Johanne Siy brings a Filipino touch to Aro Singapore
Her much-awaited solo debut is an impressive one
NEW RESTAURANT
Aro 15 Mohamed Sultan Road Singapore 238964 Tel: 6290 6195 Open for lunch and dinner Thursday to Mon: 12 pm to 3 pm; 6 pm to 10 pm. Closed on Tues and Wed.
We don’t socialise with vegetables much in general, but there was something about the avocado at Aro that made us think we’d met it before.
Of course we did. Three years ago. Poised on a dingy counter at the old Lolla, all dressed up in an elegant yuzu-enhanced broth and sprinkled with edible flowers, wondering what it was doing in a dive like that.
Cue 2026 and look at it now. Sitting even prettier in handcrafted ceramics, surrounded by earthy walnut and natural materials, bathed in the warmth of diffused sunlight and glowing pendant lamps.
And behind the counter is its creator, Johanne Siy – who spent the better part of the last year building the stage that she’s always wanted.
Aro, as its name defines, is a labour of love and it shows.
Siy fits in the category of those who don’t wait for opportunities to come, but make their own. The restaurant is self-funded with help from like-minded friends, so creative control is all hers.
This means a cuisine that reflects her Filipino heritage, but is not dictated by it, an ingredient-driven approach and attention to detail that almost warrants a control freak warning.
So rather than follow the likes of Hayop – whose pursuit of Filipino authenticity includes testing how much vinegar you can tolerate in your kinilaw before you cry – Siy delves into her homeland’s indigenous produce and history, and then delivers something completely her own.
The first thing she introduces you to is stingless bee honey and a chunk of the hive – a black, fossil-like, sticky mass with crevices that might have held bees or the remains of dead extra-terrestrials.
The honey itself is a zinger – more tart than sweet, set in the centre of flower petals like a pistil, and uncannily matched with a tiny cube of aged comte.
After setting the stage with this eye-opener, the 12-course, S$268 menu quickly gets down to business.
Each course is simply described by ingredient, but the execution is anything but. Tuna, for example, isn’t limited to just one cut but several, chopped and tossed in aioli and other magic condiments, packed into a crisp tart shell and covered with a slice of chutoro like a shiny laminate.
Aligue – also a Lolla menu alumnus – is recast as a mound of crab meat blended with precious crab fat and topped with a whisper-thin tuile.
And of course, the avocado. Matched with smoked eel and cucumber, its creamy plump flesh balanced out with the tang of yuzu- and coconut milk-enhanced dashi.
Even in her days at Lolla, Siy’s style was clear. It’s very precise, meticulous and her juggling of acidity, sweetness, umami and textures is so harmonious that she rarely, if ever, falls out of step.
At the same time, this level of precision can be methodical to the point that there are no real surprises or, dare we say, fun.
Instead, we continue to be dazzled by this culinary lesson that blends her artistry and sheer technical skill.
Chawanmushi is egg custard by any other name, but blend it with the milk of pili – a fatty, lesser-known nut – and top it with jamon, more nuts and an egg-yolk sauce, and it becomes next-level.
There’s more. Gillardeau oysters dressed in seaweed; tiny shell pasta cooked in a stock of French mussels and darkened with squid ink. And an excellent chicken consomme, made with coconut water and served Chinese-style, with fish maw.
Interestingly, there is no meat as a main course. The carabinero prawn takes centre stage, followed by its entire head filled with vibrant, creamy roe that you mop up with hot, out-of-the-oven potato bread – fresh but surprisingly ordinary.
Desserts are simple, but again, elegantly so. Rice milk ice cream and a pulut hitam sauce sweetened with gula melaka, and a sprinkling of artisanal salt. And a wagashi of ube that would not look out of place in a Kyoto sweet shop.
Underneath it all, is Siy’s quiet, genuine charm that makes Aro what it is. You can tell the stakes are high in her debut, and there is a no-room-for-mistakes seriousness about the meal.
Where there’s room for is a little give, a bit of experimentation and some cadence to the pacing.
Aro is her labour of love. But it’s also a journey that we’re happy to join her on.
Rating: 8
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