Commentary: Can we get a check, please, on Singapore restaurant hype?

SINGAPORE: You’re sitting in a page pulled out of a lifestyle magazine: Minimalist wood interiors, large leaf plants, waiters in denim aprons.

On the ceramic plate, two perfect orbs of sunny-side-up eggs, half an avocado symmetrically sliced, alluring shades of toast on the sourdough, a splay of za'atar.

On your lap, a Bichon Frise, next to your seat, a playful Maltese. Don’t forget the S$8.50 fresh orange juice.

On social media, there is an infinite scroll of this same scene. Is what you see on Instagram Reels real life, or just the Singaporean fantasy of weekend brunch?

Hospitality technology company SevenRooms reports that 52 per cent of Singaporeans use restaurant profiles on social media and 43 per cent use social media influencers to discover new dining options. And in this age of oversharing, if we don’t publicly chronicle our meals - did we even eat?

SERVING UP HYPE

It's not surprising that the ethos of local eateries seems to be “if you build the hype, they will come”. Restaurateurs have to chase the quickest and biggest return on investment amid astronomical - and still soaring - costs of ingredients, staffing and rent.

This means that many food and beverage outlets market themselves with safe TikTok bait like eggs benedict, chilli crab pasta, truffle fries and sandos served in stylised interior designs. Pretty up with a touch of togarashi here, a premium of prosciutto there, a kick of kimchi in anything - then nudge up pricing.

Fine dining restaurants bank on chef pedigree, incredibly sourced ingredients, melodramatic theatrics, sagely sommeliers and impeccably written narratives. Initial buzz can tie up reservations and guarantee full seatings for months.

But something doesn’t cook right in this recipe for restaurant success: According to the Accounting and Corporate Regulatory Authority, 3,616 new F&B businesses opened in 2023 and 2,748 closed in the same year. Niche experiences and high prices create fickle diners who chase exciting new openings.

As much as the hottest new tables trigger been-there-eaten-there frenzy, how many three- or even four-digit restaurant tabs can one digest before appetites are lost?

CRAVING COMFORT FOOD

Like Singaporeans who savour well, I’ve been dazzled by Michelin stars, planned travels around culinary pilgrimages, and know the difference between Chicago deep dish, New York slice and Roman al taglio.

Yet in this post-pandemic era of high inflation, I’ve found value much more satiating than tweezer-set tasting platters that leave me searching for late-night zi char. Delicate and exquisite gets lost in hearty appetites.

And as wars, climate turmoil and other global discords rage, I crave comfort food from the small, chef-owned businesses in my neighbourhood. In these times, comfort food goes beyond hearty, profoundly tasty dishes that elate bellies - it nourishes the soul.

It’s the cafe that puts on Bruce Springsteen when I’m having sandwich and cake because they know I’m a tremendous fan. It’s the pub knowing precisely how toasted I like my burger bun and the exact crisp of my fries. It's the steakhouse where I always run into friends and good times flow like the frites and sambuca.

COMMUNITY CONVIVIALITY

I’m determined these local joints hold steady because their slightly premium prices reflect quality and aren't inflated by PR spending. They're invested in retaining staff and creating working environments free of the industry’s notorious toxicity.

When the chef comes out to chat, they’re asking how your parents are doing and if there’s anything they can do better. It’s not a celebrity walkaround for a picture and autograph. They don’t have Michelin stars in their eyes, just a heart full of hospitality.

For a couple of hours, I’m nestled in community conviviality that should be the raison d’etre for dining out. Instead of racking up social media likes, I’m enjoying being with my friends and making friends in real life.

Restaurants that hustle to look gorgeous on social media want a certain kind of customer - how they look, how they spend. It changes what a dining room could and should look like.

Perhaps the best meal is the one you don’t have a picture of - because its siren call is so deliciously mystifying that you dug in before doing anything else. The one you dream of having all over again in that sweet lullaby of a food coma later that night.

No one needs to know how much and how well you actually ate, except you and your friend, the chef.

Desiree Koh is a freelance writer based in Singapore.