Food has fascinated me for as long as I can remember. Like most Filipino children, I was raised on a dependable rotation of hotdogs, nuggets, tocino, pancit and whatever else could make a child abandon all sense of table manners in under 30 seconds. At that age, food existed for one purpose — to disappear as quickly as possible. Then, somewhere between family dinners, cookbooks with impossibly glossy photographs, and countless hours spent watching cooking shows instead of cartoons, my palate slowly staged a coup. Meals stopped being fuel and became stories. Every unfamiliar ingredient carried a history lesson. Every technique hinted at a place, a people, or a tradition I had yet to meet. Anthony Bourdain once said that food may be the only universal thing with the power to bring everyone together, and the older I get, the harder it becomes to argue with him.

Perhaps that is why I have always found culinary collaborations strangely fascinating. When two cuisines from opposite ends of the map decide to share a plate, it resembles diplomacy at its most delicious. Countries negotiate through treaties; chefs negotiate through butter, broth, citrus and fire. Both require patience, precision, compromise and the occasional leap of faith. Get it right and everyone leaves the table happier. Get it wrong and you’ve essentially recreated the culinary equivalent of an international incident.

That spirit of edible diplomacy was precisely what unfolded at Old Manila in The Peninsula Manila during its “Two Chefs, One Table: A Four Hands Dinner,” where executive chef Rémy Carmignani, augmented by Chef de Cuisine Matthieu Fournier joined forces with Chef Yohan Da Costa, Senior Chef de Cuisine of Peter at The Peninsula Tokyo. Conceived as part of the hotel’s golden anniversary celebrations, the evening married French technique with Japanese precision, a little bit East meets West with the clear intention of exhibiting two culinary powerhouses discovering they spoke the same language all along.

“I am not trained in Japanese cuisine,” Da Costa admitted. “It’s French cuisine that brought me to Japan almost 15 years ago. Living there allowed me to discover Japanese ingredients, Japanese food and different styles of restaurants.”

When asked whether Japan had reshaped his cooking, his answer was immediate. “Yes, definitely.”

The menu, they explained, was deliberately softened for Filipino palates without sacrificing authenticity.

“We always think about something light,” Carmignani said of the opening canapés. “Something that awakens your appetite.”

Mission accomplished.

The canapés were served with Champagne E. Duval Brut d’Eulalie, whose brisk acidity immediately sharpened the senses. A citrus-laced leek vinaigrette balanced sweetness and minerality. The potato and wagyu canapé dissolved almost indecently fast, the buttery beef enriching the fluffy potato rather than overpowering it.

Meanwhile, the tuna tartlet, made with Philippine-sourced tuna, was pristine, cool and gently seasoned, allowing freshness to become the loudest flavor in the room.

Then came L’OEuf de Poule, perhaps the most unassuming dish of the afternoon and, fittingly, one of its most technically demanding.

Da Costa revealed the egg is cooked twice, first inside its shell in the oven before being cracked into gently simmering water to perfect the texture.

The result bordered on architecture. The yolk flowed like molten gold while the white retained just enough structure to cradle earthy mushroom duxelles beneath an aromatic veil of shaved seasonal truffle. Yet the true protagonist was the champagne sauce.

“For two liters of sauce, we use five to six liters of champagne,” Da Costa explained.

“In French cuisine, sauce is the most important part of the dish,” Carmignani added.

Paired with Ferraton Père & Fils La Tournée Blanc, whose crisp orchard fruit and bright acidity prevented the richness from becoming excessive, every spoonful tasted luxurious without crossing into indulgence.

Bold bouillabaisse

If the egg whispered, La Bouillabaisse spoke confidently.

Originally a humble fisherman’s stew from Marseille, Carmignani reimagined the classic with Atlantic turbot, Hokkaido scallops, octopus, saffron potatoes and rouille.

“It used to be made from leftover fish that couldn’t be sold,” he explained. “We wanted to elevate the experience using premium seafood.”

The broth carried astonishing depth, layers of fish stock, vegetables and saffron reduced into something intensely marine without becoming overwhelmingly salty. Sweet tomatoes injected welcome acidity while the rouille lent garlicky richness that amplified every spoonful. The scallop practically surrendered at the slightest pressure, while the octopus retained just enough resistance to remind you it once had ambitions of escaping.

Ferraton Père & Fils La Tournée Rouge proved an unconventional yet inspired companion, its soft red fruit lending warmth without overshadowing the seafood.

Main affair

The afternoon reached its crescendo with Le Boef Japonais.

Instead of serving extravagantly marbled wagyu that overwhelms after two bites, the chefs chose Kagoshima beef with more measured fat distribution.

“There is so much difficulty finding good-quality wagyu,” Fournier explained. “We wanted to respect Chef Yohan by offering the best product possible.”

Da Costa’s technique was equally meticulous. The beef was first slowly pan-cooked to render its marbling, rested, then returned to an intensely hot binchotan charcoal grill for a final kiss of smoke.

The result was extraordinary. Crisp edges yielded to a center so tender it barely required chewing. A silky carrot mousseline added sweetness while white asparagus refreshed the palate between bites. Then, almost as an encore, came the yuzu kosho.

“The timing is everything,” Da Costa explained. “Once it’s added to the sauce, you cannot boil it anymore. It is meant to arrive as an aftertaste, to make you forget the fattiness of the meat.”

It did exactly that.

Sweet ending

Dessert, Le Pamplemousse, was the evening’s delightful plot twist. Grapefruit and wasabi sound like ingredients invented during a dare, yet together they created a sorbet that was bright, floral and gently warming rather than aggressive.

Raspberry compote contributed tartness, lychee espuma softened the edges, and crunchy homemade granola grounded the entire composition. The pairing with Hepp Distillery Framboise Sauvage, an intensely aromatic wild raspberry eau-de-vie, turned the finale into something closer to perfume than pudding.

Perhaps the greatest success of the afternoon was not that French cuisine met Japanese cuisine. It was that neither tried to outshine the other. Instead, they listened, adapted and collaborated, concretely displaying that diplomacy sometimes succeeds best not in conference halls.

“A collab is something we want to do more of because we are learning from each other. New ingredients, new techniques, new flavors. There are plenty of things. It’s good for our guests, but also for our chefs. That’s why we really want to focus on collabs in Manila,” Chef Remy said, closing the afternoon on a high note.