measured not by calendars but by tables set and plates cleared. Michelin Selected Benjarong marks our 22nd stop on Project Michelin Philippines and our second restaurant ticked off in this brand-new 2026. The ambition is deliciously unhinged: at least three Michelin-recognized restaurants a week, all 108 within a year. A marathon disguised as a meal plan. So far we are on track. Last week we visited Ramen Ron Rockwell (#21) , Benjarong (#22) and Mireio (#23), all Michelin-Selected restaurants

Benjarong felt like the right place to pause and take stock.

This was our first time dining here together. My handsome husband has been before—business lunches, office celebrations, meals eaten with one eye on the clock. This time, there were no agendas, no meetings to return to. Just us, finally sharing the experience as it was meant to be, aligned with the spirit of this project we’ve committed to.

I’ve always wanted to try Benjarong. Some restaurants sit quietly on your mental list, waiting patiently for the right moment. Yesterday, the waiting ended.

We settled in for lunch beneath lofty ceilings, surrounded by a kind of elegance that doesn’t press down on you. The room is expansive, opulent but unshowy, confident in its sense of space. There’s an option to sit at the kitchen counter, close enough to watch the choreography of fire, hands, and quiet precision. We didn’t choose it. We regret that now.

We began with the catfish salad—bright, sharp, and bracing. A proper awakening. Then came the dish that had been living rent-free in my husband’s memory: the 72-hour green beef curry, silky and slow-cooked into tenderness.

It deserved the hype.

The portion was enough to feed two, possibly three. And the sauce alone was dangerous for those on a diet that is. Why? “Sauce pa lang ulam na “ , comes to mind. It’s the kind of sauce that begs for rice, bowls of it. Heck “taob ang rice cooker” to be visual about it

We intended to order more. We didn’t. We can’t.

Between the catfish salad, rice, and that green curry, fullness arrived swiftly and decisively. We waved the rest away without regret.

A hot tanglad drink followed, lemongrass warmth cutting through the richness, grounding the meal.

Dessert, however, was inevitable. Mango sticky rice, mango ice cream, kanom taco a Thai dessert crowned with coconut cream and corn—comforting, nostalgic, quietly indulgent.

Benjarong is a restaurant that understands time -how to slow it, how to stretch it, how to make you stay a little longer than planned. It doesn’t chase trends or perform for applause. It simply holds its place with grace.

Twenty-two restaurants in, and this one reminded us why we started: to sit together, eat well, and let the days fly—one meaningful meal at a time.

Benjarong is located at the Ground floor Dusit Thani Manila along edsa and just across Glorietta

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Benjarong is the signature Thai restaurant of Dusit Thani Manila, part of the longstanding Dusit International brand with deep Thai roots.This is not a casual Thai eatery. Benjarong focuses on traditional and Royal Thai–inspired cuisine, with dishes built around the careful balance of sweet, sour, salty, bitter, and spicy. Many are based on heritage recipes, thoughtfully refined for modern palates. The menu spans beloved Thai classics alongside elaborate tasting experiences that echo centuries-old culinary traditions.Over the years, Benjarong Manila has earned multiple accolade including the THAI SELECT seal of authenticity and recognition from local dining guides like Tattler , cementing its reputation for both authenticity and elevated service. Recently , it received a Michelin- Selected recognition and now part of the Michelin Guide.

The Michelin Guide is the gold standard of gastronomy, where anonymous inspectors award up to three stars for flawless technique, harmonious flavors, and the chef’s unmistakable touch—making it a global emblem of culinary excellence.

Some bowls of ramen aren’t just meals—they’re invitations: to slow down, pay attention, and remember why you fell in love with food in the first place. At Ramen Ron, every bite demands that kind of devotion.

On our map, Michelin Selected Ramen Ron occupies stop number 21: part of a twelve-month journey through 108 Michelin-recognized restaurants across the Philippines, beginning October 30, the day the country formally entered the Michelin firmament. It is not a victory lap nor a checklist exercise, but a way of taking stock, bowl by bowl, of what endures.

Ramen Ron is not a destination discovered by accident. One arrives here with intention, guided by reputation and memory rather than hype. Its lineage traces back to Ukokkei Ramen Ron, the once-formidable Manila ramen house that demanded submission to craft.

Chef Hiroyuki Tamura presided with doctrinal rigor; the broth was the message, and the rules were absolute. The sobriquet “ramen Nazi,” while inelegant, captured a deeper truth: this was a kitchen governed by conviction, not accommodation.

When Ukokkei shut its doors, it seemed less a business decision than a cultural diminishment, another serious restaurant yielding to a softer, more forgiving era. Yet in 2020, Tamura-san returned and aligned with Margarita Fores and her son Amado in a collaboration grounded not in compromise but mutual respect for discipline.

Ramen Ron reemerged first as austere DIY kits during pandemic lockdown, then as brick-and-mortar establishments in Rockwell and BGC, carrying forward the same uncompromising ethos.

This is ramen that resists casual consumption. It requires attention, posture, and a willingness to be instructed. The broth is flavorful with intent. Michelin’s recognition feels less like an accolade than an acknowledgment, proof that rigor, even now, still has an audience.

Ukokkei Miso Chashu Ramen

This is comfort, yes—but not the lazy kind. It’s the sort of bowl that collapses distance.

One spoonful in and I’m back in Japan, chasing steam from a ramen-ya on a cold Tokyo night.

Thirteen days ago, we were there I. The land of the rising sun, standing over a counter, slurping with gusto. Now we are back at the archipelago and somehow that makes the longing sharper. The problem with ramen done this well is that it doesn’t satisfy wanderlust. It triggers it. You finish the bowl already plotting your return, passport half-packed, broth still clinging to memory.

Soft Shell Crab 350

I’m a sucker for buns. Pork, crunchy chicken karaage between fluffy white pillowy bread and I’m already reaching for my wallet. A soft shell crab bun, though, was uncharted territory. I saw it on the menu, caught a glimpse of the photo, and that was it. No inner debate. I ordered it immediately, already convinced it would make perfect, reckless sense alongside my Ukokkei Miso Chashu Ramen.

I’m glad I didn’t resist. The first bite delivered exactly what I was hoping for: that shattering crunch of soft shell crab giving way to rich, lavish indulgence. Then comes the taba ng talangka mayo. Think decadent, sinful, gloriously excessive, clinging to the bun like it knows it belongs there. It’s the kind of dish that doesn’t ask permission. Just pure, messy pleasure. Heaven, briefly and completely, on the palate.

Gyoza

Even the gyoza refused to be an afterthought. The skins were thin, almost translucent, barely containing the succulent ground pork within—juicy, savory, and deeply satisfying. It turned out to be the ideal bridge between the Ukokkei ramen and the soft shell crab bun, grounding the meal while amplifying it.

Before I knew it, I was stuck in a loop. Ramen. Bun. Gyoza. Back to ramen. A perfect trifecta, each bite recalibrating the next. The broth cleansed, the bun indulged, the gyoza anchored everything in porky reality. It’s the kind of rhythm you fall into when the kitchen gets it right—no pause, no hierarchy, just an instinctive return to what tastes good, over and over again.

A Slight Edge at the Table

The handsome husband went for the Batchoy Ramen, a respectful nod to the beloved Iloilo broth, and paired it with Ebi Tempura. Admirable, yes , thoughtful even. But let’s be honest, I like to think my choices the Ukokkei Miso Chashu, the soft shell crab bun, the gyoza trifecta, edge his out just slightly. Just slightly, of course. After all, it’s not really a competition…except that, in this case, I might have won haha

In the end, it’s not just about ramen, buns, or gyoza—it’s about the little victories that make every bite, and every journey, worth savoring.

Ramen Ron’s Rockwell branch is located at G/F, RS-103, Edades Tower, Rockwell 

Kickstarting 2026 the only way that makes sense… around a table, among friends and a room full of people who believe in Filipino food.

Last night January 7 marked my first event of the year, the grand launch of Siklab’s flagship store at SMaison, Conrad.

As Mr. Manuud, President of The Bistro Group, put it—this is Siklab’s third branch, but this one’s different.

The biggest yet. Two hundred ninety seats. Three function rooms. A statement.

The night began the right way—with ritual.

The ceremonial pouring of gata for one of Siklab’s soul dishes, Kuhol ni Tanggol.

In the room: Michelin two-star chef Josh Boutwood, and later, The Voice USA winner, Sofronio Vasquez, who reminded everyone exactly why that crown belongs to him—Pinoy favorites sung straight from the gut.

Then came the food.

A parade of familiar comforts done loud and proud. Think okoy, fresh lumpia, chicharon bulaklak, chased down with binibining dalandan, guinumis, and a bracing cold kamias drink.

The mains didn’t hold back—crispy pata, kare-kare, sisig, poqui-poqui, sinigang na bangus, tortang talong.

And for dessert?

Halo-halo, bibingka, buko pandan, palitaw. Because you always end sweet.

Siklab SMaison at Conrad opens to the public today, January 8

Come hungry. Leave satisfied and smiling.

Siklab is located at Level 1S Madison Conrad beside Watami

I had every opportunity to go to Vietnam back when the handsome hubs was crisscrossing Asia for a multinational confectionery giant. Vietnam, Singapore, Malaysia on rotation, quarter after quarter. I told myself it made sense. Why chase heat and humidity when I already lived in the Philippines? Better, I reasoned, to save our money for places with colder air and heavier coats. That logic feels thin now. What I really skipped wasn’t just a destination , it was a moment in time, a version of travel that doesn’t come back. Street food eaten on plastic stools, motorbikes blurring past, the particular chaos and comfort of Southeast Asia unfolding at street level. Vietnam waited patiently while I stayed home, convinced I was being practical. Now the regret has a flavor to it—sharp, unmistakable. I want to be on a plane to Hanoi yesterday. Until then, I’ll settle for consolation prize : a Michelin Bib Gourmand bowl of Em Hanoi, eaten slowly, imagining the city it came from, and promising myself not to make the same mistake twice.

What is Michelin Bib Gourmand?

It is a Michelin Guide award giving recognition to restaurants with outstanding food quality at a great value, or reasonable set price.

A proxy for Vietnam

So for now, I make do with Em Hanoi, a Michelin stand-in for the trip I never took. And surprisingly, it works, at least a little.

From the ochre walls representing royalty, prosperity, to the scarlet flag with its lone yellow star, the place transported me to my imagined land of pho.

A warm bowl of pho ga lands on the table, comforting and fragrant.

There’s the crunch of Nem Ran (fried spring rolls) the familiar satisfaction of a good banh mi. For a moment, Hanoi feels close enough to touch.

The vibe is cozy, almost homey, though the spell breaks slightly with the service. Efficient, yes, but the servers move through the room as if joy didn’t flow in them.

Still, the food does its job. The handsome hubs leaves impressed, already plotting a return to work his way through the rest of the menu. As for me, I leave with a clearer resolution: next time Vietnam comes calling, I won’t stay home pretending practicality tastes better than regret.

Em Hanoi is located at the ground floor F1 Hotel 32nd Street, cor Lane A, BGC

Hit pause on the Michelin Philippines project for a ten-day Tokyo bender. Ramen slurped, 15,000 steps burned daily, yakiniku overindulged, omakase after omakase, konbini runs, grocery hauls. Then—blink—and we’re airborne again, jet-lagged, full, and locked back onto the mission, picking up right where we left off: chasing Michelin-recognized restaurants across the Philippines. No rest for the hungry.

Stop number twenty on Project Michelin Philippines takes us upward—six floors up, to Michelin-Selected Osteria Antica at Podium Social.

The room feels masculine: dark wood, brick walls, heavy tables. Less white tablecloth fine dining fantasy , more gentleman’s club energy. Serious, but not stiff.

Starter

We started with seared foie gras , and this is where the meal finds its backbone—rich, indulgent, decadent. saved from excess by the caramelized onion tart and sharp balsamic reduction.

Salad

A goat’s cheese salad follows, bright and fresh, candied walnuts and a lavender dressing that shouldn’t work, but does—especially after the foie gras.

Pasta

The rigatoni carbonara is the high note: al dente pasta gripping a proper, no-nonsense sauce, guanciale doing the heavy lifting.

Main

The roasted chicken? Fine , a little on the dry side & forgettable in the shadow of what came before.

Dessert

We closed with the house-famous tiramisu washed down with hot latte for the handsome husband , ginger -turmeric tea for me , and another Michelin-recognized restaurant ticked off our list. 88 to go 😍

Osteria Antica is located at the 6th floor Podium Social at the Podium Mall Ortigas

Tokyo claims more Michelin stars and Michelin-recognized restaurants than any city in the world. In such a landscape, culinary excellence is not reserved for white tablecloths or hushed dining rooms—it often appears in the most unassuming spaces.

Haru-chan, a Michelin Bib Gourmand ramen shop in Ginza, is one such place. With seating for no more than ten guests and a layout designed primarily for solo diners, the shop prioritizes focus over fanfare. Arrive early enough and you may be rewarded with a seat; arrive late and patience becomes part of the experience.

Ordering is handled through a vending machine, a system emblematic of Tokyo’s efficiency. Diners make their selections, receive a printed ticket, and pass it to the woman quietly commanding the kitchen. Filming is not permitted, but the choreography of preparation is absorbing: large slabs of pork simmer gently in a wide pot while fresh noodles boil nearby, each step executed with calm precision.

The ramen arrives swiftly. The broth—clear yet deeply layered—draws its character from pork and dried sardines, delivering salinity without heaviness. Thick, chewy noodles provide structure, edging toward udon in texture. The bowl is finished with generous cuts of pork and indulgent pieces of fat that dissolve into the soup, enriching each mouthful without overwhelming it.

Haru-chan’s strength lies in its restraint. There are no unnecessary flourishes, no performative gestures. Instead, the shop offers a quiet confidence built on clarity, balance, and craft. In a city saturated with culinary ambition, this modest counter in Ginza serves as a reminder that greatness often speaks softly—and through a single, exceptional bowl.

Taking a brief respite from our Michelin quest, for a 10 day vacay with family in the Land of the Rising Sun

It was only our second day in the Land of the Rising Sun, but the morning wasted no time reminding us that Japan runs on precision-and cold. We were up early, the kind of early that feels heroic when there are two babies, two strollers, and a marathon on the agenda.
Today was no ordinary sightseeing day. This was Fuji Marathon day, and we were heading out to support our son, Joaquin, as he took on all 42 kilometers at the foot of Japan’s most iconic mountain.

At 7:15 a.m. sharp, a private van pulled up outside our hotel. The temperature hovered at a brisk 6°C, with a light drizzle in the air that made everything feel sharper, quieter. Renting a van felt like the smartest decision we’d made all trip-safer, warmer, and infinitely more practical than navigating trains with babies and strollers in tow. Within minutes, we were cocooned inside, slowly warming up as the city slipped away.

The van ride lulled us into a half-sleep, that pleasant travel drowsiness that comes from early mornings and anticipation. We woke just in time for our first stop: breakfast near Gotemba. Because before cheering on a marathon runner-or shopping, or mountain-gazing-you need fuel.

Kona Coffee delivered exactly what we needed. Fluffy pancakes, hearty burgers, fresh salads, and strong, comforting coffee filled the table.

Outside, the sky remained stubbornly overcast and foggy, and we quietly adjusted our expectations. Maybe Mt. Fuji would stay hidden today. That happens, we were told. Fuji reveals herself only when she wants to.

With full stomachs, we made our way to Gotemba Outlets for a bit of shopping therapy, strolling through the complex with the mountain still cloaked in mystery.
Time moved quickly, and soon we were back in the van, leaving about an hour before Joaquin was due to cross the finish line.

Then, somewhere on the road to Lake Kawaguchiko, the mood shifted. The clouds began to lift.

The light changed. And suddenly-there she was.
Mt. Fuji emerged, massive and magnificent, as if she had been waiting for the perfect moment.
Snow-capped, regal, and utterly awe-inspiring, she stood in full view, silencing the van and stealing our breath. From that point on, she seemed to follow us everywhere, appearing and reappearing like a proud host finally ready to show off.

By the time we reached the marathon finish area, Mt. Fuji had turned the day into something unforgettable. And as we waited to see our son complete his incredible run, it felt like the mountain itself was cheering him on too-timeless, steady, and magnificent.