From the moment we entered the building, we were already overwhelmed with a sense of regality. The lobby of The Sultan is furnished top-to-bottom with wood fittings, reliefs in the style of gothic columns, and the occasional statement piece. Before we’ve even set foot into the restaurant itself, the bar was set high. 

After a short wait, we were ushered into the restaurant by a small platoon of well-suited staffers. We sat at an expensive (and heavy!)-looking marble-top table as an ornate pushcart made its rounds through the room, toted around by two waiters. Dishes began moving off golden, tiered trays and onto tables. Soon enough, a plate touched down on our counter, and we dug in.

First was a bowl of salad nicoise, topped off with some tuna tataki. The tuna had taken a roll around the pan for that classic “white on the outside, pink on the inside” look. It’s a fresh, delicately-made cut of fish that I was all too happy to stuff in my face. 

A french loaf platter followed, accompanied by three sauces and a jar of hummus. The sauces run from mild (honey mint yoghurt) to incredibly strong (chicken liver pate), but the highlight is the sambal romesco, which had a more refined, gentler version of that classic, shrimpy nasi lemak taste.

My suggestion is as follows: go heavy on the sambal and pate, before trying the hummus and ending off with the yoghurt. You’ll leave your bread course feeling refreshed and ready for things to get exciting.

Included in the charge are 2 Murotsu Bay oysters per diner, and this is where I started to perk up a little. The oysters were extraordinarily creamy, with the faintest fruity tang, and that’s before you even spritz any lemon onto them. Slurp them from the shell, but be sure not to send them sliding down your throat too quickly. The meat is pillow-soft and juicy, so bite into them and take a moment to really let the flavour spread through your mouth.

My colleagues were less keen on the oysters, so I ended up with triple my share. If you end up coming here with a friend or date (highly recommend), I’d like to take this paragraph to ask you to mourn the fact that I got 6 oysters out of this arrangement, and you will most likely be stuck with 2, or maybe even a measly 4, assuming your associate ends up being as generous as my benefactors.

You’ll want to dry your tears quickly, though, as next was the macaroni au gratin, accompanied by a soup vichyssoise. For what was essentially a more premium mac and cheese and a gussied-up Campbell’s, the combo did its job well. None of the flavours cloy at the maw, and the macaroni itself was plushlike in its softness, without ever degrading to mush under the weight of the cream.

The halibut parmentier was made assam-style, with lemongrass and chilli. I barely had to try to chew through it at all, and the spices add just enough kick, while still granting your tongue enough mercy to savour what is to come.

Lined up on a plate next to it are three scallop au gratin. Each bite was bursting with juice, and the scallops were topped with a layer of torched garlic paste, encouraging you to roll the mollusc in your mouth a little — just to enjoy the way the mentaiko-esque flavours of the paste brush up against the fishiness of the scallop.

This is where the atmosphere of the whole affair began to set in, and I began to feel a little regal. Just about everything I’ve put in my mouth here has been incredibly sumptuous, and the combination of the trolley thing and me barely having to chew the seafood means that there’s no other way for this arrangement to get any lazier on my end, short of the waiters coming up  to spoon feed me.

We were also provided with a free flow of sangria iced tea, which will cost you 10 dollars, but is seriously worth it because of how much it helps with freshening up the tongue between courses. As I chugged my third glass (I really liked the tea), I gazed out the arched windows. The sky is overcast, giving the whole room a moody lighting and allowing me to pretend I’m in a lost episode of The Crown.

Then came the meat. The wagyu beef bourguignon invites focus. Wagyu in Singapore has mostly been a solved equation, but the beef served here was so fatty and velvety that if you’re not careful you could end up guzzling the whole thing down alongside the sweet sauce. If you remain diligent, you’ll find that the fat is just taut enough to give a satisfying bite. 

Presented alongside the beef was a plate of forty garlic chicken. The chicken itself is plated in a small moat of gravy, really a puddle compared to the ocean of sauce that made up the bourguignon. But still waters run deep, as you could taste all forty of the garlic cloves used in every bite. From the skin (charred but soft) to the innermost flesh (unbelievably succulent), every bite was permeated with the flavour of caramelly, nutty garlic. The gravy was thick and indulgent, and bits of thyme provided a nice, minty kick.

As my umpteenth bite of luxuriously soft meat went down the hatch, a five-word phrase hit my mind. From the depths of my childhood, words first heard while sitting on a slightly sticky vinyl couch in front of the TV at my grandma’s house. At the tailend of CNA’s Japan hour block, another regional travelogue. An exclamation by an incredibly high-pitched woman, subtitled in english for my viewing pleasure.

My mother and I would make fun of that phrase every time it came up on those shows, and now I finally understood. But beyond the softness of the meat and seafood, everything here has been cooked so finely that the meal is just plain pleasant to put in my mouth on a moment-to-moment basis. The delicate flavour profiles also meant that even my philistine tongue was able to appreciate the subtleties of these textures while also highlighting the more dramatic swings of dishes like the garlic chicken.

Dessert was a plate loaded with pastries. The Mao Shan Wang durian pengat bread pudding was obviously the star here, and the durian was drizzled as a light puree on top. I usually don’t care for bread pudding, but here, the subdued flavour of the treat allowed the MSW to really shine. 

After the pudding, we had a coconut banana crumble. You can never really go wrong with choco-banana, but more often than not with these desserts, you’re left with “chocolate with a light suggestion of banana”. Thankfully, the banana flavour here was obvious, and complements the chocolate wonderfully. With the coconut, the operative phrase seemed to be “hints of”, but now it’s presented as small bits inside the crust, which added variety both to the flavour transitions of the dessert plate as well as the pastry’s texture. 

A grid of marshmallow brownies saw me off, which I almost missed thanks to the gigantic glob of whipped cream covering it. If you’re sugar-conscious, you can ask your server to skip the cream, but I found myself grateful for it, as the moisture helped cut through the dense texture of the brownies. The marshmallows themselves were soft and sweet, and a perfect, familiar note to end off on.

Until the last second, I felt like royalty. I stepped out of The White Label, and waited for my colleagues to fetch our GetGo chariot from its parking. The area was a little more crowded than you’d expect of a 60-room hotel, but nobody was rushing. I closed my eyes, and heard only the sounds of light jazz, distant chatter, and good shoes click-clacking against tile. Ah, it feels good to be king/queen/monarch.

We loved The White Label so much that we couldn’t resist bringing back the goods for you guys to enjoy, too! From now till 25 February 2025, simply flash a GetGo booking from the past three months to get a complimentary coffee of your choice, worth up to $6.50. Learn more.

📍 Address: 101 Jalan Sultan, #01-02 The Sultan, S199002
🍴 Halal status: Yes
⏰ Buffet timings: Sat and Sun, 11am and 1:30pm
📞 Contact: 82022358
🌐 Website: thewhitelabel.sg