from executive chef Tristin Farmer—who has run
kitchens under the Gordon Ramsay and Jason Atherton
umbrellas—to the service staff and even interns prep
and explain your dishes tableside; and the atmosphere is
refreshingly relaxed with playful bantering and a rock-
and-roll playlist sprinkled with Swedish contemporary
pop. (Find a mix on Spotify under “Björn Frantzén.”)
But, actually, these sorts of things are the new norm
in many high-end restaurants.
So what else is adding up? The obvious place to start is
the ingredients, which read like a list of who’s who in the
produce world. Think top-ranking Japanese Amaou
strawberries considered the sweetest and juiciest of their
kind. The parmesan custard in Zén’s signature French
toast is made using Parmigiano Reggiano Vacche Rosse,
aged for 36 months and strictly regulated for quality,
while the drizzles of Casanova balsamic vinegar are aged
by one of the oldest Italian producers in Modena for 25
years over juniper wood to bring out intense floral notes.
In fact, aging and fermentation are integral to Zén’s
vocabulary. Shizuoka crown melons are aged in-house
for two weeks to intensify their sweetness, then glazed
with Manzanilla aigre-doux (sweet and sour dry sherry).
“It’s time consuming,” Farmer said. “Everything we do is
about taking a product that we find to be very good,
treating it with the utmost care, and serving it in a way
that showcases its full potential.” Some of the
fermentations began weeks before Zén opened. You
know, these days, funky is the new fancy.
MY FRIEND AND I sipped champagne and ate canapés. I
swooned over the crunchy celeriac-nutmeg-black truffle
taco and the grilled asparagus tartlet with a subtle kick
from French Brillat-Savarin cheese that was spiced in-
house with cep mushrooms and cloves. Then we toured
the open kitchen and were introduced to our night’s
indulgences displayed in their full glory—a standard
part of every Zén experience, and another thing that ups
the value-add.
A kinmedai fish from Chiba glowered at us from its
bed of ice. There were marron from Western Australia,
and Sarawak pineapples. Purple shiso and ginger flowers
from Japan sat pretty in a box alongside a small tin of
Zén’s unique house-blend caviar, which warrants an
admiring pause. It’s made from the top three percent of
the largest Oscietra sturgeon eggs with the brightest
golden shimmer, cured in a secret Zén recipe for six
months instead of the usual three. One way the delicacy
is served is mixed with red deer tartare and argan oil.
The eight-course tasting menu is taken in the
pinewood and copper-ceiling dining room on the second
floor. Mr. Big Eyes kinmedai was binchotan-grilled and
served with creamy sea urchin and Koshihikari rice that
had been cooked then fried, resulting in a fragrant
smoky/umami combo. The moreishly divine butter-
poached marron (which, according to Loh, is rarely
served in Singapore restaurants as the crayfish has to be
kept alive right to the point where it is about to be cooked)
was glazed in fermented yuzukosho paste made of fresh
yuzus, Peruvian Aji Amarillo chilies and salt before
being aged in-house for 10 days.
The fresh and intense flavors in each of these were so
amazing that they almost threatened to overshadow
Zén’s innovative French toast—which in my mind won82 AUGUST 2019 / TRAVELANDLEISUREASIA.COM
Head chef Tristin
Farmer. RIGHT:
Salted Hokkaido
milk ice cream, wild
strawberries and
waffles.COURTESYOF^ZÉN^(^4)