The Magic Table: A dinner that knows a few tricks

At the pinnacle of Grand Hyatt Manila, where the sky feels almost within reach, dinner does not simply arrive—it unfolds.

The hotel’s newest immersive concept, The Magic Table, continues its now-signature exploration of experiential dining, following the sustained success of Le Petit Chef, which returns for its fourth season this April. Together, the two productions reflect a broader shift in how people choose to dine today: not merely to eat, but to experience, to remember, and to retell.

The Magic Table is an immersive dining experience, blending refined illusion with a multi-course culinary journey. Designed to unfold directly on the tabletop, the experience combines storytelling, visual effects, and interactive magic to transform dinner into a theatrical event.

While immersive dining has been popularized globally by projection-mapping concepts such as Le Petit Chef, The Magic Table distinguishes itself by placing live mentalism and human connection at the center of the experience. Rather than animated spectacle alone, the evening is driven by illusion, psychology, and participation.

The concept is led by The Clairvoyants, the acclaimed Austrian mentalist duo Thommy Ten and Amélie van Tass, best known as finalists on America’s Got Talent. Renowned for their elegant, cinematic approach to illusion, they favor psychological depth and subtle mind-reading over spectacle—creating magic that feels intimate, intelligent, and emotionally engaging.

That sensibility defines The Magic Table. Rather than relying on shock or speed, the show unfolds deliberately, inviting guests into a world where illusion feels intimate and strangely plausible.

“For me, it was a natural progression,” says Mark Hagan, director of food and beverage at Grand Hyatt Manila. “People are really looking to spend their money on experiences. Something they can enjoy and go away and talk about—like theater or a great night out.”

From the moment guests arrive, the experience signals that this is not a typical dinner reservation. After check-in, an elevator ascent carries diners upward—literally and figuratively—toward the hotel’s penthouse, on the 66th level, the highest dining venue in Manila. The view alone commands attention, but once seated, the table becomes the true focal point.

Lights dim. Cutlery glints. And then, almost imperceptibly, the table awakens.

Projection mapping spills across the white linen surface, transforming it into oceans, flames, and dreamlike landscapes that respond in real time to the narrative. Plates seem to move with intention. Objects appear and vanish. Guests are drawn into moments of participation—subtle, playful, never forced—where attention becomes part of the illusion.

“You actually have to pay attention,” Hagan notes. “And that’s a good thing.”

The magic is carefully paced, unfolding in acts that correspond with the courses. There is humor, nostalgia, and a touch of childlike wonder— the kind that recalls birthday magicians and rabbits pulled from hats—tempered by the polish of a luxury hotel setting.

To tell you too much would be to steal the moment. The Magic Table is not meant to be decoded in advance—it’s meant to catch you off guard, mid-bite, when you least expect it.

“I look at this as a great night out,” Hagan says. “You get the theater, the entertainment, the food. You even get to play along and become a magician yourself.”

The menu mirrors the theatrical arc. Each course arrives as a chapter, synchronized with the visuals on the table.

It begins gently with A Spell of the Forest, a porcini and forest mushroom pâté accented with hazelnut soil, fig, lemon, pistachio, and manuka honey—earthy and contemplative.

The sea takes over with Enchanted Shell, a butter-poached Hokkaido scallop served with herb crust, sun-dried tomato, and crustacean bisque, followed by The Alchemy of the Sea, featuring crab meat and codfish brandade with sake-marinated ikura and avocado.

The narrative peaks with The Order of Fire—a Mulwarra tenderloin Beef Wellington with bone marrow and café de Paris butter jus—arriving as flames dance across the tabletop.

Dessert, The Final Illusion, concludes the experience with a chocolate and hazelnut sphere accompanied by espresso, chocolate brownie, cherry sorbet, and bourbon sauce—an edible sleight of hand that dissolves as neatly as the show itself.

Running for at least a year, with the possibility of extension, The Magic Table is designed for a broad audience: couples, families, celebrants, and curious diners seeking something beyond the ordinary.

“Millennials, Gen Z—they want dining experiences that are different,” Hagan says. “And I think we give that here. With the food, the beverage, the show, everything.”

In a dining landscape increasingly shaped by novelty, The Magic Table distinguishes itself through restraint, craftsmanship, and storytelling. It understands that true spectacle does not shout—it invites.

And when the final illusion fades and the lights return, guests leave not just well fed, but quietly astonished—already rehearsing how they will describe the night to someone else.