Paraphrase is the bold interpretation of culinary vernacular, within Fortune Centre’s cosiest open-kitchen concept
The third-floor corridor of Fortune Centre is a bustling scene — bacchanal at the escalator-side izakaya mingles with the wholesome chatter of families feasting on salted egg chicken at New Station Rice Bar. In between the two crowded establishments, you find an inconspicuous dark-tinted door that reads “paraphrase.”
Criosity is instantly piqued, drawn by the cryptic nature of it all, with warm light spilling out from the sheer, dark curtains. Vague outlines form, hinting at something like a sushi omakase outfit.
A light nudge and the handle swivels, the door comes ajar, and you take a peek — the simple, homely decor inside is as the outlines suggested to you through the drapes.
Paraphrase is a supremely intimate space filled with sake bottles, where eight seats are arranged around a light wooden counter that encircles an open kitchen setup.
And it might be one of the most underrated gems hidden in the recently revitalised Fortune Centre.
To paraphrase familiar flavours
Before you make a booking, there is one thing to know about Paraphrase: It’s not a run-of-the-mill omakase, as appearances would imply.
This is a fusion outfit built on the culinary vernacular of chef-owner BK, which isn’t constrained to narrow moulds such as “Japanese” or “French”.
Paraphrase’s cooking centres around the art of the grill, yet its influences are expansive and it borrows from a smorgasbord of cultures — though Japanese ingredients admittedly make frequent appearances.
That progressive approach translates to inspired creations such as the Grilled Cabbage ($26), where a gorgeously charred mound of cabbage peeks out of a pool of light amber-hued sauce.
Concocted as a medley of cream of nduja and chilli crisp, Paraphrase’s partner-in-crime for the cabbage is blissfully silky and teeming with an unalloyed umami — it also tastes vaguely Italian.
Even without the sauce, the grilled cabbage is a tender, juicy, smoky affair that would easily find its perfect foil with the simplest browned butter sauce.
However, the execution of both the sauce and the vegetable culminates in one of the most sublime cabbage dishes that any cuisine could conjure.
Another dish that fits oh-so-snuggly into that hard-to-pinpoint Asian-Fusion style of cooking is the Grilled Scallops (S$32).
As with everything that touches the grill at Paraphrase, the scallops’ textures were pristine — plump, silky and gently bouncy.
Paraphrase’s edamame spinach cream base, though, is what transforms the usually banal seafood dish.
That fresh, vegetal earthiness, paired with the zing of yuzu kosho, then chased by a fragrant flourish of furikake umami?
It’s a fabulous spin on a seafood dish more often met with buttery sauces or zest.
For Goodness’ Sake
But then again, Paraphrase has an underlying limerence for Japanese flavours, and that’s quite apparent with dishes such as the Hamachi Collar (S$38).
There’s not much ingenuity or envelope-pushing to be deciphered from this izakaya staple — as compared to the other Paraphrase offerings — but once again, the produce leaves the grill adroitly cooked.
A light, treacly layer of soy glaze imparts a superb sweet-savoury depth, while the flesh is impeccably soft and flaky, punctuated with bursts of plush, gelatinous bite.
BK also decided to indulge us with something off Paraphrase’s specials board — a glorious slab of Pork Tomahawk (from S$58 for 400g to 600g), accompanied by juice-gushing padron peppers.
As odd a sight as it is to see a pork tomahawk steak, this sexy behemoth puts even some wagyu steaks to shame. The char is sublime, imbuing smoke and sweetness, while each chunk of flesh is rendered a picture-perfect pink.
It’s a dichotomy of textures, with one half leaning towards tender and juicy with an underlying firmness, and the other blissfully fatty.
On top of that, the potent sharpness of the dijon mustard serrates through all that porcine robustness.
A good restaurant will also round things off with a good alcohol selection, and the diversity of craft sakes at Paraphrase is pretty respectable.
It ranges from the most classic junmai daiginjos to the spectacular Melon Liqueur (S$20 per glass) that tastes like a glass of expensive Midori — much more luscious and natural, without that syrupy aspect.
Those who like much more funk and complexity in their sakes can also go for the Chochin Shinbushi 65 (S$24 per glass), which BK proclaims as his favourite on Paraphrase’s current curation.
The rustic newspaper-wrapped bottles yield liquid gold: This sake is crisp and mineral-heavy, though still tasting clean and wonderfully layered with a subtle citric fragrance.
Although many people roll their eyes when a restaurant’s cuisine style is described as “fusion”, Paraphrase is anything but that caricaturised notion of a snobby hipster trying too hard to be daring.
Its culinary language speaks first to you as something refined and elegant, and not remotely outré — then you notice it’s also charmingly unpretentious and heartfelt.
And it’s undoubtedly worth getting a seat at this cosy little eight-seater at Fortune Centre.
paraphrase.
- Address: 190 Middle Rd, #03-03 Fortune Centre, Singapore 188979
- Hours: (Tues–Wed) 6pm to 10pm, (Thurs–Sat) 6:30pm to 10:30pm
*This was an invited tasting.