The Michelin Stars have been awarded, and while some names surprised the public, none could argue that every winner earned it. A few delightful underdogs joined the Bib Gourmand list, while the fine-dining champions were predictable—years of relentless pursuit finally paying off. Congratulations are in order for all. And for those who didn’t make it this year? 2026 awaits.
A few weeks before the announcement, I dined at a restaurant that might well be part of that next wave: Hiro Premier, an elegant new temple to Wagyu on the fifth level of SM Aura Skypark. Its bold claim—specializing exclusively in A5-grade Omi Wagyu, beef once reserved for Japanese royalty—was impossible to ignore.
A Night of Glamour and Anticipation
It happened to be the same evening as the Philippine Fashion Awards next door, so the Skypark pulsed with sequins, tuxedos, and the occasional lost guest. Inside Hiro Premier, the mood shifted to quiet elegance. Minimalist wood and stone interiors framed by bonsai trees, soft light spilling from glass pendants—Japan’s calm precision translated into Manila luxury. Guests spoke in low voices, half from excitement, half from reverence.
Then the first of eleven courses arrived.
A Taste of Royalty
The Omi Wagyu Tokujo Aburi set the tone—thin slices of Wagyu, kissed by flame for ten seconds, resting on rice with an egg yolk. Simple. Decadent. Perfect. The kind of dish that silences a table. I tried to pace myself but failed; an extra serving appeared, and I took it. Two bites in, I knew I’d remember that taste for a long time.
Next came the Zuwaigani Choregi Salad, delicate snow crab brushed with gold leaf, and Kimchi and Namuru Moriawase, a Japanese interpretation of spice and texture. Beautiful preludes—but when the Omi Wagyu Uni Nigiri Sushi landed, time stopped. Imagine sushi topped not with fish but with Wagyu, crowned with uni—sea urchin—the red gleam catching flecks of gold. One bite, and I was enthralled.
“I could have ended the dinner right there. I was enthralled.”
Where Fire Meets Mastery
Soon, the mains: Premium Moriwase and Rokuten Mori—a procession of marbled cuts waiting for the grill. The air filled with a gentle sizzle and the faint sweetness of rendered fat—an aroma both primal and refined.
Then came MasterChef Shogo Izawa, a Tokyo-born grill master with more than forty years of experience. He guided us through the ritual: the flip, the pause, the moment the marbling turns translucent. Every motion deliberate, every breath measured. The result was pure Wagyu revelation—soft, buttery, alive with umami.
By the time the Karubi Soup appeared, meant to balance all that richness, I could barely manage a spoonful. The Matcha Affogato finale remained untouched. My body was done; my heart wasn’t.
Omotenashi in Every Detail
Beyond the cuisine, Hiro Premier embodies Omotenashi, Japan’s quiet art of hospitality. Every gesture—from grill temperature to plating symmetry—is executed with care by a team trained in Japan. It’s hospitality without theatrics, grace without pretense.
It’s been two weeks since that evening, yet the memory lingers—the scent of smoke, the glisten of fat, the calm assurance of mastery. When I think of Wagyu now, my appetite stirs, my mouth waters.
Hiro Premier, you have my Michelin Star.
