Tucked behind a labyrinth of florists and Chinese herbal shops lies New Century Restaurant. Walking through the pre-millennium constructed mall, I’m reminded of the restaurants I’ve visited as a child. There are shops to see and smells to discover before reaching the enormous colourful restaurant.

New Century will feed a large group. Their lobster, Dungeness crab, and sea bass combo for eight ($798) would satisfy ten or twelve. The individual New Century slow boiled soup is hardest to share but secure some empty bowls and you can divide the hefty portion. In the winter, there’s a silkiness to the piping hot consommé that sooths a dry throat and has an umami essence infused with abalone, ginseng, and pork.

There’s plenty to choose from in the house signature combo platter including roasted duck, soy sauce chicken, BBQ pork, pork slices, and seaweed salad. Saving my stomach for the later dishes, I had a taste of the duck (a good start with crispy skin) and BBQ pork (satisfactory and well flavoured).

With the generous portion of chicken in the combo platter, the slow cooked chicken with abalone broth seemed like overkill. I’ve never been a huge fan of this dish that’s served cold since I prefer chicken hot. Still, I understand it’s the jelly layer between the skin and meat that people enjoy. And to be fair, the chicken was tender, and New Century certainly didn’t skimp on the ginger and scallion oil.

For those who tend to fill-up before the “main dishes”, the stars of the combo arrive mid-meal. The stir-fried Vancouver crabs with silver fish in HK style spicy sauce needs to be eaten at arrival as the crunchy coating is best straight from the fryer. And despite not looking spicy, the dish has a light heat that permeates in the background. Additionally, the crab was fresh and meaty, cooked well so it remained delicately flakey.

The amount of sweet and sticky sauce used in the stir-fried lobsters with scallion in Maggie sauce was well balanced, lightly covering the crustaceans. Both lobsters were substantial; even after eating many pieces, we still had plenty of leftovers.

Although the steamed green basses with green onion and ginger arrived dishevelled looking. Being fileted off the bone before serving helped the hot scallion soy soak into the fish and made it easy to serve. New Century knows how to cook seafood well, the fish were flakey and moist.

The restaurant’s choice of using large serving platters does makes eating difficult. Dishes were comically oversized so three can easily fill up on medium-sized table. Soon it became a game of Tetris piling things onto smaller plates to make space for a new item. Even the snow pea leaves in soup arrived in a gigantic platter that’s normally used for soup. I guess the large dishes does mean New Century has to fill them as we were treated to a huge mound of the greens.

I preferred the snow pea leaves to the stir-fried cauliflower with cured meat. It’s a strange combination that wasn’t for me. But if you like Chinese sausage, the dish did contain a lot of lap cheung and at least the cauliflower wasn’t too soft.

You won’t find much tomalley in the lobster heads as it’s reserved for the finisher - braised thick egg noodles with mushroom and lobster tomalley. The lobster paste adds a pungent aroma and texture to the noodles. While not my cup-of-tea, it was a popular dish for the table.

Despite it being Lunar New Year, I was surprised there wasn’t any special desserts. Still, we were treated to flavourful mango pudding squares and delicate almond cookies. Given both were sweet, so they made the lukewarm red bean soup seem tasteless. Oh well, by that time I was stuffed to the gills and could pass on it anyways.

What a feast! We packed up leftovers that could feed the family again the following evening. One thing’s for sure; you will not leave New Century Restaurant hungry or empty handed.

I wonder if I’m judging aKin harder than similar restaurants because I’m Chinese. You won’t find me complaining about the price of the Lunar New Year tasting menu ($275 per person) or the portion sizes because I agree that Chinese cuisine is just as intricate to prepare as any other country. And it should be given the same level of recognition as other tasting menus.

aKin’s menu isn’t purely Chinese. Dishes also include Japanese, European, and other Asian influences. Yet, there’s also a host of dishes Ihave grow n-up eating and therefore can’t help but compare. Still, after discussing the dilemma with my fellow diner and reflecting on the experience, I feel the mark is justified.

Starting with the auspicious vegetables, where I found the collection of small bites a bit fussy. With five items, there were a lot of dishes so it may be better served as a platter (like a BBQ starter), in keeping with the Cantonese theme. We’re advised it’s a nod to Buddhist traditions, even though they’re dishes monks hardly consume. And while I do appreciate restaurants becoming more plant-forward, aKin’s dishes fell flat:

• Don’t bother smelling the celery martini, it smells like earth. At least it did its job: the light tomato consommé with a drizzle of watercress oil was a refreshing palette awakener.  
• The heirloom carrot was too flaccid to pick up making it awkward to eat. Yes, the black garlic and tempura bits added crunch, but not enough structure to ensure it’s a handheld bite. I see this working as a garnish.
• A similar story with the lettuce cone, the delicate shell was starting to get soggy. So, I quickly popped it in my mouth to get a salty juicy blast.
• Of all the canapes, the scallion tart was my favourite. The XO sauce mushroom centre topped with Emmental foam was flavourful and a nice combination of textures.

The leek crystal bread, aKin’s take on a fried dough stick, was an intriguing canape. It’s certainly the most difficult to make, a clear paper-thin crunchy exterior with a hollow centre. But this is not the same as a yau tew, which has a webbed interior so there are layers. If aKin could add a few layers inside, or better yet something chewy at the centre, it may help give it more textual interest as it’s currently like a cylindrical cracker. Of course, topping the creation with Perigord black truffles adds a decadent touch.

Yet, anything would be 100x better than the oyster. Every bite of it was wrong. From the harshly alcoholic Prosecco foam, the lack of natural brininess, to the extremely fishy finish… from the oyster, caviar, or fat choy, who knows? Regardless, it had us chugging water to get rid of the awful after taste. I understand an oyster is a key ingredient to any Lunar New Year menu, but if an oyster isn’t fresh, it’s better cooked and masked with stronger garnishes.

To signify togetherness, aKin served scallop in sashimi and ceviche form. Other than the two dishes arriving on top of each other, it missed its mark. If I were to create a dish that was going to represent togetherness, they should have made something that is tasted separately and then combined to really wow the palette.

As is stands, the red chili flakes overpowered the sashimi, completely masking the natural sweetness of the shellfish. An ingredient like a surf clam may hold up better against that much heat. The spiciness continued into the ceviche, but at least this was balanced by coconut milk and other Thai flavours, which complimented the ingredient.

After the first three dismal dishes, I was getting worried. And that’s when Chef Eric Chong appeared to present a dish of nostalgia, explaining it reminds him of the slowly steamed chicken soup of his youth. Of course, his version gets a molecular touch encapsulated into a sphere that we’re told should be eaten quickly while at the optimal temperature. And boy was it heavenly. Once my mouth fully closed around the bite and the spoon was removed, the burst of hot but not scalding consommé flooded my mouth with a rich umami essence. The little bites of bean curd noodles gave it some texture. The meal was finally making a comeback.

The chawanmushi continued to impress. The steamed egg studded with diced butter poached abalone, charbroiled kombu, and topped with a red vinegar foam to lighten the rich dish. There’s a silkiness to it that reminded me of a rich fish maw soup and was a wonderful combination of Asian and European elements.

I thoroughly enjoyed the well toasted steamed bao in the bread course. We’re instructed to rip the bun and spread the lap cheung hollandaise sauce onto the bread. The scalding oil made ripping difficult, I somehow managed and was treated to a lovely creamy savoury sauce, which could be balanced by the refreshing kimchi style daikon ribbons.

While the ginger scallion fumet (a concentrated fish stock) was very salty – bordering on bitter when tasted solo – combined with the amadai it was perfect. Flakey with a crispy skin, the thick piece of fish was kept neutral as the fumet was all it required.

I’m glad they picked a stronger ingredient like lobster to go with the powerful laksa. aKin’s interpretation of laksa had the heat but was more restrained and still very creamy. I savoured it by the spoonful.

While I enjoyed the dish, I feel the silver needle noodles were a bad pairing. They probably chose the hand rolled noodles because it’s different and requires effort to prepare, sort of like gnocchi. However, the point of a noodle dish is to signify longevity. Are small stunted, sharp-edged noodles really the greatest representation? A flat hand-pulled noodle would work better, kept as a long strand (i.e., a long life) and would also help the laksa stick.

A piece of deboned and stuffed fowl gets me excited. So, upon seeing the 8-treasure pigeon, the dish had me ready to dig in. Rather than mixing the ingredients, aKin created a paste with chestnut, lotus seed, barley, and salted duck egg to stuff into the leg. It was nicely flavoured, but the softness also meant a lack of texture.

Overall, the pigeon’s skin needed to be crispier, as a textural contrast for the leg and especially with the breast, which is served plain. And while I enjoyed the side of sticky rice, it wasn’t overly exciting. It was a missed opportunity to wrap the grain in lotus leaf or an edible collard green, which would provide the dish colour and extra boost of something aromatic. At least the Jinhua ham au jus was delicious, I swiped up every drop of the sauce.

Being a blind tasting, I couldn’t tell where we were in the dinner. Since the meal is described as 10-courses, I thought the following mango pudding was the last item and our dessert. The rich pudding augmented with coconut cream, pomelo and sago was good but would have been disappointing as a lone dessert. Luckily, this course acted as a palette cleanser as there were plenty of sweets to come.

It wouldn’t be Lunar New Year without a tang yuan or glutinous rice balls. Chef Chong morphed theirs into a stunning fortune bag that’s an inside out version of the dessert. The chewy glutinous rice was found in the handle and the centre... all surrounded by a fluffy black sesame mousse wrapped in fondant. A much more impressive ending.

At this point, we were satisfied but not full. This quickly changed with the platter of lunar treasures. While the egg tart was mediocre, the other items were tasty. The macaron had a crispy exterior and a hawthorn taste reminding me of the pay pa muy candies of my childhood. The chocolate and milk tea canelé screamed of flavours in the airy pastry. And the mandarin jelly a wonderful refreshing finish.

We’re even given a to-go bag containing a Singapore crunch that we’re instructed to add to noodles, rice, vegetables, or even buttered toast. I’ll admit, this had me rethinking my meals for the upcoming week and ended up trying the sweet and crunchy topping on crispy noodles. It’s fine, but I still rather use sambal any day.

After all this, let’s circle back to my mark on the dinner. I really wanted to see if aKin could be an 8. But with the weak opening dishes and the satisfactory but not wonderful final savoury course, I really can’t say it’s an experience I’d recommend. And while my first instinct was to grade it as a 7, I ultimately settled on a 7.5, let’s say it’s a little something to combat my potential bias of being Chinese.