Carlton Hotel Singapore
Ambience & Setting
Nestled within the Carlton Hotel Singapore along the heritage-rich Bras Basah corridor, Wah Lok Cantonese Restaurant offers a dining sanctuary that bridges tradition with contemporary elegance. The restaurant’s reputation as a bastion of refined Cantonese cuisine makes it a natural choice for multi-generational Lunar New Year reunions, where the weight of symbolism meets the comfort of familiarity.
The atmosphere during the festive season carries a palpable sense of occasion. While the review doesn’t detail specific decor elements, one imagines the space adorned with subtle nods to the Fire Horse year—perhaps touches of crimson and gold catching the light, the gentle murmur of family conversations filling the room, and the anticipation that comes with celebratory dining. Wah Lok’s established presence suggests a space where formality doesn’t overwhelm warmth, where waitstaff navigate between tables with the practiced ease that comes from years of orchestrating festive feasts.
The restaurant’s commitment to tradition is evident not just in its menu but in its understanding of Chinese New Year dining as ritual—each dish a chapter in a larger story of prosperity, unity, and hope for the year ahead.
The Festive Journey: A Dish-by-Dish Analysis
Sea Cucumber White Bait Yu Sheng ★★★★☆ (4/5)
Available for takeaway: $108/$148
The meal opens, as Lunar New Year tradition demands, with the ceremonial Lo Hei—a ritual toss of fortune that brings families to their feet in joyous participation. Wah Lok’s interpretation elevates the familiar with sea cucumber and white bait, ingredients that speak to both luxury and textural intrigue.
Textural Complexity: The genius of a well-executed Yu Sheng lies in its contrasts. Here, the sea cucumber provides that distinctive gelatinous bounce—slippery yet substantial, its resilience offering satisfying resistance against the bite. White bait contributes delicate flakes that dissolve almost instantly on the tongue, their subtle brininess a whisper against the sea cucumber’s more assertive presence.
The supporting cast plays its role admirably: crisp crackers shatter with each toss, creating pockets of crunch that punctuate the softer elements. Fresh vegetables—likely julienned carrots, radish, and cucumber—maintain their structural integrity, providing clean, refreshing snaps that cut through the richness. The plum sauce and various condiments create a slick coating that binds disparate elements into a harmonious whole during the toss.
Flavor Profile: The Yu Sheng achieves balance without being timid. Sweet notes from plum sauce and candied elements dance with tangy pickled ginger and zesty citrus. The white bait adds umami depth without overwhelming, while sesame oil brings nutty warmth. It’s celebratory without being cloying—a refined take that respects tradition while demonstrating restraint.
Traditional-boiled Chicken Fish Maw Soup ★★★☆☆ (3/5)
The Ambivalence of Comfort: This dish presents an interesting paradox. On one hand, it delivers exactly what it promises: a clean, honest chicken broth that warms from within, the kind of nourishment that Chinese households have perfected over generations. The soup is “homely”—a quality that can be both compliment and critique.
Textural Elements: Fish maw, when properly prepared, should offer a silky, cloud-like texture—soft yet substantial, capable of absorbing the surrounding broth while maintaining its own delicate structure. It should slide across the palate with an almost melting quality, its subtle bounce a textural highlight in an otherwise smooth soup.
The chicken likely contributes tender, easily-shredded meat that falls apart at the gentlest nudge of chopsticks. The broth itself should coat the mouth with a light viscosity, evidence of prolonged simmering that’s extracted collagen and essence from the bones.
The Festive Disconnect: Here lies the soup’s shortcoming for a Lunar New Year menu. While technically sound and undoubtedly nourishing, it lacks the luxurious gravitas expected of a celebration commanding $88+ per person. Chinese New Year soups traditionally showcase premium ingredients in abundance—perhaps dried seafood like abalone or conpoy, medicinal herbs like ginseng or cordyceps, or a richer, more complex broth that speaks to hours of careful preparation.
The “clean, homely broth” reads as Monday dinner rather than festive feast. For a special occasion menu, diners anticipate depth—layers of flavor that reveal themselves gradually, richness that feels indulgent, ingredients that signal abundance. This soup, while perfectly pleasant, doesn’t quite rise to meet that expectation.
Pan-fried Scallop with Minced Shrimp, Crab Meat & Crab Roe ★★★★☆ (4/5)
Visual Theater: Before the first bite, this dish announces itself as celebration. The scallop likely sits as a golden-brown medallion, its seared surface glistening, crowned with a vibrant orange-red cap of crab roe that catches the eye like jewelry against silk.
Textural Symphony: The scallop is “plump and juicy”—when done right, this means a barely translucent center that yields with cushiony resistance, moisture flooding the mouth with sweet ocean essence. The exterior carries a delicate crust, the Maillard reaction creating a thin, caramelized shell that gives way to the tender interior.
Beneath or surrounding the scallop, minced shrimp provides a different textural experience entirely. Finely chopped and likely bound with minimal starch, it should offer a bouncy, springy quality—that characteristic “snap” prized in Cantonese seafood preparations. Each tiny piece resists the bite momentarily before surrendering.
Crab meat contributes flaky softness, its delicate strands contrasting with both the scallop’s density and the shrimp’s bounce. The crab roe sauce, viscous and clinging, coats everything in luxurious richness.
The Missed Opportunity: While visually stunning and texturally engaging, the dish doesn’t quite deliver on its full potential. Crab roe, when it shines, brings an intense, briny, almost creamy umami that should be unmistakable—the oceanic equivalent of truffles. That this flavor could be “more prominent” suggests either the roe itself wasn’t peak quality or the sauce diluted its impact. For a premium dish, that distinctive crab roe character should be front and center, not a supporting whisper.
Abalone Eight Treasure Duck ★★★★☆ (4/5)
Takeaway centrepiece: $208
The Showstopper: This is the dish that demands attention, both on the table and in conversation afterwards. At $208, it positions itself as the festive centerpiece, the kind of offering that signals to guests: you are valued, this occasion matters.
Component Complexity: The “eight treasures” represent more than ingredients—they’re a symbolic roster of prosperity. Each element contributes its own textural signature:
- Abalone: The premium ingredient, offering that characteristic chewy-tender quality, its firm flesh requiring thoughtful chewing that releases sweet, concentrated ocean flavor
- Sea cucumber: Gelatinous resilience, slippery and bouncy, absorbing the braising liquid while maintaining structural integrity
- Conpoy (dried scallop): Intensely savory shreds that dissolve into concentrated umami, their fibrous texture melting on the tongue
- Pork: Likely fatty cuts that have softened to melting tenderness during the long braise
- Chestnut: Starchy sweetness with a slight crumble, providing earthiness and subtle texture contrast
- Mushroom: Depending on variety, either meaty chew (shiitake) or silken slip (wood ear), contributing umami depth
- Lotus seed: Delicate, slightly chalky texture with nutty sweetness, requiring gentle bite pressure
The Duck Itself: Slow-braising transforms duck into something sublime. The meat should pull apart effortlessly, its fibers so relaxed from hours of gentle heat that they separate at the merest suggestion. The skin, no longer crisp as in roasted preparations, becomes silky and rich, its fat rendered into the surrounding sauce.
Braising Liquid: The sauce is where all these elements unite. After hours of simmering, it becomes a glossy, deeply flavored reduction—thick enough to cling to each ingredient, complex enough to carry notes from every component. Soy sauce provides savory backbone, Shaoxing wine adds aromatic depth, rock sugar balances with subtle sweetness, and the collective essence of all eight treasures creates something greater than the sum of parts.
Why It Works: This dish understands festive dining. It’s abundant without being excessive, luxurious without pretension, and carries genuine symbolic weight. The “unity” it embodies isn’t just philosophical—it’s textural and gustatory, each ingredient supporting others in a harmonious whole.
Pan-fried Sea Perch ★★★★☆ (3.8/5)
The Beauty of Simplicity: After the complexity of earlier courses, the sea perch offers a palate cleanser of sorts—not in temperature or flavor, but in philosophy. This is pure technique showcasing quality ingredient.
Textural Mastery: “Beautifully crisp skin” suggests meticulous execution. Achieving this requires proper drying of the skin, adequate heat, and patient timing. When done right, the skin shatters like the thinnest glass, its crackling giving way to the fish beneath in satisfying contrast.
The flesh is described as “fat, buttery”—evidence of fresh, quality fish at peak season. The texture should be large, moist flakes that separate cleanly along natural muscle divisions. “Buttery” implies both richness and a certain luxurious mouthfeel, the fish oils coating the palate without heaviness.
The Restraint of Accompaniment: The “subtle lift” of soy sauce shows wisdom. Aggressive seasoning would mask the fish’s natural sweetness—that clean, mild ocean flavor that characterizes fresh white fish. The soy provides just enough salinity and umami to enhance without overwhelming, allowing the fish’s inherent quality to remain the focus.
Why Not Higher: At 3.8/5, this is a very good dish that stops just short of greatness. Perhaps the skin, while crisp, lacked the uniform golden color of perfection. Maybe the flesh, though buttery, could have been even more succulent. Or the accompaniment, while appropriate, didn’t offer the surprise or elevation that pushes a dish from excellent to memorable.
Housemade Soya Beancurd ★★★★★☆ (4.5/5)
The Quiet Revelation: That a humble dessert receives the meal’s highest rating speaks to a truth often overlooked in festive dining: sometimes the simplest preparations leave the deepest impressions.
Textural Poetry: “Wobbling smooth and silky” captures the beancurd’s essence perfectly. This is a texture that can’t be rushed—it requires perfect ratios of soy milk to coagulant, careful temperature control, and gentle setting. The result is a custard-like consistency that trembles at the slightest movement.
When eaten, it should offer almost no resistance, collapsing against the palate like a cloud, coating the mouth with creamy smoothness. There’s a delicate structure—enough to hold shape on the spoon—but it dissolves instantly once inside the mouth, leaving behind only the pure, clean taste of soy.
Aromatic Distinction: The “distinct soya fragrance” differentiates great beancurd from merely good. This suggests beans that were fresh, perhaps stone-ground, and prepared with attention to preserving their natural nutty, subtly sweet aroma. Mass-produced versions often taste flat or carry off-notes; this carries the unmistakable perfume of quality ingredients treated respectfully.
The Philosophy of Ending: After a parade of rich, complex dishes laden with symbolism and luxury ingredients, this beancurd offers gentle reprieve. It’s palate-cleansing without being aggressive, satisfying without being heavy, elegant in its refusal to compete with what came before.
The description as “comforting and elegant” captures its dual nature—homely enough to feel nurturing, refined enough to belong on a premium menu. That “simplicity leaves the most profound impression” isn’t just culinary observation but life philosophy, particularly resonant in the context of Lunar New Year’s emphasis on returning to what matters most.
Overall Assessment
Strengths:
- Strong understanding of textural variety across the menu
- Symbolic appropriateness for Lunar New Year celebrations
- Standout dishes (Yu Sheng, Eight Treasure Duck, Soya Beancurd) justify the occasion
- Balance between tradition and refinement
Areas for Enhancement:
- Soup course lacks festive gravitas expected at this price point
- Some premium ingredients (crab roe) could be more assertively featured
- Minor execution details preventing good dishes from becoming great
Value Proposition: At $88+ per person, the menu positions itself in the premium segment. The takeaway centrepieces ($108-$208) command serious investment. For multi-generational reunions where symbolism, quality, and tradition matter, Wah Lok delivers a respectable experience with genuine highlights. However, diners seeking flawless execution across every course might find minor inconsistencies tempering their enthusiasm.
Final Verdict: Wah Lok’s Lunar New Year offering succeeds where it matters most—creating moments of genuine delight (that soya beancurd!), providing symbolic abundance (the Eight Treasure Duck), and facilitating the rituals (Lo Hei) that make the season meaningful. While not every dish reaches the heights of the best, the overall experience respects both the occasion and the diners celebrating it.
Practical Information
Location: Carlton Hotel Singapore, 76 Bras Basah Road
Contact: +65 6311 8188/8189 | [email protected]
CNY Menu Period: 9 February – 3 March 2026
Set Menus: From $88 per person
Takeaway Pre-orders: 1 January – 10 February 2026
Collection/Delivery: 19 January – 16 February 2026, 11am–7pm
Accessibility: 5-minute walk from City Hall or Bras Basah MRT stations