There is something truly remarkable about the way Singapore has embraced Michelin stars; an island barely 50 kilometres from end to end now plays host to more than 50 Michelin-starred establishments, a figure that would shame cities ten times its size. But of the city\u2019s most celebrated tables, few stand out as luminously as Saint Pierre – Chef Emmanuel Stroobant\u2019s 2-Michelin-starred temple of French precision and Asian nuance. One might say the chef here treats ingredients the way curators treat art: only the masterpieces get wall space. Impeccable produce and Stroobant\u2019s intuitive artistry guide the arc of the menu, and what finally arrives at the table is a seamless blend of French culinary classicism and Asian grace. It\u2019s an experience meticulously composed by the chef to feel like a private gallery walk, each course unveiled as a singular work of art, quietly executed at the highest level of craft.<\/p>\n
Since its 2000 debut, Saint Pierre has played a pivotal role in shaping Singapore\u2019s culinary landscape and is as much about partnership as it is about cuisine: Chef-Owner Stroobant credits his wife Edina Hong as both muse and as the pragmatic force behind the enterprise. \u201cI\u2019m the hands, but she\u2019s the brain,\u201d he smiles, \u201cshe\u2019s been with me from day one with the restaurant.” Born in Li\u00e8ge, Belgium, Stroobant trained in the rigours of classical French cooking and quickly rose to prominence at a remarkably young age. He chose, however, to leave the country over 30 years ago in search of travel – first to the US, then through Australia, Malaysia, and other parts of Asia, finally finding his roots in Singapore. \u201cI loved Singapore because I had access to high-quality produce and a mature dining audience. I didn\u2019t have an audience asking for a well-done steak with garlic and chillies,\u201d he laughs. Stroobant was one of Singapore\u2019s earliest pioneers of modern French cuisine, and continues to set the benchmark for fine dining in the city.<\/p>\n
In addition to Saint Pierre, the couple owns the restaurant right next door – Shoukouwa – an edomae sushi-ya, which also holds two Michelin stars. Today, Stroobant is a devoted vegetarian and deeply passionate about yoga, with Saint Pierre\u2019s tasting menu reflecting this spirit: choose either the primarily seafood-focused Opulence menu, or the vegetarian Elegance menu, both inspired by the cyclic flow of the Zen Circle. Along with the menu, diners have the option of a wine or champagne accompaniment, offering pairings from an expert-curated cellar that spans world-class Champagnes, Old World classics and New World wines.<\/p>\n
The restaurant opens directly onto a majestic panoramic sweep of the Marina Bay waterfront, a vista few other dining rooms can rival. Inside, the design tempers the drama outside with a minimalist palette – pared-back furnishings, sleek lines, and sculptural lighting – the kind of room where nothing clamours for attention, but everything feels in its right place. We entered the restaurant to find the waterfront painted with the soft golden strokes of the evening sun, a first hint that we were on the cusp of something extraordinary. Chef Emmanuel came out to meet us, and as if reading my mind, asked if we wanted a tour of the kitchen – it\u2019s the culinary equivalent of backstage access at a concert, so of course I said yes.<\/p>\n
Step into Saint Pierre\u2019s kitchen and you find less the chaos of clanging pans and more a kind of studied quiet – first, a section dedicated entirely to canap\u00e9s with two chefs on deck at all times (I would soon find out why), and the rest of the space divided neatly, based on ingredients, into four independent sections. There\u2019s a calm, mindful energy about the space, and the chefs move with the clinical efficiency of surgeons – one suspects that a misplaced sprig of thyme might cause more alarm here than a missed heartbeat.<\/p>\n
After the walk around we were seated back at our table to a glass of champagne – for me, an ambrosial glass of Les Belles Voyes – the prestige cuv\u00e9e from Franck Bonville – a Blanc de Blancs crafted entirely from Chardonnay grapes grown in a single Grand Cru vineyard in Oger, with rich notes of toasted nuts and a luminous golden hue the colour of the setting sun, and for my brother Rohan, a glass of Larmandier-Bernier\u2019s Longitude – a Premier Cru Blanc de Blancs. This evening, I\u2019d be sampling the Opulence menu while Rohan opted for the Elegance. Along with the bubbles came a thrilling quartet of canap\u00e9s to start us off, and I understood immediately why they needed the undivided attention of two chefs. These tiny tartlets were masterpieces in miniature, adorned ceremoniously with a constellation of microscopic edible flowers, and handcrafted with a ritualistic precision reminiscent of Tibetan monks layering sand-grain by grain to create the sacred sand mandalas that adorn Buddhist monasteries. In the same way these mandalas are crafted and consecrated only to be ritually destroyed (a Buddhist lesson in impermanence), these exquisite canap\u00e9s were predestined to be devoured in a single, gluttonous bite by me.<\/p>\n
Marrying Japanese brine and acidity with the refinement of French-style pastry technique, the first canap\u00e9 is a precious umeboshi tartlet with silken cauliflower velout\u00e9 and perilla gel, topped with hanaho flowers, shiso leaves, and pink and purple cornflowers; the next, tiny pickled purple cauliflower delicately perched around creamy cauliflower bonito cream, adorned with salmon roe, yuzu jelly and zest, and crowned with chervil and verbena blooms; the third, a fragile feuille de brick roll filled with succulent Brittany blue lobster, its natural sweetness sharpened by curry rouille and cauliflower-turmeric jam, and lifted with the saline brine of pickled dulse and pungency of mustard blossoms; and the final, a crisp tartlet imbibed with the forest-like warmth of shimeji mushroom and dill, their umami deepened by a glossy miso-sudachi soy glaze and finished with the gentle freshness of chive and chrysanthemum blossoms. Each canap\u00e9 is so delicate it shatters at first bite, proving that the best pleasures in life are designed to vanish before you can quite believe you had them.<\/p>\n
Before I had time to mourn the loss, the first course arrived to fill the void – a balletic blend of smoke, heat and brine: wasabi-laced herb mousse atop silky, supple Spanish river eel, crowned with saline bursts of Oscietra caviar. My first briny bite is met with a delicate snap of the wafer-thin feuille de brick tuile surrounding the eel, combined with upliftingly aromatic notes of the leek-dill emulsion and lush vichyssoise dotted with Shadi caviar. To go with this course, a glass of Michel Lafarge\u2019s Bourgogne Aligot\u00e9, the \u2018Raisins Dor\u00e9s\u2019 – a crystalline white as crisp as a morning breeze in Burgundy, with citrus zest, white flowers, and a finish that lingers like river stone. This particular wine comes from old vines of the rarer Aligot\u00e9 Dor\u00e9, resulting in much more depth and character than most Aligot\u00e9s. The Aligot\u00e9 grape, Burgundy\u2019s \u201cother\u201d white variety, can sometimes be overlooked next to Chardonnay but, in the right hands, yields fresh, mineral, and complex wines.<\/p>\n
The Manjimup marron arrives next – plump and glistening from its poach with marron oil – surrounded by a halo of Jerusalem artichoke pur\u00e9e. The marron flesh, tender and succulently sweet, is graced with a trace of Maldon salt, and yields with a supple, springy juiciness beneath the imperious stab of my fork. A drizzle of buttermilk-wasabi dressing with dill oil sharpens the finish of the dish, oba jelly lends a gentle herbaceous perfume, and a fairy ring of the tiniest purple vervain flowers surrounds the voluptuous marron almost ceremoniously. It looks like art, tastes like poetry. With it, a glass of Joseph Drouhin\u2019s Chablis Premier Cru, from their Vaudon estate in Chablis – a delightful lemony zesty white that slices through the marron\u2019s buttery flesh with sculpted clarity.<\/p>\n
Half a glass in, I decide that this evening\u2019s tasting is definitely a result of my good karma from a past life. Maybe I was a benevolent nun, or someone who never posted gym selfies. Whatever it was, I’d clearly done something right. Before I could decide, the next course arrived – Shizuoka crab cooked to perfection \u00e0 l\u2019\u00e9touff\u00e9e, seductively tender and sumptuously sweet. With it, cassoulet-style creamy slow-cooked cannellini beans, brightened by fragrant green curry and the crisp, perfumed notes of Chinese celery pistou. It\u2019s accompanied by a lovely yuzu kosho-angelica emulsion, and topped off with spicy mustard flowers and pretty pink alyssum blooms. A miniature bouquet of white alyssum flowers garnishes the side of the dish, an ethereal touch of fairy magic to contrast the exacting, disciplined precision required to perfect such a masterfully crafted plate. It is precisely this dialogue that situates Saint Pierre firmly in the zeitgeist; French technique, with all its precision and rigour, finds harmony in the delicate, mindful preparations and luminous simplicity of Japanese produce. Each course manages to feel fresh, new and acutely of the moment, while still being deeply rooted in craft and tradition. It\u2019s a culinary partnership that sidesteps the usual clich\u00e9s of fusion cuisine to create something that feels wholly original.<\/p>\n
Next to arrive is the scallop, a shellfish after my own heart, but cleverly disguised in a form I hadn\u2019t seen coming. As a child of Nova Scotia, having been raised within arm\u2019s reach of some of the world\u2019s freshest scallops, one tends to develop opinions on the little molluscs the same way Italians develop opinions on pasta, which is why when I saw Hokkaido Scallop on the tasting menu, I was especially intrigued. It arrived looking unlike any scallop I\u2019ve ever encountered – silken Hokkaido scallop gently encased within a cylinder of winter leek that\u2019s been charred with Binchotan – a kind of Japanese white charcoal famed for burning extremely hot and clean, giving food a precise, refined char with subtle smokiness and concentrated sweetness. It arrives on a plate cosplaying a canvas, painted with gleaming strokes of green parsley oil, brandy-hued sauce \u00e0 l\u2019Armoricaine and a pristine ivory ring of celeriac pur\u00e9e. Chef Emmanuel\u2019s French inspiration is also vividly evident in the menu\u2019s sauces, which he pairs with the subtle pristine beauty of Japanese ingredients and a reverential approach to preparation and plating, more akin to temple ritual than to restaurant protocol.<\/p>\n
The next course surprised with the sheer beauty of its simplicity – a single baked Amela tomato, renowned in Shizuoka for its luscious candy-like sweetness, was a reminder of how the simplest ingredient can feel transcendent, when impeccably fresh and artfully, intentionally prepared. In an age of foams and fermentations, here it\u2019s a solitary baked tomato that takes one\u2019s breath away – paired in this case with white miso emulsion and brightened by a galangal consomm\u00e9.<\/p>\n
For the main course, my choice was between the poached Brittany blue lobster and the \u014cmi beef – I decided on the latter. \u014cmi beef is Japan\u2019s oldest wagyu lineage, once served to emperors and shoguns of ancient Edo. The cattle are raised near Lake Biwa in Shiga Prefecture (the modern name for \u014cmi), and the meat itself is prized for its fine marbling, velvety texture, and sweet, clean flavour. \u201cThis may sound strange coming from a chef, but I don\u2019t have a lot of meat on the menu\u201d Chef Emmanuel would tell me later, a longtime vegetarian himself – \u201cI\u2019m very mindful when it comes to this topic. The man I\u2019m buying the meat from in \u014cmi is an elderly man; he must be in his 80s at this point, and his production is tiny – maybe 7 or 8 heads a month, which is incredibly small. But when you see the way he raises his cattle, there is something about his process that is just so deeply respectful and reverential. I don\u2019t see this in the US, I don\u2019t see it anywhere else – so that\u2019s why I choose to work with this man\u201d.<\/p>\n
My opulent cut of wagyu arrives, a delicate, silken sliver with marbling so intricate it resembles fine lacework, glistening with fatty sheen and dissolving like a snowflake on the tongue – leaving a decadent sweetness that lingers long after the bite. I savour each morsel like an offering from the shrine of wagyu – it\u2019s been grilled to release its deep succulence, and paired with the gentle spice of confit sand carrot, the sweetness of caramelised banana shallot, and an aromatic sea of port-shallot pur\u00e9e, accented by a beef jus perfumed with Szechuan peppercorn oil. At this point, I decide to switch to red: I settle on a glass of the 2019 Ch\u00e2teau La Lagune, from Bordeaux\u2019s Left Bank. Fragrant with plump, juicy blackberries and fresh summer violets, the wine is able to complement the wagyu\u2019s delicate sweetness while also cleansing the palate between each decadent, buttery bite.<\/p>\n
Satiated and several glasses of wine in, I\u2019m happy as a Hamaguri clam. As if reading my mind once again, a pot of herbal tea appears at the table as a graceful pause after the indulgence of the last course – an enchanted, crystal-clear teapot swirling with Burdock root, angelica, myoga (Japanese ginger flower), rosemary, lemon thyme, and oba leaf, all steeped for 7 minutes. As if by magic, chef Emmanuel arrives like a culinary djinn, conjuring a cheese trolley laden with treasures worthy of an epicure\u2019s most vivid fantasies – there\u2019s classic Brillat-Savarin, a triple-cream cow\u2019s milk cheese, silky textured with a subtle tang; a small wheel of Banon cheese wrapped in chestnut leaves, a Proven\u00e7al tradition that retains moisture and infuses the cheese with earthy, herbal flavours, revealing a luscious, soft goat\u2019s milk center; Comt\u00e9 cheese from the Jura Mountains in eastern France, a classic French alpine cheese that\u2019s nutty and milky; a hearty chunk of strong, wonderfully smelly Roquefort papillon blue cheese, and a generous slice of T\u00eate de Moine, a nutty semi-hard cheese from the Jura mountains of Switzerland, embodying the alpine pastures and artisanal heritage of its homeland and traditionally served shaved into delicate rosettes – as it was on my plate.<\/p>\n
A savoury interlude of cheese led seamlessly to the pre-dessert, which arrived tasting like autumn – delicate Aichi persimmon from the Aichi Prefecture, a sublime Japanese autumn fruit the colour of the rising sun, melts into a warm cinnamon-butternut pumpkin blancmange, with an icy olive oil sorbet slipping in like the season\u2019s first frost. As I\u2019m sure we can all agree, one sweet treat is never enough – after the initial palate cleanser, the real dessert comes out to play: a light, airy brioche-like cake steeped in lemongrass-ginger syrup, offset by the tart snap of Tulameen raspberries and a fresh floral cloud of lychee Chantilly cream.<\/p>\n
The grand finale is a beautiful wooden box that\u2019s been handcrafted by woodwork artist Alvan Koh as a home for the restaurant\u2019s after-dinner treats; the box is lined with kumiko latticework, a traditional Japanese woodworking technique where slender pieces of wood are painstakingly assembled, piece by piece, without nails. It opens like a mythical treasure chest to reveal a rainbow of petits-fours – bons bons like Earl Grey & Bergamot with a subtle floral perfume, tropical Passionfruit & Hazelnut, Pistachio & sweet Rose, Passionfruit & Hazelnut, alongside yuzu-brown butter financiers – tiny delectable French almond cakes – dusted with a green-citrusy sudachi zest. Melt.<\/p>\n
Not to be dramatic, but by the finale of the meal, I was fairly certain nirvana could be reached vis-\u00e0-vis Shizuoka crab and bonbons. The beauty of Saint Pierre\u2019s tasting menu is its ability to balance precision with provocation, ensuring each course surprises without slipping into novelty for novelty\u2019s sake. Under Chef Emmanuel\u2019s hand, even the simplest ingredient tastes like revelation, due to a compelling combination of culinary mastery, imaginative artistry and precision of technique. In addition to this, his meticulous attention to detail and genuine care when it comes to sourcing immaculately fresh produce are integral; each ingredient is given the space to shine, elevating pristine produce without gratuitous ornamentation. There is a broader philosophy at play, one that approaches each course with the same solemn grace and reverence as a temple ritual, a vision that treats food not as a commodity but as a ceremony. One leaves not simply having dined, but with the sort of satiation that nourishes the spirit as much as it does the palate, a soulful kind of fulfilment usually reserved for art, music, or poetry.<\/p>\n
Saint Pierre Saint Pierre’s operational hours
\nT: +65 6438 0887
\nW: Saint Pierre<\/a>
\nE: Reservations<\/a>
\nOr make reservations here<\/a><\/p>\n
\n6 pm to 11 pm (Dinner) on Tuesdays
\n11.30 am to 3 pm (Lunch), and 6 pm to 11 pm (Dinner) from Wednesdays to Saturdays<\/p>\n