Cheese prata and bao the French way at Les Ducs

NEW RESTAURANT

Les Ducs 8 Ann Siang Hill Singapore 069788 Tel: 9853 4710 Open for dinner only Mon to Sat: 5 pm to 10.30 pm

YOU know an expat has lived in Singapore long enough when they can do a throwaway “lah” or “lor” without making your hair stand – at least until they enthusiastically embrace their adopted Lian or Beng, and we feel compelled to rein them in with a collective “aiyo”.

“Aiyo” is also how we initially view Les Ducs – billed as French “fun” dining with Asian accents in the form of proud pictures of prata and bao in bamboo steamer baskets. Feeling like an eskimo on the receiving end of a slushie and sous vide whale tenderloin, we wonder – fun for whom?

But we get it. Chef-owner Louis Pacquelin is a Frenchman who’s been in Asia a while. He was schooled under Ducasse and spent a good three years cooking streamlined Gallic fare at the now-defunct (and good) Clos Pasoh. He’s not in Paris anymore, and may have swapped his breakfast baguette for a quintessential murtabak or two. But in the same way we appreciate the ingenuity of a visiting European chef so enamoured of papaya that he fashions an edible dissertation on tropical fruit, we’d prefer it, frankly, if he cooked a nice peach.

Points to Pacquelin for blending in, and while we are tired of mod-Asian in any form, and we really preferred his cooking at Clos Pasoh, we can see how Les Ducs appeals to expats who aren’t yet on first-name terms with a Milo dinosaur.

Decor-wise, it’s a tasteful mish-mash of Persian carpets suspended in permanent mid-flight overhead, a wall of Peranakan tiles, rough cement floors and the heritage vibe of its Ann Siang Hill shophouse. Pacquelin himself isn’t in the kitchen as he bounces from the ground floor dining room to the members’ club upstairs, leaving it to his dependable kitchen team to push out a menu that nonetheless has strong French brasserie roots.

You can tell from the mini loaf of complimentary sourdough bread, so fresh that it’s still steaming when you crack open the crusty exterior to expose the pillowy soft insides. And for all the fun you might poke at the croque prata (S$10), we can imagine our neighbourhood prata shop eventually appropriating the crisp, semi-flaky dough stuffed with ham and creamy truffle bechamel that oozes satisfyingly with each bite. An extra dollop of truffle salsa on the side is there for dipping. 

There’s also a prata done panini style, and some kind of pork cutlet bao, but our eyes are scanning the menu for something more recognisably French. You can’t go wrong with bone marrow and escargot (S$20), and this gooey, oily trough of fat topped with nuggets of breaded snails proves it. Smothered with pesto and showered with a salad of peppery parsley lightly tossed in vinegar that offsets the grease, there’s an effortless balance of rich and tart, and texture from the snails.

SEE ALSO

Spanish steak and French snails at Wild Blaze

A Mediterranean sea bass that’s an off-menu special (S$68) is executed by someone with Chinese restaurant leanings. It’s lightly crumbed and deep-fried to an impressive crispness, and draped in ratatouille that would satisfy any sweet-sour cravings you might have. It’s authentic ratatouille, Pacquelin will protest should you point this out, but whichever way this fish swings culturally, the stew of eggplant and capsicum shines with a controlled tartness and just the right touch of sweetness.

There’s the house special – beef cheeks braised in red wine and Indonesian rawon daging spices and clams in a soto ayam broth if you want to test the Asian waters. We swim the other way with iberico pork presa (S$42), marbled and tender in a vin jaune sauce that is not pretty but buttery with a hint of wine, paired with baby food-smooth creamed potatoes and a massive shower of fried shallots. Skip the spinach as a side, as it’s drenched in soy sauce and the same fried shallots.

You can play the game of which you like better – rum or cake (S$18) and the booze lover wins: The rum baba is just an excuse to drown light and fluffy vanilla cake in potent liquor, and smother it with feathery cream.

Vanilla custard (S$15) is creme caramel’s heavyweight cousin, an incredibly rich and sweet pot of decadent pudding, crowned with an equally thick salted caramel sauce.

Clos Pasoh may be gone, but its fundamentals live on in Les Ducs. It’s accessible, uncomplicated and hearty fare that is French at heart, but acknowledges its Asian environment. You pick which continent you want to be on, but the food is enjoyable in any patois you pick. 

Rating: 7