Before the applause, there was silence. Before the spotlight, there were years in the shadows. And before Cyra, there was a girl who stood in the corner of a professional kitchen — the only woman, the quietest voice, but the most determined soul in the room.
Today, Candice Philip stands as one of South Africa’s most celebrated culinary artists — the recipient of Chef of the Year at the 2025 Luxe Restaurant Awards, and the creative force behind Cyra, winner of Best New Restaurant at the 2025 Eat Out Awards. But this moment was never a given. It was built slowly, deliberately, and with unshakeable resolve.
“My journey wasn’t rushed,” Candice reflects. “It couldn’t be. I had to wait. To learn. To build the version of myself that could finally tell the story I’d carried all these years.”
That story begins far from the tasting menus and golden lighting of her now-renowned restaurant. It begins in kitchens where the pace was relentless, the standards unforgiving, and where Candice quietly, diligently carved out space for herself. Often the only woman in the brigade, she worked under culinary titans, refining her technique in environments where perfection was not praised — it was expected.
There were sacrifices. There were moments of invisibility. There were nights when her talent went unspoken, but her presence held weight. She learnt to let her food speak louder than she could. To sharpen not just her knife, but her voice. And most of all, she learnt patience — a patience that would one day become her signature.
That day is now. And its name is Cyra.
Cyra is more than a restaurant. It is the culmination of a life’s worth of listening, observing, aching, and creating. Every detail of the space is considered: soft, feminine, intentional. Muted golds, petal pinks, and deep forest greens wrap guests in a quiet luxury. Hand-forged metalwork by Sarah Cronin, golden floral motifs, and tactile linens mirror the delicacy of the food. Nothing shouts. Everything whispers.
The menu — a seven-course tasting journey — is a dance between boldness and restraint. A dish like pork and liquorice surprises, delights, and lingers, not because it’s fashionable, but because it’s honest. Candice’s approach to flavour is intuitive and emotional.
“Technique should never be there to impress,” she says. “It should be there to express.”
That belief is stitched into every plate, every silence, every note of music that hums through the dining room. The service at Cyra is a study in grace — unforced, attentive, and deeply human. Her team doesn’t just serve food; they serve care, anticipation, and belonging.
“I never wanted to create a place where people felt watched. I wanted to create a place where people could feel held,” Candice explains.
And now, she is being held — by the industry, by her peers, and by diners who walk away from Cyra changed. But this is not the peak. For Candice Philip, it is the beginning of something long overdue. The beginning of telling her story — fully, finally, and unapologetically.
This is not just about awards. This is about arrival. About the quiet resilience that turns waiting into art. About the kind of excellence that can’t be manufactured — only earned.
Candice Philip did not arrive fast. She arrived ready. And the world is finally catching up.
