The way things are going, Sentosa is set to be Singapore’s new dining hotspot. But the main gripe still revolves around Sentosa’s ridiculous policy of imposing a $2-per-person charge every time you want to eat at one of the restaurants on the island – that is, unless you can show the guards a letter from the restaurant. Seriously? Yes, and most restaurants will refund the amount, but Braise, to its discredit, is not one of them. This, after you’ve forked over more than $100 per head for dinner. Of course, it’s the principle, not the amount, that rankles. (‘Thank you for your feedback,’ said the waitress with a nervous smile.)

Still, on paper, you can see why people would get excited about Braise. For starters, its location on the edge of Palawan beach (above Silk Road) makes it the ideal spot for a romantic evening. The restaurant is also the latest offering by hotelier Loh Lik Peng and his partners. And as with Hotel 1929 and New Majestic, design features strongly. This time, honours go to Ernesto Bedmar who has kept things in the high-peaked-roof space simple and chic with a palette of whites, cool terrazzo, Eames shell chairs and metal trim. Even on the first visit, the modern French menu looked promising. The warm, sundried tomato bread was a good start to the meal, though the amuse-bouche of cod mash and trout roe, while flavourful enough, needed a tiny pinch of salt to give it that extra zing.

But as the meal progressed, I felt an increasing level of resentment at the extraordinarily miserly portions for which I was being charged a lot of money. I don’t normally mind such parsimony if the cooking is equally extraordinary, but, at Braise, the consensus rarely rose above ‘quite good’. The first shock came when an order of foie gras arrived at our table by mistake. It was a tiny, half centimetre-thick tile measuring (barely) 6cm by 3cm. It cost $30. The shock was still sinking in when the dish was whisked away and delivered to the hefty gentleman at the next table who stared unhappily at the plate for a very long time.

Next came a coffee cup filled two-thirds of the way with weak, watery lobster bisque ($28). And a very thin cut of sea bass barely larger than your palm, which while grilled nicely enough, certainly did not justify its $38 price tag. Nor did the tiny and over-salted frog leg tempura lounging on (an admittedly rather good) frogmince ravioli warrant $30. The fillet of beef paired with a tian of shredded beef cheeks, bacon and braised savoy cabbage on which rested a cloud of mash, was also nice enough. But at $48 for the dish, I kept waiting to be blown away. The moment never came. Yes, there were some highlights, among them a lovely tangle of buttery angel-hair pasta sautéed with garlicky crevettes, and a decent serving of two rounds of lamb loin, perfectly done in a crisp filo pastry. Also excellent were the two triangles of apple tart (with a disappointingly small oval of vanilla ice cream), and a rich but tiny chocolate lava cake that disappeared in two bites; here too, the feeling of wellbeing was quickly erased by the incredibly tasteless peppermint tea. And a few bright spots don’t justify a return visit.

The service is pleasant but, for what you’re paying, you expect a much crisper, more polished delivery. You certainly don’t expect to be served the wrong dish. Nor do you expect to look up from your soup and find the wait-staff huddled in a gaggle, staring at you because they have nothing else to do. And at one meal, the question ‘What’s the surname of your chef?’ prompted the reply, ‘Oh. I’m not sure. Allow me to check for you.’ Bill, please.