PUBLISHED March 15th, 2015 04:00 am | UPDATED June 12th, 2020 03:07 pm
30 minutes was all it took for Sorrel to be borne.
24-year-old Executive Chef Johnston Teo, fresh off short-lived stints at Jaan, Pollen and Tippling Club, had impressed restaurateur Loh Lik Peng so much with his pitch for a concept focused on contemporary bistronomy that the Unlisted Collection’s head honcho immediately agreed to funding the project. The new entrant on Boon Tat Street may look nondescript with its 90-degree leather banquettes, table tops of harsh wood and servers togged in all-blacks, but a motley crew of teenage-looking cooks busy themselves in the open kitchen, harbouring an ambition that manifests itself on the plate.
Granny Smith Espuma with Lime and Apple Soda
One evening, we would have thought that our 5-course dinner ($88) at Sorrel would have gotten off to a real start, after two preludes of potato crisps and yam croquettes were duly stomached in two bites (one testing the limits of saltiness and the other bordering on sublime). Not quite, as a fancy porcelain conception, the shape of a Pokémon electro-ball, arrived at the table. It’s an amuse bouche of granny smith espuma that you empty in your mouth, after which you let a stream of lime and apple soda wash it down. The dissolution of the espuma on the tongue made for an interesting textural journey, from icy sorbet to fluffy marshmallow to fizzy gas.
Pumpkin Soup with Coconut and Smoked Eel
When the first course finally appeared, you still wonder if you are still in pre-dinner zone – in fact, it’s a feeling you will have throughout the night, with Sorrel’s Lilliputian portions. The first course was a pumpkin soup – airy and slightly sweet, harnessing the nuttiness of pumpkin seeds, the crunch of cubed pumpkin, and the richness of a touch of pumpkin oil. Surprises of French smoked eel and soft coconut gel make every scoop of whatever little soup you have mini-revelations in their own right. One small, pillowy bun with whipped butter is all you have to mop up the liquid goodness, so savour it.
The next course was a degustation of kohlrabi. Meant to be an exposition of radish – with pickled watermelon radish, green daikon, roasted kohlrabi, raw kohlrabi – the dish had blandness written all over, save for the roasted kohlrabi whose intense sweetness rose above the rest.
Salvation came in the form of a brilliant seafood tagliatelle, laced with mushroom bits and drizzled with a light dill emulsion. Never would you expect mussels to attain that level of lusciousness, that sweet spot just above undercooked; juicy and moist. Shame then on the langoustine for losing all bite to the sous vide machine. Just when you thought Chef Teo is a generally light-handed chef from his treatment of seafood, he whips out an indulgent duo of braised wagyu short rib and sweetbread. The short rib is smoky, fatty and on the light side of pink, while the sweetbread gains a somewhat nutty virtue from its crumb coating. Creamed corn, seaweed polenta and a bone marrow sauce further up the decadent quotient.
After a refreshing pre-dessert of cucumber jelly showered with buttermilk snow (intrigued already?), a savoury-meets-sweet dessert comes as quite an emblem of Sorrel – surprising (a delightfully pleasant parsnip ice-cream) amid the familiar (crumbly hazelnut cake) and experimental (caramel salted with black olive) without deviating from basics (fudgy white chocolate ganache).
To be fair, what Sorrel lacks in quantity, it makes up for quality. It teases you just enough, and just when you’ve reached the height of satisfaction at every course, it sneakily pulls away. While Sorrel is living proof that it doesn’t take foreign chefs to be holding the fort of modern cooking in Singapore, it also isn’t perfection in a box. At times, its dishes can feel complex more than sophisticated. Some chefs take years to get there – here’s hoping Sorrel is more than just a too-good-to-be-true 30-minute pitch.
Sorrel serves a 3-course ($45) and 5-course ($88) lunch, while dinner is a 5-course ($88) or 7-course ($118) menu.