Predictable Italian at L’Amo

NEW RESTAURANT

L’Amo Bistro del Mare Singapore Mett Singapore 11 Canning Walk Singapore 178881 Tel: 6799-8802 Open daily for lunch and dinner: 12 pm to 2.30 pm; 6 pm to 10 pm

THERE are two things you need to arm yourself with before you step into L’Amo Bistro del Mare: a healthy imagination, and a wallet to match.

Not to mention a flexible tongue, so the name of the restaurant rolls off lyrically rather than like olive pits you’re trying to spit out gracefully.

First, pretend that you’re sitting by the Italian coast, with visions of freshly caught seafood hauled off fishing boats and piled high on ice for your inspection. Reality says you’re somewhere in Fort Canning Park in the middle of the city – albeit in a rather pleasing, nautical-inspired dining room that looks out through French doors to some tropical greenery.

You’re invited to inspect the seafood on ice, but all you see is a paltry version of Estiatorio Milos’ heaving fish bar in MBS. Unless there are some high rollers hiding in the vegetation, we’re not sure who’s going to shell out S$550 for a kilogram of carabinero prawns in a place like this.

But L’amo is a direct import from its Dubai flagship, which may explain its expectations of its local clientele’s spending power. We’re not its target customers then.

Instead, we focus on the rest of the menu: predictable Italian fare served on white tablecloths by a warm, friendly team. The restaurant itself is overseen by Daniele Sperindio of the soon-to-reopen Art next door, but his role seems more operational than creative.

There are surprisingly few signature items on the menu – apart from the selections from the fish bar that are market price – so we just go with whatever our server recommends.

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After some puny Irish oysters (S$7 each) that are tiny, not super fresh but still packing a nice lingering finish, we get vitello tonnato ($29) – an Italian classic of veal in tuna sauce.

While we’ve never been able to reconcile this marriage of meat and fishy sauce, this version almost makes sense. We prefer the veal on its own – shaved into very thin, pink and succulent slices, so the blanket of tuna emulsion that drowns it is an intrusion, but not so bad when you mop it up with some bread.

Josper-roasted octopus (S$32) is better, thanks to the firm yet yielding texture of octopus chunks just slightly charred at the edges, sitting on a bed of carrot puree. The crisp potato wedges on the side are a nice touch.

If you want pizza but think that’s not very classy, order the pinsa – which is apparently pizza but made with fermented dough. The tartufo (S$32) is a white pizza – topped with cheesy cream and slices of black truffle. The dough is less puffy than you expect, more like a lighter focaccia, but good enough.

Since we’re too cheap to go with the carabinero prawns, we get the gamberoni al Josper (S$58) and are duly punished with a row of five prawns, enticingly broiled but mushy-textured. We manage to salvage a few firm bites so we can imagine what potential they had if they were still at their peak. 

One of its rare signature pastas, cacio e pepe (S$35), is said to be a test of the chef’s skill at creating a clumpless sauce of pecorino cheese and black pepper. It could be authentic for all we know, but since the pasta is Italian al dente/Singaporean undercooked and the sauce bland, we’re obviously no judge of quality in this respect.

Dessert-wise, another Italian speciality – cannoli (S$16) – speaks to us only because we like the idea of crispy cigar rolls stuffed with pistachio cream. Here, the pastry is thick and crunchy, and the pistachio cream is studded with zest – not too sweet and an unfussy end to the meal.

It’s less dramatic than the “Ti..Amo..Su”, a DIY tiramisu (S$19) that’s assembled at the table. It’s an unnecessary exercise where sponge fingers are laid out and drowned in very strong espresso (with no trace of liqueur), never-ending dollops of mascarpone cream, and dustings of cocoa powder and chocolate shavings.

The resulting mess is rich, creamy and oozy – but still a normal tiramisu.

L’Amo Bistro del Mare feels like a concept that might have been exciting in another era. Now it just seems pedestrian – like a polite conversation you wish would end sooner, especially with the draggy service. The food is decent, but we’ve come a long way since decent was good enough.

Rating: 6