Our raison d’être is the enjoyment and proper application of spirits, wine, and all sorts of other drinks.
Food is a canvas on which we can pour the booze. Our body of work, therefore, is pretty much a alcohol-fueled commentary on alcohol, for people who enjoy alcohol.
So, when we talk about food, it’s only because we find it so remarkable that it would be a crime not to talk about it.
Forward with the Foreword
Usually, we like to do a bit of a buildup. This is a fairly long review, however, so we’re going to start the review off with the spoilers upfront.
The food at Preludio is fantastic. The pairings with various wines are inspired. The experience is so good that if you don’t go, you’re quite close to mistreating yourself.
Okay, we suppose an explanation is necessary.
Prologue
It was some months ago that we first dined at Preludio, but it was not the only time.
Word had it that a new restaurant had opened in a new building in town, and good things were being said about it. A restaurant that called its food “Author’s Cuisine”, free from constraints of geographical labels, free to get creative. Colombian owner-chef Chef Fernando Arévalo divided Preludio’s menu into chapters. Like the old detective stories, new chapters would be unveiled ever 12 to 18 months to replace the existing offerings.
The very first one, entitled Monochrome, seemed rather brave. The concept was to strip away colour, and reduce food to its fundamental self – raw and pure.
The pictures on the website were quite mysterious, as well. It was definitely contemporary in style, with what looked like lots of fresh ingredients, use of modern techniques, and a Kondo-eque minimalism. Also, precious little about what exactly was on the menu.
Which left us wondering what exactly the restaurant would be serving for dinner.
Chapter One: Stepping into the Story
When the opportunity came a few months back, we were all to pursue the mystery of Monochrome.
The restaurant’s decor was what you could call, modern. Simple and clean, monochrome even. There were adornments, but they seemed to be art put to gainful employment than mere ornamentation.
The service was quite impeccable, warm even, and it wasn’t too long till we found the amuse-bouche on our table, which we present to you in all its glory.
It was just a tiny bite of fresh fish with lime jelly, but it was a bundle of fun. A crunchy gelatinous membrane and soft, creamy flesh cradling tiny balls of flavour.
Biting into one sent a nice jolt of tartness to go with the fish. Nobody truly got worked up over the amuse-bouche; it’s meant to be the warm-up gig at the concert. But it sure got us excited for the main course(s).
We were smacking our lips when a curious dish in a shallow bowl was set on our table. The monochromatic theme was clearly in full force; we would probably forgive ourselves for mistaking what lay before us for art. A dollop of what looked like white cream took centerstage, with black-green pearls of caviar tucked neatly to the side.
We were told that the dish was called Elude, a assemblage of beetroot, burrata, walnut crumble, dil-marinated cucumber, yogurt foam and caviar from Sturia, Bordeaux.
Now this was an interesting dish, not least because we were under the impression that beetroot was, as the idiom suggests, red as a beet. We were informed that French white beetroot did, in fact, exist, and it was the sweetest of the varieties.
Well, we’re never too old to learn something new.
Aside from the educational aspects of the dish, it was quite the treat. Beneath the folds of creamy foam, there was a medley of sweet vegetable, nutty, savoury, creamy and lightly tart flavours. A passing resemblance to a root vegetable soup was there; yet there was also a certain elegance and lightness that a thick, creamy soup would struggle to achieve.
With sommelier Chip Steel, on hand, the pairing was also quite on point. He served a rather unusual rosé, Bone Jolly. Unusual in that it was 100% Gamay, from El Dorado County, California! Not quite your usual fare of Cabs and Zins, for sure. This one was fairly dry, with a good acidity and crispness. Redolent with flavours of raspberry, pink grapefruit and pomelo rind, it was a nice lift from the sweet, vegetable-rich Elude.
As if reading our mind, what followed was a French Beaujolais, the traditional realm for the Gamay grape. A 2016 Terres Dorées L’Ancien Beaujolais was served, providing the black to the Bone Jolly’s white; a heavier, darker red fruit flavour in every sip, yet recognisably a cousin to the rosé .
The next course arrived in timely fashion, and its appearance was no less shocking from the last. Our next dish, Peek A Boo did a superb job of looking like a fusion of cloud and rock formation.
What it actually was was smoked eel, lampascioni bulb, girolle mushrooms, heliantis, crosnes, salty fingers, viola flowers, set over a bone-white rice cracker. If the ingredients seem a little unfamiliar… well, we had to look them up too. No shame there.
While the taste was interesting; a combination of earth, smoke, green and savoury, the textures made the dish. Alternating crispness, crunchiness and creaminess make for an interesting play for the tongue.
Our next dish, the La Cortina, upped the ante. We enjoy savoury pasta for the most part, full of meat or herb flavours- or both. This on the other hand, tips its hat a little at the savoury, then pulls the rug from under one’s feet.
There was a honey sweetness as we bit into the soft center of the pasta, transitioning into nutty parmesan cheese and a finish that brings to mind candied orange. A generous showering of 25 year-old balsamic rounds off the dish with a fruity tang.
The La Cantina was paired with Podfuck (it’s Czech), a Pinot Gris that was technically an orange wine, but looked suspiciously red. The orange wine had a very noticeable funk in addition to cranberry, watermelon, and plum flavours. With cheese bearing a resemblance to weaponised funk itself, the pairing worked quite well indeed.
If there was a weak point to the whole meal, it might have been the White Opal, a seasonal dish of Patagonian toothfish (also known as Chilean Seabass, a species of…cod) , cauliflower purée, shallots, leek and almond milk bubbles, pickled almonds and black olive powder, and the paired Langhe Herzu Riesling.
It was not that it was weak. Fatty fish paired with creamy-savoury sauce, and lightened with an acidic, fruity wine, does indeed taste lip-smackingly good. The trouble was that next to the other dishes we had, it seemed almost too simple. We liked the presentation, as well. Its primary sin seems to be being “merely” good!
The redemption for the fish came in the form of what we think was the best dish of the entire evening, the Pata Negra.
On first glance, it looked like any other steak, if that steak was cooked in liquid hot magma. Part the dark crust, however, and one would reveal juicy, glistening, almost maroon coloured flesh.
The real surprise, of course, was that meat was not bovine in origin at all, but was instead Iberico pork shoulder crusted with a layer of squid-ink-infused breadcrumbs.
The nuttiness and subtle sweetness of the pork melded into the smoky tartness of the charred Piennolo tomato and the subtle sweetness of basil. An explosion of flavour with every single irresistible bite, especially when washed down with the intensely fruity Roccolo Grassi Valpolicella 2013.
Now, we won’t belabour the point with the sweets and desserts, but we did like the Irezumi, a salted black sesame ice cream, which we found to be surprisingly refreshing, with the use of herbal and fruity flavours. The Gorbea Mountain, was equally competent, with Italian meringue, blueberry puree and cream arranged artfully to resemble the eponymous mountains in the Basque country.
The real highlight here was the Vi Di Glass, a Gewürztraminer from…Spain. Honey, stone fruit, lychees and even a little trace of a nuttiness could be found in this wine of unusual provenance.
So our first impression? Delicious. Memorable. Alas, such quality doesn’t come for free.
At $188 for for 6 course and $238++ for 8 courses, plus an additional $158++ for the wine pairings, though, it wasn’t exactly something that we could afford every night.
So we were resigned to keep it on the top pedestal in our memories. Maybe not happily ever after, but happy enough.
Chapter Two: Diving Headlong, but Happily
Months passed since that first experience, and we still found ourselves thinking about the food at Preludio.
While we don’t find ourselves returning to restaurants all that often, especially one that asks for a substantial chunk of change, we were itching to return. To say that the food had left an impression the first time around would be a criminal understatement.
The question was: how would we do it?
Well, we returned fairly recently to Preludio. The plot twist was that we would take the wallet-friendlier lunch option instead. It came in two varieties: $58++ for four courses, $98++ for seven, with $55++ for wine pairings.
Being Singaporean, we took the middle road, having a four course, but with some optional upgrades on the courses. And the wine, of course.
Well, the first course was Deadliest Catch (adding $18 for it), Alaskan king crab, red bell pepper, lime vinegar and white corn.
The interesting thing about the course was that despite none of the ingredients being particularly Asian, the flavour was quite close to a Tom Yum soup. With the crisp, melon-and-orange dominated Dirty & Rowdy Semillon 2014 added on, it was quite delicious. That wasn’t the most remarkable bit, however.
Once again, we found that meticulous attention was paid to the textures in the dish. With the crunch of cracker crumbs, silky soft crabmeat, juicy pearls, a cold sorbet and a creamy skin of what seemed to be cheese on it, it was like having a cavalcade of sensations parade around on my tongue. Yet parades are organised, and there was a sense that everything was in place, as it should be.
The theme of tantalising textures continued to the Burrata Parmagiana. It seemed quite routine on the menu, if we’re being frank; the ingredients were Stracciatella, white(!) eggplant, basil, parmesan, tomato and olive oil. Other than eggplant, it seemed like a fairly standard Italian appetiser.
Well, of course we should have known better.
What arrived on the table was a white ball, swimming in a clear pool of tomato sauce. The server added a generous pour of olive oil into the plate, and we were off to races.
Now, we were having trouble deciding how to describe the dish, but after some intense, brows-furrowed deliberation, we arrived at “Italian ang ku kueh”. Within the cheese ball were the other ingredients, a cheesy, creamy, but surprisingly familiar combination of basil, tomato, olive oil and cheese that put us squarely in lasagna land. Or parmagiana land, if you prefer.
With the Italian dish came an Italian wine, the Fontanasanta Nosiola 2017, an interesting wine made from a near-extinct grape varietal. There was a strange combination of petrol, mineral, cloudy Normandy apple cider, florality and lemon to be found within the glass.
Unlike our languid pace through dinner, the lunch was a relatively brisk affair, and it wasn’t long till we proceeded on to the next dish, a Coffee Pork Chop (+$28++). Tones of the Pata Negra were definitely in this one, with the Iberico pork cooked in a local coffee sauce, topped with blackberries and with a side of potato mash and summer truffles.
Perhaps there had been more Singaporean influence than we had initially assumed. The ever popular Coffee Pork Ribs we get at a local tze char restaurant was given a lift.
In this case, the charred, ashen quality of the Iberico, the roast of the coffee, sweetened with the French blackberries on top, were quite delicious. It also enabled us to figure out what Italian wine and Spanish pork have in common; the Ca’del Baio Asili Barbaresco Riserva 2014 echoed the dish’s flavours of cherry, red fruit, dry earth and ash.
Of course, the grand finish of dessert awaited us, and we had it in two parts; a Ben Rye wine from Sicily, which aside from being sweet, had plenty going on. It had a light funk, honey, orange flower blossom, apricot, red peaches, sweet marmalade and a lightly bitter marmalade. A medium acidity balanced out the wine.
The second part, The Cube, was a white chocolate shell with a passionfruit core, and a small scoop of lime basil ice cream on the side. The sweet tart psssionfruit centre added roundedness to the intensely sweet chocolate, while the sorbet added a light green herb and sour flavour. It’s not often you get a sweet, creamy, fruit, herbal, hard and soft dessert, but Preludio managed.
Would we say that the food was as good the second time around?
Definitely. We found the interplay of textures, the mingling of flavours, and the attention to detail that we experienced during our first dinner. The wines were still interesting, varied, and quite unique, while complementing the dishes perfectly.
We guess you could call it a happy ending.
Epilogue
We found it very difficult to write this review; constantly struggling to find words to describe the experience. To illustrate the manifold complexities found in Preludio’s paradoxically monochrome dishes. To discuss how they work with a creative, inspired selection of wine.
Suffice to say: while the two thousand word mark has long since disappeared from the rear-view mirror, we only gave a brief description of the great meals we’ve had at Preludio. There’s plenty left for you to discover.
Like we said upfront, it would be close to mistreating yourself by missing out.
Which leaves us with one little pickle. The price.
Great food doesn’t come cheap. With rare, fresh ingredients comes a substantial asking price. We certainly couldn’t afford to eat at Preludio very often. But that doesn’t mean that we’re out of options.
While saving up for an occasion would be possible, we think that having lunch there could be an attractive proposition; you get a lot out of the experience, at a fraction of the cost. Rumour has it that an a-la-carte menu will be launched very soon, too.
If you can afford it… well, what are you waiting for?
