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Really photogenic lychee martini sorbet wrapped in elderflower gelatine and blue pea flower with lychee martini burst.
Chilli crab served in a croqueta and plated like a crab using special brewed soy sauce
A Western twist to a prawny Singaporean classic, laksa pesto spaghetti.
Chef Willin Low’s take on bak chor mee. Instead of minced meat and mee pok/ kia, it’s negitoro and glass noodle seasoned with lard. Finally tried this place and was sad that it was closing down. This is the first course of the 9 course tasting menu ($128++) that I had.
I don’t like my food deconstructed but this Cendol was really good. The coconut ice cream had a very mousse like texture and I really loved how well it went with the Pandan Panna Cotta & Gula Melaka. Goosebumps and proud of how far this mod-sin institution has come.
If you haven’t yet gone for a meal at Chef Willin’s restaurant, let me be Houston and remind you that could be a problem. Because trust me, you won’t want to miss his Mod Sin creations for the world.
I landed there for lunch a couple of days ago and opted for the 5-course menu ($52++). It was a shorter orbit than the Omakase but no less wondrous.
After warming up with cheese focaccia dipped in olive oil, Chef’s take on the popular North Indian dish of Palak Paneer was set before me, in a never-before-seen configuration of salad. The classic cubes of cheese had been body-snatched by grilled halloumi which I fortunately love.
A “giam chye ar” (salted vegetable duck) soup was beamed down next. Two days was how long it took to produce that rich liquid (not sure what that is in light years) but the wittiest bit was hidden in the ravioli. Instead of meat, it was the duck liver (foie gras) that invaded those pasta parcels.
At warp speed was how the third course of Buah Keluak Sambal Beef Spagettini got sucked into the black hole that is my mouth. With the al dente strands coated in the nut’s earthy gunkiness, resisting its magnetic pull was futile.
The last savoury dish was the meat I had chosen. A shimmering disc blanketed it. This was no mirage but meltingly soft, jellified black vinegar stock. Its tartness cutting through the Iberico pork like a light sabre.
My gastronomic exploration ended with a big bang of a Chendol. As though in a parallel universe, it was familiar yet surreally different. But absolute shiokness still reigned.
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