British-inspired dining at Stags Head Steakhouse

NEW RESTAURANT

Stags Head Steakhouse Level 3 Pan Pacific Singapore 7 Raffles Boulevard Singapore 039595 Tel: 8209 4750 Open for lunch and dinner Mon to Fri: 11.30 am to 2 pm; 5 pm to 10 pm. Dinner only on Sat and Sun.

WE’RE not English. Didn’t grow up with Sunday roasts. But back in the day when we read “storybooks”, we were weaned on the glorious illusions of boarding school midnight feasts, Yorkshire pudding, jam biscuits and Eton mess.

Then we grew up, tried the real thing and decided berries piled with whipped cream and meringue can be rather disgusting.

That, and other shattered childhood dreams – sort of – come to mind at Stags Head Steakhouse. With its posh, Mayfair gentlemen’s club digs, it dredges up stereotypes of power meals in elitist, dimly lit dining rooms – but reimagined for diners still nursing a wee bit of colonial hangover. 

It may be a far cry from its predecessor – Indian stalwart Rang Mahal – at the Pan Pacific hotel, but there’s still a lingering raj-like opulence in its decor. Think light-sucking deep blue walls and chocolate timber accents, with muted lamps casting a glow over life-sized oil portraits of…a rabbit, a border collie and the eponymous stag. 

And we’re not talking about Fluffy the bunny or Max the hyper-mutt posing in a frock or army t-shirt. Instead, their heads are grafted onto the bodies of buff Victorian gents in evening or military garb – eerie and regal at the same time.

If you’re expecting a real stag’s head mounted on the wall somewhere – it’s likely it couldn’t get past customs at Second Link. There’s a painting of one dressed in a morning suit instead.

The owners of Stags Head also operate the Italian steakhouse Bistecca, and its new English accent is pretty consistent, from the menu to its range of wines, and even the cheeses at the end of the meal.

SEE ALSO

British-inspired dining at Stags Head Steakhouse

But it’s fundamentally a steakhouse. No matter how you slice it, you’re still getting a piece of cow, dry-aged in-house, with a pedigree that’s impossible to distinguish once it’s broiled and on your plate. You can murmur descriptions like “clean, with a distinctive beefiness and not too fatty”, and not be far off.

Instead, we pander to our unfulfilled youthful longings and order the quintessential British roast (S$188). You’re advised to pre-order when you make your booking, or expect an 80-minute wait. We’re not sure which is better – lingering for more than an hour over your starters, or being seated and immediately told: “Your roast is ready, would you like it now?”

What, no starters? Apparently, people who pre-order the roast dive right into it without anything else, we’re told. Even so, they’re happy to let the meat rest longer if we prefer that.

We’re worried. What if the extra nap time makes our 400 gm Chateaubriand complacent and dry? We speed through our starters: a half-dozen Irish Native oysters (S$58) and Crab Thermidor (S$36).

A soundtrack of British rock – the wailing kind – keeps us in step as we work through the fresh molluscs. Oddly, they’re swimming in pools of water in their shells, but still enjoyably juicy. 

The Crab Thermidor – sometimes used as an excuse to use up not so pristine crabmeat drowned in bechamel and gratinated beyond recognition – is better than expected. It’s gone through some quality control, mixed with just enough cream to enhance, not overwhelm. Grilled cheese and breadcrumbs on top finish it off nicely.

That done, we call for our roast. It comes with some fanfare. Pink, quite-rare meat, surrounded by Yorkshire pudding, beef fat-fried potatoes and charred brussels sprouts spilling from a giant silver platter. It’s meant for two, but easily feeds three.

The beef itself is grass-fed lean but tender, and needs the punchy beef dripping sauce to give it some life. Eat it with the hollow, muffin shaped puddings – light, almost glossy with a stretchy bite. 

Another storybook favourite – apple crumble (S$28) – is an intensely sweet stew of apples and blackberries, topped with an oaty cookie crumble and vanilla ice cream that melts over the piping hot mix.

Otherwise, pick at a good selection of hard and soft, mild and stinky artisanal cheeses (S$28). Stinky cheese fans, unite. 

Stags Head is more upper crust than casual comfort, but don’t let the stiff decor put you off. The staff are down-to-earth, and a local team in the kitchen easily nails the British touches.

It’s not storybook perfect, but if you have a soft spot for the likes of Eton mess and knickerbocker glory, you can relive them right here.

Rating: 6.5