Burnt Ends

A friend who knows Singapore better than I do put Burnt Ends at the top of a list of three. He was right, as he often is.

The room is exactly what you want it to be: open kitchen counter, ambient smoke. We were seated near the back, given menus we hardly needed, and brought a small bowl of olives without being asked.

We started with Caesar salad assembled tableside, which set the tone — generous, unfussy, and confident enough not to crowd what was coming. With it we ordered a quiet Brunello from the back of the list, and were glad of both.

Then the main event: smoked beef short rib, the dish that puts Burnt Ends on every short list. The seasoning was simple — salt, pepper, restraint — and it was the right call. The signature touch — the four-tonne custom grill — is not a gimmick; it is the reason to come.

For sides we asked for thick-cut onion rings, stacked and wild mushrooms in butter. Both arrived hot, both arrived early, both were exactly large enough to overdo it. We overdid it.

Dessert was the bread pudding with bourbon sauce, mostly because the waiter raised an eyebrow when we hesitated. He was right to.

A perfect Sunday lunch, which is what I came for.