'Epicure' lunch tasting menu at Jaan, Singapore

This afternoon, I finally found time to visit one restaurant that has been on my Singapore bucket list for the longest time. Jaan, a fine-dining establishment on the 70th floor of one of this country's top hotels, is popularly seen as a close competitor to Restaurant André. Hardly surprising, since Jaan had actually been started by André Chiang in 2008 (it was then called Jaan par André). Under André's leadership, Jaan made a meteoric rise to the World's Top 50 list, before André moved out of the hotel in 2010 to set up shop independently. The current head chef is Frenchman Julien Royer, who took over the reins in 2011, having previously worked with the legendary Michel Bras at 3-starred Le Suquet in Laguiole, and at 2-starred The Greenhouse in London. Jaan is currently in 11th place on Asia's Top 50 list.

For today's lunch I had specifically requested a window seat, boasting impressive views of the city's skyline. It has been some time since I came up this building! The name 'Jaan' derives from the Sanskrit word for 'bowl', and this small restaurant of 40 seats has a particularly eye-catching chandelier across the ceiling, made of Murano glass and silver in a contemporary style.

As with all fine-dining establishments, lunch here appears to be a much better deal than dinner. A quick 'budget' 3-course set lunch, with two options for each course, starts at $78++. However, in order to experience as many of chef Royer's signature dishes as possible, I chose the most extended 'Epicure' lunch tasting menu at $168++ for 7 courses, very good value considering that the same tasting menu at dinner (under the title 'Prestige') goes for $238++. There is an even longer 'Epicure' dinner as well, at $298++ for 10 courses, if you're feeling really flush.

The initial reception, from the lady on the ground floor who checked my reservation and showed me to the lift, to the front-of-house staff at Jaan who was waiting for me outside the lift, addressed me by name, and led me to the restaurant, to the service staff who showed me to my table, was extremely slick. Manager Frank Philippe also came over to exchange a few pleasantries just before the meal began. The atmosphere felt rather more formal than at Restaurant André, but nevertheless I recognise that certain restaurants do take some time getting warmed up to, especially for first-timers and single diners.

The meal began with a flurry of canapés served in quick succession, to drum up anticipation for the feast ahead.

'Snacking': saba tartare with horseradish snow and olive oil

I was pleasantly surprised to note local influences in the presentation of this delicate morsel, using a mini kueh pie tee shell. In place of the usual sweet and spicy fillings of dried shrimp and shredded turnip and carrot in the crispy shell, there was fresh and succulent saba tartare with a full-bodied oily taste, effectively balanced by the airy texture and clean spiciness of the horseradish snow, and given a slightly bitter and fruity touch by the blobs of olive oil caviar and chilli cress garnish. When taken all together in a single mouthful, the harmonious integration of textures and flavours was simply delightful; one couldn't have asked for a better kick-start to the palate.

(On the raised stone slab) pig trotter samosa with grain mustard and red onion; black sesame sponge with smoked eel, shallot and dill; walnut crackers with Cantal shavings

(On the wooden 'logs') lentil hummus and multigrain rye tuiles

Moments after I'd finished, an impressive array appeared in two parts. On a heavy stone slab were three more bite-sized delicacies, which were all very tasty and much heavier in flavour than the previous morsel. They also displayed the effective integration of various culinary cultures with Royer's French sensibilities. The Indian-inspired samosa had a thin and crisp pastry cover, filled to capacity with finely diced bits of pig trotter that were extremely succulent and creamy, due to high levels of collagen in this part of the pig (really good for your skin!). The full-bodied taste of trotter was aptly balanced by a spicy hint of mustard, and enhanced with a touch of curry powder and an aromatic sliver of red onion. The next was probably the most unusual combination; a soft and fluffy Japanese-inspired black sesame sponge acting as the base for firm and juicy cubes of smoked eel, with garnishes of shallot and dill. The nutty and aromatic sponge turned out to complement the deeply savoury eel really well (much like good ham and rocket together), with the garnishes further highlighting its smokiness. The last bit was probably the most traditionally French; the biscuit's characteristically deep nuttiness with a mild bitter tinge was a lovely foil for the abundant amount of cheese on top, with its buttery sweetness and earthy tones. The choice of Cantal must have been intentional, for it is the representative cheese of the Auvergne region of central France, in which Royer had spent a large part of his culinary apprenticeship.

Next, on two log-shaped wooden receptacles were a bottle of hummus, made with lentils from Saint-Flour in Auvergne and chestnut paste, and pieces of multigrain tuiles inserted in the wood to resemble fungi growing out of tree trunks. This was indeed quite a creative depiction of forest scenes in Auvergne, which must be really close to Royer's heart. The dark green hummus was really smooth and creamy, and whole lentils on top made for a lovely bite in each mouthful. The unusual addition of chestnut paste imparted a lovely deep earthy sweetness to the mixture, while the olive oil topping balanced its flavour with a delicate bitterness and fresh tangy edge, and enriched its texture even further. A touch of lemon juice and salt to taste completed this scrumptious and healthful dip. The paper-thin tuiles had a crisp and fragile texture that made for a lovely contrast with the thick and velvety hummus, whilst possessing a full-bodied nuttiness that complemented the rich taste of the hummus very well indeed.

Mushroom consommé with cep sabayon

I was filling up nicely, especially with that luxurious bottle of hummus, but we were not done with canapés yet! Just as I was scooping up the last bits of hummus, a small glass half-filled with mushroom consommé, deep-fried ceps and other herbs was served. A thick and creamy cep sabayon was then poured in by the server to fill up the glass - shame I didn't get a picture of the original presentation in time! This packed a real punch from the moment it arrived at my table - I can still smell those deep earthy aromas! The clear dark consommé was very well contrasted in texture and colour by its rich sabayon topping. Both were absolutely concentrated in flavour, and the bits of deep-fried ceps within provided a lovely fleshy crunch in addition to a subtle caramelised edge. This really was as potent as one gets with mushrooms, but I certainly wasn't complaining! I wondered what the main body of the meal would be like if the canapés were already at such a high level.

Finally bread and butter were served, signifying the start of the meal proper. There was only one type of bread (sourdough) which was very good - still warm at the table, aromatic, crisp on the outside and firm on the inside, just as it should be. What really won me over though was that cone of butter - I was informed by my server that it had been produced by none other than Bordier! Bordier's butters are rather difficult to procure even in France, and they are certainly not available in shops here - only at a few very privileged restaurants I presume. (In fact, this was the first time I was having it in Singapore.) This pure unsalted butter, made from the highest-quality milk sourced from Brittany and Normandy, was incredibly silky and creamy, with the subtle sweetness of fresh milk and a warm balanced taste on the whole. Spreading it on warm bread unleashed all its luscious aromas and made for one of the simplest and most pleasurable gourmet experiences imaginable. You wouldn't know how good butter can be until you've tried a Bordier.

(with sea salt on the side to taste, according to individual preferences)

(In the shell-like bowl) Hokkaido sea urchin, Oscietra caviar, cauliflower espuma and cubes, Obsiblue prawn jelly, touches of olive oil and gold leaf

(On the stone slab) Pain Poilâne with seaweed butter and chives

The first course arrived in two parts. The main component, a cold dish in a white shell-shaped bowl on ice, was the epitome of luxury - the combination of some of the most highly-regarded seafoods within gastronomic circles. There was a most sophisticated umami and elegant balance throughout this dish. The large, sweet and creamy lump of Hokkaido sea urchin (hidden by the generous amount of caviar) was perfectly complemented by the surrounding light cauliflower foam, and cauliflower cubes with a sweet juicy bite. This delicate overall sweetness was aptly enhanced by fresh and fruity drops of olive oil, and effectively balanced by the briny caviar topping. At the base of the bowl was a thin layer of jellied Obsiblue prawn consommé. One could not have guessed how much flavour this pale pink and seemingly bland jelly contained; it had a most astonishing sweetness with a delicate hint of brine, no doubt due to the superlative quality of the Obsiblue prawn. The only reservation I had about this dish was not having any real prawns within the jelly - shame that I could not experience its actual texture.

The Obsiblue prawn is an exceedingly rare blue species cultivated in New Caledonia, and becoming increasingly popular in recent years amongst top European chefs. The Obsiblue prawn is expensive to rear due to its much longer life cycle (9 months, compared to the usual shrimp's 3 months) and New Caledonia's cool waters, which make farming possible for only 7 to 8 months a year (as compared to tropical climates with perennial production). The trouble is all worth it though, as this prawn has been recognised for its superior flavour and texture. In fact, it is the only non-indigenous shrimp to be deemed fit for sashimi in Japan, no mean feat considering the extreme fussiness and conservative mindsets of top sushi chefs there.

The second part of this course was a single strip of Poilâne bread with seaweed butter and chives. This sourdough bread produced by the Poilâne family since the 1930s (with actual bakeries in Paris) is renowned for its thick, rough and crispy crust, with a dense but sufficiently airy interior, and a tangy flavour with hints of nuts and spices. This strip before me certainly didn't disappoint, and I was particularly enamoured by its complex lingering aftertaste. All that was needed to enhance this excellent bread were sparing amounts of seaweed butter and chives, for even deeper flavours and aromas. Not surprisingly, I really liked the butter for its lush creaminess and unusual umami.

'Beetroot collection' with artisanal burrata, horseradish cream, olive oil and honeycomb

The second course was particularly impressive for its creative techniques, showcasing one main ingredient in all possible ways. Aptly called 'beetroot collection', there were three varieties of the vegetable (in red, yellow and white) going through a variety of processes, including pickling (white disc), smoking (white slice), dehydration (red crumbs beneath the sorbet), and using the common red beetroot in meringues, a purée and a sorbet. In all these instances the beetroot's deep earthy sweetness came across in full force, with mild pickling and smoking contributing even more complex flavours. I also enjoyed the various textures of beetroot in this dish, from crisp delicate meringues to juicy raw slices and the refreshing smooth sorbet. Two dollops of soft and creamy burrata with a rich buttery and milky taste provided an essential warmth and body to this otherwise light and clean-tasting dish, while touches of horseradish cream and olive oil freshened the palate with a fruity and spicy kick. A further dash of liquid honeycomb, with its sticky and chewy texture, was also very enjoyable. On the whole, this was a most vibrant and appealing salad.

55' rosemary smoked organic egg with Ratte potato espuma and balls, chorizo iberico, chickpeas, crispy buckwheat and chives

This course arrived in a very dramatic manner indeed - a single egg with a large bunch of rosemary in a cardboard egg box placed on a wooden pedestal, from which a dense dry-ice smoke infused with the lovely aromas of rosemary emanated. In another glass bowl were arranged the components that would make up the main body of this course - potato, chorizo, chickpeas and buckwheat. My server then proceeded to lift the egg out of its box carefully and pour its lightly cooked and runny contents into the bowl. There was nothing to fault about this dish; the star of the show, the egg which had been smoked with rosemary at a low and tightly-controlled temperature for a good 55 minutes had completely absorbed the herb's sweet aromas, and maintained an absolutely soft white barely encasing a fragile and creamy yolk. The yolk's vivid orange colour was proof of its quality and organic origins, compared to most other yolks which are yellow. Mixing this runny egg with the rest of the bowl's contents made for a truly luxurious experience. The potato espuma was very smooth and rich, and I also loved the finely diced chorizo, which had a firm and moist texture, and an intense flavour with a nutty edge that is typical of cured meats made from top Iberico pigs (presumably due to their diet of acorns). The chorizo's nutty edge matched perfectly with the popped crispy buckwheat grains that were scattered throughout the bowl - I thought that the latter was an particularly ingenious touch within this glorified version of bacon and eggs. Both the buckwheat and the chickpeas provided a lovely crunch in each mouthful. This dish, while both familiar and comforting, contained various sophisticated twists that elevated it effectively to a level fit for gourmands, beyond all that initial pomp.

Crispy skin amadai, with Berkshire kurobuta belly, grilled romanesco broccoli, cauliflower, parsley purée, miso caramel, and garnishes of radicchio, cress and shiso buds

This Japanese-inspired dish showcased the wonderful qualities of amadai, a premium fish and a kaiseki chef's favourite, particularly in Kyoto where it is also called 'guji' (see this recent review of Nakamura, which prepares guji the traditional way by grilling it with sake, and leaving the scales and bones on). Here at Jaan, the fish had been grilled to tender perfection, with a very smooth flesh that was flaky and slightly oily, similar to cod, but much sweeter and with a more elegant and balanced taste. The amadai's beautiful orange-red skin was remarkably crisp, as were its large paper-thin scales that had been carefully scraped out and deep-fried separately before being placed back on the fish. But that was not all; the lovely chunk of Berkshire kurobuta belly on which the fish sat had been grilled and glazed with a lovely miso caramel sauce that complemented the sweetness of both the fish and the meat perfectly while contributing a deep overall umami. The pork belly was utterly succulent and melt-in-the-mouth, with a rich flavour but still a good fat-to-lean ratio, so that it didn't feel the least overwhelming compared to the more delicate fish. It is somewhat unusual and challenging to combine fish and meat in the same dish, but the kitchen here achieved an effective and convincing result. The accompaniments provided a welcome freshness and healthy balance, consisting of parsley purée for its crisp and piquant aromas (due to the high levels of volatile oils in parsley) and detoxifying properties (parsley contains lots of antioxidants, vitamins and chlorophyll), broccoli and cauliflower for their delicate crunch and sweetness (plus I really liked the charred hint in the grilled broccoli), and the garnishings for their clean, spicy and minty finish. Of all the courses in today's lunch, I also felt that this dish had been the most beautifully plated, with a keen sense of line, colour and proportion, just as any great artwork would be.

Hay roasted Bresse pigeon breast, with a leg confit, pigeon jus, Landes foie gras, Hokkaido white corn, kale, Savoy cabbage, black trumpet mushrooms, a crispy tuile and touch of cumin

The final savoury course was first briefly presented to me in a mussel pot - a whole roasted pigeon with large cloves of roasted garlic, sitting in a bunch of hay. The beautiful golden brown roasted colour and the incredible aromas that emanated from the still-smoking hay really heightened my anticipation of this dish. The whole pot was then taken back into the kitchen, to be swiftly carved up and plated as shown. Truth be told, I was a little disappointed at how little meat there was on the plate (surely that's less than half the pigeon!) but nonetheless it was excellent while it lasted. The breast meat was very tender and moist, and its deep gamey flavour was well matched by the roasting juices as well as a small piece of creamy, velvety and musky pan-seared duck foie gras. The golden brown skin had a slightly crisp texture and a lovely charred edge. The leg confit was even more succulent in texture and richer in taste - I just wished there would be more of it! Complementing this indulgent meat dish were sweet and juicy grains of Hokkaido corn and soft poached leaves of kale (a superfood chock-full of antioxidants) and Savoy cabbage (a premium cabbage variety favoured by top chefs, known for being sweet and tender even when raw). Black trumpet mushrooms with their intense earthiness and a touch of cumin with its sweet and spicy aromas enhanced the full-bodied meat very effectively. Finally, a feather-light tuile with a delicate crispy bite provided a lovely contrast to the generally heavy textures and flavours of this dish. This was 15 minutes of unadulterated pleasure.

'Tropical': coconut foam, kaffir lime zest, mango & passion fruit sorbet, on a base of vanilla panna cotta

The transition into dessert was marked by an excellent mixture of tropical delights - at the base, a rich and velvety panna cotta bursting with the warm sweetness of real vanilla, balanced by a smooth and light sorbet combining the refreshing acidity and vivid aroma of passion fruit with the intense nectar of mango. At the top was a dense coconut foam with an elegant sweetness and balmy toasty aroma, punctuated by crisp astringent hints from the bits of lime zest scattered throughout. A lovely familiar way indeed to prepare the palate for the luxurious main dessert!

Choconuts 'Grand Cru': tastes and textures of chocolate, with hazelnuts

The French take their chocolate very seriously, and this dessert, made purely out of it, was the best proof of this adoration. The dessert consisted of several types of Valrhona dark and milk chocolates, processed in myriad forms and textures that complemented all their unique flavour profiles. Valrhona, a quintessentially French brand, was one of the first chocolatiers in the world to describe their chocolates like fine wine, hence the 'Grand Cru' title indicating the premium origins of their cocoa beans. Dark chocolate, which made up the majority of the dessert, came in the forms of a thick cream, a rich and smooth ice-cream with a dusting of crushed roasted hazelnuts, an airy and velvety mousse, a fluffy piece of sponge, a disc mixed with hazelnuts, and paper-thin leaves. Milk chocolate was featured both as very light and crisp meringue sticks, as well as a dense cream base for the plating of some of the other components. A couple of whole roasted hazelnuts coated in caramel completed this picture of chocolatey copiousness. I must have been in a slight food coma after this due to the sheer intensity and headiness of it all, but no regrets. A must for all chocolate lovers!

Cucumber sorbet, apple granité, marinated celery cubes and mint purée

Fortunately I didn't remain in that chocolate-induced stupor for too long. I was led back to reality by this sophisticated palate cleanser, which concluded the meal on a very clean and airy note. The cucumber sorbet struck me first by its consummate effervescence. It was a real breath of fresh air; I'd never had something quite so effortlessly weightless and transient. The apple granité on which it sat had an elegant crunch and sweetness. Nestled within the granité were remarkably tender and juicy celery cubes, with very little of their usual fibrous texture and bitterness. Mild pickling in syrup had added a lovely sweet edge to their warm anise-like flavour. At the base of it all was a small pool of mint purée; one can't go wrong finishing an excellent tasting menu with its cool spiciness. I felt balanced and whole again.

(On the 'log') rosemary smoked lollipop, canelé, passion fruit & banana marshmallow

(In the tray) mushroom macaron with chocolate ganache and bits of feuilletine, passion fruit caramel

I was really quite satiated by now but who can resist the final sweet bites that usually follow a gastronomic experience like this? These lovely mignardises arrived in two parts that once again reminded us of rustic country scenes in Auvergne; on the wooden 'log', I particularly loved the iced lollipop, which was made up of a small ball of rosemary chocolate ice-cream coated in a thin chocolate shell, put on a stick and placed in a small bottle with dry ice and actual stalks of rosemary. Similar to the smoked egg course, but on a much smaller scale, a thick smoke carrying the pleasant sweet aromas of rosemary was emitted from the bottle, making both visual and olfactory impacts. The canelé had a thick but absolutely crisp caramelised crust, concealing a soft and fluffy baked custard centre - what a lovely combination of textures! Most canelés I've tried had over-baked crusts that were too thick and hard, while their insides were too dense and sweet, but this hit all the right notes. The marshmallow was slightly spongy, with an effective balance in taste between the comfortable sweetness of banana and the vivid tartness and aroma of passion fruit.

In the small tray with twigs were placed two more morsels, one of them a passion fruit caramel that was not the least cloying; the rich, buttery and mildly salted taste of caramel had again been tempered by the astringency of passion fruit. Remarkably, there were also no traces of this soft and chewy bonbon stuck to the teeth (an all-too-familiar occurrence); everything just melted away smoothly in the palate. Finally, the most memorable confectionery of the day, a mushroom macaron with chocolate ganache, successfully matched the deep earthiness of mushrooms with the oaky intensity of dark chocolate. Bits of hazelnut feuilletine within the ganache provided further body and sweetness. As my teeth sank through successive layers of the macaron, the crisp shells, rich ganache and crispy feuilletine also made for a most striking textural effect. I should mention that it is extremely unusual to find macarons in which the sweet-savoury boundary is blurred (one notable exception being Pierre Hermé, who is famous for his oft-unorthodox combinations involving various herbs, spices and flowers etc.), so here I had a glimpse of the pastry chef's creativity and brilliance.

When I made the reservation I had asked to greet Royer at some point during the lunch, and I did remind the staff about this when I got there. However, my request was apparently forgotten and by the time I finished and asked again, he had already left the kitchen to attend a meeting within the hotel, so that was a slight disappointment. Notwithstanding this lapse, the service was otherwise entirely professional, if a little aloof at times. Ling, the young lady who served me most of the time today, was relatively affable and chatty, and I enjoyed listening to her thoughts about some of the dishes. She also informed me that Royer will be leaving Jaan soon, to launch his own restaurant at Singapore's upcoming National Gallery, scheduled to open in July. Given the quality of today's cuisine, I have no doubt that Royer's new restaurant will become one of the most popular openings of the year in the local fine-dining scene. I also await future developments at Jaan with bated breath, especially after Royer's current sous-chef takes over the reins.