The Ritz-Carlton, Millenia Singapore
A Lunar New Year Culinary Journey
There are dining experiences that announce themselves with fanfare, and then there are those that reveal their excellence through whispered confidence. Summer Pavilion belongs firmly to the latter. Tucked within The Ritz-Carlton’s Marina Bay sanctuary, this one Michelin-starred Cantonese restaurant approaches the Lunar New Year not as spectacle, but as ceremony—a studied meditation on seasonality, precision, and the quiet pleasures of dishes executed with unwavering clarity.
On a humid Singapore evening, as twilight dissolved into the city’s familiar electric glow, I arrived for what would become a seven-course exploration of Cantonese refinement, anchored by Chef Cheung Siu Kong’s signature deftness and the restaurant’s commitment to ingredients sourced at their seasonal apex.
The Setting: Restraint as Theatre
Summer Pavilion’s dining room is an exercise in controlled opulence. The space unfolds with the measured cadence of a scroll painting—horizontal rather than vertical, panoramic rather than cramped. Floor-to-ceiling windows frame Marina Bay’s glittering waterfront, where the skyline punctuates the darkness with sharp, geometric light. Yet the restaurant never allows the view to dominate; instead, it serves as ambient punctuation, a reminder of place without demanding attention.
The interior palette speaks in hushed tones: cream silk walls absorbing sound, dark rosewood tables gleaming under warm ambient lighting, and hand-painted ceramic tableware—each plate a canvas of cobalt florals against ivory backgrounds. These are not merely decorative flourishes; they are intentional choices that telegraph respect for the food to come. The restaurant seats perhaps sixty, but clever use of latticed screens and strategic spacing creates intimate pockets, allowing conversations to remain private even when the room approaches capacity.
Service moves with balletic precision. Staff members appear precisely when needed—never hovering, never absent. Water glasses are refilled before reaching half-empty; courses arrive in seamless rhythm. There is a particular grace to how servers handle the hand-painted tableware, rotating each plate so that its painted motif faces the diner, a small gesture that accumulates into something larger: evidence of a kitchen and front-of-house operating in unified purpose.
The Meal: A Study in Progression
King Scallop and Salmon Roe Yu Sheng
The meal opened not with whispers but with ritual. Yu sheng arrives at every Lunar New Year table across Singapore, yet Summer Pavilion’s interpretation transcends the formulaic. The platter appeared in layers of jewel-toned precision: translucent ribbons of daikon and carrot—one snow-white, the other sunset-orange—arranged in alternating bands. Atop this foundation sat fat discs of Hokkaido king scallop, their surfaces seared just enough to caramelize the natural sugars while leaving the interior cool, sweet, and yielding.
Salmon roe punctuated the composition like tiny garnet beads, each sphere bursting with marine salinity upon contact. Pomelo segments added citrus brightness, while five-spice powder dusted across the surface contributed warmth without overwhelming. The plum sauce—neither too sweet nor too tart—tied the elements together, its viscosity coating each ingredient just enough to unify without homogenizing.
The traditional tossing ceremony followed, the server encouraging enthusiastic participation as chopsticks lifted the ingredients skyward. What emerged from this orchestrated chaos was a salad of remarkable textural complexity: the scallop’s buttery resistance, the vegetables’ fibrous snap, the roe’s saline pop, the crispy won ton skin’s audible shatter. Each mouthful oscillated between cool and ambient, sweet and savory, smooth and crunchy—a microcosm of balanced contrasts that would define the courses ahead.
Double-Boiled Bird’s Nest Soup with Crab Roe and Black Caviar
Soup arrived in a lidded ceramic vessel, steam escaping as the cover lifted to reveal a pale golden broth so clear it reflected the overhead lighting. This was double-boiling taken to its logical extreme: hours of patient heat coaxing collagen and essence from superior stock ingredients without allowing turbulence to cloud the liquid.
Bird’s nest floated in delicate strands, their texture somewhere between gelatin and fresh pasta—slippery yet substantial, dissolving slowly on the tongue. The broth itself tasted of sea and earth in equal measure, chicken stock underpinned by dried seafood’s umami depth. Crab roe contributed a coral hue and mineral richness, while caviar beads added saline punctuation, each tiny sphere a controlled explosion of oceanic intensity.
What struck me most was the soup’s restraint. In lesser hands, such premium ingredients might announce themselves with bombast. Here, they conversed rather than competed, each element maintaining distinct identity while contributing to a unified whole. The temperature held perfectly throughout—hot enough to release aromatics, cool enough to prevent scalding. By the final spoonful, I understood this dish not as showpiece but as palate preparation, clearing and focusing the senses for what would follow.
Poached Rice with Australian Lobster Meat
Rice congee occupies a peculiar position in Cantonese cuisine—simultaneously humble and refined, breakfast staple and banquet centerpiece. Summer Pavilion’s iteration leaned decidedly toward the latter. The bowl arrived bone-white, its porcelain surface emphasizing the congee’s ivory hue, broken only by lobster meat’s coral blush and scallions’ verdant accent.
The rice had been poached to that precise threshold where individual grains surrender their boundaries, creating a porridge of remarkable silkiness yet retaining enough body to coat the spoon. Each mouthful moved across the palate like liquid velvet, neither thin nor stodgy, carrying the subtle sweetness of premium jasmine rice enriched by stock reduced to essence.
Australian lobster—sweet, firm, impossibly fresh—had been poached separately and added just before service, ensuring the meat retained its springy texture rather than dissolving into the surrounding rice. Ginger threads provided warmth without heat, their aromatic oils cutting through the congee’s richness. A drizzle of superior soy sauce added umami depth, its dark rivulets creating abstract patterns before being stirred into homogeneity.
This was comfort elevated to art—a dish that satisfied on multiple registers simultaneously. The texture alone warranted attention: rice’s smoothness against lobster’s resistance, ginger’s fibrous presence, scallions’ mild crunch. Temperature gradients added complexity, the congee arriving hot enough to steam while the lobster remained slightly cooler, creating subtle thermal contrasts with each spoonful.
Steamed Dong Xing Grouper with Preserved Vegetables
If there exists a single dish that encapsulates Cantonese culinary philosophy, it is whole steamed fish. The technique appears deceptively simple—fish, heat, seasoning—yet demands absolute mastery. Overcook by thirty seconds and the flesh turns cottony; undercook and it remains translucent at the bone. Summer Pavilion’s execution was flawless.
The Dong Xing grouper arrived whole, its skin intact and gleaming with a light sheen of superior soy sauce and aromatic oil. Preserved vegetables—salty, funky, intensely savory—had been scattered across the surface alongside slivers of ginger and scallion. The fish itself measured perhaps two pounds, sized perfectly for the table and steamed to that precise moment when flesh transitions from raw to cooked, the proteins just set but still trembling with residual moisture.
Using chopsticks to lift the flesh revealed its structure: thick flakes separating cleanly, white muscle fibers arranged in distinct layers, each morsel releasing a whisper of steam. The meat tasted purely of sea, sweet and clean, requiring no embellishment beyond the supporting players. Preserved vegetables contributed sharp, fermented punctuation—their aggressive salinity acting as counterpoint to the fish’s delicacy. Ginger and scallion added aromatic lift, while the soy-based sauce pooled at the plate’s bottom, perfect for spooning over rice.
This dish exemplified wabi-sabi in edible form—beauty through imperfection, complexity through simplicity. The grouper’s skin, slightly torn during steaming, added rustic authenticity. The vegetables, chopped irregularly, suggested hand-preparation rather than industrial precision. Yet within this apparent casualness lay absolute control: temperature held exactly, timing executed perfectly, seasoning balanced to the gram.
Premium Abalone with Fish Maw
Abalone and fish maw represent luxury ingredients par excellence in Cantonese cuisine, their presence on any menu signaling both celebration and expense. Summer Pavilion’s treatment honored these ingredients’ premium status while avoiding the pitfall of mere ostentation.
The abalone—South African origin, judging by its substantial size and bronze-copper hue—had been braised for hours until achieving that peculiar texture unique to the ingredient: simultaneously tender and resistant, yielding to the tooth yet requiring chewing, releasing marine sweetness gradually rather than all at once. Each piece measured perhaps two inches across, its surface glazed with a dark, syrupy reduction that caught the light like lacquer.
Fish maw arrived as translucent sheets, their gelatinous texture absorbing the braising liquid’s complex flavors—oyster sauce, superior stock, shaoxing wine, rock sugar—while contributing virtually no taste of their own. This is maw’s paradox: prized more for what it receives than what it gives, a textural vehicle that transforms surrounding flavors into viscous, coating luxury.
The sauce itself deserved independent analysis. Reduced to near-syrup consistency, it carried layers of umami—dried scallop, dried oyster, shiitake mushroom—built up over hours of patient simmering. Each component had surrendered its essence while maintaining ghost-presence, contributing to a whole greater than the sum of parts. Beneath the abalone, tender Shanghai bok choy provided verdant contrast and necessary lightness, its mild bitterness cutting through the dish’s concentrated richness.
This course represented Cantonese cuisine’s philosophical core: time as ingredient, patience as technique, restraint as artistry. Nothing here announced itself loudly, yet everything spoke with authority.
Wok-Fried Wagyu Beef with Seasonal Vegetables
After courses defined by delicacy and patience, the beef arrived as controlled violence—the Cantonese wok’s signature contribution to world cuisine. The meat itself appeared to be A4 or A5 grade wagyu, cut against the grain into thick batons that retained pink centers despite the wok’s blistering heat.
The exterior bore the telltale marks of wok hei—that elusive ‘breath of the wok’ achieved only through precise timing, extreme temperature, and rapid movement. Edges carried char without crossing into bitterness, Maillard reaction creating complex savory notes while the interior remained butter-tender, marbling melting into surrounding sauce.
Asparagus and shiitake mushrooms provided textural counterpoint—the former arriving al dente with audible snap, the latter cooked until their spongy texture absorbed the sauce’s concentrated flavors. The sauce itself walked the line between glaze and liquid, coating each element without pooling excessively. Garlic and spring onion contributed aromatic complexity, while a whisper of white pepper added back-palate warmth.
What elevated this dish beyond mere competence was the cook’s restraint with sauce. Lesser establishments drown premium beef in thick, sticky glazes that mask rather than enhance. Here, the wagyu’s inherent richness remained paramount, the sauce serving as accent rather than foundation. Each bite delivered meat’s fatty unctuousness, vegetables’ fresh crispness, and wok fire’s smoky whisper in balanced succession.
Hong Kong-Style Glutinous Rice
The penultimate savory course arrived in individual bamboo steamers, each container releasing fragrant steam as the lid lifted. Inside, glutinous rice had been formed into a compact cylinder, its surface studded with Chinese sausage, dried shrimp, shiitake mushroom, and preserved radish—the canonical quartet of Cantonese rice preparations.
The rice itself achieved that specific texture prized in Cantonese cuisine: individual grains maintaining distinct identity while adhering to neighbors, creating clusters that held shape when lifted yet separated cleanly when chewed. This demands precise water ratios and exact steaming times—too wet and it becomes porridge, too dry and it turns hard.
Chinese sausage—lap cheong—contributed its signature sweet-savory profile, fat rendering during steaming to permeate surrounding rice. Dried shrimp added oceanic intensity and textural variation, their small size belying concentrated flavor. Shiitake mushrooms, rehydrated and diced, provided earthy depth, while preserved radish’s salty crunch cut through the rice’s starchy richness.
This was comfort food elevated through technique—humble ingredients arranged with precision, familiar flavors executed with authority. The rice served as both palate cleanser and satisfying conclusion to the savory progression, its substantial character preparing for the meal’s final movement.
Chilled Mango Cream with Pomelo and Sweetened Red Bean Soup
Dessert arrived as duality: a bowl of chilled mango cream paired with a smaller vessel of warm sweetened red bean soup. This contrast—cold and hot, fruit and legume, light and substantial—encapsulated the yin-yang philosophy underlying Cantonese cuisine.
The mango cream showcased Southeast Asian fruit at peak ripeness, pureed until impossibly smooth and lightened with whipped cream to mousse-like texture. Fresh pomelo segments—hand-segmented to remove all bitter pith—added citrus brightness and textural pop, each membrane-encased juice sac bursting cleanly. A drizzle of coconut milk contributed tropical richness without overwhelming the mango’s starring role.
The red bean soup served as warming counterpoint, its russet-brown surface dotted with tender azuki beans cooked until skins just began to split. The broth itself carried caramelized sweetness from rock sugar, while dried tangerine peel added aromatic complexity and subtle bitterness. Temperature alone created distinct experiences—the mango cream’s cold refreshment giving way to the soup’s gentle warmth, each spoonful alternating between the two, creating a conversation rather than a statement.
This dessert exemplified the evening’s governing principle: balance as ambition, harmony as achievement. Neither element dominated; each found its place in relation to the other, creating closure that felt inevitable yet surprising.
Final Reflections
As service concluded and the Marina Bay skyline began its gradual fade into late-night quietude, I found myself contemplating what distinguishes excellent Cantonese cuisine from merely competent execution. Summer Pavilion’s Lunar New Year menu provided clarity: it is the accumulation of small perfections, the refusal to accept ‘good enough,’ the understanding that technique serves ingredient rather than the reverse.
Every dish tonight demonstrated this philosophy. The yu sheng’s precise vegetable julienne, the soup’s crystalline clarity, the grouper’s exact doneness, the abalone’s patient braising, the beef’s controlled char—none of these achievements announce themselves loudly, yet their absence would be immediately felt. This is cooking as conversation with ingredients, each element given space to express its essential nature while contributing to orchestrated harmony.
The hand-painted tableware, the Marina Bay views, the impeccable service—these elements matter, certainly, but they frame rather than define the experience. What lingers is simpler and more profound: the taste of ingredients at their peak, treated with respect and executed with precision. In an era of molecular gastronomy and deconstructed everything, Summer Pavilion offers something increasingly rare—classical technique in service of timeless flavors, presented without apology or artifice.
For those seeking Lunar New Year celebration meals that honor tradition while achieving contemporary refinement, Summer Pavilion stands as exemplar. This is not dining as entertainment but as communion—with season, with heritage, with the patient work of skilled hands. It is what Cantonese cuisine aspires to be when executed at the highest level: complex without complication, luxurious without ostentation, satisfying on every register from the sensory to the cerebral.
The Year of the Horse begins with abundance. Summer Pavilion ensures it begins with excellence.
Essential Information
Summer Pavilion
The Ritz-Carlton, Millenia Singapore, Level 3
7 Raffles Avenue, Singapore 039799
Chinese New Year Period: February 2 – March 3, 2026
Set Menus: From S$168 per person (six courses)
Reservations: +65 6434 5286 or [email protected]
Michelin Recognition: One Star
Dress Code: Smart casual; business attire recommended for dinner service
Advance reservations essential during Lunar New Year period