A striking introduction to Neo-Singapore cuisine at the restaurant currently ranked No. 97 on The World’s 50 Best Restaurants list.
A mall is not the obvious setting for a MICHELIN-starred tasting menu, but Labyrinth makes its case in minutes, pairing black-box calm with a smart, Singapore-first story that tastes far more serious than its playful packaging suggests.
The restaurant sits inside Esplanade Mall, an address that arrives with its own assumptions: busy foot traffic, fluorescent lighting, dinner before a show at the Theatres on the Bay. Instead, you step off the corridor and into something resembling an art studio. Dim and deliberate, the dining room is a dark canvas punctured by crisp lighting, warm wooden floors and pared-back tables, with shelves of ingredient jars, crockery and utensils lending the space a quiet, working-kitchen honesty.
Chef Liguang Han has built Labyrinth around the simple idea of taking flavours Singaporeans recognise, often from childhood, and reworking them into something contemporary without stripping out the soul. That concept has earned him a one MICHELIN star, and it has also carried Labyrinth onto the wider global radar, including a spot at No. 97 on The World’s 50 Best Restaurants 2025.
What’s surprising is how rooted the cooking feels in Singapore itself. Chef LG is vocal about sourcing locally where possible, and the menu reflects that mindset. There is also a practical, almost philosophical constraint: no beef, because Singapore does not have cattle farming as other countries do, so seafood and produce take centre stage. That limitation sharpens the restaurant’s identity, and the result is a set menu that excites, surprises, and satisfies.
The superb set menu features 13 dishes, constantly updated and rotated. Most of these are based on dishes that evoke nostalgia among locals and Singaporean food lovers, focusing on fresh produce—mostly sourced from farms in and around Singapore.
Early on, Labyrinth signals its approach with a dish that looks like a tableau. Mushrooms arrive like a miniature autumn garden, earthy browns and burnished golds, before resolving into a Bak Kut Teh-inspired broth built from fungi rather than pork bones. It is warm, peppery and comforting, with garlic and spice sitting on a kombu-backed depth that reads as distinctly modern, yet emotionally familiar. It does not mimic the original so much as translate it, which becomes the restaurant’s defining skill.
A later course pushes that same translation through spice and texture: fish head curry, reimagined using kokotxa, the gelatinous collar meat prized for its melt. Set against a curry base built from fish head trimmings and kitchen offcuts. A waffle-like roti jala (a popular tea-time snack) soaks up the sauce, adding a playful touch to the plate.
Labyrinth’s most obvious nod to pop culture comes in the Zuwaigani Chilli Crab Pie, presented in a red paper carton in a playful homage to McDonald’s Apple pies. The pastry is blistered and nostalgic, the filling neatly judged, using zuwaigani crab whose natural sweetness carries the sauce rather than fighting it. The seasoning leans lighter than many modern chilli crab versions, with a tang that keeps the richness in check.
Between the bigger swings, the meal finds time for finesse. Slivers of shima aji are arranged like a pale flower, finished with stingless bee honey that adds a soft floral note rather than obvious sweetness. While the bread course of Coffee Brioche offers a Labrynth take on Singapore’s beloved coffee bun: light, airy, and topped with a crisp layer of traditional Coffee Craquelin.
If one dish anchors the meal’s ambition, it is the Dry-aged Kinki served with Inaniwa Somen, a high-definition take on Singapore’s milky fish noodle soup. The broth’s creamy appearance comes without dairy, built instead through the traditional method of emulsifying fried fish bones into a naturally white, collagen-rich base. Ginger, Chinese wine and goji berries deepen and perfume it, while the grilled kinki brings smoke and fat, quietly proving the point of Neo-Singapore cooking: technique in service of memory, not the other way around.
The satay course – a trio of pork, beef and chicken – is framed as an ode to the old Satay Club that once lived on the site where the Esplanade now stands. Leans into aroma and char, each skewer is distinctly different, served with marinades and a confident grill, which works as a reminder that “heritage” is not always about reinvention.
Hainanese Chicken Rice appears in donabe form, with poached chicken breast for purity, plus a deboned wing roasted until the skin is properly crisp and evenly rendered. The rice is fragrant and savoury, offering the type of texture that makes you forget the dish began as comfort food.
Dessert continues the playful language. A Pink Guava palate cleanser, sharpened with sour plum salt, is a reminder of Chef LG’s favourite after-school snack remembered with adult restraint. Kaya “toast” arrives as a final wink, pairing house-made pandan-coconut jam with a Teh Tarik meringue toast that is light, sweet, and deliberately butter-forward in its textural contrast. In the closing stretch, a celebratory Milo shot served in a chilled miniature stein, offering a small reminder that Singapore’s national cravings are not just for tourists.
That sense of occasion continues in the service. Led by the charming Priscillia and Karhue, the front of house is polished without being precious, guiding guests through a procession of small plates with confidence. There is a strong narrative, but it is never forced, feeling contextualised rather than scripted.
Labyrinth’s props, packaging and prowess will inevitably invite comparisons to the more theatrical corners of modern fine dining, but 12 years after opening the restaurant, Chef LG’s Labyrinthine experience continues to highlight the connections between history and food and to challenge preconceived notions of Singaporean cuisine.
GO: Visit www.restaurantlabyrinth.com for more information.