In a world that often equates success with noise, Chef Candice Philip has built her legacy in whispers – quiet moments of mastery, thoughtful pauses between courses and a deep, deliberate commitment to her craft.
Now, with Cyra crowned Best New Restaurant and Candice herself named Chef of the Year at the 2025 Luxe Restaurant Awards, the culinary world is finally leaning in to listen. But this isn’t just a story of triumph – it’s a story of transformation, of resilience honed in the shadows and of a woman who waited not to be noticed, but to be ready.
In this intimate conversation, Candice reflects on the long road to arrival, the emotional architecture of Cyra and the power of food that doesn’t demand attention, it earns it.
“Before Cyra, there was a girl in the corner of the kitchen.” Do you remember the exact moment when you first realised you belonged in a kitchen, even if no one else said it out loud?
It wasn’t a lightning bolt. It was a slow unfolding—a quiet knowing. While others moved loudly through the kitchen, I stayed in the corners, absorbing, refining. There was something about the structure, the rhythm, the solitude in the work that made sense to me. No one needed to say I belonged. I felt it in my bones, even if I had to prove it silently for years.
You’ve spoken about waiting, learning, and building. What was the hardest lesson you had to learn in silence before you could speak with your food?
That your voice doesn’t have to echo to carry weight. For a long time, I thought being heard meant being loud. But in the silence, I learnt patience. I learnt how to watch, how to listen, how to feel. I learnt that food, like people, needs room to breathe. And that the most powerful things are often said without words.
If you could send a single message back to the version of yourself in those early kitchens—the only woman, the quietest voice—what would you say?
Hold your ground. Your gentleness is not a flaw, it’s a force. You won’t have to shout to be seen forever. One day, your calm will be your compass—and the very thing that sets you apart.
Cyra has been described as a space where “nothing shouts, everything whispers.” How did you translate your personal story into a sensory experience—from design to flavour?
Cyra is deeply personal. It’s not just a restaurant—it’s a reflection. Every texture, every tone, every flavour is curated with intention. The space is soft, restrained, elegant. It doesn’t demand your attention, it draws you in gently. That’s how I’ve always worked—with quiet precision and emotional depth. Cyra is the physical form of that energy.
What was one detail—esthetic, emotional, or culinary—that had to be part of Cyra, no matter what?
Grace. In the service, in the space, in the food. I wanted people to feel held—not overwhelmed, not rushed, but seen. There’s something sacred in stillness, and Cyra was built to honour that. It’s a pause in the noise of life.
In an industry that often values bravado and theatrics, how do you hold space for vulnerability and emotion in your food?
By staying honest. I’m not trying to dazzle—I’m trying to connect. Every plate at Cyra carries feeling. There’s power in simplicity, in allowing something to just be what it is. I think vulnerability lives in the restraint—in having the courage to leave space instead of filling it.
Much has been said about your quiet strength. Do you believe the industry is finally making space for a different kind of leadership?
I think it’s starting to. We’re seeing more room for leaders who are intuitive, thoughtful, grounded. For a long time, the industry rewarded noise. But there’s a shift happening. Spaces like Cyra, and chefs like myself, are proof that you don’t need to be the loudest in the room to be heard.
Awards can be milestones or mirrors. What did Chef of the Year reflect back to you about who you are now?
It reflected back the parts of me I used to question. My stillness. My quiet. My need for precision and calm. All the things I once thought I needed to toughen up or change—they were the reason I was recognised. It was a reminder that staying true to who you are is not a compromise, it’s the win.