As the Manila Bulletin marks its 126th anniversary, the newspaper turns its focus to stories that reflect Filipino perseverance, imagination, and the courage to take risks. These are narratives shaped not by instant success, but by patience, reinvention, and belief. The journey of Half Saints, built by Christine Roque and Jo Arciaga, stands as one of them.

At the Half Saints branch in Bonifacio Global City, the day is already underway. Doors are open, coffee is being poured, and early diners drift in for breakfast. Christine Roque sits at a corner table, occasionally pausing to watch the room fill. Between sips of coffee and shared plates, she reflects on how far they have come. “Food has always been my love language,” she says, tracing that instinct back to childhood weekends spent cooking for her siblings, long before restaurants, investors, or risk entered the picture.

Years earlier, Christine’s parents never imagined she would leave journalism and peace advocacy for the kitchen. She admits she often told them, “I want to try this,” when the idea of opening a restaurant first took shape. In her 30s, certainty mixed with hesitation. Still, she took the leap—and the first person she called was an old schoolmate, Jo Arciaga.

“I invited her to join,” Christine recalls, describing how she pitched the plan to Jo, then a new mother finishing culinary school. The two classmates, largely estranged since graduation, found their paths converging on a dream they had quietly shared since university: building something of their own.

Their professional lives could not have been more different. Christine had spent years reporting on politics, conflict, and disasters, later earning a master’s degree in peace and conflict studies abroad. Jo, meanwhile, worked in multinational corporate environments, applying languages and systems with discipline. Yet both were searching for something more grounded. When they finally came together, the partnership felt instinctive.

Eventually, by chance, they found a small corner space just off Sgt. Esguerra in Quezon City. Barely 75 square meters, it was far from a safe bet. Friends warned them that the area went dark on weekends and that no one would come. Still, Christine felt at ease. The landlord, unusually open to a startup, took a chance on them and became a partner in spirit.

Half Saints opened quietly in 2018. It did not stay quiet for long. Tables filled quickly, and reservations soon stretched weeks ahead. Christine and Jo credit that early momentum to clarity rather than spectacle. They were not trying to impress. They were trying to make sense.

That early success was driven not by novelty, but by intention. The food leaned on familiarity, then quietly reworked it. Dishes were designed to feel comforting first, thoughtful second. The Puff Pizza, which remains part of Half Saints’ identity, reflected that instinct—playful in form, but grounded in flavor. Rice-based dishes and other comfort-driven plates followed the same logic, offering depth without asking diners to decode them.

Together, they treated the menu as something living, evolving with discipline rather than impulse.

That point of view would soon be tested.

When the pandemic forced the dining room to close, everything they knew about success became irrelevant. Signature dishes—including Risotto and the Chicharron Teriyaki—did not survive delivery intact. Rather than dilute them, Christine and Jo set them aside.

“We surrendered,” Christine says. “Let’s just do what makes us happy.”

Out of that decision came Afternoon Bakes, a pivot toward bread, pastries, and sweets that could travel without losing their character. Baked goods were released in weekly drops, changing constantly—not to chase trends, but to allow room for experimentation.

As restrictions eased, Half Saints slowly regained its footing. During the pandemic, a Japanese partner proposed opening a small takeaway shop in Tokyo, supported by government subsidies aimed at keeping businesses alive. The concept, rooted in gift-giving through food, resonated.

In late 2022, Half Saints opened its first Tokyo location, followed by a second bakery-focused outpost months later. Filipino flavors found an audience abroad, carried through baked goods that reflected the same restraint and clarity developed back home.

Growth continued locally as well. When Half Saints opened its BGC branch, it marked a full-circle moment. The menu in BGC draws from a wider Asian context while remaining grounded in Filipino sensibility. Everything is still made in-house—a choice that limits speed, but preserves control.

Christine notes that Half Saints marks its anniversary on Feb. 1. During the conversation, she learns that the Manila Bulletin’s anniversary falls the following day, Feb. 2, a coincidence that briefly gives her pause.

Today, Half Saints stands as more than a restaurant brand. It is the sum of risks Christine and Jo chose to take when safer paths were available. It is the product of long days spent counting foot traffic, of menus rewritten for spaces they never got, of months when success felt fragile and fleeting. It is also shaped by quieter moments: kneading dough on dining tables during lockdowns, driving staff home during curfews, and waking each morning unsure whether the doors would stay open another day.

What makes their story distinctly Filipino is not just success, but the way it was achieved. It is the willingness to start over repeatedly. The acceptance of failure as part of progress. The confidence that something made locally, thoughtfully, and honestly can stand beside the best—whether in Quezon City, Tokyo, or Bonifacio Global City. Half Saints did not chase validation abroad to prove their worth at home. It carried its identity with it, intact.