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. 

Call me a purist, but I’m tired of eating Japanese dishes at European restaurants. It’s not about cultural misappropriation or being a snob against fusion food, rather I want to taste traditional things and don’t want menus turning into the food form of beige.

DaNico is a light hue of beige. While their signature tasting menu ($225) looks Italian on paper, what arrives turns more Asian as the courses progress.

Their bread service is completely European featuring crispy flatbread, fluffy focaccia, and brioche studded with blue cheese and salami. Paired with a dish of intensely flavoured olive oil and soft churned butter… there’s no mistaken the origins of these carbs.

Even the aperitivo bites still lean traditional:

• A beautifully adorned oyster that’s covered in a slightly sweet foam that’s unexpected but good.
• A caprese salad formed into a liquid gel that brought me back to the molecular eats of Colborne Lane (may it R.I.P.).
• A cigar looking bite comprised of a crispy roll stuffed with monk fish liver, which DaNico calls “sea foie gras” that’s a balance of sweet and savoury.

While the granchio al gusto Mediterrandeo has a Thai or Indian aesthetic in its presentation, the wild red king crab salad is Mediterranean in flavour with the tiny chunks of olives. Pretty to look at but not the tastiest: the crab was tough, and the edible lace decal had a bitter undertone. At least the dish paired well with the wine ($120 for the classic pairing).

The anatra all’ arancia highlighted French influences. Even though the skin could be crispier, the slices of duck breast were so tender and cooked perfectly.  Using star anise and cinnamon may seem strange for duck, but the spices complimented the citrus taste of the pickled endive and held up against the stronger meat. My recommendation is to save a piece of focaccia to polish off the foie gras foam (served in the duck foot vessel) and the fennel purée, these great sauces should not be wasted.

Our table universally loved the spaghettoni ai funghi locali e tartufo nero and we were sad as three forkfuls was not enough. DaNico takes the high-end Pastificio dei Campi spaghetti, cooks it in mushroom broth, and finishes it with aged parmigiano Reggiano and black truffle shavings. For something cooked in broth I expected the pasta to be more flavourful. Perhaps, this would be even better made with a fresh pasta?

By the time we get to the merluzzo nero, vermouth caviale the menu starts leaning Japanese. The black cod would be fine served with a silky vermouth butter sauce and lovely chanterelle mushrooms. It really didn’t need miso, which barely registers on the tongue as it’s used to deglaze the pan rather than as a marinade.

I felt like we were eating in an izakaya once we reached the final dish – the il manzo. Individual charcoal grills were presented with one billowing so much smoke we eventually had to let it go. Its purpose: present the skewer of sweet potato slices and a grilled shishito pepper. I found it kitschy and out-of-place at a fine dining restaurant. Not to mention the sides were a bit of a bore.

There are better things to pair with kobe beef ($40 supplement; wagyu without substitution) – sautéed mushrooms, potato, or a stuffed zucchini blossom… what can be more Italian? At least the kobe was not overcooked (well done meat is sometimes a peril of Italian kitchens) and was tender and flavourful without feeling like you’re eating lard. Overall, the fat to meat ratio of the kobe was well balanced.

I love DaNico’s idea to let diners select a dessert from three options. While it would have made sense for us to order different items and share, the torta di mele sounded too delicious to split. What a great decision as the beautiful caramelized gala apple rose would be difficult to cut and best eaten by the “petal”. The fruit sat on a soften almond cookie topped with a cinnamon cream and a bourbon foam, which all worked well together. If the dessert was served warm, it’d be even more incredible.

It’s a tad disappointing that there weren’t enough petit fours to have one each… sadly, the hollowed cloche was only made with duos in mind, so an odd-person table is shafted.

• The Ferrero Rocher tasting cream puff was fantastic, one that shouldn’t be split.
• A log of white chocolate and pistachio cream was tame on its nuttiness, but the crunchy pretzel inside an interested contrast to the cream.
• While I enjoyed the chewy freshness of the macaron, its flavour was indiscernible and a lost opportunity to wow us with one last flavour.

Three months after opening and the restaurant still has service kinks to work out. For me, it was all about the wine pairings. Generally, the preferred order is having the sommelier pour and explain the wine, a brief pause so the diner can try a sip solo, and finally the dish arrives so the wine is tried with food.

At DaNico, the pairings were all over the place. The first two courses followed the preferred procession, but as the restaurant became busy the wine was served simultaneously with the food (meaning diners need to listen to two long explanations before eating) and by the meat course we had to flag down a server to ask them for wine. Not having wine when you have a piece of kobe… oh boy.