February 22, 2025
Asador
There’s something about the scent of wood-fired cooking that takes me back to Spain. The rustic charm of an asador, the slow crackle of charcoal, and the anticipation of a meal kissed by fire and smoke. Walking into Asador at Joo Chiat, I hoped to relive a little of that magic. And in some ways, I did.
The meal began with sourdough bread and smoked butter. Rustic, well-made, and, to my mild disappointment, chargeable ($13 for a small loaf, good for 2-3 pax). Our group of 6 needed 3 loaves of this. Now, I’m no stranger to paying for quality bread in Europe, but here, it feels different. Maybe it is just a personal thing, but when a meal already leans towards the pricier side, I would expect a little generosity in the small things.
Next came the Padrón pepper, charred and blistered, each one a surprise waiting to happen. Some mild, some with a sudden punch of heat, a little Russian roulette on the plate. The seafood dishes were bright, fresh, and beautifully plated. The octopus arrived, smoky and tender, resting on a rich sauce with crisp potatoes alongside. But before I could fully savour the moment, my eyes were drawn to what I came for - the asador-style suckling pig and lamb.
Served the traditional way, the suckling pig and lamb leg came glistening, the skin bronzed to a crisp, the kind that shatters with a tap. It is the kind of dish that demands quiet respect. No unnecessary frills, just pure, time-honoured technique. The kind that is meant to be shared, savoured slowly, the crisp skin giving way to juicy, tender meat.
And yet, there was a small but significant irony in that. The experience of sharing, of lingering over a meal, was at odds with the restaurant’s rigid two-seating policy. Like many modern restaurants with high demand, Asador runs on a tight schedule. And while I understand the economics behind it, I will never enjoy being subtly ushered towards the finish line of my own dining experience. No matter how polite or well-intended the reminder, it always takes something away from the meal. An invisible countdown that makes you glance at the time rather than lose yourself in conversation. If you are grabbing a quick bowl of ramen or chicken rice just to fill your stomach, it makes sense to eat and go, letting the next person have their turn. But when you are paying more premium, sharing plates, and catching up with friends over good food and wine, the experience should not feel like a timed event.
Overall, a good meal, but not a great one. The flavours were there, the execution solid, but the experience felt just a little too structured for my liking. Perhaps if I had been dining in the hills of Segovia, with time stretching endlessly ahead, I might have left the table with a different kind of satisfaction. But for now, it remains just that - a meal with echoes of Spain, but without the luxury of its unhurried charm.
The meal began with sourdough bread and smoked butter. Rustic, well-made, and, to my mild disappointment, chargeable ($13 for a small loaf, good for 2-3 pax). Our group of 6 needed 3 loaves of this. Now, I’m no stranger to paying for quality bread in Europe, but here, it feels different. Maybe it is just a personal thing, but when a meal already leans towards the pricier side, I would expect a little generosity in the small things.
Next came the Padrón pepper, charred and blistered, each one a surprise waiting to happen. Some mild, some with a sudden punch of heat, a little Russian roulette on the plate. The seafood dishes were bright, fresh, and beautifully plated. The octopus arrived, smoky and tender, resting on a rich sauce with crisp potatoes alongside. But before I could fully savour the moment, my eyes were drawn to what I came for - the asador-style suckling pig and lamb.
Served the traditional way, the suckling pig and lamb leg came glistening, the skin bronzed to a crisp, the kind that shatters with a tap. It is the kind of dish that demands quiet respect. No unnecessary frills, just pure, time-honoured technique. The kind that is meant to be shared, savoured slowly, the crisp skin giving way to juicy, tender meat.
And yet, there was a small but significant irony in that. The experience of sharing, of lingering over a meal, was at odds with the restaurant’s rigid two-seating policy. Like many modern restaurants with high demand, Asador runs on a tight schedule. And while I understand the economics behind it, I will never enjoy being subtly ushered towards the finish line of my own dining experience. No matter how polite or well-intended the reminder, it always takes something away from the meal. An invisible countdown that makes you glance at the time rather than lose yourself in conversation. If you are grabbing a quick bowl of ramen or chicken rice just to fill your stomach, it makes sense to eat and go, letting the next person have their turn. But when you are paying more premium, sharing plates, and catching up with friends over good food and wine, the experience should not feel like a timed event.
Overall, a good meal, but not a great one. The flavours were there, the execution solid, but the experience felt just a little too structured for my liking. Perhaps if I had been dining in the hills of Segovia, with time stretching endlessly ahead, I might have left the table with a different kind of satisfaction. But for now, it remains just that - a meal with echoes of Spain, but without the luxury of its unhurried charm.
Asador
51 Joo Chiat Place
Singapore 427775
