Mod-Asian restaurant Imbue dazzles with execution but lacks direction

NEW RESTAURANT Imbue 32 Keong Saik Road Singapore 089137 Tel: 6223 7266 Open for dinner Tues to Sat: 5:30pm to 11 pm. Lunch from Fri to Sun: 12pm to 2:30pm

YOU shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, so you shouldn’t judge a restaurant by its name. Unless it’s a name like Imbue. And if you just went, “huh?”, our sentiments exactly.

Yes. Restaurant Imbue is a beautifully vague name that gives the impression it’s saying something without really saying anything. And because it doesn’t actually say what it is, you can’t fault it for not being what you think it should be, because that might not even have been its intention in the first place. If you think this sounds maddening, try eating here.

It will make a little more sense when you pick out the key elements of this conundrum. Singaporean chef. Western training. Asian heritage. Singaporean culinary identity. Painful self-consciousness that leads to overcompensation. Also known as ‘contemporary European with Asian influences’. If there’s one thing that Imbue is imbued with, it’s indecision.

It’s not for lack of technique, finesse or even pretty surroundings. The restaurant itself is a classy set up. It’s all the more impressive considering how they turned the original Kok Sen zi char coffee shop into this paragon of fine-dining interior design. 

At the helm is Lee Boon Seng, a chef who clearly needed to break out of The Spot – where the casual-ish joint in Marina One merely cramped his style and ambitions. He has the playground he deserves now, but all that pent-up creativity seems to have exploded into an unfiltered stream of consciousness. And for us, that means eating tiny little tarts filled with more concepts than you can chew.

The full experience costs S$198 for an eight-course journey into Lee’s imagination. Sit at the counter if you want to see how everything is put together. The first thing to grab your attention is the young chef and his big man hands painstakingly assembling the trio of teeny appetisers that will disappear in one gulp.

In an oyster shell that usually houses just one mollusc, you will slurp oyster mousse brushed with sesame oil and algae powder, citrus soy, chopped jellyfish, confit fennel. You will remember just the creamy oyster and a tickle of pickled jellyfish. 

The chef does things to drunken chicken that might be considered exploitative to other intoxicated fowl. It’s pressed into a crispy shell, surrounded with chilli bean paste emulsion, layered with Chinese wine jelly and topped with a black sesame chip. Somehow, the relationship between the elements doesn’t feel consensual. Neither does crabmeat and century egg, even if you add caviar and flowers to it.

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There are fits and starts and courses that you can almost like if not totally embrace. Like a heavier than chawanmushi egg custard with tender Jeju abalone. But a dodgy Peking duck-inspired flabby corn pancake to be wrapped around dry aged mackerel and tangerine sauce in lieu of hoisin? Maybe not.

But once the malty, sticky, earthy and almost medicinal ‘malai’ bread is served, you’re finally on solid ground. It’s pull-apart pillowy and fragrant, and excellent with the honeycomb-shaped butter filled with pockets of ginseng honey. Still, we don’t see the resemblance to the traditional steamed sponge cake ‘malai ko’ that it’s named after. Unless the latter was put up for adoption when it was still a young pre-mix. 

Then there’s seared rump cap dry aged for 21 days wrapped in fat and black beans that give it a coffee-ish note and intense meatiness, paired with matching morel mushroom stuffed with nutty macadamia tofu. This is one case where Lee’s mental juggling falls into the right place.

Same too with the claypot rice, with an intriguing squid sausage that plays the role of preserved liver sausage. The filling is fish mousse studded with squid bits and salted fish – can’t say we like the texture but once it’s mixed into the smoky rice and crunchy puffed rice, we’re convinced.

The meal does end on a sweet note, literally, with a refreshing strawberry sorbet on peach gum served with rice wine that you sip then mix; and a ball of pavlova-inspired sesame sponge cake and lemon curd covered with cream and studded with crisp black and white meringue tiles.

Just in case the sugar rush isn’t high enough, there are little petit fours for the final flourish.

If the cooking was less convoluted, with less pressure on Lee’s team and hence on our palates, Imbue could be something that could really grow on you. Lee is intense yet well-meaning and humble, the staff are personable and genuine and the space is comfortable and posh enough without being stuffy. Interestingly, Imbue has an a la carte menu and what we glimpsed of it seemed a lot more down to earth yet stylised at the same time. If the restaurant imbues itself with a stronger storyline instead of trying to dazzle with execution, its natural identity will emerge. 

Rating: 6.5