Dinner and a movie in Chinatown

You’ll find popcorn at the Screening Room’s movie theatre – truffle salsa popcorn, to be exact. But don’t expect any finger food at the posh bistro, a ground-floor dining room decked out with chandeliers and a central bar. The restaurant is a Mediterranean sequel to owner Samia Ahad’s blockbuster Persian-Asian original – Coriander Leaf in Clarke Quay. While the view at eye level was lovely, the garden-like terracotta flooring was slightly bemusing – it made the place look like someone’s backyard. No matter. The Mediterranean concept continued flawlessly in the small, but confidently grownup menu. With that, all fears of Planet Hollywood-type themed dishes vanished, allowing us to kick back and savour the table’s breadsticks with hummus dip.

Prawn bouillabaisse arrived in a staggeringly large glass bowl that could double as a bathroom sink, filled with enough creamy seafood stew to drown a chihuahua. It was generous with chunks of prawn, mussels, scallops and fish – and was exceptionally thick and naturally salty. Our only grouses were the missing heirloom tomatoes listed on the menu, and that it needed just a touch of aioli to be perfect. The classic steak frites arrived with burnt-thin crisps (the chef should clearly pop across the road to Les Bouchons, who serve the best fat crispy frites in Singapore). Avoiding the bitter chips and puckerish pickled side vegetables, the ribeye itself was dense and glistening – a good piece of work.

We also indulged in Spanish escabeche of red mullet, followed by waiterrecommended chicken tagine. Unlike ceviche, the fish here is flash-fried as well as marinated in lemon, making for a deliciously tart, tender white fillet on salad greens. The tagine upped the citrus factor with whole preserved lemons and olives, richly infusing the slow-cooked stew with a piquant aftertaste. While we were a trifle disappointed that the fragrant dish didn’t arrive in its eponymous pot – and indeed the staff had no idea what a conical Moroccan tagine was – it was accompanied by a cupful of perky butter pilaf rice with raisins.

As customers trooped past on their way to the whisky bar in the basement, the plush second-floor cinema or the rooftop bar, we loosened our belts and continued with dessert. Puddings here are expensive, at nothing short of $15. Awesome as they looked on paper and on the plate, flavours were dreary and portions unsatisfying compared to the mains. Fried haloumi cheese with pistachio ice cream was a single, cigarette-sized, deep-fried battered stick indistinguishable from mozzarella. The white and dark chocolate buñuelos served with Arabic coffee crème brûlée were another up-sell that comprised two tough dough fritters in an unbearably damp and soggy crème brûlée. The only consolation was that there was very little crème brûlée in the first place. Only a few weeks old, this sequel should mature for the better by the time you read this. Plus, they will have themed film menus, matched to the movie of the night. June Lee