French restaurant Les Amis’ signature caviar dish. — Photos: ABBI KANTHASAMY
I flew into Singapore from Kuala Lumpur for a string of business meetings – the kind of trip where you pack a suit but hope to return with something more: A story, a taste, a reminder of why this city still matters.
Everywhere I turned in the weeks leading up to it, the chatter was the same: Restaurants are closing, the dining scene is struggling, the fire’s going out. Maybe. But step into the right rooms, pull up a chair at the right tables, and you’ll see what I saw. The embers haven’t died, they’ve been forged into something sharper.
Singapore isn’t fading, it’s still leading the region when it comes to fine dining. And it’s doing so with unapologetic, world-class confidence.
My base for the trip was the Raffles Hotel Singapore, a place so steeped in history it feels like you’ve stumbled into a sepia-toned photograph. Walk through its white colonnades and it’s 1900 again.
The air smells faintly of frangipani and cigar smoke, and if you close your eyes you can almost hear Somerset Maugham scribbling beneath a palm in the courtyard or a young Rudyard Kipling editing his manuscript out on the verandah.
Raffles isn’t just a hotel – it’s a living museum of colonial glamour and Asian poise. And now, it’s the city’s only Michelin “three keys” property.
Afternoons here unfold with old-world elegance. The high tea ritual, served beneath the soaring arches of the lobby, is an ode to refinement: delicate finger sandwiches, warm scones with clotted cream, patisserie so precise it borders on art.
The Long Bar at Raffles has been serving Singapore Sling for over 100 years.
And no visit is complete without a pilgrimage to the Long Bar, where the Singapore Sling was born in 1915. Legend has it that bartender Ngiam Tong Boon created the pink gin-based cocktail so that women could drink in public without raising eyebrows. A century later, the drink still flows – fruity, floral, a touch of rebellion in a crystal glass.
But it’s the meals beyond Raffles’ walls that remind you why this city is still the heavyweight champion of South-East Asia’s culinary stage. I made my way first to Les Amis, the beating heart of French fine dining in Singapore.
Here, chef Sebastien Lepinoy presides over one of only two three Michelin star restaurants in the country, a temple to precision and pleasure. Lepinoy, a protege of the late Joel Robuchon, brought with him a relentless pursuit of perfection when he took over in 2013, even demanding a complete gut-job of the kitchen prior to opening.
The meal began with the dish that’s become a rite of passage for diners here: cold angel hair pasta crowned with kombu, black truffle and caviar. Deceptively simple, just a few strands of perfectly cooked pasta, chilled and dressed with a whisper of umami, yet it delivers a rush of depth and elegance that borders on orchestral.
Then came the line-caught turbot, delicate and just barely kissed by heat, served with a silken champagne beurre blanc that tasted like it had been reduced for centuries. Each plate was a quiet reminder of what French cooking looks like at its most confident, rooted in classical technique yet unafraid to flirt with modernity.
Shoukouwa, which has two Michelin stars, serves Edomae sushi.
A short drive away, Shoukouwa, tucked discreetly in One Fullerton, is a two Michelin star shrine to Edomae sushi. Chef Kazumine Nishida orchestrates an omakase experience so pure and focused it borders on meditative.
Fish flown in four times a week from Toyosu Market is sliced and pressed with reverence, each piece a haiku of temperature, texture, and balance.
There’s no smoke, no mirrors – just rice, fish, and time. You eat slowly, silently, as the world outside blurs away.
Singapore’s fine dining story isn’t just about white tablecloths and hushed reverence. It’s also about fire and soul. That’s what you’ll find at Butcher’s Block, the wood-and-steel carnivore’s lair at Raffles.
Hawaii-born chef Jordan Keao runs the show here, preaching the gospel of whole-animal butchery and primal cooking. Cuts are grilled over open flame until charred and smokey on the outside, tender and juicy within.
Butcher’s Block uses vegetables from Cameron Highlands.
There’s a raw honesty to the food – bone marrow that melts like butter, steaks kissed by flame, vegetables blistered into sweetness. It’s elemental cooking, stripped of pretence but rich with intention.
And then there’s Summer Pavilion, a one Michelin star Cantonese institution that hums with quiet authority. The room is elegant yet understated, the service gracious, the flavours balanced on that knife-edge between tradition and innovation. Double-boiled soups, delicate dim sum, whole fish steamed with ginger and soy – dishes that speak softly but carry centuries of refinement in their bones.
Everywhere I ate, I was reminded of the same truth, that Singapore hasn’t lost its edge. The dining scene here isn’t retreating, it’s evolving.
The headlines about closures may be true in part. The city is expensive, competition is brutal, and the game keeps changing. But the restaurants that remain aren’t clinging on, they’re thriving. They’re pushing harder and aiming higher.
The guards at Raffles Hotel Singapore have become an icon for the hotel.
Back at the hotel, I ended my trip the way I started it: with a Singapore Sling in hand and the city’s pulse beating just beyond the verandah. The ceiling fans whirred lazily overhead, a jazz trio played softly in the background, and for a brief, perfect moment, it felt like time had folded in on itself.
The city outside may be changing but at these tables, the soul of Singapore’s dining scene remains gloriously, defiantly intact.
In a world obsessed with what’s next, this city still remembers how to savour the now. And that’s why Singapore continues to lead, one perfect plate, exquisite glass and unforgettable meal at a time.
The words expressed here are entirely the writer’s own.
Abbi Kanthasamy blends his expertise as an entrepreneur with his passion for photography and travel.
