Daniel Boulud banks on familiar French food at Maison Boulud

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Maison Boulud B1-15 & L1-83 The Shoppes Marina Bay Sands 2 Bayfront Avenue Singapore 018972 Tel: 6688 6088 Open daily for lunch and dinner. Level B1: 12pm to 2pm; 5pm to 9:30pm. Brunch from 11:30am to 2:15pm on Sat and Sun. Level 1: 12pm to 5pm (4:30pm on Fri). Brunch from 11:30am to 4:45pm on Sat and Sun.

SOMEWHERE along the line, Daniel Boulud must have had to make a choice. Remake db Bistro as some fashionably progressive, Mediterranean omakase zero-carbon farm-to-table paean to contrived dining, or risk being dismissed as a has-been boomer chef.

We can imagine him muttering the French equivalent of “gosh, darn it” and pushing ahead with what he does best: going back to the basics.

Yes, Maison Boulud is uncool by “how many micro ingredients and lacto-fermentation techniques can you squeeze into a single kueh pie tee cup” standards, and unapologetically so. It harks back to the days when French restaurants served whole seared foie gras without being politically incorrect, or charged a lot of money for a pile of raw and boiled seafood on tiered trays, no cooking talent needed.

But we rather like it. There’s no pressure on chefs to build an R&D kitchen so they can torture carrots. And no pressure on us to applaud their efforts. We get to sit down and enjoy the low-hanging fruits of satisfaction – classic French cooking done competently.

It’s all served up in subtly chic, warm-lit surroundings, with spacious banquettes and attentive service. We like the unhurried, genteel vibe of the basement dining room – it has French windows looking out to MBS’ designer boutiques  – more than the cramped cafe upstairs, which faces the promenade and nightly light show.

Banking on the notion that familiarity breeds repeat business, Maison Boulud keeps the menu straightforward. Fruits de mer. Sole meuniere. Charcuterie. Seared foie gras. Franco-Italian head chef Remy Carmignano slips in a couple of Italian accents, but an agnolotti here or puttanesca there doesn’t detract from the overall Gallic DNA.

A general litmus test for a restaurant is to order the platter of fruits de mer (from S$135). With just bare oysters, mussels, lobsters, clams and the like, you can’t escape the freshness element. If it’s fresh, it’s fresh. If not, chances are high that you’ll eat a bad mussel and discover what death tastes like.

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Maison Boulud’s mussels, however, are very nice. We can only vouch for ours and not any future ones, but they’re clean, with a sweet, fresh brininess, and plump. So are the oysters – French and minerally, with a deeper taste of the sea than their Japanese counterparts. There are also big, plump shrimp and passable lobster. The clams are so rubbery, you could stretch them and use them to fasten a bag of unfinished crisps. And the three shot glasses of salmon tartare, crab and tuna in assorted dressings are forgettable.

Just when you think restaurants have forgotten how to serve hot food, the heart-warming mushroom veloute (S$26) is a welcome reminder. The velvety cream broth is poured over a layer of warm onion custard, sauteed mushrooms and chestnut bits, reviving comforting memories of canned cream of mushroom soups.

While we didn’t grow up with pate en croute (S$28), we can get why this cold pastry wrapped meatloaf of minced pork studded with nuggets of foie gras and pistachios would appeal. Baby cornichons help to cut through the heft of the pie.

Service is attentive as we say, but we’d prefer it if they ignored us a little so we don’t have to keep assuring them that we’re happy with the food, and that we won’t hurt their plates, so it’s safe to leave them on our table a little longer.

Dover sole meuniere (S$68) is a torpedo-shaped piece of solid tender fish browned in nutty butter – and what’s with the rubbery clams?– garnished with lemony Hollandaise and lovely waxy potatoes. The duo of Duroc pork loin and porchetta (S$68) is one for both fat and lean meat lovers – a yin and yang of rolled roasted pork belly and loin chop that looks dry but manages to retain some moisture within.

Our very enthusisatic server surprises us with free dessert, insisting that we need to try the house special in addition to our simple order of freshly baked madeleines (S$12). It’s a pretty, colourful composition of tangy ricotta gelato covered with spikes of baby meringues, pistachio cream and lemon jelly that adds up to a traffic jam of sweet, sour and salty textures. You either like the clutter, or you don’t.

There’s less ambiguity with the madeleines – a paper cone of mini baked cakes fresh out of the oven that would displease only the ones most dissatisfied with life.

Sure, there’s nothing intellectual about Maison Boulud, and it’s not meant to be. It aims at the most basic of pleasures – the act of eating well and being comfortable while at it, with no one crowding your personal space, and servers who will eventually leave you alone if you drop a loud-enough hint. If that’s Boulud’s secret of success, well, good for him. He’s been in the game long enough, and being tried and true never goes out of style.

Rating: 7