Labyrinth | Seriously Singaporean

Singapore is one of the great eating cities, and nobody says it enough. As an island with sixty-three islets, it is about 339 times smaller than the UK. In fact, London is more than twice as big as Singapore, and yet it manages to strike a balance between filthy decadent dining and affordable, on-the-go snacking. It has this fantastic natural cuisine formed over years and waves of immigration, an exciting mix of Indian, Malay, Arab and even English (shocking but true), that has produced a surprisingly successful cultural melange. And, unlike other major Southeast Asian cities – say Bangkok or Jakarta – it is clean, neat, tidy, safe and efficient. My goodness, it’s efficient: restaurant bookings, taxis, public transport, a coffee order, all are made simple. And the people smile, too.

Stays and meals so far have involved switching between comfort levels while clinging to the chance that I may be leaving that night – or even tonight

I was here initially for only a few days, but those days have become weeks. At the time of writing, I am living in Bangkok, about 900 miles away. A Singapore sojourn was necessary to top-up my visa paperwork and to attend an appointment with the embassy. However, I now find myself at a dramatic standpoint, unsure as to how long I will be here, and making days, meals and accommodation a challenge. Stays and meals so far have involved switching between comfort levels while clinging to the chance that I may be leaving that night – or even tonight.

Rooted indefinitely, I have decided to assign myself personal culinary missions, noticing how the city is a homogeneous, integrated, international place of choice rather than birth. People are drawn to countries for varying reasons, yet Singapore appears to understand its functions and what tempts the foreign worker. It’s food and finance that control this island; hospitality and cash playing a pivotal role in changing a swampy shipping port known for piracy and sailor debauchery into a modern skyscraper-laden metropolis with fingers in many aspects of international wealth. This must be one of the most successful mongrel casseroles anywhere with every national that comes to compete in banking, food or tourism, finding a welcoming committee and a population ready to eat. I am just another hungry mouth.

Opposite the Chinatown Complex, I had breakfast yesterday with Han Liguang, the chef of Labyrinth restaurant. Together we slurped bowls of steaming bak kut teh, falling in love with the peppery-pork-rib broth. Along with laksa and Hainanese chicken rice, it is one of the most popular dishes in Singapore, originally brought over by the early southern Chinese immigrants. Should I still find myself here next week, we have agreed to meet again for a bak kut teh breakfast. Last night, however, I sampled the finer side of the city’s fine dining output. On the invitation of Han, I ate one of the most accomplished and personal meals of my time in Singapore at Labyrinth, a swanky, low-lit fine dining restaurant in a corner of the Esplanade Mall in Marina Bay. While plenty of Singapore’s tasty offerings are easily accessible at street level or within multi-level hawkers, Labyrinth is not an easy find at all. Tucked away in a shopping mall, it is an odd setting indeed. It is also very dark, like dining at night in a blackout hangar or inside of the Batcave.

Born in Singapore to a Thai-Chinese mother and Singaporean father, Han slipped effortlessly into the Singaporean platitudinous capital career with Goldman Sachs. After earning his degree in accounting and finance from the London School of Economics, he joined the international investment bank before binning the pinstripe for a grubby chef’s jacket in Paris, where he staged and trained in competitive Michelin kitchens. Returning home, he examined home, seeing things anew. Opening Labyrinth in 2014, the sourcing and cooking of local ingredients became deeply personal for Han, and he set about producing a menu rooted in his nostalgia and his experience of Singapore.

To introduce guests to his Singapore, Han accompanies courses with a colourful postcard detailing the genesis behind each creation, many of which are influenced by a family member – Grandma’s Fisherman Stew and Uncle William’s Quail. However, it is Crab Ice Cream that is a blowout, neither one thing nor the other and yet, everything in one chilled, compelling mouthful. A local, wild-caught crab and chilli ice cream is made with egg whites and wait for it, salted mackerel. Eh, in ice cream? Nothing in that description is what one might expect when one thinks of ice cream. It isn’t a Ben & Jerry’s classic; fish and chilli have no place in ice cream, and yet, it is a revelation, a pairing of bravery and innovation – cold, startling, the modest hint of salt but never overpowering with the creeping warmth of bird’s eye chilli. Utterly brilliant.

So many of the conceptualised, over-decorated restaurants in Singapore set out to chase the imaginary market, the banker boys and greedy tourists, and make no concession to the people who live and work around them. Chef Han has a drilled-in focus on the people of Singapore, both diners and suppliers, as well as those foreigners visiting who wish to taste Singapore. He does it all in a fine dining setting, so bankers and international foodie tourists do indeed find their way to his tables, but what they are being treated to is not imported ingredients of a series of courses with added supplement costs. This isn’t a restaurant for brash conversations over waiter introductions or the clinking of champagne classes. You read, you listen, you eat. Being from Singapore, Han wishes to show and promote his Singapore – respect that. Therefore, what else could he call this menu but “Homage to My Singapore”?

Other courses such as “Nasi Lemak” Cheong Fun, Braised Baby Abalone and Ah Hua Kelong Lala Clams are the chef’s favourite street food, recipes re-imagined and elevated to suit the setting, and there are canapés that demonstrate an appreciation, rather than plagiarism, for the Nordics. For example, a typical criss-cross fluffy waffle comes with a luscious duck liver pâté and goji berry jam, and there is silver perch (native to Australia and also known as black bream) from Nippon Koi Farm with a pepper broth (bak kut teh like) and dabs of jarring black garlic.

There is a bowl of “Ang Moh” chicken rice with abalone and mushroom, the chicken braised and crowned beautifully with a spicy dollop of ‘Grandma’s Chilli Sauce’. Then a course of Rojak is adorned and electrified by edible garden herbs and a honey described as produced by “stingless bees”, although I couldn’t tell you why or what this means and adds to the recipe. The only fun thing about being a bee is having the ability to sting people. Crisped whitebait is served with “Lost Grain” fried rice, dried scallop and dashi before pre-desserts: a bean-to-bar dark chocolate from Fossa Chocolate, who were among the first in Singapore to introduce the concept of single-origin chocolates, is paired with an eight-year Shaoxing wine; then a palate cleanser called “Clam Leaf” with rosella (from the Hibiscus family plant, not the Australian bird) meringue and thinly-sliced discoids of sweet green grape; followed by soybean curd and Cristal de chine Caviar with kaya ice cream, sandwiched between toasted Sing Hong Loong bread.

Everything here is island sourced, so there’s bread from Sing Hon Loong Bakery (deliciously toasted and served with ice cream, soybean and caviar – umph) and poultry and eggs from Toh Thye San Farm, founded only months ago. Uncle William supplies the quails and other fowl is sourced from Hay’s Dairy. There is the Kuhlbarra Fish Farm, sauces from Kwong Who Hing factory, Fossa Chocolate, pork from a local butcher and various fruits and veg from the Chinatown Market down the street. All of this means that Han must lean on his supplier connections to create and evolve his menus from what is a seemingly boundless repertoire. This particular one costs 178 Singapore Dollars, with an additional eighty for the wine pairing, so about £100.00 and £45.00 for both. For cooking of this quality, and in Singapore, that really is astonishing value.

Few cities have left me as filled and fulfilled as Singapore. I found here a strange global gathering of people and cuisines, stretched across districts on what is, having walked much of it, a relatively small island. There is deliciousness and serious, proper, belly-out gorging to be had at every level and price-point; some rooted heavily in tradition – vendors, hawkers and street-food peddlers – others in the vanguard of global gastronomy – with five new one-star establishments and thirty-nine overall starred-restaurants and seven restaurants on Asia’s 50 Best Restaurants list.

I will not be as bombastic as to say Singapore is the greatest eating city in the world, but so far, I have seen a masterclass in mass feeding across economic divides and in the metaphysics of how, what and why we eat, as well as where our food comes from and who is making it. I have dined alongside taxi drivers, road sweepers and the monied elite; learning much from both. For instance, a hungry Singaporean from any class will wait in line for hokkien mee. I arrived here by choice, then found myself rooted and homeless without a roof over my head, learning to love a place that is so often promoted and discussed as one thing but is, in fact, many places. Singapore’s strange yin-yang polarity has caught me in its grasp, and I am so, so hungry for it still. C

Labyrinth, Esplanade Mall, #02-23, Marina Bay Promenade, 8 Raffles Avenue, 039802, Singapore
restaurantlabyrinth.com